#( ill fix my typos later )

[buwheal]

I'm sorry, Spamton. I know you won't believe me, but I'm sorry we hurt you.

[skywriter97]

Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

A ShadowxAurora One Shot

Shadow never meant to keep it. With the limited space in his apartment, a piano wasn't exactly practical. But he'd seen it sitting on the street while on a run, a pathetic little spinet that apparently wasn't worth the effort for repair according to the owner, so it sat in wait for the dump truck.

Omega thought he was nuts when Shadow had used Chaos Control to transport the piano into the apartment, and perhaps he was. The instrument had definitely seen better days, and it would take more than a simple tune up to get it in pristine condition again.

That didn't stop Shadow from shoving the spinet against the wall between his mattress and the front door and then going out to purchase the necessary items for piano repairs.

The spinet became Shadow's passion project over the next several weeks. Any spare moment between his mercenary work with Omega and dates with Aurora, Shadow could be found with the spinet piano, painstakingly doting over the instrument to set it to rights again.

"You never told me you can fix instruments." Aurora had noted once, sitting on the little bench with her legs swinging while half of Shadow's body was inside the back of the spinet.

"Never came up." Shadow had grunted.

"Where'd you learn?" She'd pressed.

Shadow had shrugged. "I did a lot of things while off world, Light. Sometimes I was asked to fix things, and music is universal." Aurora had accepted that answer, and Shadow minutely relaxed.

No way he was EVER going to tell her that some aristocrat across the galaxy had taken fancy to him and tried to get his attention by breaking her piano, just so he'd come and fix it. It was the fastest he'd ever fled a planet. Omega still hadn't let him live it down.

The plan for the spinet once he'd finished repairs was simple enough: take it to the resale shop and get a decent sum of cash for it. He'd contacted the shop, gotten a good offer, and was set to deliver and receive his rings, but when he arrived and saw the buyer...a mother and son duo, the latter whom was whining about how much he HATED piano lessons and was currently and carelessly swinging a baseball bat around in his fit....Shadow took his piano and left.

No way was Shadow going to let all his hard work repairing his baby go to waste on some ungrateful brat that lacked basic appreciation. So, the little spinet piano became a permanent fixture in his apartment.

Shadow had never considered himself a musician of any sort. He was a warrior, a mercenary, the Ultimate Lifeform, a guardian. Music...required a certain softness that Shadow, with all his broken pieces and jagged edges, simply did not possess. But, somehow, that didn't matter. Sitting at his little spinet, gingerly filling his apartment with the soft tones of the classics centered him with a kind of peace he rarely ever achieved...with one exception. When he played, Shadow could pretend that was all there was. Just him and his spinet, creating something beautiful together. It was almost magical, if he believed in such a thing.

Shadow huffed a quiet chuckle, gently resting his hand atop the keys but not pressing down, his thoughts drifting towards the other almost-magical thing in his life. Honestly, if it magic was a thing, Shadow could believe it, because of her. The way she pranced through life, with such light and arms wide open, eager and excited for whatever came her way...could anything else but magical describe his precious Light?

Almost without his command, his fingers gently drifted across the spinet's keys, a delicate melody that swirled and danced through the air. Shadow sighed.

"Though I tried before to tell her

Of the feelings I have for her

In my heart.

Every time that I come near her

I just lose my nerve as I've done

From the start."

How many times has Shadow looked into those emerald eyes, seen that smile, and choked? It was three simple words, why was it so difficult? He's made peace with the past, hasn't he?

"Every little thing she does is magic

Everything she does just turns me on.

Even though my life before was tragic

Now I know my love for her goes on."

A sniffle behind him had Shadow whirling around, Chaos Spear halfway formed in his hand and a snarl on his muzzle, when those same piercing emerald eyes damp with tears stopped him dead. Shadow gulped, his ears flattening against his head. Damn. How long had she- Shadow made get up, averting his eyes as embarrassment colored his cheeks rosy red.

And then she's right there, pushing him back down on the bench with pleas of "Please don't stop, don't mind me-," and she's still looking at him with those eyes, pleading and wet, her body pressed tight against his side, lips protruding in the most pitiful pout...

Chaos, he was screwed, wasn't he?

Shadow sighed and tapped her nose with his finger. "You will say nothing to anyone about this." He commanded, and tried to ignore how distracting that beaming smile was in order to return to the piano. He gulped, frozen with his fingers in position. He knew his voice was not what anyone would call gifted, hers was so much better, and he chanced a glance down to his shoulder where she'd laid her head. She smiled at him again, eager and encouraging, and Shadow gulped and resumed playing.

"Do I have to tell the story

Of a thousand rainy days

SInce we first met?

It's a big enough umbrella

But it's always me

That ends up getting wet.

Every little thing she does is magic

Everything she does just turns me on.

Even though my life before was tragic

Now I know my love for her goes on."

Shadow rested his cheek against the top of her head, mindful of the short grouping of quills that acted as bangs, closing his eyes momentarily and just breathing.

"I resolve to call her up

A thousand times a day

And ask her if she'll marry me

In some old fashioned way.

But my silent fears have gripped me

Long before I reach the phone.

Long before my tongue has tripped me

Must I always be alone?"

Her arms squeezed him gently, reassuringly, around his middle, and he pressed a kiss to her head in response, smiling at the growing damp spot on his shoulder.

"Every little thing she does is magic,

Everything she does just turns me on.

Even though my life before was tragic

Now I know my love for her goes on,"

Shadow dropped one hand from the piano and cupped Aurora's cheek, tilting her chin up to look into her eyes, shining with light and joy, and he knew his words wouldn't fail him this time. He smiled at her and leaned his forehead on hers.

"Every little thing you do is magic

Everything you do just turns me on.

Even though my life before was tragic

Know that my love for you goes on."

Shadow ended the song with a soft kiss to her lips, sealing his declaration of devotion with all the love and passion and dedication he had in his heart in the best way he knew how. Words always failed him, but somehow, in this moment, it didn't matter. Aurora wept through his kiss, and he smiled as they parted, a quirk of his mouth so gentle and loving that only she would ever get to see it.

Aurora pounced on him a single moment later, using her own gift of speed to press kiss after kiss on his lips, face, head, everywhere she could reach, glowing so brightly and joyfully exclaiming "I love you"s between kisses. Shadow briefly wondered how she wasn't suffocating before dismissing the thought and basking in their shared love, trading her kisses and words with ones of his own. It didn't matter anyway.

Every little thing she did was magic, after all.

[wanderingibon]

inquisitor, take your breath

some oc rambles + closeup below the cut!

(i was inspired by sculpture/wall murals, also specifically those wooden carved murals found in filipino culture :>)

Lark Lavellan, sometime just before the events of Veilguard, comes across a mural of themself from when they were Inquisitor. They have a lot of emotions about it- after all, they struggled tremendously with the burden of Inquisitor placed upon them at such a young age. At nineteen, they were only expecting to get their Vallaslin, to be a fully fledged Hunter for their clan- and instead, they found themself one of the most important figureheads in all of Thedas. All eyes were suddenly on them- expecting them to save the world- fix everything that needed to be fixed. Needless to say, it shook their very sense of self, and very nearly destroyed them come Trespasser. However, in the years that have passed, they have come to peace with their identity and are much more secure in themself, able to discern 'Lark' from the very heavy title 'Inquisitor.' Still, their willingness to help the world become a better place has not wavered since their younger days. If anything, it has only grown stronger, like a spark becomes a raging flame. What was once a young person wrought with fear over making the slightest misstep, over not doing enough- has grown into a fine Hunter who simply wants to do what they can to help.

[royalseablings]

Hope For An Endless Sunset is such a good ending for caimsey I think I spend the entire time crying.

the fact that despite everything bloom was able to continue living and grow and make friends and everything is really getting to me

like "Her true name was grief" made me sob because the way Aimsey was able to put how I've been feeling into words so perfectly made me sob

[filmophilea]

feat. yura, gabe (and the missing case of jackson wang). 

it takes ej a few minutes to realize that the buzzing sound is coming from real life rather than a dazed inconvenience. at first he thinks the blunt is hitting him faster than the usual. four hits usually has never made him float in euphoria so quickly but it’s been so long that it wont even catch him off guard had it did. but then he realizes the vibrations are coming from the back pocket of his jeans, blindly reaching for his phone, catching it before it vibrates itself on the floor. the artificial blue light momentarily blinds him in the darkness of the dimly lit bathroom hallway of the club and he groans inwardly, sliding the brightness indicator to its lower setting just after the phone call ceases. he isn’t thinking much about calling back whoever just dialed but when the phone buzzes one more time in his palm, this time a singular notification, he finally slides it unlock to check. tapping to open the message—messages, actually—four of them, he begins to scroll through. 

gabe nam — 00:54.  just arrived at home with gabby. she told me you haven’t bought a ticket yet?  

he slides back, reading the others. 

엄마 — 01:02. your brother is home. still awake for a facetime call?  gabby is here as well.  when will it be your turn to bring home a pretty girl to your 어머니, hmm? ㅋㅋㅋ

“a partner back at home that’s making sure you’re being a good boy? is that why you’re hiding here?”

ej glances up, eyes meeting yura’s. even in the dark he can see the faint flushing of her cheeks, tinged pink with her mild intoxication. there’s a sparkle in her eyes that only appears when she’s high, a coy smile tugging at the corner of her lips. 

“where’s jackson?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow and changing the topic. 

“checking on his girl?” she retorts a question back, shrugging. “what does it matter and why are you avoiding the question?”  

is it liquid courage that’s making her ask him so bluntly, factored in with the addition of weed? she usually never vocalizes, despite him reading it always in her tentative gazes back at home. he knows better though, deflected feelings unto him on the basis that, well, he’s the exact identical clone of gabriel.  

“my mom, actually, wondering when i’d have someone to keep me in check the way gabe has gabby.” 

he knows the mention of his name ignites a fire within her, a fight she’s lost long ago when gabby said ‘i do, i will.’ ej doesn’t mean to use it against her, but tonight is all about feeling good, not giving a shit - the last thing he needed was to be compared to his twin brother, at any cost under any circumstance. 

he takes the lead back to the club and she follows behind, her footsteps muffled in the background against the loud, blaring music of the club. manila is still booming with life at 1AM, the line unwavering at the entrance, large queues already formed in front of the numerous food trucks that line the long street, selling traditional bites to drunk people. he glances over his shoulder and sees the line of yura’s body swaying in tune to the current song’s rhythm, her eyes scanning the vicinity. she looks contemplative, eyeing a group of very intoxicated girls hugging each other. he can see the gears churning in her mind, her expression so easily read. before he can change his mind, he leans in to say, “dance with me.”

its neon sign hovering over the dj station is flickering around the edges of the loopy letters. he chooses to ignore the irony of being with yura in a place called double take, the thought of his twin brother still lingering in the back of his mind. but as she’s instructed, instead of heading back to the bar, she circles around him with a lazy grin painted on her features, a hand snaking around his neck. pulling a cigarette in between his fingers, he takes out a lighter and inhales a long drag, focus pouring on her. she’s so close now that he feels her heart beating against her ribcage, her cheeks flushing with the familiar color of red. 

“i can never be him, you know.” he knows she knows, he doesn’t have to say it out loud yet he feels the need to.

as if on cue, she closes the distance between them before he has the chance to turn his head away. her lips feel like velvet plush and she tastes of alcohol and sin, of heartache and longing. he feels bad for her, he always has - the girl forgotten, the girl left behind. and he, the boy who could never meet her standards, the boy who would have but couldn’t. 

the last resort. 

“jesus christ, you’re drunk and you’re high.” his grip on her shoulders is tight, his brows furrowed in the middle. “i’m not gabe, it’s ej.” 

she sputters a laugh, so high pitched he almost thinks there’s ringing all around. but he catches her wistful sigh, as she mutters, “god how i wish you were.”

[wolfjackle-creates]

In celebration of my new writing sideblog, I decided to share a snippet of the expanded version of my first prompt fill. Original can be found here. Brief synopsis: Tim and Danny became online friends when they were both neglected and lonely ten/eleven-year-olds. Before Robin and before Phantom. They have been fully open with each other since they first met and that doesn't change, even after it probably should. (This segment is a chat fic.)

Prompt from @gremlin-bot

IKnowYourSecrets = Tim's username

-xXPolarisXx- = Danny's username

Typos in chat are intentional.

Edit: I don't know why the color text is being weird. Each time I get everything to work, new random letters are black.

Edit 2: formatting finally fixed. That took way too long.

-----

Danny had been playing mindlessly when he got a message from Secrets.

IKnowYourSecrets: Thank god your on

That was odd. Secrets was always laid back and chill.

-xXPolarisXx-: Secrets? Whats up

IKnowYourSecrets: something big has happened IKnowYourSecrets: like top secret big IKnowYourSecrets: and I need advice IKnowYourSecrets: ive set up a private chat IKnowYourSecrets: one that cant be hacked so easily

-xXPolarisXx-: dude youre freaking me out -xXPolarisXx-: whats going on?

