#but every single emotion i feel was poured into my writing

[lisxdumbr]

lis please do rant!! i cant get my thoughts on the story sound coherent at all and i would love to hear what you think since this was so????? but good lord that was a lot huh. literally never getting a break in anyway as a 2winkP

-🌟

After god knows how much time I tried to get my thoughts compiled ! I apologize it this doesn't make sense but I am still very unwell, I just !! I figured I'd share

JESUS CHRIST WHAT IS GOING ON IN THE 2WINK CLIMAX

I do have to say, the story started in an extremely bitter way for me. Perhaps it was about my expectations for their climax being really opposite for the first half of it, but at the end everything came together and it ended up being a much more enjoyable experience than I imagined.

Akira is still a man that no matter how much I try, I can't predict.

The story starting with them communicating almost telepathically and Yuta feeling down was an entire throwback to many moments before. Setsubun. Volcano Island.. it's always that moment in which after a lot of stress you open your eyes and see everything in slow motion happening right before you. I think Yuta was hit with this realization and that's why everything started being a burden. The lights, the audience, just the thought of him and his surroundings.

I expected Ibara to have a more important appearance in the story, however I understand he was really busy with Double Face at the same time, I still respect the figure he represents to 2wink though, I think half of this story wouldn't have gone the way it did without that little push he gave them.

I think it started stressing me out when the Anzu plot came on board. Please don't get me wrong, I love Hinaan, I think everyone should read Daybreak Heliolite. "Anzu-san, you're smiling just now..." the comfort Hinata is able to give Anzu is incomparable to any other member of the cast.

However, Anzu is mad? Anzu is angry? Why hadn't this showed before? Why weren't there signals? That repayment fes mention really dizzed me out because. after skimming through it again, wasn't Hinata just meaning to grow and prove Anzu that they were not going to be under anyone's shadow ever again? Something, something felt so bitter to me about it. Hinata's reaction was not good either, everything felt so uncomfortable, you could smell the arson between them and I guess that's what made me so. so mad.

On the other hand, you have Yuta relying on Shinobu for everything, once again, as they have always been that close. Didn't this feel like climbing a stair? Yuushino climbs one side while hinaan climbs the other, why did it feel like a competence?

I felt conflicted and stressed about their attitude, why are they doing this and what is going on? I couldn't puzzle it together until the realization suddenly hit me and everything made sense.

Hinata is growing lonely. And at the same time Yuta is drifting away to try and search for his own self, the timing couldn't be better.

We feel loneliness when we feel that there's no one near us that we can rely on. Hinata was surrounded by many, many people, but none of them understood, none of them knew how it was and how it felt.

I think I got everything when the street kids kidnapped him to make him see reality, it was their way of saying "we're like you. the same way you're like us". Hina may have fame and money now, but his heart is as dirty and as fragile as those kids'. It was not a matter of dragging him to the shadows but rather to take the blindfold out of him by screaming "please help us".

Anzu and Hinata then notice how similar they are. Yuta said it since ! era, "so Anzu, you're a big sis too, right? I'll just give you an advice, never underestimate us little brothers". See that part where Hinata says Yuta is projecting his since onto him like a mirror? I think that's what Hina was doing with Anzu. "You sacrifice yourself for everyone and that's why I cannot stand you, because you're like me.. but better".

That's the moment when Hinata realized everything and discovered he didn't have to bear the world on his shoulders, that not everything had to be pain but that there's rather another answer and that being alone is also ok. Hinata is starting that path to find out his true happiness without relying on anyone but himself.

This is what I said once about Yuta wanting to change by separating himself from Hinata, but Hinata needing to stick towards Yuta's side not to fall into the abyss.

Hinata finally understood that's not true, he finally understood he's able to live by himself and that that is ok. And that's where everything started kicking in for me.

Hinata choosing kindness and love is the perfect ending for me. That part of the story moved me so much you can't even understand. I think if I had to put this into a performance I would put a rising sun being quietly observed by the calming moon. A relationship that will always be held so close despite it never touching.

And then of course, the epilogue that drove me to tears of incommensurable joy

Yuta loves Hinata. Yuta has always and will always love Hinata like he loves anyone in this world. He's also not talking to whoever here. He's talking to us. He's asking us to please watch them become what they have always dreamed of.

Do you remember that part on Love Letter where Yuta tried so hard to unveil Hinata's 'evil' side to help him? I think he actually did.. but instead of finding an evil, twisted person in it's core, he found a gentle and healing being. Like the ying-yang, they're the perfect balance for each other.

Forever in a sweet memory, that's what 2wink is and will always be.

[priniya]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 FORTS AND DADDY TIME! ᡣ𐭩ᯓ

pairing. oscar piastri x leclerc!wife!reader

summary. when you need to stay at work for longer than expected, you leave oscar with your daughter. when you come home earlier than your husband thought, the cutest scene plays in front of you.

notes. tysm for loving my previous dad!oscar fic!!! this one’s also not proofread but lets pretend like there is not a single mistake in here 😙😙😙

days like this were the hardest, especially with the thought of oscar’s summer break inevitable ending occupying your mind. every year, you wanted to make sure you had spent the maximum time with him and chloe, before parting your ways for a while again. going back to the office, while you were spending the precious time with your husband and daughter, was something you hated, mostly, because chloe was the biggest daddy’s girl on earth. some people might’ve gotten jealous over the fact that they’re not their baby’s favorite parent, but you loved watching oscar interact with chloe.

but honestly, leaving them alone was still a bit of a stressful situation for you and your emotions were all over the place as you tried writing down all the necessary things just in case oscsr forgets, which wasn’t likely to happen, but still — you wanted to be more than sure.

“baby, i know how to look after chloe.” oscar laughed softly, his arms wrapped around your waist as he stood behind, placing a single kiss on your neck. “we’re gonna have much fun today, right, squish?” he asked, when the little girl leaned on his leg, looking up at the two of you with a sweet smile. she nodded eagerly, earning a small chuckle from you.

“i good girl.” chloe replied confidently, wrapping her arms around oscar’s leg, wanting to stay as close to him as possible, despite it was you the one leaving (even if it was for a few long hours). “mommy good girl, too! and daddy good girl, too too!” the two of you had to stifle a laugh as your daughter praised you on being good girls.

a few minutes later, quite a couple of reassuring words from your husband, a few wet, sloppy kisses on your cheeks and a literal push out of the door and oscar was left with your little squish. at first everything was calm, chloe was sprawled out on the carpet, playing with her little’s pet shops collection, making a little voice-over, while your husband was preparing a strawberry smoothie for her.

though, before he knew it, he was dressed in one of your dresses, wearing a plastic tiara on his head with stickers plastered all over his cheeks, while sitting at chloe’s small, colourful table with some of her favorite plushies (a panda named jimmy, a koala named arty [after her favorite uncle], ginny the giraffe and daphne the dolphin).

“c’mon, princess squish, do a spin for daddy.” oscar smiled, watching as his daughter did a spin. he helped her get into her purple tutu dress, put a tiara and a few hair clips in the strands of her blond hair. to make her princess tea party experience even better, he took some of your eyeshadow palettes and put some on her to match her purple dress.

“i so pretty, daddy!” she squeaked happily, doing a little dance. “tea?” she asks as she plops down on her dad’s lap, pouring a pretend tea into his pink cup. “tasty, tasty.” she nodded, taking a sip.

“yeah, you’re my pretty princess, squish.” oscar chuckled, earning himself one of the most beautiful views in the world — his daughter grinning, showing him her baby teeth. your husband couldn’t help but to grin back at her, feeling her little arms wrap around his neck as she went in for a hug.

oscar was a sucker for moment like those, as much as he wished you were there to witness it, he loved spending time with chloe, seeing her grow up every day, noticing those slight changes in the way she constructed her sentences and how the incoherent babbling started to turn into actual words and sentences. he was counting down the days till she was old enough to not tire you out whenever on a flight, so he could see her happy face after a race and to show her the beauties of the world on a free day. god, she was the the most important person in the world for him in a way he could drop everything to make sure she was happy.

his heart ached painfully, every time he was away from you and chloe for longer than a few days and with his hectic schedule. everything seemed to be a lot better, when his lucky charms were next to him.

the princess tea party went on for almost another hour until the princess hosting it started to slowly get tired and tired, snuggling up to him after they finished cleaning everything up. it took them some time, because she had to give each of her plushies a few kisses before placing them in her bed, tucking them in. “you’re such a sweet girl, aren’t you, baby?” he chuckled, watching her as he leaned on the doorframe of her room.

she tilted her head with a tiny smile as she ran towards her dad, unfortunately, she tripped on the edge of the carpet, scraping her knees at the friction as she fell. tears started falling down her cheeks in an instant and oscar’s heart broke in half. he knew accidents happen all the time, but he wasn’t prepared for one involving his daughter, when he was all alone, even if it was just a small scratch.

“shh, hey, what’s with the fuss?” he asked in a calm voice, gently picking her up. your husband placed a few soft kisses on chloe’s wet cheek to calm her down. “s’okay, daddy’s gonna take care of your ouchie.” he reassured as she nuzzled her teary face against his neck, sniffling quietly.

“fait mal, daddy.” she sniffled. oscar was glad that once in a while, your brothers wanted to mess with him and spoke only in french before chloe was born, so he could pick up on what his daughter was saying. hurts.

“i know, squish.” he sighed, gently sitting her down on the couch, telling his baby to sit still, while she tried to wipe away her flowing cheeks. he sprayed antiseptic on her scratches, holding her hand with his free one. a small gasp left his daughter’s lips as the spray coated her ouchies. “such a brave, girl.” he coaxed, placing two band-aids on her disinfected knees (with puppies, of course). when her face was no longer in tears, a sad pout appeared on her lips, making oscar’s stomach turn.

“how about, we make a blanket fort and watch some cartoon before you go to sleep, hm?” he suggested, the pout disappearing in a second, being replaced my a grin. a blanket fort? that sounds super cool. he pulled a few chairs together, putting a blanket on top of it as chloe’s eyes widened in shock and excitement.

the final product was breathtaking, at least for chloe, because oscar did everything he could to make the blanket fort look magical as he put pillows on the floor, put up lights and brought his ipad to play chloe’s favorite movie.

before he knew it, his little girl was curled up against his side, his hand gently moving up and down against her back as her head rested on the side of his chest. her eyes were slowly closing, but she wanted to stay in the fort and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with a tantrum of a sleepy, cranky little girl.

when you came back from work, the apartment looked clean, as if oscar sedated your little ball of energy and hired a cleaning company. that was your thought process, until you noticed a blanket fort in the living room and your heart melted like a chocolate in a water bath. you quietly took off your shoes and tiptoed to the fort, peaking inside. seeing the view completely shattered your heart in the most positive way possible.

“you’re back already?” oscar asked quietly, not wanting to disturb chloe’s sleep as she was laying down on his chest. “thought it’d take a little longer.” he smiled affectionately at you.

“think there’s some room for me?” your mouth curled into a small beam as he nodded, quickly taking a spot next to him, finally noticing that he’s wearing one of your dresses and you had to stiffle a laugh.

oscar noticed your expression and groaned quietly. “we had a princess party.” he explained, though the pretend angered look quickly dissolved, replaced by a playful smile. “your daughter didn’t let me be a prince, so i had to stole one of your dresses. i’ll show you the photos tomorrow morning.” he kissed your temple as you snuggled up closer, your hand gently rubbing chloe’s back.

[annebaby]

SAFE PLACE

hello everyone! i am back :) i have recently fell down the kate martin hole ( if you couldnt tell already) and decided to write. i have been working super hard in clinics and classes since you last heard from me, so i hope this isn't too rusty! love you guys!

warning: fingering (r receiving), oral (r receiving), making out, nipple play

i think that's it? let me know!

my divider is from here!

as i sat in my car with tears rolling down my face, i didn’t know who to call. the rain was pouring, a perfect parallel to the emotions flowing through my body. my vision blurred and my tears welled just thinking about it.

i had just been on a date. needless to say, it did not go well. i had been continuously let down by every man i deemed well enough for my attention. i guess i was just bad at picking ‘em out. 

it always ended the same way.

“wanna come to my place?”

“dtf?” 

“ohhh cmon. don’t be a prude.”

i couldn’t even gather my thoughts about the night as i scrolled through my contacts list. i was searching for somebody - anybody- that could provide me with any sort of comfort. however, i knew there was only one person who could make me feel better. 

kate martin. 

as much as i hated to say it, the girl had a comforting aura around her. something about her just drew me in every single time. imagine a bee to a flower or a moth to a flame - that was kate and me. 

our past was patchy, the ups and downs of our so-called “friendship” had blurred the lines for boundaries too easily. whether we’d end up making out, staying over, or doing much worse, each time would end with one of us being heartbroken. 

but i didn’t care right now. 

i needed her scent and her eyes. i needed her hands and i needed her mouth. 

i needed kate. 

my fingertips scrolled relentlessly to the bottom of my text messages, finding the abandoned chat from a month or two ago. 

tears splattered on my phone as i pressed the call button and brought it to my ear. 

it rang once. 

it rang twice. 

it rang three times.

“hello?” kate answers. 

“hey. kate im so sorry for calling you but i-,“ i stopped as tears continued to flow down my face. 

“you know my address. just come on over. it’s just me here.”

god kate, i could kiss you. 

“thank you,” i whispered. 

i hung up the phone and placed my forehead on the steering wheel. thoughts of another night with kate kept creeping into my mind. the good ones and the bad ones. 

nonetheless, i put my car and drive and headed her way. 

every time i thought the tears were done, another pool of them welled in my eyes. every time i thought about my past few dates, my heart felt a pang of sadness. 

i tried to push the tears and thoughts away as i reach kate’s apartment door, but my pathetically light knocking reminded me of how sad i really was. 

i stood in front of her door for a few seconds, trying to keep it together until i was in the comfort of her home. 

i heard the lock clicking and the door opened. kate stood there, worry filling her eyes and her face full of pity. 

i looked up at her, letting the tears fall down my cheeks as she pulled me into her apartment and engulfed me in a hug. her arms squeezed around my waist as mine wrapped around the back of her neck. i cried into her, tears staining her iowa t shirt. 

“im so sorry for calling you,” i sobbed, backing out of her embrace. i wiped my eyes with my hands, trying any attempt to get rid of the nonstop tears. 

“i know we said we’d never do this again. i’m so sorry i just didn’t know who else to call-“ i was cut short as kate held my face and gently kissed me. 

i placed my hands on her waist, my body savoring everything about her. the kiss was soft and sweet, full of love. there was no hunger or sinister desire about it - just pure comfort and affection. 

my eyes fluttered open as she moved back, her thumb wiping a falling tear off my cheek. 

she gently smiled and looked at me with her bright blue eyes. 

“you and i both know that we need each other more than we let on,” she said, sighing. 

i leaned into her hand, my heart finally feeling at ease. she stroked my face with her thumb before pulling me into another hug and kissing me lovingly on my head. 

she led me over to her couch with her hand on the small of my back. 

“before i ask you to be my girlfriend, tell me all about the horrible date you went on.”

i paused, stopping in my tracks. kate turned me to face her, her hands moving to my hips. she smiled at me before speaking again. 

“i know things have been rough between us ; on both ends.” 

her hands move to cup my face as she brings me closer. 