IKnowYourSecrets: :sends link: IKnowYourSecrets: not here. Ill explain

Danny clicked the link and put in his username when prompted. He had never even seen this chat room server before. Not that he spent a lot of time on chat rooms. He preferred in-game chats.

-xXPolarisXx-: ok dude spill -xXPolarisXx-: wth is going on

IKnowYourSecrets: I know who Batman is

“What!” Danny couldn’t hold back the shout. He started typing a reply, deleted, started typing again.

“Danny?” asked Jazz from the kitchen table where she was doing her homework. “Everything ok?”

He waved his hand at her. “Yeah! Everything is fine! My friend and I were just killed by something I didn’t even know could be dangerous.”

“Don’t play too long. You still have homework.”

“I know! I’ll be good.”

-xXPolarisXx-: good one secrets -xXPolarisXx-: you got me for a minute

IKnowYourSecrets: :image attachment: IKnowYourSecrets: :image attachment: IKnowYourSecrets: :news link: IKnowYourSecrets: :news link: IKnowYourSecrets: :image attachment:

The links and pictures started coming through even faster. The first was a picture of a family of acrobats and one of the links was to the story about how the parents died in an accident while performing.

The next link was about Bruce Wayne adopting a child followed by one only a few months later discussing Batman’s new side kick, Robin. Then a picture of the Graysons’ son in his circus costume next to a picture of the first Robin. Which were entirely too similar.

“Holy…” whispered Danny. But the links and images were still coming.

Robin stopped being spotted when Dick Grayson moved out. And not much later Nightwing appeared. And then there was a new Robin and a new adoption. And then Jason Todd-Wayne died and Robin disappeared.

-xXPolarisXx-: what. The fuck -xXPolarisXx-: why are you even looking into this -xXPolarisXx-: Secrets! ????

IKnowYourSecrets: your a real friend, right? IKnowYourSecrets: I mean weve known each other for like 2 years now IKnowYourSecrets: no catfisher’d stick around this long

-xXPolarisXx-: course I’m real -xXPolarisXx-: though thats also what a catfisherd say

IKnowYourSecrets: I live in gotham IKnowYourSecrets: Batmans changed since Robin IKnowYourSecrets: Since Jason died IKnowYourSecrets: he needs a robin I think IKnowYourSecrets: hes mean and harsh and people dont feel safe

-xXPolarisXx-: … -xXPolarisXx-: youre planning something

IKnowYourSecrets: help me figure out how to convince dick to go back to being robin IKnowYourSecrets: I think they had a fight IKnowYourSecrets: from what i can find online their last several meetings have ended in fights

Danny stared at his screen, mouth open. Secrets couldn’t be serious. This was too much. But he knew his friend. He might joke during a gaming battle, but he’d never joke about this. Not to Danny, or well, Polaris.

-xXPolarisXx-: Youre gonna chase down Nightwing?? -xXPolarisXx-: isnt he only out at night??? -xXPolarisXx-: dude youre gonna get yourself killed -xXPolarisXx-: how’ll you even find him? -xXPolarisXx-: do NOT tell him you know his secret identity -xXPolarisXx-: what do vigilantes do to ppl who learn their identities?

Danny watched as the dots appeared to indicate Secrets was typing. They stopped. Picked up again.

IKnowYourSecrets: awww IKnowYourSecrets: you like me ❤ IKnowYourSecrets: im not gonna die! IKnowYourSecrets: NIGHTWING will be there IKnowYourSecrets: and I can find him bc I know his patrol routes IKnowYourSecrets: easy peasy IKnowYourSecrets: im going tonight IKnowYourSecrets: just need to figure out what to say

-xXPolarisXx-: dude really??? -xXPolarisXx-: do you even know why they fought?

IKnowYourSecrets: Gotham needs batman IKnowYourSecrets: and batman needs robin IKnowYourSecrets: hes a hero he should want to help

-xXPolarisXx-: Well start with that, then -xXPolarisXx-: if youre going to be an idiot -xXPolarisXx-: and go out in gotham at night -xXPolarisXx-: tell nightwing youre worried about batman

IKnowYourSecrets: worried about nightwing as well IKnowYourSecrets: hes not as bad IKnowYourSecrets: but its clear something is wrong

-xXPolarisXx-: im just a kid from a small town -xXPolarisXx-: how am I supposed to know how to talk to superheroes?

IKnowYourSecrets: they aren’t superheroes IKnowYourSecrets: no powers

-xXPolarisXx-: not the point -xXPolarisXx-: I guess -xXPolarisXx-: start by asking how hes doing -xXPolarisXx-: and how batmans doing -xXPolarisXx-: and say youre sorry about robins death -xXPolarisXx-: but most importan STAY SAFE -xXPolarisXx-: i dont even know your name to follow any news stories

IKnowYourSecrets: its Tim if you wanna know

-xXPolarisXx-: mines Danny -xXPolarisXx-: idk why but Tim fits you

IKnowYourSecrets: dont use it on public forums IKnowYourSecrets: but were safe here IKnowYourSecrets: Danny. I like it IKnowYourSecrets: thanks for the advice!!! IKnowYourSecrets: im gonna use it IKnowYourSecrets: ttyl IKnowYourSecrets: gonna track down dick and talk to him IKnowYourSecrets: he usually starts patroling in like an hour and a half IKnowYourSecrets: and it’ll take me about that long to get to bludhaven

-xXPolarisXx-: lemme know what happens -xXPolarisXx-: im gonna check this chat and the game any chance I have at the computer

IKnowYourSecrets: will do IKnowYourSecrets: by danny

-xXPolarisXx-: stay safe tim

Danny stared at the chat box as Secrets, as Tim signed out. What. The. Hell.

“You all right there, Danny?” Jazz was looking at him from their kitchen table and Danny quickly closed out of the chatroom. No one could be allowed to see that information.

“Yeah, course. Just talking with my online friend Secrets.” Whose name he now knew. “He had to go, though. So I guess I’ll start my homework.”

“Were you two playing that game you like?”

He couldn’t tell the truth, so he decided to lie. “Yeah. We’re hoping to beat this boss so we can get a rune stone that’ll let us craft this super awesome weapon! Then we might stand a chance in the arena.”

Jazz smiled at him. “I’m sure you two’ll get it. What’s this arena?”

Danny described the game on autopilot as pulled out his backpack and books. Holy hell, he knew Batman’s identity.

-----

Part 2

I also hope to start doing WIP Wednesdays if there's any interest. Probably not every week and they won't all be for this fic, but I've got a few things I've been working on that I hope people will enjoy.

Tag List (I hope you're still all interested so many months later. XP)

@bonebrokebuddy, @britcision, @lady-time-lord-, @welcometosasakiworld, @akikkobara, @phoenixdemonqueen, @dolfay, @skulld3mort-1fan, @nutcase8691, @dreamingasters, @xysidhequeen

I'm sure there's people I'm missing. So let me know if you want to be added or if you want to be taken off the list. I won't be offended either way.

[tizeline]

Hello ooohs! I just wanted to say that I adore your AU and just can't get enough of the change in dynamics for Rise!!

Your designs are incredible (( especially Leo's!! He is so adorable <3 )) and I get so excited each time you post!

So I have a question I want to ask: I have a huge soft spot a mile wide for Leo/Splinter family bond dynamic. I just turn to mush every time their familial bond is portrayed in comics/fanart/ and fanfiction.

Anyway! My question is: do Leo and Splinter develop a close relationship with each other later in the AU after meeting for the first time? I mean it has been shown how much of a fan boy Leo is for Splinter XD. Can your provide more insight into it and what Splinter thinks of the other three kids?

I also wanted to bring up a small error in The Cell part 3 that I noticed

For Donnie: "that's " was it supposed to be "that" ?

If not then I'm sorry for nitpicking your work. I just figured I'd help but my apologies <3 I still want to stress that I adore this AU so much and in extension; platonically adore you!! Keep being the best that you can be and take care!

Love,

🌹

Thank you!

And skfskbdwlskdisj yessss I love Splinter's and Leo's dynamic you're so real for that. And yeah, out of the of the Drax Bros, Leo is the one who ends up growing the closest to Splinter, both because he's been a secret Lou Jitsu fanboy for years at this point, but also because Leo was the first to change his mind on the evil world domination plan. Leo freed Donnie from imprisonment and tried to help him stop The Foot and The Shredder in the season 1 finale, and I imagine Splinter would be quite appreciative of that.

Not to mention, after Leo technically betrayed his family (even if it was for good reasons) Leo's and Draxum's relationship is a bit tense to say the least. And we see in the show that Leo has a tendency to seek out extra father figures, so in the AU Leo would be quite enthusiastic to recieve any positive attention from Splinter.

Splinter I imagine would feel rather guilty about not being able to rescue any of the turtles aside from Donnie when he fled Draxum's lair. He'd wanted to prevent Draxum from raising them as soldiers, so in failing to do that Splinter would continue to worry about how they were doing even years after the incident. After encountering the Drax Trio again years later, he'd be relieved that they don't seem to be TOO traumatized or anything, but they ARE still child soldiers, so that's a yikes.

That being said, while Splinter would've liked to find a way to get the other turtles away from Draxum, his priorities very much lie with Donnie. Considering how powerful Draxum is, and how Big Mama would also be looking for him, Splinter couldn't risk going back to the Hidden City to try to get Donnie's brothers without risking both his own and Donnie's safety. So he decided to cut his losses and play it safe by laying low in NYC and putting as much effort as he could into only protecting Donnie. This stays the same even after Donnie runs into his brothers as a teen, Splinter feels no ill will towards the other three turtles, but they WERE raised by Draxum so he does not trust them. Leo gains his trust after helping Donnie in the season 1 finale, but it takes some more time for him to start fully trusting Raph and Mikey because he wants to be sure that they're not gonna switch back to being evil or something and try to kidnap Donnie again.

Splinter's relationship with Draxum is the same as in the show, Splinter hates Draxum, Draxum hates Splinter, and there is NO underlying homoerotic tension between the two of them WHATSOEVER!

... Anyway, with that concluded, that IS a typo goddamit. I do appreciate people pointing out spelling and grammar mistakes in the comics I make, so thanks for that. But also it's a small enough mistake that I'm probably just gonna leave it be, I'm to lazy to fix it XD

[youaremyhome]

Pieces of the Night: Supernova

Warnings: Dark!Rafe Cameron x Reader, 18+ NSFW, smut, HEAVY non-con/dub-con, drug use, possessive behavior, blackmail, manipulation, DARK. More to add. Read at your own risk.

Notes: 3.4k words. This might have a few typos in it and ill come back later to fix it but I'm just so excited to post this bc it might be my fav chapter so far!!!

Taglist: @belcalis9503 @ACRAZYBIOTCH374 @fangirlwithlou @malfoytargaryen @RAFECAMERONSBADUSSY @takin-care-of-business @watersquirtpewpewboomm @jpmswife

Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist! (and I'm sorry if i missed anyone that's asked already!)

You sit across Rafe in a diner booth. The menu is planted in front of your face to avoid his, eyes roving across the plastic pages meaninglessly. After your crying fit, he rubbed your tears away and led your speechless form out of the courtyard.  

Now, you were hunched in a cracked leather booth with mascara smudged and eyes puffy.

Originally, you had expected Rafe to take you somewhere unnecessarily nice and expensive. He seemed like the type to flaunt his father’s wealth for praise from others. Maybe he didn’t want to be seen with you. Which suited you just fine because you did not want to be seen with him.

“So, where were you?”

Peeking over the top of the long menu, he’s leaned back, all lazy confidence and smug.

“Where was I for what?” You ask loftily.

“Don’t be cute.” Rafe knocks his knuckles on the table absently, gaze right on you. “Where were you Friday?”

“Oh, the day you demanded I go on a date with you?” Innocently you raise your eyebrows like you just remembered. “I went to the movies with friends.”

Shrugging, you go back to the menu. Heart beginning to pick up pace with anxiety at his reaction to your admission of standing him up. That night, you had asked your roommates for a dinner and movie date, dragging it out as long as possible.

Tension rolls in like fog, condensing on top of your shoulders, his anger a tangible thing and you’re left to wonder what your punishment will be this time. Because while part of this whole thing is a fucked-up power play of blackmail, it’s also equally a punishment for your stunt. An inkling of the lengths Rafe would go to just to get what he wants.

“I was running around this fucking town just for you to be at the movies?”

“Coffee?”

Rafe is interrupted by the young waitress, her polite smile dissolving into a panicky look when he directs his glare at her.

“I’d love some.” Tilting your head up and smiling sweetly, you push the empty mug closer to her.