“but i cant seem to get you off my mind. ever.”

now, i seemed to notice how good she looked. her hair was down, her eyes wide as she stared into my own. 

i smiled up at her as tears kept falling from my eyes. she leaned in slowly and kissed me. the kiss was sweet. it was filled with love and care and tenderness, everything she felt in her heart. 

all for me. 

i kissed her back slowly, feeling the despair and sadness in my heart melt away. she was so warm, so comforting. her fingers slid into the back of my jean pockets as she breathed in through her nose. 

my hands hesitantly wrapped around her neck, tangling in the roots of her hair. 

then suddenly, she was everywhere. gripping my ass, attacking my mouth with her tongue and pulling my body impossibly closer to her. 

i broke the kiss quickly, looking at her wide-eyed. was this really something that we should be doing? 

i pushed the thought out of my head hurriedly, the impulsiveness of her actions sending heat straight between my legs. then, she leaned down and began to kiss me again. she gently put her hands on my waist and backed me into her room.

she flipped me around and pressed me against the door-shutting it. her hands were traveling everywhere fast. she was on my waist, my breasts, my ass, etc. you name it and she was there. 

i gasped out quietly as she began to leave sloppy kisses on my neck. i leaned my neck back, allowing her more access. she grinned against my skin.

“no man,-” she panted.

“will ever,-” she said, her fingers tugging on the bottom seam of my shirt. she leans in to continue kissing me.

she pulls my shirt off smoothly, her fingers digging into the exposed skin on my waist,

“make you-“ she kisses me again.

“feel like-“

her hands reach around to the clasps of my bra, her mouth moving to my neck. 

she takes my bra off effortlessly, the material falling to her floor along with my shirt.

‘-this.” 

her eyes travel down to my breasts. 

i reach for her shirt seam as well pulling it over her head, i notice her sports bra and her toned abdomen. my fingertips trace up the sides of her body and swear i felt my mouth watering. 

as if something snapped in me, i push kate’s shoulders until her legs hit her bed and she sits down. i crawl on top of her, sitting in her lap. 

“you’re so pretty, kate,” i whisper.

she smiles and brings her hand to the back of my head, pulling my lips to hers. 

i open my mouth invitedly, her tongue slipping in and fighting for dominance with my own. the fight for control caused kate to moan in my mouth. her hips buck up against mine, the friction causing me to tug on her hair.

“you like that?” she whispers against my lips. our noses touch and i open my eyes, looking straight at her. i nod my head frantically, encouraging her to keep going. her hands grip my hips, holding me down against her thigh. she starts to move my body back and forth, grinding my body against her thigh.

the friction is enough to make me throw my head back, and i feel her grip me tighter. 

“god you’re so perfect,” she whispers. then, she stands up and switches us so she’s on top of me. 

she’s quickly unbuttoning my jeans, wasting no time on teasing. 

“damn, kate. are you excited or what?” i ask, laughing. 

she looks up at me, staring me in my eyes. 

“i haven’t tasted you in months.”

i don’t respond, instead i lift my hips up so she can pull down my jeans and underwear. im completely naked under her, something she’s admitted she likes before.

she crawls up my body, my legs parting and wrapping around her as she leans down to kiss my breasts. she kitten licks one of my nipples, her other hand harshly groping the other breast. my back arches due to the pleasure, a pornographic moan escaping my lips. 

i feel her teeth slightly graze my nipple again before she switches sides. i can practically feel myself pooling between my legs. 

she slowly licks down my torso, stopping to give me kisses on my inner thighs. i can tell she’s leaving hickeys, another thing she likes to do. 

“kate stop it,” i plead. i needed her now. 

my hips bucked upwards, her hands aggressively holding me down as she placed a singular kiss on my pubic bone, then another on the spot where i needed her most. 

i look down at her, her blue eyes already staring into mine. her tongue darted out, hardly grazing me.

i snap my head back, my thighs subconsciously trapping her head. 

then, she moves one of her hands from around my thighs, and she slips a finger into me. 

before i can even make a sound, she begins to eat me out and fuck me with her finger at the same time, adding a second. 

i moaned her name, my face scrunching up with pleasure. 

“kate ohmygod,” i breathed.

she moved her head from side to side, my pleasure increasing tenfold - if that was even possible. 

she took my ankles and set them both on her shoulders, pulling me closer against her in the process. i knew she could tell i was close. she started moving faster and curling her fingers inside of me.

“kate please,” i begged. i didn’t even know what i was asking for. she felt so good. 

i felt her hum against me, completely sending me over the edge. pleasure ripped through me as my stomach twitched as i came down from my high. her hands moved to my hips again, holding me down as she cleaned me up with her mouth. 

i stayed laying flat on her bed as she crawled on top of me. she took her fingers and placed them in my mouth. i sucked on them, tasting myself. 

she smiled wide and licked the mess off her lips.

“you wanna be my girlfriend?"

[k0juki]

Hi! So I saw you were writing for joost and I was wondering if you can do joost dating fem!reader hc’s and readers a contestant at Eurovision? Maybe if ur comfortable with it can you add some comfort angst?

Jurr♡ I can :)

Dating Joost Klein hc.

Joost Klein x fem!reader

English is not my first language, so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors! More posts here.

Wc: 552

---

• You and Joost met in the Netherlands, before he, himself got pretty famous.

• It was fall and you were here because you always wanted to go here, to see all the colors and meet new people.

• As you were mindlessly looking around, you didn't watch where you were going and accidentally bumped into some stranger. Joost.

• You apologized to him and he just laughed, saying it's alright.

• He asked if you wanted to get coffee together as an apology and you immediately agreed.

• And the rest is history, now Joost is your boyfriend of two years and is your biggest cheerleader at Eurovision, he's attending all your rehearsals and performances.

• He's pretty proud because he never missed a single one show.

• And also, he is proud of you, how far you made it.

• He fulfills you with affection and support, whether it's giving you pep talks before going on the stage or holding your hand during nerve-wracking moments.

• He's always here with you.

• Despite his busy schedule, Joost always makes time for you, whether it's planning romantic dates or simply cuddling on the couch after a long day, he cherishes every moment spent together and never fails to make you feel loved and valued.

• Music also is a big part of your relationship with Joost.

• You bond over shared favorite songs and artists, often spending lazy afternoons listening to music together or even writing songs collaboratively.

• He admires your talent and creativity, as you admire his.

• Joost is incredibly proud of your achievements at Eurovision, but he also understands the pressure you're under.

• He's there to comfort you during moments of doubt and anxiety, offering words of encouragement and reassurance when you need them most.

• As the Eurovision competition heats up, tensions run high, you find yourself struggling with self-doubt and anxiety.

• Joost notices the change in your demeanor and becomes increasingly worried about your well-being.

• One night, after a particularly stressful rehearsal, you break down in tears, overwhelmed by the pressure to succeed.

• Joost rushes to your side, wrapping you in his arms and soothing you with gentle words of comfort.

• "Hey, hey love, it's alright, okay? I'm right here."

• He assures you that he's there for you no matter what and that your worth isn't defined by the competition.

• Despite Joost's efforts to comfort you, the anxiety continues to gnaw at you, casting a shadow over your relationship.

• You worry that your insecurities are driving a wedge between you, but Joost refuses to let you push him away.

• No matter what.

• He stands by your side, offering unwavering support and understanding as you navigate the emotional rollercoaster of Eurovision.

• On the night of the final performance, nerves are at an all-time high, but Joost is there to hold your hand and remind you of your strength and talent.

• "it's just a competition love, nothing more." His words calmed you down.

• As you take the stage, he watches with bated breath, his heart swelling with pride as you pour your heart and soul into the performance.

• In the aftermath of Eurovision, you and Joost take time to reflect on the experience and its impact on your relationship.

• Despite the challenges you faced, you emerge stronger and more united than ever, grateful for the love and support that you have from him.

---

Don't copy or translate my work! Also the picture is not mine! Credit goes to owner!

[goldfades]

could you write some Caitlin hc?

𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 ─ CC²²

─ warnings | fluff, mention of arguing/VERY SLIGHT ANGST, best friends to lovers, just a bunch of yap... sorry in advance <3

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal @hello-nah817 @wanderlusturous @plushkhiii @ilovepaigebueckerss @ajcuteee @vi0lentb3rry @paigeszn @brynsreads @delicateray and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

i feel like caitlin just gives off childhood best friends to lovers + high school sweethearts, like you guys knew each your entire lives and were like super duper close

and then one day it kinda just like hit caitlin like SHE IS **IN LOVE** WITH YOU

she's definitely the first one to "catch feelings"

i use that term VERY loosely because both of you guys were idiots and didn't realize you'd loved each other the first time you met

but she's the first one to realize it

which i feel like would cause a slight rift between you two because up until that point, it was "platonic"

she just wouldn't know how to go about her feelings and it would just stress her out, so she just began to distance herself

and in the years you've known her SHE'S NEVER DONE THAT TO YOU, so obviously you notice

and you try and talk to her about it but she reassures you and tells you it's nothing, that she's just stressed about school

which you don't buy so you just keep bugging her about it, cause she's ur best friend ur not about to lose her!!

eventually you give up after realizing that maybe she just doesn't wanna be friends with you anymore, and after you didn't show up to her game, caitlin knew she FUCKED UP

so after the game, she goes to your house and tells you that she messed up

and you both go up to your room and talk about it, she's SO emotional and just stressed out but she pours everything out to you

and you're confused at first, caitlin likes YOU????

and when you hug her and tell her it's alright, that you liked her back, baby was taken aback cause she's like WHAT

she expected you to just be okay with it obviously but she never expected you to tell her you LIKED HER BACK????

it's just so cutesy rom-com-y and just... ADORABLE and sweet

RELATIONSHIP

queen of cuddles, oh my lord this woman is always on top of you

she doesn't really process her size sometimes cause she'll just lay on top of you and she forgets that she's literally 6ft with a bunch of muscles

you've almost died multiple times

she's super duper touchy all the 24/7 EXCEPT AT GAMES

pda is cute and all but not at games because she has to keep up an appearance and being overly touchy with your girlfriend at a game isn't exactly a great image

but she'll do it anywhere else!!!!!! but of course not too much cause again, the whole image thing

she loves taking pictures and videos to everything, her entire camera roll is just you and her atp

like vlogs GALORE to send to her family and stuff, because they adore you and her relationship!!!!

and obvs the team but they get rly sick and tired quicklu

"caitlin we get it u have an amazing healthy relationship" *attachment: 8 photos of you guys giving a thumbs down with frowns* "did we rly need 8 photos?" "yes!!!!!!!!"

and she vlogs everything, like every moment with you, she's got recorded

but those are usually very sacred to her, she doesn't show them to anyone and she hearts them so that she can look at them anytime she misses u :(

she loves showing you off on her instagram stories!!! but she gives everyone crumbs, like your back with her jersey and a cutesy little heart and you two holding hands

she has posts of you guys from high school still on instagram but she doesn't really post you a lot just because she wants to be professional

but whenever she can, SHE DOESSSS (like that whole 1yr post but with u.......)

you're at every single one of her important games!!!!! since yall have been together for so long, you guys make time for each other (ofc), she'll fly you out, pay for your hotels and everything

you're her number one supporter and fan!!!! oh my gosh

because she can't respond to weird comments, YOU def can

especially the ones that are like "i can def beat her in a 1v1" and it's just some random man

"most mens players at college level couldn't even beat her, i guarantee a random guy on tiktok could🤗" "you're 5'7, think again 💀"

caitlin just laughs at the comments but you will never let anyone shit talk your girlfriend????

she finds your protectiveness so endearing like it makes her fall more in love w you (if that's even possible?"

rom-com nights are like the ideal date night - caitlin cooks the food and you pick the movie, you guys cuddling on the couch as you eat and watch the movie is like every free saturday/sunday for yall

caitlin hates being away from you, she just wishes you could be with her 24/7

if she's away from you, expect 10000+ messages from her and 10 minute snapchat vlogs of her just at the gym while she speaks into the speakers quietly as if she's being followed (shes just dramatic)

some of the vlogs are just her in the hotel room very bored, trying to think of something to talk to u about and ITS SO CUTE

"so uh... i heard that squirrels can't burp. isn't that weird and like.... kinda sad? imagine living your whole life without being able to burp, i think i would die. speaking of that, i tried making your mom's cupcakes the other day, but i accidentally used salt instead of sugar! and that's exactly why i stick to cooking, baking is too damn hard. oh shit, kate is calling me, i gotta go but uh i hope you're having a great day. i miss you like crazy and can't wait until we're together again. i love you!"

yeah she's a yapper

she loves when you do her hair because i feel like she's more of a outfit person

so she would like if you braided her hair or like curled it or something, it makes her feel good and like pretty

the one time she curled her hair without you, she burned her arm and she swore she'd never again🫠

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[libingan]

— temptations.

warnings: non-penetrative say gex, internalized homophobia, religious guilt and stuff, angst

a/n: im suck ASS at writing angst, but ive had this thought in my head for DAYS now so i decided to finally write it!!! thinking of adding a part two, but that depends on how many of yall will eat this shit up LMAO

pls forgive me if its bad im dogshit and writing but like non of my irls are interested in this shit HAHSWHSA i mean, we play call of duty mobile, but thats it, they dont care much abr the lore

commander phillip graves was a man of iron discipline and unyielding principles. he thrived on control, finding solace in the regimented life of the military. his stern demeanor and sharp gaze commanded respect and fear in equal measure. he was a man who believed in strength, in the rigidity of rules, in the necessity of keeping emotions tightly leashed. vulnerability was a weakness he could not afford, and he had built his entire life on that foundation. his devout upbringing and the stern teachings of his father had instilled in him a strict moral code, one that left no room for deviation or indulgence in forbidden desires.

yet, beneath the steel exterior, a single, forbidden desire gnawed at the edges of his sanity: his feelings for one of his soldiers.

you.

every time he saw you, his pulse quickened, his breath caught. self-loathing twisted in his gut. how could he, a man of iron principles, be so weak? love was a dangerous distraction, and love between men was an unspoken abomination. the teachings of his faith haunted him, whispers of sin and eternal damnation echoing in his mind. his father's voice, a specter of disdain and disappointment, reverberated alongside: "men like that are disgraceful." graves had built his life on those beliefs, constructing walls around his heart to keep out anything that might expose his vulnerabilities.

but you shattered those walls effortlessly. your strength, your determination, your unwavering loyalty—it was everything he admired in a soldier, everything he could never accept in himself. graves clenched his fists until his knuckles were white, willing himself to get a grip. he could not afford to lose control.

yet when you came to him that night, seeking guidance, seeking solace, something inside him snapped. the iron walls he had built around his heart crumbled, and in a moment of devastating weakness, he let himself feel.

you stood there, looking up at him with those eyes that had haunted his dreams. he couldn't resist any longer. with a trembling hand, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. the warmth of your skin sent a shiver down his spine. before he could stop himself, he pulled you close, his lips crashing into yours with a desperation that bordered on madness.

he poured all his suppressed emotions into that kiss, every ounce of his forbidden longing, his guilt, his shame. his hands roamed over your back, pulling you tighter against him, needing to feel your warmth, to drown out the voices of condemnation in his head. the room seemed to spin around him, the world narrowing down to the intoxicating sensation of your lips against his.

“sir,” you gasped against his lips, “can’t… not with... the door... open.”

a feral growl rumbled in phillip’s chest. he broke the kiss momentarily, his breath hot and ragged against your face. with a fierce, almost primal urgency, he grabbed your arm and pulled you inside his quarters. the door slammed shut behind you, the finality of the action echoing in the quiet room.

he guided you swiftly to his bed, his grip insistent and firm. as he pushed you down onto the mattress, his eyes burned with a conflicted mixture of desire and frustration. the room was charged with a palpable tension, every movement driven by a need to assert control and escape his inner turmoil.

after slamming the door shut and pushing you onto the bed, phillip’s voice was rough, almost breaking with the intensity of his struggle. “i need you so damn bad,” he growled, his eyes dark with a mixture of desire and torment. “but if anyone knew… if they found out, i’d be sent straight to hell.”

as he looked down at you, his breath catching at the sight of you beneath him—eyes wide and lips slightly parted—the thoughts of damnation and guilt evaporated. the sight of you in such a vulnerable state ignited an overwhelming, burning need within him. he couldn’t think of anything else but the urgent, consuming desire to be with you.

“fucking damnit,” he curses, hands sliding down your body until they reach your hips. phillip’s gaze darkened with desire, wrapping your legs around his waist, crotch pressed up against your own. a low hiss escapes him at the contact and he shoves his head into the crook of your neck to hide his pleasured expression, inhaling your masculine scent.

he tried desperately to imagine that he was touching a woman, hoping it might help him regain control. but as the thought lingered, he found it completely unarousing. the fantasy fell flat, failing to spark any desire. the only thing that stirred his pulse was the undeniable reality of you beneath him, your warmth and vulnerability making every shred of restraint and control dissolve into nothingness.

slowly, phillip began to rock his hips against yours, his movements deliberate and measured. he could feel the tension in your body, the way you responded to each shift. he savored the needy, high-pitched whine that escaped your lips, a sound that drove him wild with desire. the rhythmic motion between you became a shared, intoxicating dance, and with every whimper you gave, his own need only deepened. “f-feels so damn good,” he mutters through gritted teeth, soft grunts filling your ears.

phillip pulls away momentarily to make quick work of unbuttoning his and your jeans, pulling out both of your cocks from its confines. he swallows the lump that forms in his throat at the sight of your body, still fully clothed aside from your…

phillip’s gut churned with a volatile mix of disgust and arousal at the thought. his blue eyes locked with yours, a stark reminder of the gravity of your situation. he was about to call it off and throw you out, but when you wrapped your legs around him, pulling his hips down and pressing the most intimate parts of yourselves together, his mind went hazy and lost all clarity.

“oh, god…” you moan, and phillip feels a surge of conflicted anger and desire. he has half a mind to reprimand you for invoking His name in this chaotic moment. but as he feels the heat of your body pressed against his, the anger fades into a raw, uncontrollable need. his grip tightens, and he’s consumed by the relentless desire to be closer, to lose himself completely in the moment.

instead, he begins thrusting, maintaining his slow and steady pace from before.

and, fuck… it feels so much better. phillip struggled to contain the noises threatening to escape him, rubbing your cocks together as if his life depended on it.

you were lost in the moment, every sensation magnified and overwhelming. the way phillip moved against you sent waves of pleasure through your body, each thrust and press igniting a deep, euphoric ache. you moaned softly, your senses completely absorbed by the intense heat and friction between you. each touch, each shift brought you closer to the edge, your body arching and shifting in response to the overwhelming pleasure. you couldn’t help but surrender completely to the feeling, your mind blanking out as you rode the exhilarating tide of desire.

“i-i’m—i’m close…” you whisper, hands clawing at phillip’s back, clutching tightly at the fabric of his shirt. he only grunts in response, hips stuttering as he feels his own orgasm bubbling within.

phillip keeps his head buried against your shoulder, unable to bring himself to look at you. the shame of indulging in such debauchery is overwhelming enough, and the thought of seeing you reveling in the pleasure only deepens his guilt. he’s desperate to avoid the sight of your enjoyment, fearing that it will amplify his already unbearable self-loathing. his focus remains fixed on the intense sensations, trying to block out the reality of what’s happening and the torment of his own conscience.

despite his inner conflict, he could not help overwhelming tide of pleasure surging through him. he could sense the moment building, an intense and uncontrollable wave of sensation. as the pleasure reached its peak, his grip tightened, and he released a ragged breath against your shoulder, the crescendo of his desire manifesting in a shuddering release. the experience was both consuming and disorienting, leaving him breathless and momentarily lost in the overwhelming intensity. your body responded instinctively, arching and trembling as you reached the peak of your desire. the intensity of the moment left you breathless, your cries mingling with the rhythm of phillip’s movements.

afterward, he lay there, staring at the ceiling, a storm raging in his mind. what had he done? what kind of man had he become? he had betrayed his principles, his honor, everything he stood for. he turned to look at you, your face peaceful in the dim light, and fury surged through him—not at you, but at himself. how could he have allowed this to happen?

“get out,” he said, his voice trembling with barely restrained anger.

you stirred, confusion clouding your features. “sir?”

“i said get out,” he repeated, his tone as cold as a winter’s morning. “this was a mistake, and it won’t happen again. and if you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone, you’ll be wishin’ you hadn’t.”

you stood, pain flashing in your eyes, but you didn't argue. you knew better than to challenge him when he was like this. you gathered your things and left, the door closing softly behind you.

you quickly fixed yourself up, the weight of his words heavy in the air. with one last, pained glance at him, you turned and left the room, the door closing softly behind you.

phillip sank onto the edge of the bed, his face buried in his hands. the room felt oppressively quiet, every corner echoing with the aftermath of what had just happened. the intensity of his emotions left him numb, and he struggled to reconcile the fierce desire he’d felt with the crushing guilt that now consumed him. he stared at the floor, haunted by the memory of your face, his faith, and his father’s voice insulting him for the man he grew up to be.

after a long, agonizing moment, he shakily reached for the small wooden table beside his bed. with trembling hands, he picked up an old, worn Bible and a rosary that lay beside it. clutching them tightly, he buried his face in the pages of the Bible, his lips moving silently in desperate, fervent prayer. the rosary dangled from his fingers as he sought solace, trying to find some measure of peace and forgiveness amidst the chaos of his own making.

[ih34rt-lanceystrxlly]

Read Your Diary

table of contents/pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: he needed to find a way to get inside of her, for ever and ever and ever.

warnings: obsessive behaviour, emotional manipulation, borderline stalking and an overall toxic dynamic with an oblivious Y/N, use of explicit language, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids), p in v, breeding kink if you squint. I absolutely do not condone any form of emotional manipulation or toxic relationships. This is a work of fiction and most definitely not a reflection of this person's real actions or personality.

message from A☆: Hey !! So recently I've been reading a lot of dark fics so I wanted to try and write one of my own. This fic has the same structure as Chewing Cotton Wool, and this (Read Your Diary) is one of my fav Måneskin songs, and I put A LOT of effort into it. Btw, I didn't use the whole song ! I only used the lyrics that I felt resonated with the storyline I wanted. (I fully went in and edited the smut part I AM SORRYYY) I hope you enjoy...

P.S, try and spot the song references throughout the fic !!

Brought you some roses, you didn't take them So I shed a tear

He was just trying to be nice. That's what Y/N thought. She'd been working as Christian Horner's secretary for only a couple months now, and his star driver had quickly taken a liking to her. But who could blame him? She was young, a few years younger than him, and absolutely gorgeous. Max would send her a bouquet if her favorite flowers every single race weekend, and in the beginning she'd never take them. How did he know what her favorite flowers were? He had his ways...but she always refused them. Little did she know, Max was watching from down the hall, sometimes he'd shed a few tears over it. After what was probably the millionth time he'd left her flowers, she finally took them. She figured he was just trying to be nice, make her feel welcomed, that's what she kept telling herself. And in that moment it was like something snapped in Max's head: he had to have Y/N, and when he did he'd keep her forever and ever and ever.

Pouring some champagne over your panties So that we can cheers

They were at a party after the race, she was getting absolutely shit-faced drunk. Y/N was wearing a short, sparkly party dress, the light catching every fleck of glitter as she moved. She danced the night away, downing drink after drink. That's when she bumped into Max, his glass of champagne pouring all over the front of her dress.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry schatje (little treasure)...let me help you." Max grabbed a napkin, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her in closer to wipe her off. He knew this was a bit risky, but Y/N wasn't refusing his touch.

"Maxie...hi!" She giggled drunkenly leaning into his touch. This was perfect. Max tried his best to wipe her off, but her dress was still sticky with the fizzy fluid.

"Y/N, darling, you should get changed...your dress is in no condition to stay on your body." He smoothed her hair over with one hand, looking into her eyes as she spoke.

"No, im fine Maxie!" She whined. She clearly wasn't, and Max wasn't going to skip out on the chance to be her knight in shining armour; even if in reality he was a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Counting the hours, counting the seconds 'Till I can feel your bones

"Oh, but Y/N, liefje (darling), you're too drunk to think straight." His tone had the slightest hint of mockery, but she was too drunk to tell.