An awkward beat of silence blankets the air before she’s pouring the hot liquid into your mug and then scurries away. With your lips still curled up from the smell of coffee, it instantly drops when you meet cold blue eyes. Rafe’s jaw ticks and an unreadable emotion crosses his face when his eyes dip down to your now frowning mouth.

You don't have anything else to say to him, so you let the silence stretch. Now that you’re in a public place, you’re more comfortable meeting his gaze head-on, mind cleared from your emotional episode.

“You’re not at all like how I thought you’d be.” Rafe finally says, but he doesn’t sound disappointed about the fact either.

You nod. “Yeah, that generally happens when you make assumptions about people without getting to know them.”

You pour cream and heaps of sugar into the mug, his eyes tracking across your movements.

“Then,” Rafe places his elbows on the table, leaning forward. Eyes intent solely on you. “Let me know you.”

“Pfft.” You blow out. “After all that shit you’ve pulled? No way.” It’s comical to think it would be that easy. To forget the things he’s said and done when he’s still a stranger to you.

“Wasn’t really asking.” Rafe waves his hand.

“See you can’t just say things like that.” You give him an incredulous look, like he should know better.  

He’s quick to ask, “Why not?”

“Because it's disgusting –”

“Wanting to know you is disgusting?” Rafe scoffs. Shaking his head about to argue back but you beat him to the punch.  

“It's the way you go about it –”

“Would you rather have me beg?” Rafe rumbles, voice gravely and low. “Cause I’ll do it. Get right on my knees for you and beg for every crumb of information you’ll give me.”

That stuns you. Warmth blossoms up between your legs all the way up to your cheeks, hating your body for such a reaction. Looking away, you nervously pick at the leather cushion as you await Rafe’s mocking. It never comes through, his imagination taking over while you sit there all embarrassed and cute. Wondering how loud you’d be with his tongue so deep inside you –

“Y’all ready to order?” The waitress asks out of nowhere, popping Rafe’s little daydream bubble.

You order french toast with bacon and sausage while he gets the cheeseburger, handing the menus back to her as she runs away again. If only you could do that.

“So, you a big breakfast person?” Rafe casually asks, ruining your fantasy of hightailing it out of there.

You are, but you aren’t going to be telling him that. He doesn’t deserve to know an iota about you. All the little things that build you as a person will stay hidden in a vault away from him.

Shrugging, you continue to pick at the leather, exposing more of the soft spongy texture of the filling of the seat. Though you know that you’re stuck here with him, it doesn’t mean you’ll make it easy.

“C’mon, give me something, something.” He drones out. “This is supposed to be a date remember?” His voice is coaxing but a glance up at his face reveals his sneer.

“Do you always blackmail your dates?” You remark, arching your eyebrow at him.

“Just you.” Rafe grins.

“I must be so special.” Rolling your eyes, you send him an obnoxiously fake smile.

“You are.”

His tone turns serious, and you glare back down to the seat. Blue eyes chase your gaze, trying to keep a hold of you.  

He really does need to stop saying that kind of seemingly genuine shit because some tiny part of you lights up like a Christmas tree. And just as quickly as the idea sweeps through, you squash it like a bug. It’s only because no one has ever shown you this kind of passion before and your lizard brain is lapping it up. Thirsty from the barren wasteland of your love life.

The fear is still there, your skin tight from the dried tears but you remind yourself that Rafe is only a college boy. Barely a man. You just need time to figure a way out of this situation.

Eventually, the food arrives but it’s difficult to swallow anything down. With him directly in front of you, Rafe has a front seat of every passing emotion on your face. From the delighted hum of the first bite to how your jaw moves as you chew. You’ve never felt so exposed, so aware of yourself with every movement you make.

You take subtle stock of him as well. How the big burger looks small in his hands, the surprising decorum of his eating, unlike other males. Wordlessly, he hands you a french fry and in exchange, you hand him a strip of bacon. You reason that it's better than talking to him.

Throughout the meal, you start exchanging more pieces of food back and forth. A silent communication that has you slowly but surely relaxing in his presence. There’re moments where it looks like he wants to say something, decides against it and hands you another fry. The quiet is nice, allowing your mind peace from today's events. Allows you to forget who you’re with for bits at a time.

Once your belly is full and the bill is paid, uneasiness creeps back onto your skin like spiders. It’s the longest you’ve gone without talking to him, but Rafe looks content with the quiet too, something you weren’t counting on. You’ve come to realize through your previous interactions that he rambles a bit often, and you’re not sure what to make of this.

Rafe leads the way out of the diner, holding the door open for you, keeping his hands to himself as you walk down the sidewalk. It’s a stark constant to when you first arrived here: with his hand on your back, and threats of being good whispered in your ear. Maybe is he able to –

“What are you doing?” You squeak, unexpectedly being herded down an alleyway. A hand wrapping around your bicep to lure you in deeper.

Rafe says nothing when he shoves your back against the brick wall, blue eyes a thunderstorm of chaos before he’s stealing your breath from your lips. He cranes your neck up with both hands, devouring your lips and then your tongue. The force of it is too great, gasping into it only to be able to breathe better making you inhale the taste of him.

A wet smacking pop sounds when Rafe pulls away, pearly teeth biting his pink lips fill your vision before you’re staring at the other end of the alley.

“Told you I’d get on my knees f’you.”

Rafe Cameron settles on his knees in front of you and all you can do is gape back, dumbfounded. Dirty blond fringes kiss his eyelashes, mirroring your open mouth as his tongue swipes at his bottom teeth. His hands slide up from your knees to your thighs painstakingly slow, gentle as a boyish smile grows.  

“Rafe – not here…please.” Your voice can’t seem to go above a whisper, heart rate doubling in a second.

He ignores you and it’s becoming an obvious trait for him. His knees dig into the gravel uncomfortably but with the warm scent of you being so close, he can’t think of anything else.

Without permeable, he’s burying his face in the soft cotton of your leggings at your crotch, crudely inhaling and licking a stripe up your covered mound. He moans and swears he can almost taste you through the fabric, tongue dampening it as he teases you. Hands groping at your thighs up to your ass, flattening his tongue to cover every inch he can.

With layers between his tongue and your pussy it shouldn’t feel as good as it does. Wiggling his tongue around slowly, like the push and pull of the ocean. The muted feeling of his hot tongue seeping through the material makes a whine crack out of your chest. Again, you protest while your hands flutter down to pat his head, eyes darting around the empty space. A pierce of anxiety hits you and blends with the thrill that is building up between your legs. A familiar unwanted buzz you’ve come to dread and anticipate.   

Your mouth opens again for a protest, but Rafe interrupts, staring up at you with full dark lashes and panting.

“What’s your favorite color?”

The question is so far left field, you don’t understand him until he repeats himself, swiping kisses around your hips as he awaits your answer.

When you do, he pulls on your waistband, tugging your leggings down until they hit midthigh, uncovering and restricting you all at once. Threading your fingers in his blond locks you tug, hoping to pull him upright, to stop this – whatever is happening.

A heavy groan vibrates along your mound and burns down to your clit. Rafe is quick in pressing his face right up to your cunt and kissing it. Like a man starved, his fingers pull at your thong to the side as his tongue slips through your folds, taking one, two moments of exploring and then finding your clit. The tip of his tongue, flicking and prodding as he switches from caresses to sucking.

“Favorite book?”

Your body feels heavy like gravity is pushing you down while your head is floating away from you. Answering his questions scrambles your brain more as he continues his assault of pleasure. His hands encompass your hips, supporting the roll of them along his mouth. Grating your hips up again, the strong bridge of his nose slides and press on your clit as his tongue breaches you for the first time.

It’s a damn struggle to keep your voice down, for your moans not to echo off the brick walls of this deserted alley. Rafe moves his head side to side, working his tongue further into you only making it harder to be quiet. You’ve never fallen into the haze so easily before, any thoughts of your hatred for him shutting off completely. He’s in complete control even in this position, demanding your pleasure and bits of yourself.  

Clenching on his tongue is a different type of sensation you’ve never felt before, soft but hard enough to feel it. Hot and wet with plenty of friction as his nose bullies your clit. You whine in disappointment whenever he pulls it out, asking you meaningless questions. Dragging out this tortured pleasurable hell of yours. Edging you into a lust-induced daze, body preparing for that ultimate high.   

Fingers knead at the fat of your ass and in the back of your mind you’d wish he would slip a couple of those long fingers in you. Your thighs start to twitch as you get closer, pulling his hair harsher causing his attack to increase with vigor. His teeth graze the sensitive flesh of the hood of your clit and you’re squealing with no inhibitions.

“What’s something you’re scared of?”

It’s the first question with real significance behind it. And although you’ve told yourself earlier to lock those pieces of you away, it all comes tumbling out like the spilling of glass. You answer with no hesitation, just honesty.

“You!”

Rafe loses all control he thought he had. He sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue sliding back and forth as the suction deepens. The pressure of his lips is like a vacuum as he works you into a frenzy. He growls back into you, responding to the soft pitiful whimpers you make. Squeezing your ass as he presses his face deeper, your slick covering his chin and dripping down his throat. The front of his teeth grinds at the top of your slit, hips jolting with the strike of lightening of your orgasm, a hoarse cry that you have to bite off.

Hiccups break between your erratic breathing, the rush of your high lasting longer than ever before as Rafe keeps his mouth right there, right in the same spot that’s making you see white specks of stars.

His tongue softens, flat and drinking as much of you as he can. The combination of spit and cum makes everything slippery, soft lips kissing down your slit to your pulsing hole and back up again.

Finally, thinking you might just have to live in this never ever dying bliss with Rafe between your thighs forever, he stands up.  

“So good f’me,” Rafe mumbles. One hand pets your hair while the other reaches down, you think he’ll pull your pants up for you.

Instead, Rafe is undoing his own, taking his rock-hard cock out and you’re shaking your head no before he can do anything.

“Uh-uh, hush.” He chuckles. “Not gonna fuck you…” You watch as he pulls on his cock, tugging with a moan. “Gonna cum with just the taste of you on my tongue.”

You can’t tear your eyes away as he pleasures himself in front of you, the weeping tip brushing along the top of your thong, your forehead resting on his shoulder as you watch. The rough whine of your own name makes ruminates of your high bleed back in, hips thrusting closer to him of their own fruition.

His stroking speeds up as he cums all over you, only stopping once there’s nothing else to wring out. It’s the first time you’ve really gotten a good look at him down there, thick and heavy with an angry red mushroom head. It’s always the assholes that have the best dicks.

Heavy pants begin to synchronize together, both of you staring down at the mess on you. You blink heavily, resting them closed and it's then you get a flash of another time you were covered by him.

Look like an angel with all that white on you.

His words echo in your head, giving you the willpower and common sense to pull away from him. Rafe stumbles back a bit from your shove, your fingers fumbling with your waistband as you quickly pull it up.

“Woah hey, it’s ok. Relax.” Rafe attempts to pacify you, seeing the thoughts whirl behind your eyes. He rights himself up, towering over you as his hands soothe down your arms.

You wiggle uncomfortably, the touch of him scratching at you. “It's not ok! You can’t keep doing this to me!”

Rafe sputters. “What, g-giving you so many orgasms that, that you can’t keep your eyes open?” His grip tightens, bending lower to get in your face. “You sure know how to keep your legs open!”

Your gasp is like the sound of a shotgun firing, silencing the air around you. Rafe’s face softens, loosening his hold as one hand scrubs down his face in regret.

“Look, I didn’t mean that –”

“Yes, you did.” You say strongly.

“Nah, I didn’t.” Rafe points a finger at you, shaking it in your face. “You’re just pissing me off right after we had a great time together.”

You know you can’t fight him physically and now with his blackmail, you don’t know if you can fight him off mentally either. It’s exhausting going from fear to ecstasy to anger, all in a loop every time with him. Maybe you did ruin what could’ve been a nice moment between the two of you, but hasn’t he already ruined the foundation? How could he ever think you can get past what he’s done to you.

He's delusional, is what he is. Speaking to him rationally doesn’t work and each time you fight him, the more extreme he becomes. So, maybe it was time to choose a different route. One that can either break him or break you.  

“You’re…right.” The words are bitter on your tongue, lying straight through your teeth. “I’m sorry.”

Rafe’s surprise is easy to read on his face, an open book you know you’ll have to use to your advantage. An arm slings low around your waist, pulling your bodies tightly together as his other hand cups the back of your neck. Leaning down to press his lips to yours, the kiss is a slow burn of rekindling desire for him and a reluctant duty for you.

You can taste yourself on his lips, your cum slicking up the movement of your mouths. Giving into it is easier than you’d like it to be, the salty tang shared as he swipes his tongue in your mouth. Licking his way against yours, the clench of your thighs is involuntary.  

Pulling back, long fingers slide up to your face, his thumb tapping at the corner of your mouth. Rafe’s gaze zeroed in on your swollen lips.

“Smile for me, angel.”