"No, Max...I'm perfectly fine to be alone.'' She spoke between hiccups, trying not to stumble over herself as Max led her back to her room.

"No you're not, come on...let me take care of you." There was a certain darkness in his eyes as he spoke. As he led her into her hotel room he had an almost malicious smirk on his face. He didn't want to take advantage of her though, even if he was counting the hours until he could feel her bones beside him. All he wanted was a chance to get closer to her, to get inside her head.

Dance in your shoes, read your diary to Get inside of you, you, you

This was Max's chance. As she peacefully slept he got up and began to go through her things. Her suitcase, her clothes, her purse, everything he could find. That's when he found it: Y/N's diary. He flipped through the pages, taking photos, drowning himself in her words. He knew it was wrong to read her diary, but this was perfect. It was all her emotions, written out in front of him. This was the way, he thought, the way to get to her. Infect her with his love, rot her mind with his sugary sweet lies. He needed her in the palm of his hand.

Forever and ever and ever.

I'm not a coward, I'm not a hero But I can be your toy I'll be the pill that you wanna swallow When you're looking for the joy

Reading her diary had been like dissecting her brain, he learned everything about her. What she liked, what he hated, the things that made her weak in the knees and swoon, and the things that turned her off. He knew just the way to have her at his will, have her wrapped around his finger. And that's exactly what was happening. After weeks of tedious yet discreet manipulation, he almost had her. Max was the one Y/N would go to first when she felt down, when she needed to get something off her chest, when she was excited about something. It was almost like he was her drug, little did she know it was all his fault. But she was too oblivious to realize it. Her friends tried to warn her, but it was no use. He was already getting to her, he'd already turned into her joy-pill.

Cried on your nudes, wearing your perfume Now I taste like you, you, you

This was wrong, so wrong. He knew it. But Max would go to the ends of the earth to even have a small taste of her. He sat quietly outside her apartment building, phone in hand. What a stupid, oblivious girl. She'd left the window wide open as she got changed, Max snapping pictures of her naked body without her knowledge. Once back in his own home, he pulled out his phone to flip through the pictures. Such a pretty, ignorant girl. He felt himself getting harder and harder as he looked at her body in each picture. Max could cry over her nudes, he needed her so badly. He grabbed a small bottle from him bedside drawer: a small travel-spray of Y/N's perfume. Max sprayed his pillow with it every night, craving her scent and body beside him. He decided to take a shower to get his mind off things, but now he practically tasted like her. There was no taking his mind off her now.

Forever and ever and ever

Oh, why don't you give a little love now, baby?

Alone, in the shower Using my left hand so it feels like you

Max had been alone in the shower for about an hour now, jerking his cock to the thought of her. The smell of her perfume still lingered, the mental image of her naked body driving him insane. He needed to have her, he couldn't wait much longer. But he almost had her, she was just within reach. He came with a loud groan, his release coating his own hand. He could only imagine how much better his cock would feel elsewhere; in her hand, her mouth, her pussy...but he had to wait just a little longer.

So please, I'm begging To feel something new

It had been like a predator circling its oblivious prey; she had no clue he already had her in the palm of his hand. She was under the impression that this was what she wanted, this was all out of her own volition. But that was far from the truth. Max was behind it all, meticulously puppeteering her feelings. But she'd never know, he'd make sure of it. As she entered his apartment, the feeling of his hand on her lower back was sending chills through her body, Max smilled maliciously to himself. But he had to make her think she was the one in control, that this was her choice. They walked to his couch and both sat down, their bodies mere millimeters away from each other. He had already brought out a bottle of wine and two glasses for them. They sipped on their drinks and just talked, but behind his blue eyes he was waiting for the perfect window to strike. About 4 and a half glasses in, she'd scooted closer to him, leaning her head on his shoulder subconsciously. Now was the moment, thought Max. His hand slipped away to her thigh, slowly rubbing up and down and driving Y/N mad.

"Max..." she whined his name, it was like music to his ears.

"What, liefje (darling), what's wrong?" He had to hide his smirk, the slightest hint of mockery and possibly pity in his tone.

"Fuck...I think I need you..." She was too drunk to think before she spoke, her thighs rubbing together slightly as she yearned for some sort of friction.

"Aww...you need help darling?" He lifted her chin, pulling her in closer. All she could do was nod, letting him pull her in for a kiss.

One thing led to another, and they ended up in Max's bed. She'd practically been begging him to feel something new the whole way there, it's ironic how she thought she was the one in control. Max put her down onto the bed and reached under her skirt to remove her panties. He ran a finger through her folds, collecting her wetness.

"You're desperate me, huh schatje (little treasure)?" He brings his fingers up his mouth, licking them clean. All she could do was whine out a reply, she was desperate. With than Max knelt before her, leaving a trail of kisses up her thighs as Y/N squirmed with anticipation. The feeling of his tongue over her pussy, he ate her out like a man starved. Every moan that rolled off her tongue only riled him up more, he licked every inch of her center and sucked her clit like it was his last meal. As she begged him to let her come, her words caught in her throat with a squeal as he plunged two fingers into her entrance. She wanted to cry, it was all too much. "Aww, you wanna come liefje (darling)?" He smiled up at her and spoke in an almost mocking tone as he worked his fingers in and out of her and rubbed greedy circles on her puffy, overstimulated clit.

"Please, Maxie, please, please let me come...fuck!" She gasped out, her hands tangled in his hair.

"Since you asked so nicely, darling, I'll let you...come all over my fingers..." He sucked her clit and pumped his fingers even faster, pushing her over the edge. He came with a loud, straggled moan, her slick leaking out over Max's fingers and palm. He licked his fingers clean once again, then pulling himself back on top of her.

"You wanna taste yourself schatje (little treasure)? Hm?" He grabbed by the neck, with a rough gentleness, while taunting her with his patronizing tone. He kissed her roughly, Y/N whined at the taste of herself on his tongue and his hand gripping her neck, she needed more. Max was her drug, and she was too far into her addiction.

"Max I fucking need you...please." She reached up and pulled his face back down for another heated hiss.

"Anything for you, liefje (darling)." He smiled down at her, their foreheads touching. This was the moment Max had been waiting for for months, dreaming, fantasizing. He wouldn't wait another minute to make her his. So, he stripped himself of his clothing and Y/N removed whatever was left of hers. He cautiously got on top of her, like she was the most delicate creature on the planet, and aligned the hit tip with her hole. But he wanted to draw this out, so he slowly dragged the tip of his dick along her slit, rubbing it on her clit and then back down. Max could've died a happy man right there, his body hovering over hers as she begged for his cock and trembled.

"Please Max, stop teasing, I need it so fucking badly..." She said in a whiny, needy tone. Seconds later Max was pushing his cock into her, stretching her out as she moaned. He didn't waste a minute, not even allowing her to adjust. It's like a switch kicked off in him, he was feral. He thrust in and out of her at a fast, rough, yet delicious speed. Within minutes of him fucking her she was already a babbling mess.

"Aww, Y/N darling, already too fucked out to speak?" He mocked, deriving a little too much joy from seeing her at his will.

"Maxieee- fuck- 's too good...fucking fuck!" She moaned out, but Max was far from done yet. She felt her walls fluttering around him as his dick twitched, a tell-tale sign they were both gonna come.

"Need to come, liefje? Aww, I'm gonna fill you up so fuck- fucking good. Gonna claim this fucking pussy..." He groaned, feeling his climax reaching.

"Please, Maxie- fuck- need to come so bad, 's too much, fuck- please" She moaned out breathlessly, but she was already gone. The knot in her stomach had already snapped, spilling her slick all over Max's cock. He soon followed suit, his dick twitching inside her and the painting her walls with his come. He took a look down at where their bodies met, smiling maliciously down at the sight of the mix of his and her release leaking out on his cock. He then collapsed on to her with a loud groan, propping himself up on his elbows to look at her face.

"You're mine now...you get that? Or are you still too cockdrunk to understand me?" He spoke in an almost patronizing tone, running a had over her hair; all she could do was nod in her fucked out state. After catching his breath, Max got up and ran over to the bathroom. He came back minutes later, picking Y/N up from the bed. She whined into his neck.

"Come on, darling...gotta get you cleaned up..." With that, he dropped her down into the tub, and he practically worshiped her body. He ran his soapy hands over her whole body, washing off the sweat with the utmost caution. He used a washcloth to wipe the come off her sensitive center, she whined softly at times. But Max was extremely gentle, and when he got her out of the bath and sat her on the counter wrapped in a towel, he took a quick rinse. He then took them both back to the bed, giving her one of his t-shirts to sleep in. She drifted off peacefully in his arms, not knowing what she'd gotten herself into. Now Max had her, he was inside her head. He was going to keep it that way, forever and ever and ever.

[gghostwriter]

Poison Me, I’m Fine

Spencer Reid x Songwriter!Fem!Reader

Summary: Your choice of poison was Spencer Reid. Who knew he would kill you and set you free in the process

Warning: angst with no happy ending

A/n: I feel insane for writing this in one sitting and not editing it. There's no part 2 for this, I just wanted to purge myself of this angst plot that took over me. This is probably the closest I could write to a singer-songwriter reader x spencer, granted she just writes for other pop stars (maybe I'll write some popstar!reader next time idk yet.) Also, 'Free Now by Gracie Abrams' and 'The Black Dog by Taylor Swift' was on repeat when I wrote this so you can spot some inspiration from both here. Hope you like it!

Main masterlist

You don’t know why you settled for less. Why you opted to walk on a blurry tight rope, why you chose a crumbling place to land on, and why you chose to enter a situationship that will end in heartbreak. Actually, scratch that, you do know why. Spencer Reid, that was enough reason for you to put yourself on the line. Or it was until your treacherous, greedy heart wanted more. 

Does she follow like an echo? Like your shadow, you can try, but you can't run

It started with hushed whispers. Your mind slowly poisoning itself with what ifs and scenarios where he was fully yours, just like how he unknowingly owned you—mind, body, and soul. Whispers of—wouldn’t it be nice to visit this museum again with Spencer or he’d love this newly opened vintage bookstore around the block or it’d be nice to see the stars with him right now. You tried to cleanse those thoughts away but that’s the thing, poison that has entered your bloodstream is hard to remove. 

It's a pain that I caught you at a bad time It's a shame that I memorized your outline

It morphed to vivid imagery next—hallucinations so life-like that you found yourself believing it half of the time. Portraits of him and you holding hands as you both walked down the streets, phantom outlines of you together swaying close to muted music, and shadows of you and him twisting in bedsheets. All untrue, except for the latter. You attempt to blink them all away with no success. Your heart reluctant to part with the delusion than face the truth—that he had only offered you his body and nothing else.

Every page that I wrote, you were on it Feel you deep in my bones, you're the current

It seeped out of you next—to your writings, to your works as if your body was doing its best to reject the poison away. To save itself from the nearing death that seemed inevitable in the end. Your poetry, your lyrics, and your art all contain entangled webs of metaphors and colors that lead back to him. Purple streaks on your canvas to represent his favorite, his beloved authors mentioned in your verses, and symbolisms of his career scattered all over—cuffs, guns, shot and everything in between. You tried to pour it all out of you, the dark and sticky emotion of despair and longing covering you and all extensions of you. Everyone noticed the change. The dimming of lights in your eyes and the shadows that threaten to swallow you whole. Everyone noticed—your family, friends, colleagues, and even the pop stars that buy your singles. Everyone except for the one that could save you, Spencer. 

It turned into screams next. It was as if your body gathered all its remaining strength to shout for help or to howl in pain, you’re not sure really. All you’re sure of was that the end was near. The end was coming to free you from everything—from him. The trigger was overhearing him discuss you with his friend and male co-worker during a run-in in his apartment where he had no choice but to introduce you. Six months of pseudo dating him and no one knew you existed.

You excused yourself to the bathroom, wanting to escape the tension emitting from the situation and when you came back, that’s when you heard it. The lethal blow to your already dying heart.

“She seems nice,” his friend, Morgan, commented.

Spencer shrugged. “She’s no Maeve—not as deep but she’s—she’s safe.”

You bit your lip, trying to stop it from quivering lest you whimper out loud the pain his words has caused you.

Donning on a fake smile on your face, you watched as Morgan left with a wave goodbye to you and a casual ‘see you again.’ Not like that would ever come true.

Within seconds, you felt your mask cracking as tears slowly trickled down your face.

“I love you.”

They say the truth sets us free but not this truth. All it did was crash, burn, and pulverize your already precarious stacks of sticks that represent you and him. 

Silence.

“You know, when we first started this—whatever this is—I promised to myself that I wouldn’t fall for you. That this was purely physical, sex,” you sardonically laughed. “But you know what I realized, that you were easy to fall in love with. So easy that I found myself ruined even before I could comprehend where and when it happened.”

“We agreed, didn’t we? That we would tell the truth and stop when feelings are starting to get involved. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

You roughly swiped away the tears. “I didn’t know when it happened, Spencer! I thought if I stuck it out long enough, you’d feel something for me too! But that was foolish of me to believe. I see it now.” 

“See what?” 

You walked towards him, invading his personal space. The same way he did with yours. “That you’re not ready. Honestly I’d prefer if my opponent was standing in front of me. At least I could gauge if I had the chance to win. But with her, she’s gone, Spencer—” you jabbed your pointy finger on his chest, where his heart was. “I’m fighting with a ghost who I can’t even land a hit on. A ghost who haunts your every waking and dreaming moment. Tell me, Spencer, how do I compete with that—when I feel there’s little to no space for me. I exist only in between and in your limbo when you’re craving for a physical companion. How do I win, Spencer? Tell me or should I just throw in the towel?” 

“Y/N—”

His eyes contained the answer and although it wasn’t what you were wishing for, it was what you subconsciously knew you needed to free you. 

You nodded your head. “I guess—I guess this is it, huh. End of the line for us.” 

“I guess so.” 

You gathered your coat, haphazardly strewn on the floor—just like the pieces of your shattered heart and as you stepped out of his threshold, you gave yourself one last chance to memorize his outlines.

“Goodbye, Spencer.” 

And finally, the poison had killed you and had set you free. 

If you feel like fallin', catch me on the way down Never been less empty, all I feel is free now

[toodelusionalforreality]

Azriel x OC | Chapter 4

Shadow

Both his brothers are mated. Both his brothers are happily in love. But after five centuries of rejection, Azriel doesn’t hope for such luxury in his life. When he meets the bar owner who is too mysterious even for the spymaster to decipher, his intrigue turns into more. Lines between mystery and secret blur. The more he gets closer to her, the more his instincts warn him to stay away.

Word count: ~6k Warning: None

A/N: This is an experimental piece of work. I'm testing a writing style, so feedback is welcome. This is a half-baked version which I may edit later. This was supposed to be two separate chapters which I compiled into one. So the style difference may come off a bit strong, my apologies.

Previous Chapter: Bastards

The gelding, as dark as midnight sky, stood with an unearthly stillness under the shade of the stable. Its beady eyes followed Mor as she circled the building for the second time. Grateful for the boots she exchanged her sandals for, she stepped along the edge of the bank. Soil crumbled under her feet setting off ripples in the shallow waters. Pushing the hair out of her face, she peered around. Her fingertips trailed along the stone wall allowing the ragged surface to chip at her skin. No trace of magic. No hint of a hidden room. Not an inch of window on either side. 

Sensing its unwavering stare on her back, Mor turned to the horse with narrowed eyes. She teased the ends of her braid between her fingers. ‘You wouldn’t know of a secret room back there, would you?’ 

The beast didn’t even breathe in response. Mor let out a long sigh.

The meadow stretched for miles in every direction with nothing in sight except for the smithy. Gentle breeze chilled the sweat coating her neck. Thunder clapped at a distance and the scent of impending rain sweetened the air. A single droplet fell on her cheek and she looked up at the darkening skies. Maybe a summer drizzle would be a blessing. It would save her the effort to cloak what she had been up to before Ayla returned.