It might seem like a request, but you know it’s a thinly veiled command. Straining your muscles to trick your lips back into a smile, demurely looking up at him in hopes to end this date already. The tip of his thumb hooks at your smile line, forcibly stretching your lips. He says your name like a curse.

“Pretty little smile makes my dick hard.”

Bruising one more kiss to you, Rafe takes your hand and leads you out the alley. You don’t know where’re going but you don’t question it either. Conscious of the fact you must choose your battles wisely from now on.

Rafe sticks to the subject of you. Asking about your classes, assignments, and various mundane things. You answer as vague as possible, upset with yourself for succumbing to his earlier interrogation.

Walking south of the campus, you don’t recognize much but just an odd sense of familiarity. You don’t often make your way to this side of the town, all the bars, and campus buildings further north. The trees shake their limbs in the winter breeze creating an eerie warning.

“Where’re we going?”

Opting for casual, your voice betrays your nerves. Rafe squeezes your hand and pulls, eliminating the gap you’ve made during the walk.

“Figured we can keep our date going.” Rafe pivots, heading into a building. “Don’t worry, you’ve been here before.”

With dawning horror, you know exactly where you are. The place that started this whole mess. Somewhere you’ve never expected to be again.

You’re back at Rafe’s apartment.  

[strawbs-screaming]

how i think the boxers text

i was bored. also clay puppington looks like don flamenco to me somehow. goodbye

Glass joe - he would type with extra double spaces and use a lot of emojis for the wrong purposes with random capital letters

Example:

"hello. Have you seen my water bottle?"

"aran. is. in the hospital 🤯🤯🤯 call Later!! 🗣️"

Von Kaiser - okay grammar and uses a space before question marks & exclamation points, uses emojis in the intended (boring) way

Example:

"okay !! on my way !! 🚶🏻‍♂️🚶🏻‍♂️🚶🏻‍♂️"

"aran fell down a pothole !! It is NOT 🙅‍♂️ funny !!"

Disco Kid - uses slang often and gets creative with emojis, likes to use keyboard smashes to laugh and leaves typos in for flavor

Example:

"aran really said 🕳️⬅️🏃‍♂️"

"HELP IM EVAPORATEINF😭😭😭😭 LMAO AHKAJSJSJSJSNNSNS PLEASEE"

"YOURW GOING TO JAIL FOR THAT ONE 👮‍♂️👮‍♂️🚔🚔🚨🚨 WEE WOO WEE WOO"

King Hippo - Really ominous messages, texts like hes telling you hes done a mission, sometimes forgets to use a dot and uses a comma instead, sometimes responds with emojis that have 0 relevance

Example:

"oh no,"

"I took care of him. The job is done."

" 🍝🤯"

Piston Hondo - squeaky clean grammar, uses emojis rarely unless he forgets the name of something

Example:

"Alright. I'll call later."

"What was the name of this? I know how it looks like but forgot the name. Looks something like this: 🥨. I think it was called a praised eel or something?"

Bear Hugger - He texts like a Facebook mom, down to the wording and everything

Example:

"You mean pretzel? 🤣"

"How did he fall down a pothole?! 😮"

Great Tiger - too lazy to fix typos so it looks like a ancient language, likes spamming the same emoji over and over again when hes run out of responses, autocorrect fucks his messages up even more

Example:

"wesir did srsn fslk doen s potjole?? (wait did aran fall down a pothole?"

"i dont knoe sf is ıoıld laıyknsyn at araj fellimf dlen and pırjolej" (i dont know if i should laugh at aran falling down a pothole)

"👀👀👀👀👀"

Don Flamenco - proper grammar with some tiny typos that gets autocorrect to mess his message up, his autocorrect is literally cursed, it runs his messages daily

Example:

"Did aran fall town s pit joke??"

"I am do confused"

Aran Ryan - unhinged, emphasizes random parts for no reason, emojis after every sentence, wrong emojis everywhere

Example:

"I fell DOWN a pothole! 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️"

"shut UP 🖕🖕🖕🚔🦗🖕🥨"

"ILL drag you down there MYSELF!! 🗣️🗣️😡😡"

Soda Popinski - like a grandpa in the good way, sends those positive good morning images in every groupchat hes in

"Rise and shine! 💖"

"I just woke up. Don't know whats going on! 👀"

"Get well soon! 💐🌼✨"

Bald Bull - texts like your dad, except he switches out moves completely when hes cursing someone out

Example:

"ok"

"👍"

"You dumb bitch. Fuck you ass hole."

Super Macho Man - texts like hes making a copypasta

Example:

"Rise and GRIND! 🗣️ Surfs up today! 🤙🤙 Im catching waves like theres no tomorrow! 🏝️🌊"

"I have no idea. I am literally so confused right now. My brain is not working. My thought are not thoughting. I need a reboot. "

Mr Sandman - FINALLY someone that types like a normal person!!

Example:

"How did you fall down a pothole?"

"how great."

[oh-cosmia]

12, 17, 19 <3

hiiiii alex <333

12. a trope you’re really into right now

haha well im gonna interpret "right now" as something i got into recently... dragon romance (YOU KNOW). also doomed friendship/friends-to-enemies arcs. does "the banality of evil" count as a trope?

17. talk about your writing and editing process

**OUGH**

okay so uhhhh for fic specifically its like. if its a new fic or a oneshot i write down a really rough summary like, i just ramble in my word doc as if i was telling someone this outline. sometimes if i already rambled about fic ideas in someone's dm's ill just copy paste it and use that as an outline. this was basically how me and mal wrote the outline for wedding fic, and also i did this with me and liz's dms when i first drafted solo au. and then i just start writing and keep fleshing out the outline till its done.

if its a chapter in a longer or ongoing work, like db:

prewriting; i need to know what main events happen in this chapter and also what key information is dropped. in chapter 11, something big happens, the steward shows up! thats something thats gonna build up to something in future chapters, so it was necessary to introduce it now. another big thing happens, when min encounters a denizen whose suffering he was complicit in. those are the big things that Have to happen, but then also in between that i want to drop some pieces of information that will become relevant in later chapters. when i get an idea for something gay i will find a way to work it in-- like, i didn't Need to make min kabedon ryan in ch11, but i had a vision. i had a dream. i did that for ME

writing; okay so first i lay down . then at 9-11pm i write in stimuwrite and then copy it into a word document later. then i lay down some more. if im REALLY feelin wild and i get into a groove i just keep writing till i pass out at 2 or 3 am. sometimes i go to my favorite cafe if i need to Lock In. writing is just mostly cleaning up and expanding on my outline. when i know generally what the trajectory of the chapter is and what stuff i need to make happen, everything else i kind of make up on the spot, like, the car settings and denizens are based off of whatever ideas or images were interesting to me recently. if i see an opportunity for fun banter or interactions i'll just throw it in. if i think of something funny or gay i'll put it in too. idgaf

editing; most fun part. so first i lay down. then i get up and look at a random scene of the wip. i edit it a bit. then i lay down. then i review the whole thing and fix any obvious #cringe moments or typos or fucked up syntax. then i lay down. then i edit some more until i can bear to show someone else

peer review. i show my trusted friends the fruits of my labors. they tell me if the vibes are off. they leave comments on my docs and reactions that help me gauge if my intentions/tone came through the writing. also frankly showing my friends a wip is nice bc the writing process can be very lonely and its a good motivator to show people and get amped up to finish

illustration; i've probably been sketching ideas up till this point, but i usually pick scenes if they're either important enough to the plot that i want to give an extra "oomph" to the moment, or if i just really have a strong image in my brain during a scene.

publish it. lay down again. sleep for a week. start thinking abt the next chapters

[witchersmistress]

Heads You Lose

Hello my darlings!! here is part two to Tails you win. https://www.tumblr.com/witchersmistress/716840196299276288/tails-you-win?source=share

Ive linked part 1 for those who have missed it or havent read it.

Warning: Blood, violence, death and gun shot wounds.

Word count: 9.8k

my usual warning, you do not have my permission to copy or use my work in anyway, if you do ill haunt you for the rest of your days!!

Propbably gramatical errors and typos but i type to fast for my own good lol

Name pronounciatuion for the FMC : her given name is Saorise, Sheer-sha, in Irish-Gaelic means freedom

Her nickname, gifted to her at a young age by Syverson: Louhi, Lo-hee, Finnish origin, she is the goddess of Death and Disease.

“People like you and me don’t get to love…” 

Those are the words that play on repeat inside my head as I stagger to my feet, blood seeping from the bullet wound just below my right shoulder and mixing with the drying blood already covering my body. I don’t feel the pain from it. On the contrary, I’m numb to everything bar Saoirse’s words. People like you and me…

Don’t get to love… 

Don’t. Get. To. Love…

 She’s right in a way, but not entirely. It’s true that the likes of us don’t get to love without fear. When you mix with the people we do, you gain enemies. Even the friends you think you have can turn against you on a penny if the price is right. Look at the King - he was ‘friends’ with Carter, but he took the opportunity to take him out the moment it was offered.

I took out my boss without a second thought.

 Granted it was to protect the woman I love from her very own dad, but she doesn’t know that, and I can’t tell her. 

Not yet, anyway. But one thing I do know with absolute certainty is that I do get to love. And I never thought that was possible for me. Yeah, it’s dangerous to love when it can be held against you, but it doesn’t make it any less true. If I know anything about myself, it’s this: I won’t give up on our love. I refuse to, because what the fuck kind of man would I be to turn my back on something so fundamental to my very existence? A fucking pussy, that’s what, and if there’s one thing I’m not, it’s a pussy.

 I won’t give up on our love. Not now, not ever.

Lifting my head, I meet Saoirse’s hard stare with that promise burning in my veins. But right now, no matter what I say, I know it won’t make a difference. Saoirse might love me, but Louhi has to make a stand. We both know that. Shooting me was her only choice given the circumstances. Closing herself off, shutting down, was her only option. I don’t fight it, I can’t fight it, but most importantly, I won’t. “Get. Out!” she snarls, the slightest flicker of regret in her eyes the only sign that beneath the pain, betrayal and disappointment, she still cares for me. 

That Saoirse is still there inside of Louhi, who stands before me now. “I said, get the fuck out!” I ignore Rodriguez’s laugh. I ignore the King’s smirk. I ignore Dom asking Saoirse to reconsider. Instead, I lower my head in acquiesce. I raise my hand and place it over my heart, over the tattoo of her handprint embedded in my skin and vow to myself that I will find a way to protect her from afar, no matter what. With one last look at Saoirse that I hope conveys all the love and affection I feel for her, I twist on my feet and stagger towards the exit, my gaze falling to Dom as I reach the door.

“Take care of her,” I bite out through gritted teeth, fighting the darkness that’s threatening to drag me under. He nods. “You can count on me, Sy.” 

*Hours later*

“Fuck me sideways!” Connall exclaims as I blink back the heavy fog of sleep and try to get my bearings. “Where am I?” I ask, groaning as I try to sit up. Bright white light pricks my eyes like a bullet straight to my brain, and I lift my hand to my head, feeling my scalp where Derby whacked me, hissing when I feel the tender skin and the stitches there.

 “Joey’s place. He’s fixed you up. Got you on a drip as soon as we arrived and gave you a couple pints of blood. There was a moment I thought we’d lose you.” “I’m hard to lose,” I reply, giving him a weak smile. “But man, do I feel like shit.” “You look like shit too,” Joey says, stepping into his makeshift operating theater and giving me a toothy grin, antiseptic and the scent of car oil following him into the room. The amount of times I’ve been in the back of his garage getting fixed up is crazy, though to be fair, he keeps this room spotless. I mean, I haven’t died of my injuries or a nasty infection yet. That’s got to count for something, right? Thank god for old ranger buddies. “Thanks, old man,” I reply, easing myself upright on the gurney. It creaks under my weight, and I feel every single bit of pain now that the adrenaline has worn off.

 Damn, I could up chuck. Swallowing back the queasiness, I wait for the room to stop spinning. “What’s the damage?” Connall asks, frowning as he stares at me. I have a vague recollection of calling him for help, but other than that I remember nothing after stepping outside of the club. He’s a good man, one I can count on.

The fucking best. “Couple broken ribs, lots of bruising,” Joey says, drawing some clear liquid from a vial into a needle. He pulls it free, presses the plunger to get rid of any air bubbles, then stabs me in the bicep with it, dispensing the liquid. “I fucking hope that’s painkillers,” I say, trying to laugh but failing. He nods, pulling the needle free before throwing it in the medical waste bin. “I got you, pal.” “What else?” Connall urges impatiently.

 “The gash to his head was pretty fucking deep. I’ve sewn it up but you’ll need to keep an eye on him over the next few days. He was concussed pretty badly, and there’s always a danger of bleeding into the skull or swelling on the brain, but I think we’re good where that’s concerned.”

 Connall swipes a hand through his hair. “You think?” “Well, short of getting Sy into the hospital for a CT scan, I can’t say any better than that.”

 “No hospitals,” I say firmly. “Don’t need the law on my ass for offing Carter-fucking-Davidson.” 

“You what?!” Connall exclaims, looking from me to Joey. “Did you know about this?” “First I’ve heard,” Joey says, casting a look my way. He knows I had my suspicions about Carter and his relationship with the King, so I imagine he’s putting two and two together and coming up with a pretty good assumption about what went down. “Jesus fuck, Syverson! What the hell happened last night?” “Last night?” I have a question. “How long have I been out?” “Ten hours, but stop avoiding the fucking question. Spill. I need to know so that I can give the family a head’s up. If a war is coming, they’ll want to back you.” “There’ll be no war. We’re leaving.”

“You and Louhi?” Joey asks, even though I’m pretty fucking sure it’s a trick question given she ain’t here and he’s not fucking stupid. “No.” I shake my head, ignoring the pain in my chest that isn’t coming from my bullet wound, but is most definitely coming from my heart. I look at Connall. “When I said we, I was kind of hoping you’d come with me.” “Me? Go where, exactly? And what about Louhi?” “Saoirse was the one who shot me,” I explained, leaning my head back against the gurney. Joey whistles and Connall’s mouth drops open in shock. “Wait, back the fuck up a minute,” he says scraping a hand over his face. “You killed Carter Davidson and Louhi shot you for it?”

 “Pretty much,” I replied.

 “But she’s in love with you,” he counters.

 “He’s her dad, Connall.”

 “And clearly a prick given you killed him. You don’t need to tell me what he’s done for me to know you’d only ever off your boss because he’s done something unforgivable. So, I’ll ask again. Why would Louhi shoot you when we all know that girl is head over heels in love with you?”

 I heave out a sigh. “I wish I could say that was still true.” “Are you still in love with her?” Joey asks me pointedly.

“Yes.”

 “Jesus, Mary and Joseph! She shot you, Logan. Are you gone in the head?” Connall yells, shaking his head in frustration. “You know what, don’t fucking answer that.” “So you’re running?” Joey asks, moving the conversation along. “It’s complicated.” “So UN-complicate it for us because as much as I like Louhi, I don’t like the fact she nearly killed you and you’re leaving like a beat-down dog.” “Number fucking one, I’m not a beat-down dog!

 Number fucking two, if she wanted me dead, I’d be dead. We were five feet apart, there is no way she would’ve missed from that distance. No fucking way,” I say, pointing to my bandaged shoulder. “He’s right. Even if she wasn’t a trained markswoman, which I understand that she is, there’d be no missing. So do you want to tell us why you killed Carter?” Joey asks. “Because the cunt was going to use her to pay off his debts to the King.” “The fuck you say?!” Connall yells. “You heard me. Carter got into a lot of trouble fucking his way around the escorts at The Crib Club, not to mention racking up a substantial gambling debt. I found out about his plans and made the King a better offer.” 

Drawing in a deep breath to fend off the queasiness, I continue, “I would kill Carter if he backed the fuck off from Saoirse. He agreed, providing I stay quiet about his involvement, and he could remain a silent partner in the club.”

 “The conniving bastard. Why didn’t you just kill the cunt as well?” Connall asks. “Because, as you well know, he’s powerful. Much more powerful than me on my jack jones and far more powerful than one woman with a dead dad. She needs him… For now.” “And you’re okay with that?” Joey asks this time. “Of course I’m not, but equally she’s backed into a corner. The King has a forty-eight percent share in the club, he has a big army behind him and lots of fucking connections. 

She can’t go up against him. This way she keeps his protection and a share in the club whilst she establishes herself, and we find a way out of this mess.” “And you believe he won’t go back on his word the minute you're gone, and take her for himself?” “I know he won’t. Saoirse shooting me proved she’s tough enough to run the club. Besides, the King doesn’t want a woman who’ll fucking shoot him when he tries to raise a hand to her. Saoirse is too much of a handful, and one he ain’t willing to mess with, thank fuck.”

“So let me get this straight,” Connall tries to rationalize, pacing up and down as he gets all the information straight in his head. “Carter was in debt so he goes to the King for a loan, the payment of which is his own fucking daughter and a share in the club.” “Yes,” I say, the pain in my head, shoulder and ribs easing a little now the medication is doing its job. Doesn’t stop the ache in my heart though, or the constant feeling of nausea when I’m reminded of how Saoirse had looked at me as though I’d broken her heart as surely as her banishing me had broken mine. She had to do it, I don’t fucking blame her for it, but it still fucking hurts.

 “You find out and cut another deal with the King,” Connall continues, “You kill Carter and the King backs off from Louhi, acting as what, a silent partner in the club?” “Precisely, he’s also got connections with some of the best clubs in the world. He can bring in the fighters. She’s smart, she’ll grow the business, and won’t throw it down the drain alongside whisky and stripper cum like her dad did.” Connall raises his brow at that. We both know Carter wasn’t the type of man who cared about a woman’s pleasure over his own. “Turn of phrase,” I mumble.

“So the King gets to sit back and reap the benefits whilst you take the blame for killing Carter, am I close?” “I don’t know about that part. That all depends on what happens now, but I’m not sticking around to find out whether Saoirse grasses on me. Though I wouldn’t fucking blame her if she did.” “She won’t,” Joey says, sounding far more certain than I feel. “And you know how?” Connall asks. “As you well know, there are rules we all live by, unspoken ones, but ones we all obey. No fucking police. However Louhi chooses to deal with this is up to her, but that girl has grown up in this life and she won’t be pulling the police in unless they’re bent and she’s using them to cover her back.” 

 “Fair point,” Connall concedes, leaning back against the counter as he regards me. “And your big plan is to slope off with your tail between your legs, heart fucking broken, whilst there are a fuck load of snakes and sharks out there who are more than willing to take a bite out of your woman?” 

“I’m not sloping off,” I growl, “And I’m not willing to let anyone do any such thing. I trust Dom to keep an eye on her, and I believe the King will have her back whilst it suits him. Right now keeping her safe, and more importantly the business safe, is in his best interests.”

“So what’s the plan, and why do you want me tagging along for the ride?” Connall asks. “For your charm and wit, of course,” I reply, deadly fucking serious. He laughs. I don’t. “Okay spill.” “I’m gonna find her an army of the best men and women money, charm and connections can buy, and you’re going to help me.” “Well, when you put it like that, how can a man say no?” Connalls replies, grinning. “And what do you need me to do?” Joey asks. “Keep your ear to the ground and let me know the second you hear anything about the King that should concern me. Better still, ingratiate yourself with Louhi. Get in on the business. She’ll need someone to fix up her men after they’ve been in the cage. Make sure that man is you.” Joey nods.

 “You got it.” “So where to go first?” Connall asks me as my eyes begin to drift shut. “Italy. Romeo Ricci, remember that crazy bastard, he has some contacts out there I’d like to explore…” “Italy it is,” Connall replies, with a shake of his head as exhaustion and a heavy dose of painkiller pull me under.

*2 years later*

Sy’s POV

It’s been almost two years since I left. Two long motherfucking years where I’ve watched over Saoirse from afar. My Princess. My woman. My heart. She turns twenty in a week. And I’m back to tell her the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me fucking God.

I owe her an explanation, my apologies and my love. But more than that, I owe her my life. Saoirse isn’t a crap shot, and no one misses major organs when they’re firing a bullet from a few feet away without purposefully intending to miss. She shot me that night in the cage, banishing me from her life and sending out a message to the criminal underworld. No one fucks with Louhi. Not even the ones she loves. It was her saving grace, because when she pulled the trigger she proved herself a Davidson more than worthy of standing in Carter’s shoes, and she’s been proving herself ever since, building a business and an army that she can be proud of. Unofficially she’s been running the club from the moment Carter was murdered by yours truly, officially just a few short weeks since his will was read and her name replaced his as the owner of the club. Either way, she’s gained respect and a reputation. 

According to Dom, who’s been my inside man this whole time, despite the King still having involvement in the club, he’s backed off and allowed her to make a name for herself whilst he reaped the benefits. It won’t be long before she buys him out, or better yet kills the cunt, but all in good time. For now, she’s running the most lucrative fight club in all of Europe. Two months after the refurbishment, the old club mysteriously burnt to the ground and she moved premises to a larger, more discrete site where the club has also become more commonly known as Louhi’s Fight Club. As it should be. She’s a badass, and I’m so fucking proud of her. Two weeks ago, Dom called me to let me know that Carter’s will had finally been read, after his funeral took place a couple weeks before that.

 A funeral that, by all accounts, was attended by every fucking lowlife criminal you could think of. None of them were there for Carter, and even less to pay their respects to Saoirse. Like vultures around a rotting carcass, they wanted to see what they could get out of the situation because up until three months ago, Carter was deemed a missing person. And a missing person is still a threat, but a dead man? Not so much. What they hadn’t counted on was the woman they met at the funeral. A woman who, according to Dom, single-handedly laid out three men and shot a fourth in the kneecap for even trying to disrespect her. They also hadn’t counted on the soldiers she’s acquired or the loyalty of mercenaries with a big enough reputation to scare even the most hardened criminal off. Like I said, she’s been building an army. It’s also common knowledge that the remains of Carter’s skull was found in a shallow grave in Hampstead Heath, and that he was identified by his teeth.

It’s not common knowledge that the police were tipped-off with where to find Carter’s remains, or the fact that the rest of his body was fed to pigs who have long since been butchered too. Both calculated decisions that were made by Saoirse herself. Of course, speculation had been rife in the criminal underworld, and according to Dom, Saoirse endured weeks of police interrogations, interviews and accusations. But she never wavered from her story, and she never once ratted me out. Carter’s cause of death was deemed suspicious, but given there was very little left of Carter’s body and no other evidence to be found given the old club is now nothing but a pile of ash, the case ran cold.

 Though I’m more than fucking positive that there was a handout to the police chief and a few people higher up the chain of command to nip any further investigations in the bud. Like I said, Saoirse has come into her own. Or should I say Louhi has come into her own, because there isn’t one person now who’ll call her Saoirse. She won’t allow it. The last person who tried was beaten by her men so badly that he can’t even remember his own name, let alone hers, or so I’m told. Saoirse has well and truly shredded her skin and stepped into the role of Louhi completely. It’s a heavy burden to know that I’m part of the reason for that.

That my actions, my half-truths and my lies to keep her safe, forced her into a persona she couldn’t escape from. Honestly, I’m not certain she would even want to now. But I’m not back to change her in any way, I’m back because I can’t stay away a moment longer. There’s so much I need to fix and I’m not self-centred enough to believe I’ll be successful, but I’ve got to fucking try. I blow out a steady breath, swiping at the mist covering the mirror from the shower I’ve just taken, and stare at my reflection. I look much the same as I did when I left.

 I’m still a bulky fucker, probably bigger than I was given I’ve spent a lot of my time training in gyms around the world, but it didn’t matter where I was, there was no sunshine without her. My happiness wasn’t a focus, her safety was, still is. I haven’t been complacent in my time away. I’ve made alliances, acquaintances and friends with powerful men and women. And I’ve done it all for Saoirse, for Louhi. I’ve been standing by her side this whole fucking time we’ve been apart. I never stopped working to build her army. Never stopped loving her. Never stopped dreaming about her every fucking night, and thinking about her every minute of every day. I’m surprised my dick hasn’t dropped off from the amount of times I’ve abused it whilst thinking of her. 

That night in her bedroom where she’d spread herself for me and finger-fucked herself so perfectly has been on repeat in my head for the last two years. Even now, after all this time, thoughts of her make me hard. That won’t ever change. Scraping a hand over my face, I mentally psych myself up, because if I was nervous about telling Saoirse about my feelings back in my tattoo shop two years ago, that’s nothing to how I’m feeling now. I ain’t shitting a brick. I’m shitting a goddamn mountain. Dom has made it perfectly clear that she’s not the same person I left behind, but then again neither am I. Truth be known, being away has changed me. I was never a spiritual man, and I won’t pretend that I am now, but a few months back I accompanied Connall on a trip to Ireland to visit his family and met a lad who has this uncanny ability to uncover a man’s secrets and capitalize on them. The little fucker got me talking about personal shit that I would never share with anyone. I can’t even blame my loose mouth on the pints of Guinness I knocked back, given I only had two. Pretty sure he pulled some voodoo shit on me. All I know is if anyone has the heart of a criminal, the soul of a thief and the mind of a genius, it’s Arden Dálaigh, and I have no doubts we’ll meet again when he’s grown a few more chest hairs. But that’s a concern for another day. 

With a shake of my head, my gaze falls to Saoirse’s handprint tattooed on my chest, the outline of which is now completely filled with black ink. From there my eyes track across to the puckered scar that sits just beneath my right collar bone where Saoirse shot me. Both are a prominent reminder of the woman I love, and I will wear them with pride until the day I fucking die. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Connall asks, the second I slide into the passenger seat beside him. I gave him a look. “Not in the fucking slightest, but it’s time.” “She might actually kill you this time.” “She might, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take,” I reply, drumming my fingers against my knee in agitation. 

The fucker of course notices. He’s been a good friend to me and I owe him so much more than I could ever repay. Connall has been my right-hand man through all of my travels around the world. “Listen, mate, I love you, you know that right?” I laugh. “If you’re about to tell me to run away with you—”

“We’ve been there, done that already,” he cuts in with a smirk, breaking sharply and swearing at a kid that suddenly dashes out into the road in front of us. She slams her fist against the bonnet, before giving us the middle finger. Beneath her hood I can see bright blue hair and a scowl that would rival the many Saoirse has given me in the past. “Watch where you’re going, asswipe!” she yells, then pelts it across the street chucking a spray can at the car for good measure.

 “The little fucker!” Connall exclaims as we both watch her leg it down the street and disappear down an alleyway a little further up. “That one’s gonna cause someone a heap of shit in a few years.” “Looks like she’s already causing a heap of shit,” I remark, as Connall puts the car in drive and moves on. We both laugh, the tension easing a little. Ten minutes later Connall pulls up outside a gated industrial estate, manned by a security guard who looks very familiar.

 Mark.

 The last time I saw him, he was in the crowd at the club whilst I was getting the shit kicked out of me by Derby. Connall gives me a look. “Is he gonna give us trouble?” “I guess you’d better roll your window down so we can find out.”

Mark steps out of the little hut he’s sitting in and strolls over to the car, ducking down to look through the now open window. It takes him less than a second to lock eyes with me. “Well, fuck! Dom said you were back, but I didn’t believe it. Syverson, as I live and breathe. How are you, mate?” Not quite the reception I was expecting, but okay. I grin. “I’m good, you?” “Head of security here these days,” he says with a wink, tapping on the walkie-talkie attached to his chest. “That uniform looks good on you,” Connall says, jerking his chin towards Mark’s outfit. He looks like a cross between a copper and a bouncer in his deep blue shirt and trousers. 

The fact he’s got a handgun strapped to his hip and a knife slotted next to it just adds to the whole don’t fuck with me vibe he’s got going on. “Louhi likes her soldiers dressing smart. Things have changed around here since…” His voice trails off and neither of us fill in the silence. Mark was at the club the night I fought Derby, but he wasn’t there when I killed Carter. I found out later he was dragging a fuming Hudson Freed home. 

Though he couldn’t keep him away according to Dom, who’s been my inside man this whole time. Hudson came back an hour after I left and is as deep in this pile of shit as the rest of us in attendance that night. Honestly, I expected to hear that Saoirse and him had got together after I’d gone, but to my surprise they’re still just friends and have remained close. I guess I owe him a thank you for looking out for my girl too, even if it pisses me off that he got to spend time with her and I didn’t. I should be grateful, I am grateful, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to beat the shit out of him for having her time and attention though.

 Never thought I’d be a jealous man, but here we are. “Sy is here to see Louhi. Is that gonna be a problem?” Connall asks, before I’m able to even clear my head enough to do the same. For a beat Mark looks between us, his expression serious. We were friends once, and the thought of having to knock the fucker out so I can get inside the gates doesn’t sit well with me, but I’ll do it if I have to. “A few weeks back I would’ve seen you on your way,” he admits with a wry grin. “And today?” I ask, my stomach churning at the thought that just on the other side of this gate is the woman I love. “Today you’re allowed in.” Connall grins. “Excellent, want to get the gate open then?”

Mark’s smile drops. “Sorry, Connall. Sy goes in alone. Orders of the Boss.” Connall looks affronted, glancing at me. “Why is she pissed at me? I ain’t done nothing wrong. Surely, she has missed my Irish charm?” I laugh, and Mark grins. “Couldn’t tell you. All I’ve been told is if Logan  turns up he comes in alone.” “Not a problem,” I say, unclipping my seat belt. “Follow me then,” Mark replies, bumping fists with a put-out Connall, before striding back to the gate. “Seriously, Sy, are you sure you wanna do this? We both know that Louhi has quite the reputation these days.” “I’m sure. Go home. I’ll call you later.” Connall nods, blowing out a breath.

 “Well, don’t let me tell you I told you so when you end up in the coroner's office with a bullet in your brain.” “Pretty sure I’ll be incapable of listening or responding at that point,” I say with a laugh, before jumping out of the car and striding through the open gate.

Two minutes later I’m pushing open the door into the warehouse Mark pointed me towards, and stepping into a cornered off wire cage with wrap around curtains and a locked door opposite. In the corner of the space is a table and a sign that says:

 Remove all weapons or entry will be denied.

I grin. Saoirse is way smarter than her father. Security is clearly a priority, as it should be. Glancing around the space, my attention is caught by a tiny red light flashing in the top right hand corner of the cage. I stare up at the camera and wait, a smile pulling up my lips. “Weapons on the table,” a familiar female voice barks through the intercom. It’s been a long time since I heard her voice and for a moment I’m taken aback. Struck fucking dumb, actually, though my dick doesn’t seem to have the same problem. It jerks at her voice, standing to fucking attention. “Jesus fuck,” I mutter. “Weapons on the table, Syverson. You’ll get them back when you leave.” 

Syverson. Call me a fool, call me whatever the fuck you like, but the sheer fact she’s addressing me by my real name is a good fucking sign. I hear the sass buried deep beneath the coolness, and it fires my fucking blood like nothing else. Maybe there’s hope. “I have no weapons. I come in peace,” I reply, grinning, unable to help myself.

For long moments there’s just silence, then the intercom makes a clicking noise and her voice follows shortly after. “Prove it. Strip.” “Sure thing, Princess,” I reply without hesitation, more than happy to oblige. I hear the sound of the intercom clicking once more and wait, but there’s nothing but static. Maybe it’s too early to be calling her Princess again so I follow my reply up with a statement that I hope she takes as truthfully as it’s meant. “Ain’t nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” Her scoff comes through the intercom clear as fuck then. “Just get on with it.” I stare up at the camera and nod. If she wants me naked, then I’ll get naked.

 She can see how my cock is growing for her too. I don’t fucking care. She can take her fill. Removing my jacket and boots first, I throw the former onto the table and kick the latter across the concrete floor. There isn’t one moment when my gaze isn’t focussed on the camera, and I’m hoping she can feel the intensity of my stare, because I sure as fuck can feel hers. Next, my t-shirt, jeans and socks come off and I stand in my boxers with a raging hard on that would rival any of those other fuckers that she might’ve invited into her bed. I sure hope I get the chance to erase any bastard cock that has had the pleasure of her attention these past couple years. It fucking kills

I know that someone else has taken what was always supposed to be mine, but I can’t blame her for it. I won’t do that. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking gut me though, or that I won’t off the fucker who took it from me. Just saying. “Do you need me to remove my boxers too, because you know I will, Princess,” I say unabashedly. This wasn’t exactly how I pictured our reunion, but I get the psychology behind it. She wants to show me who’s boss, what she doesn’t realize is that I never wanted to be hers.

 Every action I took came from a place of love, and the need to protect her. “Is that a gun in your pants or are you just glad to see me?” a familiar male voice says, followed by a burst of laughter that has my cock deflating quicker than you can say gonorrhea. Across the other side of the space the curtain surrounding the cage is pulled back and Dom is smiling at me. “Fucking hell, Syverson, I can see that cock of yours is still a lethal weapon.” I bark out a laugh, shaking my head. “You prick!” 

“Nope, you’re definitely the prick.”

“Good to see you, Dom,” I reply, my smile fading as I give him a look that I hope he interprets as gratefulness. Without him keeping an eye on Saoirse, and letting me know how she’s been doing, I would’ve been even more of a fucking mess. “Get dressed. Louie's waiting for you in her office,” he gives me a knowing look, then punches a number into a keypad on his side of the cage and pulls the door open. He waits for me to put my clothes back on, and with one last glance at the camera, I follow Dom into the lioness’s den.

Saoirse’s POV

I stare at the screen, at the man who stole my heart and made me an orphan. He looks the same as I remember and different in a way that’s difficult to pinpoint. There are lines around his eyes, and a tightness around his mouth that I have the sudden urge to soothe. He’s more muscular, if that’s even possible. His hair is a little longer on top and he’s clean shaven. If I weren’t already sitting down, I’d need to.

There’s no doubt that he’s grown even more handsome, and despite my head telling me not to get drawn in, my foolish heart is beating wildly. Don’t even ask me about my pussy because she’s already forgiven him and is about ready to throw herself at his cock and beg for oblivion. “Fuck!” I swear, my gaze roving over every inch of his face as he stares up at the camera.

 This was a bad fucking idea. I can’t be weak for this man, I can’t. Flicking my gaze to my phone, I consider calling Mark to come get his arse and chuck him out, but  I hesitate. My stomach churns with anxiety, and I grab my packet of cigarettes from the table, lighting one and dragging in a deep lungful. The tip sizzles, and when I blow out a stream of blue-grey smoke, some of the anxiety lifts. Narrowing my eyes at him I make a decision, then lean back in my chair and press the intercom button. “Weapons on the table,” I say, keeping my voice steady, cold. He stiffens, his muscles locking tight as he blinks back up at the camera. He wasn’t expecting to hear my voice. Good, let him feel as fucked in the head as I do. I take another drag of my cigarette, enjoying the power shift as he chews on his lip. There’s no doubt that he’s nervous. Well that makes two of us.

“Weapons on the table, Syverson. You’ll get them back when you leave.” I can’t help but grin at the surprise in his eyes when I call him by his real name. Before, when I used to call him Syverson, it was to wind him up, to get a rise out of him. Now, I just want to remind him that I can call him whatever the fuck I want and he can’t do a damn thing about it. It takes him a beat to reply, but when he does he gives me a grin that almost makes me forget what he did. Almost. “I have no weapons. I come in peace,” he says. I take another pull of my cigarette. 

There’s nothing about his body language that tells me he’s being anything other than truthful, and despite everything, I believe he isn’t carrying. Not that it would matter if he was, because my soldiers would have him disarmed and on his knees with a gun cocked at his head before he could even blink. Syverson might be the best fighter in the cage, but he’s no match for the combined force of the mercenaries I’ve gathered over the two years since he’s been gone. Every single one of them walked into the club as a fighter and stayed as my soldier, and I took full advantage of the universe bringing them to me.

 We eyeball each other through the screen, and deciding that he needs to be knocked down a peg, or five thousand, I test his willingness to follow my orders because there is no way I’ll even entertain talking to him if he thinks he can just waltz back in here and pick up where we left off. I don’t care how fucking sexy he is, or how much he still makes my legs go weak and my pussy wet. “Prove it. Strip,” I demand, smirking as I lean back in my chair and wait. I don’t have to wait for long. “Sure thing, Princess,” he replies then begins to remove his clothes. I press down on the intercom about ready to tell him to fuck off for calling me Princess, but then he says something else that stills my heart and immediately puts me back in the headspace of the girl who was utterly in love with him. “Ain’t nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” I blink at the screen, at his sincerity. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Swallowing hard and pushing those feelings deep down, I scoff, then say; “Just get on with it.” 

Then I click off the intercom so that I don’t do something fucking stupid like ask him to do everything I’ve dreamed of in the privacy of my bedroom these past couple years since he’s been gone. Dragging in another hit of my cigarette, I watch him undress, my mouth dropping open as I stare at the screen, transfixed. He strips right down to his boxers and there’s no denying that his almost naked form is as stunningly attractive as it ever was, but it isn’t his defined muscles or his broad shoulders

and strong thighs that leave me breathless. It isn’t even the intimidating size of his erection. It’s my handprint that’s completely filled in and resting over his heart in a permanent tattoo that sucks all the oxygen from the room and has my own heart pounding so loud that I barely hear my phone ringing. “Shit! Fuck!” I exclaim, picking it up. “What?” I snap into the mouthpiece. “He’s about to take his fucking pants off. Are you still convinced he’s packing?” Dom asks me, undeniable laughter in his voice. He’s certainly packing, I think, my gaze trailing to his boxers and the bulge there.

 “Bring him to me,” I ordered. “Sure thing… And boss?” “Yes?” “He’s a good guy.” I snort. “Tell that to Carter.” By the time Dom knocks on my door five minutes later, I’ve shrugged off the girl who was in love with Syverson and firmly stepped into the role of Louhi. I promised myself I would listen to him, and I will, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to take him back no matter what he has to say. “Come in,” I called out, arms folded across my chest in defense mode that I quickly uncrossed because letting him know I’m feeling out of sorts by his sudden appearance today isn’t what Louhi would do. She is strong, unfazed by anyone, and it’s her grit I funnel as  Dom opens the door and Syverson steps past him into my office.

 I glance at Syverson quickly, willing my heart to stop racing and ignoring the very real need to just go to him, then give a tight smile to Dom. “Need me to stay?” he asks. “No. Get home to Nancy. I’ll see you back here tomorrow night for Ziggy’s fight.” “Sure thing.” He nods once, flicks his gaze to the back of Syverson’s head and smirks, shutting the door behind him. “I should shoot you dead now,” I state, my fingers running over the Glock resting on my desk, internally wincing at the opposing emotions fucking with my head. I just want to go to him, wrap my arms around him, but I can’t. I fucking can’t. “I wouldn’t stop you,” he replies evenly. “Do you have a death wish?” I ask, genuinely interested, and trying hard to focus on being Louhi and not the girl who’s still in love with him. He holds his hands out, palms up. “The only wish I have is for the chance to talk. That’s it. That’s all.” We stare at each other for long moments, and I’d be a liar if I didn’t want to throw caution to the wind and forgive him instantly for everything. But I can’t do that.

I won’t do that. “Drink?” I ask instead, if only because I need something to do with my hands. Without waiting for him to reply, I push back from the table and stride over to the drinks cabinet in the corner of the room, pouring us both a three-fingered shot of bourbon. I take my time, letting him get his fill of my fitted shirt, tight leather skirt, bare legs, and stiletto ankle boots. I know for a fact my knee-length skirt hugs my arse, and the slit at the back gives glimpses of my thighs. He’s not the only one who’s kept themselves fit these past couple years. I spar three times a week with Dom and Mark and train with Cleveland, one of the mercenaries, twice a week too. I keep up with pole dancing as much as I can with Nancy and Matty as well. Exercise has helped to keep my mind focused, sharp. What no one knows is that on my nights off I indulge in copious amounts of junk food to ease the pain in my chest whilst sitting in my threadbare pyjamas, feeling lonely as fuck. There has to be balance, right? With his eyes on me, I grab the drinks and return to my seat, sliding one across the table to him. “Sit.” Syverson nods, watching me carefully as he pulls out the chair and takes a seat opposite me. I will my cheeks not to flush at the intense way he stares at me,but rather than looking away I stare right back, not willing to let him see how affected I am by him. Taking a sip of the bourbon, I wait. 

“Saoirse…” Syverson begins, his Texan accent causing a sharp pang in my chest,  “Louhi,” I retort firmly. “Louhi,” he corrects, leaning forward and clasping his hands together on the table, completely ignoring the glass of bourbon. My gaze trails over his thick fingers and the veins protruding on the back of his hands before I slowly lift my eyes to meet his. I’m pretty sure he was just checking out my tits too. Can’t say I blame him, they’ve filled out some since he left. I guess I’m what you call a late bloomer. “You’ve got five minutes. Speak,” I demand, so fucking grateful my voice remains steady. “You look good,” he remarks, the sound of lust in his voice like a wet dream come true. There’s no denying the need in his eyes and for a second I allow myself to bask in it. To let his words wash over me like a sweet caress. Then I pull my shit together.

“If you’re just here to compliment me on my looks then you can get your arse up out of that chair and fuck right off. I don’t need your compliments, Syverson. I get enough of them as it is.” His eyes flash with possession, and a whole dose of jealousy, but he shuts both down and nods, clearing his throat. “I’m sure you do.” We fall silent again, and I pick up another cigarette, lighting it. He looks surprised but instead of questioning why I’ve taken up smoking, he nods towards the cigarette packet. “May I?” “You may,” I say, inwardly smiling at the way he seems to shift uncomfortably in his seat. I wonder if he still has a boner. The sheer fact he got hard because he knew I was watching him strip makes me feel all kinds of ways. 

Mostly horny, but also wanted, desired. Yeah, I’ve had plenty men want to fuck me, but the way Syverson is looking at me now, it’s different. It’s more. As he leans forward and reaches across the table, his loose fitting, v-neck shirt gapes a little, revealing the top of the handprint tattoo. Now it’s me who’s staring as I remember the day he took me to his tattoo shop and stole my breath with his actions and his promises.

“I like what you’ve done with the club,” he interrupts my reminiscing. I rip my gaze upwards and watch him place a cigarette between his lips before lighting it.

 “You’ve been busy building quite an empire since I’ve been gone.”

 “You sound surprised.” 

“No. I never doubted you.”

 Blue-grey smoke curls up out of his mouth as he speaks and I can’t help but notice the note of pride in his voice. I don’t need a man’s validation, but surprisingly getting this recognition from Syverson means more to me than it probably should. “Yeah, you’re right. I have been building an empire since I banished you,” I reply, forcing all those warm feelings I have no business entertaining deep into the pit of my stomach. Anger is by far a safer emotion right now, and I’m clinging onto it with everything I have. “I’ll rephrase that. You’ve been building quite an empire since you banished me.” There’s a hint of a smile in his eyes that warms a part of me that turned cold a long time ago, and it’s that feeling and not his flirty smile that has me reacting the way I do.

 I. Can’t. Let. Him. In.

 I Can’t.

“Get out!” I snap. Stubbing out my cigarette, I push up from my desk and stride towards the door. “Now!” He twists in his seat, frowning as he watches me yank open the door . “What?” “I said, get the fuck out!” My voice is low, dripping with fury. “Woah, Louhi,” he retorts, stubbing his own cigarette into the ashtray before getting to his feet.

 “Calm down darlin.”

 “Calm down? Calm-fucking-down! No. You don’t get to patronize me.”

 “I wasn’t! Shit! Fuck, that’s not what I was doing!”

 I bark out a laugh, feeling a lot less Louhi and way more Saoirse than I have in a very long time. Saoirse is the one who flies off the handle at the drop of a hat, who’s emotional. Louhi is nothing like that and a large part of me resents that he still has the ability to pull her out of me.

 “Did you honestly think you could waltz in here, flash me a smile, give me flirty fuck-me eyes and think I would fall at your feet like some lovesick teenager?”

 “Well, I—” he smiles again in that infuriating way that makes my heart squeeze. “Don’t you dare!”

 I hiss, slamming the door shut in anger instead of slamming my fist into his cocky face. “Don’t make this into a fucking joke.”

“I’m sorry, let me start again,” he begins, scraping a hand over his face. 

“Fuck, I knew I’d balls this up.”

 “I’m not that girl anymore. I’m not someone you can flirt with and charm, who begs for your attention. I won’t just roll over and forgive you for everything just because you’re back.”

 “I don’t expect you to do any of that,” he replies earnestly as he steps towards me. “I misjudged the situation. I guess I thought—I hoped—that because you hadn’t already shot me dead that we were on better terms than we actually are. I was wrong. I apologize.”

 “The only terms we’re on is me giving you a chance to shoot your shot before I decide whether to shoot you dead for good this time!” I bite back.

 “That’s fair,” he replies, holding his hands aloft as he approaches me guardedly. “I’m just asking you to listen to what I have to say. Will you?”

 “So now you want my obedience?” I shake my head. “Nothing’s changed there then.” 

“You were never obedient,” he retorts, moving closer still. “As I recall, you did nothing but cause me shit. I’ve missed that.” 

This time his smile isn’t flirty, it’s pitted with regret and the barely stitched together wounds in my chest rip open at that. He missed me. God, I missed him too. So fucking much. But I don’t admit it.

“And you were nothing but a tease and a heartbreaker!” I retort, hating the fact that I’m losing my cool so spectacularly, that somehow I’ve moved towards him instead of putting more space between us. “I’m sorry it felt that way.”

 “Are you?”

 “Saoirse,” he says, then slams his mouth shut when I give him a glare that ordinarily would end in someone getting kneecapped. 

“Louhi,” he repeats, still stepping towards me.

 “I never meant to hurt you.”

 “But you did. And that girl you made an orphan? She’s gone now.”

 “I understand,” he acknowledges, stopping a few inches from me.

 “You don’t understand though,” I reply. “You don’t understand anything.”

 “Then explain it to me. What’s going on in your head, Princess?”

 I look up at him unable, or perhaps unwilling, to drag my gaze away. I don’t even pull him up for calling me Princess again because, fuck, I’ve missed him so much. I ache to step into his arms. It’s physically painful to keep this distance between us, but I have a reputation to uphold and letting him back in would ruin mine. No one knows for certain that he killed Carter, but speculation has been rife since his body, or what was left of it, was found. The fact Syverson disappeared the same night my dad did but has turned up alive and well two years later is a big fucking red flag.

Not to mention that he did actually kill my dad. It’s just as well I’ve got the police chief in my pocket, otherwise Sy would’ve been pulled in for questioning the second he stepped back in town. He knows that just as much as I do. “You lost the right to ask those kinds of questions two years ago, Syverson.”

 “You’re right, I did, and it guts me to know that.” He sighs, tracing my features with his gaze. “There’s so much I need to say to you, but all I can think about right now is taking you in my arms and loving you until you understand that I’m sorry.”

 “Syverson,” I warn, but he ignores me and brushes his knuckles against my cheek, and just for a moment I’m caught in his pull, in the chemistry and the attraction we’ve always shared. It’s as strong as it ever was. It’s intoxicating. 

“Fuck, Louhi. Fuck,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over my lips.

 “Syverson,” I say, trying and failing not to lean into his hold as his palm presses against my cheek and his fingers massage the shaven hair behind my ear. I can feel myself giving in, feel my heart calling out to his whilst my brain screams at me to stop, to think, to step the fuck away from him. “We belong together, you and me,” he murmurs as I struggle internally, wanting to let him in, knowing that I shouldn’t.

He lowers his head slowly towards mine, and in the short time it takes for him to lean closer, Louhi comes back fighting. I shove at his chest, taking a step back and putting space between us. “I don’t belong to anyone, Syverson. I don’t need to be loved by you. I do just fine without that bullshit in my life!” I lie, my chest heaving as we stare at one another. “We both know that isn’t true, because this thing we have, this connection, it ain’t going away. We’re inevitable, you and me…” And he’s right. We are. A part of me, a desperately needy, lonely part that has missed him, has yearned for him, wants him to take charge and pull me into his arms and kiss me stupid. The other part sighs in relief when he backs up. 

“But right now we can’t explore ourselves until you know the truth, and I’m here to give it to you.” “And what truth is that?” I ask, feeling the hair on the back of my neck stand. The look in his eyes is enough to make me withdraw emotionally, locking my feelings down, hardening up. Whatever he’s about to say isn’t going to be good. “That I killed Carter not because he wanted me dead for loving you, although that’s reason enough in my book, but because he drew up a contract with the King selling you to that asshole in exchange for paying off his debts.”

 Stunned doesn’t even begin to cover what I’m feeling. I’m fucking stupified, a sudden ringing in my ear drowning out every other sound. It takes me a few moments to gather my thoughts and I have to blink back my shock. “What?” I eventually choke out, the floor tipping beneath my feet as I try to make sense of what he’s just said. “That’s a fucking lie!”

  “I wish it was.” Sy  blows out a sharp breath, my reaction to the truth hurting him as much as the truth hurts me. “I made a new deal with the King as soon as I found out what your dad had planned. I would kill Carter and the King would back off from you, remaining a silent partner in the club. I did it so that I could give you time to build an army so that one day, when the time was right, you could take out the motherfucker yourself.”

 “He was going to sell me to the King?” I ask, disbelief quickly dissolving into rage that fires my blood and makes me wish Carter was still alive so that I could drive the motherfucking knife into his back, just like Sy did that night. “Yeah, he was,” Sy confirms, giving me a look of such deep sorrow that I almost, almost stepped into his arms. Instead, I tip up my chin, straighten my spine and funnel some Louhi energy. Maybe my dad had a hand in bringing her to life, but it was always Logan who fuelled her strength. “Tell me why I should believe you?” I ask, not because I don’t believe him—the truth is, I do—but because I need a moment to gather my thoughts. To figure out what the fuck I should do now.

 “You don’t have to believe me, but if you want to corroborate my story you just need to check the accounts at The Crib Club,” Sy says. “And how do you propose I do that?” “You managed to shut down the case investigating Carter’s murder. I’m sure you’ll find a way,” he says, knowingly. “Yeah,” I retort, already knowing exactly who to go to for help in that department. “Carter was a bastard, and he deserved to die,” he continues, “And what’s more, I’d do it all again to keep you safe.”

 I swallow hard, trying to form the words that just won’t come, because even though I believe him, I have to know for sure he’s telling the truth. When I don’t respond, he swipes a hand through his hair then says: “The only mistake I made was not telling you everything at the time. You weren’t wrong when you said that you didn’t need a man to make decisions for you. I can see just how capable you are, have always been. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of what you’ve built and I’m truly sorry for not giving you the respect you deserved and coming to you with what I found out.” My chest swells with conflicting emotions and it takes a great deal of strength not to fucking buckle, but I stand my ground and remain calm on the surface, even though beneath it all I’m struggling to make sense of everything. I stare at him for a long long time, my throat dry, my pulse racing, my stomach churning and my heart trying its very best to punch a hole through my chest. But I have to keep my head. First I need to check out his story, and then I need to decide what I do with that information. Eventually, I swallow hard and nod. 

“I appreciate you coming here and telling me.” “It’s the least you deserve.” “I have a lot to think about,” I admit. “Yeah, I imagine you do,” he acknowledges. “What are you going to do about the King?” “I don’t know yet.” “Well, when you figure that out, I’ve got your back, no strings attached,” he says, giving me a tight smile before heading towards the door and pulling it open. “Syverson!” I call out before I can stop myself, swallowing back the fucking neediness in my voice. He stills, glancing over his shoulder at me, his eyes flickering with hope.

 “Yeah?” “Are you still fighting?” “Not since I fought against Derby, why?”  “Next weekend I’m holding a contest at the club to celebrate my birthday. Anyone can fight.” “Is that an invitation?” “The winner gets to become one of my soldiers. Are you still a beast, Syverson?” I ask, picking up the glass of bourbon I poured for him and knocking it back in one gulp, relishing the burn. We both know that this is a test, but it’s also an olive branch. The question is, will he take it? “I’ll be here,” he replies, then steps out into the hallway and leaves.

[blubushie]

how did the trip go blu? :3

FUCK FORGOT THE TRIP REPORT. Ta mate. Fun stuff under the cut, cuz this'll be long.

TRIP REPORT: 19/10/23

10:15am: 1.5g dry P. subaeruginosa. Onset ~11am. Peak ~12pm. Offset starts ~3pm. Trip end ~6pm. Enjoy the ride, mate.

10:59am: Come up starting.

11:21am: Head feels heavy and pressured but not in the headache way. Senses heightened and I can hear everything. Whirring of the laptop fan is really getting on my fucking nerves so that's going off. I'm getting on my phone instead. Starting to make a lot of fucking typos but I'm taking the time to fix them while I still care.

11:40am: Brian feels fast as fuck and I've stopepd arign about typos. Fuck typso I love typos woooo. Feel on top of the wolrd liek I can do anthig and come out on top. I fell like god

11:43am: Synthesisia started. Listnign to banjo musica as requested and watcihng thecolorus while i lie on the floor. My body feels veyr very heavy and thissong makesm e sadbut it's a good song ... The song is Arkansas Farmboy by Glen Campbell and it's eally good ... But it makes me mis soUtback NT

12:01pm: Peak is strgn and feeling fuckign great. But occuring mtom e I should'nt have dne this in the dark becaus the hallucinsaitons are storng. Light form laoptop is keeing the entitiesi away but I'nm sitll scared

1pm: The dopamine keeps climbing. It feels like you-know-what. You know the feeling, mate. I'm now typing slowly and checking for typos as I type so that I'm legible because this will be hard to transcribe later otherwise. Feeling very good as the peak's settled in. Eating leftover fried rice and the taste is very good. I chew and I'm getting little flashes of reddish-brown, like Outback mud but a tint or two darker. I'm not sure if the colour is because of the taste or because of the sound of myself chewing. I'm doing very good but my thoughts are going everywhere all at once. I can't focus on any one thought for longer than a few seconds. It feels like ADHD on hyperdrive. I feel very very smart and like I could solve and problem in the world, like my mind is going so fast that no one could ever keep up with me. It feels like all of me is floating. Body and soul and mind.

3:40pm: Coming out of the trip now. Feeling very good. Had a brief cry during a breakthrough peak and felt like I was floating. A lot of sudden guilt came through with introspection on bad decisions I've made. Came out of it ok to folks in VC talking to me and asking if I was alright. It remedied whatever illness I was feeling. ... According to others, I at one point said that I was "melting" and also told VC that I loved them and that we're all very lucky to have met each other now in the present because we all met each other and got along and were having a "daisy chain of bullying" (but in a good friendship way).

6:45pm: Coming down from the trip. Dopamine tingle is still here. Feeling very affectionate and interconnected with the people around me. I love the world and I love humanity. I love everyone. Body feels like it's starting to come back together at the seams. I still feel like I'm melted and can feel everything touching me like when you're underwater and can feel the water all around you everywhere constantly. It feels a little uncomfortable, like too-tight latex, but manageable now. Also I was at some point convinced I was a fish because I kept forgetting how to breathe, and at the behest of friends this then lead to me checking myself for gills and, when I couldn't find the presence of gills, then coming to the conclusion that I was in fact an amphibian who had to return to the water to breathe through my skin. I am not an amphibian.

6:10am: I wake up from an 8hr sleep after finally going to sleep around 10pm last night. I feel well-rested. Part of me still feels high—a faint "floatiness" that's pleasant, and I didn't have nightmares last night—but a check of my pupils confirms that the high itself has fully passed and I'm just in the aftereffects. As always my dreams were weird, mostly geometric patterns and faint whispering and murmuring, but none of it was distressing. I feel very safe and content and slept on my stomach last night and fell asleep quickly. I'm still feeling very interconnected and like I want to hug everyone on the planet and tell them everything will be ok. There's a piece of god inside everyone and we should love each other for it and it's what the universe wants. And I love everyone.

[END OF REPORT]

[aerosolsprite]

have to type this out before i forget it...

BEST. DREAM. EVER.

so, i realized pretty quickly i was dreaming, and since i was in some sort of nightclub type place in the hazbin hotel universe, i made GOOD USE of the time. it pretty quicly turned into my school, specifically math class (actually not even my math class it was algebra 1), with none other than bitchentino at the teachers desk. he tried to convince me i was in math classs and so yk i had to sit down and learn or whatever. i told him i was dreaming and then smashed him over the head with a posium like five times. then we all took turns hitting him. some karen teacher came in and tried to stop us, so i called her a bitch. then a human version of ausmodeus showed up and while the others were semi-going back to class i told him what val had bedd doing to angel (i was crying as i told him this) he went off to idk handle it or somethig and i briefly has to deal with a karen again who was trying to report my to the headmaster (exeot she kept sayig it was sokke randoem nam ei dont know and i had te correct her) and when i got back everyone was in the back of the class makeing some kind of craft that ozzie has instructed us to make that would somehow help against valentino. since i had been gone i had no idea what we were doing, but i tried my best and i was actually having fun making it (oh yeah, val was still teaching the reast of the class, we just werent being noticed) and tehn i woke up.

ill formet this better and fix the typos later; im typing whrer i can hardly see the kets+ i just woke u[. i just haf to get this on the page.

[bonescribes]

What is your writing process? Do you go in one fell swoop? Do you leave and come back? Do you use a thesaurus? Do you re-read and swap out words? Do you try to match/beat your partner's length? Do you care about length at all? Do you look for fancier words? Do you get straight to the point? As artists, we only ever see your finished product. How do you craft your work?

it's pretty fuckin messy !! lmao

i mostly knock each draft out in one fell swoop -- that is, if i start to write a reply, i generally finish it. that isn't always the case, but like...9.5 times out of 10. i subscribe to the ' just write something down and fix it later ' school of thought, so a lot of re-reading and editing happens after the first draft (pay no mind to how i still have hella typos)

i tend to match my partner in a lot of ways, i think. length definitely, although i tend to lean on the shorter side compared to many -- but in style, too. i like it when a thread is really cohesive, and when switching between replies doesn't feel too jarring, so i'll usually be more verbose or prose-y with writers who are the same, while using more direct language with writers who lean that way

personal preferences : i try hard not to use the same words too often , and ill check not only between paragraphs but between replies to make sure that im not being too repetitive. i also care about flow a lot. i'll go back and look at the length of each sentence to make sure that i have a good variance, although i definitely have a bias towards long sentences. i love a good semicolon.

my ability to metaphor is a strong work in progress LMAO

[luvsae]

melodies of love | kang saebyeok

- saebyeok x gn!reader

- fluff :)

before you met saebyeok you were trying to get into university to major in music. lucky for you, you got in.

you met saebyeok in the middle of your first year, the two of you clicked, and then eventually dated.

over a year later you were still with your wonderful girlfriend, and still in university for music.

one thing about university was the terrible stress of it and saebyeok always noticed.

"hey. are you okay?" saebyeok sat down across from you. her eyes relaxed at the sight of you. "you seem stressed about something."

her hand reached across to yours to hold your hand - in which you did hold her hand - it made you smile a bit.

"i just have a big project." you sigh, the tiredness always tended to overcome you at the worst moments. "university is stressful."

"i know." saebyeok nodded, her finger circled the back of your hand. "you should take a break soon, okay? ill get us some food."

you nodded. "okay. i'll see you soon."

saebyeok eventually left which meant you had to get back to work quickly.

what your girlfriend didn't know is that your project was basically about her.

you had to write a song about something important in your life. how could you pass up this chance?

there were a few lines already - you just had to figure out the rest and then figure out the guitar cords for it.

your fingers tapped across the keyboard. the ideas kept popping into your head, but you kept erasing certain things you typed.

- you were the one i hoped for when i picked those petals off the flower. she loves me, she loves me not.

"why is this so difficult.." you mumbled to yourself. another sigh escaped from you shortly after.

you ended up typing a few more lines before saebyeok home.

your girlfriend brought home som bibimbap - your favorite dish. "it smells delicious." you smiled, pushing your laptop off to the side.

"let's eat it while it's warm, yeah?" you nodded at her response as she took the containers out.

the two of you then ate in silence before saebyeok asked something. "what's your project about? you never told me."

"uhhhh," the hesitation of telling her crossed your mind. "it's just writing a song about your life."

it wasn't entirely a lie... right?

"can i see what you have written down-"

"no!" you exclaimed, maybe a little bit loud since it caught her off guard.

"what?"

"wait, i don't mean no, i mean.. ill show you after i get my mark." you smiled after swallowing your food.

a chuckle escaped her. "alright."

the next few days consisted of you writing the rest of the song and fixing any typos that you somehow managed to sneak into your work.

you finally submitted it to your teacher a few days ago and was now currently waiting for a response back with your mark.

as of right now you were sitting down on the couch, trying to distract yourself from the fact that you were getting the mark today.

suddenly you felt your phone vibrate. you checked and saw an email from your teacher. uh oh, here comes the anxiety.

you clicked on the email and then the link.

100%.

"oh my God." You whispered.

"oh my God!"

saebyeok entered the room quickly, book in hand as she looked at you - there was worry in her eyes. "what's wrong?"

"i got 100% on my song!" you smiled and faced your phone screen towards your girlfriend, she smiled as well.

"i'm so proud of you!" she pulled you into a tight hug after placing the book on the table. "that's amazing."

the two of you pulled away from each other, still smiling. "i can't believe it."

saebyeok loved when you were happy - it made her smile all the time. "do i get to hear it now?"

your smile stayed for a moment and then slowly faded away. "oh, oh! yes, of course. but- i don't have it recorded."

"i can read it." she suggested. oh yeah.

"right. of course." you quickly hurried and grabbed the extra printed copy, it was about to go down.

you looked at yourself in the mirror of the shared bedroom - a sigh escaped your lips - it will be fine.

when you entered the kitchen saebyeok was sitting at the table. she was waiting to read your paper, of course.

"im excited to read it." she said, giving you a small smile.

you returned one back - more so filled with nervousness than happiness. "here you go. it's not that good, anyway."

"if you got an 100 on it then its probably good." she said.

and so you sat down across from here as she scanned the paper - you couldn't quite tell what her reaction was, but you hoped it was good.

it felt like time was going by so slow. why did the world have to do this to you right now?

you noticed saebyeok wiped her right eye once, then the left eye. was she crying?

she soon finished and set the paper down. you noticed a little droplet a water that had set into the paper - she definitely cried.

"are you okay?" you asked with a quiet voice.

she immediately got up and wrapped her hands around you in response. you were surprised by the sudden action but soon settled into her familiar warmth.

"you.. wrote the song about me?" she questioned as she continued to hug you.

"yeah. of course i did."

"that's why you didn't want to show me the paper then, right?" she sniffled once.

you nodded. it was now your turn to start tearing up. "we had to write about the most important person or thing in our lives,"

pulling away, you continued to explain the project. "so, i chose you, of course."

saebyeok's eyes were glossy when she looked at you yet there was still a smile planted across her lips.

it was that same smile she gave you when you first hung out. it was your favorite smile ever.

"i'm the most important person to you?" she asked although you would argue it was obvious.

"of course you are." you reached to hold her hands. "i.. i love you a lot. i don't know if it's still too new to say that but-"

"i love you too." she stepped towards you. her hand slipped from yours and now rested on your face.

you felt a familiar warmth on your lips - her lips against yours always made you smile.

"i love you so very much. it will never be too early to say that."

[2d-dreams]

i got two necklaces, one has a hexagon with some sorta blue/purply gem and the other has a golden equilateral triangle. obviously its them.

ill send actual pic later im at school lmao

my guardian angle (that was a typo but im not fixing it) and my lil demon. like the.. like this yknow