As she walked back, Mor studied the closed doors again. Painted in blue as bright as the ocean in the west, the carvings seemed to blend and merge into waves, chaotic and restless, as though the rustle of Sidra poured life into them. The longer she stared, the harder it was to break her gaze.

Then she felt it—a quiet call beckoning her forward, promising her. . .something she couldn’t name.

In that moment, Mor knew only one thing. She had to own it.

She inched ahead, and a low grunt warned her. The waves froze. So did Mor’s breath. The horse now stood at the doorstep. She hadn’t seen it move.

‘Hey,’ she muttered under her breath, ‘I don’t want to do this either.’

. . .

Her cousin’s smile vanished as soon as Feyre left the room. Alone in his study, Rhys finally turned to Mor. 

Ever since the three brothers returned from Mother knew where a week ago, none had been the same. Only when Rhys found his mate in front of a fire cradling their babe in her arms that night, his love for them chased the darkness away from his eyes. Creases marked his tunic and his usually impeccable hair was dishevelled. Az didn’t enter past the foyer while Cass stood guarding the door after him. The two stared at each other. Az waited for another minute before he stepped to his brother and hissed under his breath. Shadows wreathed around him. But Mor caught glimpses of his leathers ruined with dirt and splattered blood.

‘It doesn’t feel right, Rhys.’ Mor found his eyes devoid of any emotion.

Perched on a simple leather chair, Rhys radiated the power of a High Lord making a throne for himself no matter where he was. He fixed her with one of his rare stares that left no room for argument. ‘We don’t have the luxury to discuss what’s right.’

Mor didn’t need a reminder of what entailed when Az wanted something. She had seen it for five centuries—the ruthlessness behind those kind eyes, the raging fire behind the cool facade.

‘Do you think she’s dangerous?’

Rhys paused. ‘I don’t know.’

Mor couldn’t tell if he meant the mystery woman or Ayla. Perhaps, both. ‘Let’s wait a couple of days. See what happens.’

There had been no news of a missing fae or attack anywhere in the city. Somehow it didn’t offer comfort to either man as she had expected.

‘Would I be asking this if we could sit and wait?’ His shoulders drooped as he heaved a heavy breath. ‘I can barely hold him off from tearing Hewn City apart.’

‘Then let him,’ Mor shrugged. ‘He’d be doing us a favour anyway.’

She would have done it herself, she should have done it herself centuries ago. But she was a coward. The thought of returning to that place even to reduce it to rubble and dust made her blood run cold.

Rhys dismissed her. ‘She was intent on making a bargain. Sounds like an awful trouble for a simple bladesmith, don’t you think?’

Mor gaped at him. He never ignored her whenever that hell was involved. Never. Not only did he speak the city’s name with carelessness, but his eyes lacked the softness they always held when he approached her on its matters.

She squared her shoulders. Her cousin had a point, though she wouldn’t admit it yet. ‘We shouldn’t be making assumptions. It could be nothing.’

But Rhys pressed on, ‘We were in the next room. She wanted the fae. She hurt Ayla.’ He leaned back in the chair. ‘I’m not willing to gamble with their lives.’

Mor hated that Az was caught up in it. She hated it more that she was dragged into it. Az hadn’t been himself the past few days. Damn, he hadn’t been himself for the past few months.

At first, Cass and Mor bet how long his affair with Ayla would last. Az rarely ever shared more than a night with one woman. A few hours at her place, but at the end of the night, he always returned home. Ayla was supposed to be one of his blow-off-the-steam flings. Mor claimed it so, a phase. But Cass was certain it was a mild attraction. I’d never seen Az smile like that at a woman who drew blood from a man, he had said.

Then he returned to the bar again and again. It was a jolt to both of them—at least Cass ended up five gold marks richer. If Ayla had such a hold over Az, if she had meant anything to him, one expected him to tell his friends about his budding feelings. But he kept his escapades a secret, kept her a secret.

Ever since the night, Az had been more distant, more aloof. When everyone went out, as far as going to Ayla’s bar for his sake, he wished to stay home. When everyone stayed the night in River House, he preferred his room in House of Wind. No amount of coaxing convinced him to stay longer than dinner. Nothing satisfied him anymore. 

Since he wished to be anywhere but Velaris, Cass and Mor had planned a whole weekend in the mountain cabin. Yet, Az declared he was going to Day Court on a mission, and Rhys refused them specifics. 

That was before the bond snapped for him. Mor didn't blame Ayla. Still, she couldn’t stop the resentment festering in her heart either. The man she knew all her life, her friend who saved her and brought her back home, was being ripped away from them. Slowly and steadily. She wanted him to be happy. But what if the price was to lose him to a woman they barely knew, to someone who stood to break their family apart? Or worse, break his heart? One day with her had left Az a wreck. What would a lifetime with her do to him? It almost happened once. But Cass and Nesta were one thing.

This was Az.

Getting up from the chair, Mor turned away from Rhys and his hard stare. ‘Didn’t you say the wards are ancient magic?’ Her fingers tugged at the gold chain around her wrist, ‘And Ayla can fight. It will be fine.’ 

She couldn’t go down that road, not even for Az. Let him deal with Ayla and the danger surrounding her. If the worst came to pass, she couldn’t bear to watch it destroy him. She couldn’t get in the middle of his love affairs. But it wasn’t an affair, was it? No, this was his mate. His one true match.

‘Mor,’ called Rhys, kind and gentle that it stopped her pacing. ‘He’s waited long enough. He deserves better.’

There it was, the jab she had been waiting for. Mor kept her breath and voice steady. ‘What does that mean?’

‘It means we look out for our friend.’

A lie. A pathetic one at that. She knew what he meant. They blamed her for breaking Az’s heart. They believed Ayla couldn’t do worse than what she did to him. It wasn’t her fault Az held onto hope. It wasn’t her fault she didn’t love him the way he wanted her to.

‘It’s a mating bond,’ she stated calmly, ‘We shouldn’t be meddling.’ Maybe rationality would earn a sway with Rhys. He always put reason first anyway. ‘Besides, Az wouldn’t appreciate you scheming behind his back.’

‘It’s for him I’m asking.’

. . .

‘I only need a peek inside,’ Mor said.

She revealed her open palms to the black guardian in a peace offering. But it stood unmoved. She took a careful step towards the door—that unknown magic summoning her again. 

Another grunt, and she halted.

Damn you, Rhys!

A gentle murmur closed in on them. Mor looked over her shoulder. She had lingered for too long.

‘Don’t tell on me,’ she whispered to the beast and hurried to the stable.

Ayla wore a ridiculously large shirt that swallowed her frame. The fabric swayed in the breeze and clung to her toned thigh and the graceful swell of her hip. Every inch of her body—except for her face and hands—was hidden. She lovingly looked at the mare limping beside her. As it slowed, Ayla grazed her fingers along its neck and followed its gaze. Her pretty, serene smile faded.

Daylight did her justice, unlike the dim glow at the bar. Ayla was attractive, criminally so. But she wasn’t Az’s type—so simple and. . .forgettable. She was beautiful, and yet her face barely left a mark on one’s mind. As if she merged with the very air surrounding them, invisible and intangible. Unless one knew what they were looking for, they wouldn’t spare her a glance.

The night they found Az in the bar alone—Ares or Larus, all Mor remembered was the ugly creature and her incessant knitting—none of them suspected his reason to be a woman, let alone her. 

One had no say in how Mother chose their mate. Still, Ayla was a far cry. Az instead liked women who were. . .Mor frowned. She realised she didn’t know. Her friend was lucrative about his partners, especially with her. Did Rhys or Cass know of his preferences? Something worse dawned on her. Would he have told her about his mate if Cass hadn’t blabbered in his drunken haze?

Without breaking her stride, Ayla walked past the blonde ignoring her friendly wave and smile. She smelled sweet—like cardamom and something exotic.

The gelding finally moved from its spot and approached her as she reached the stable. It stood by the entrance even when its companion sought the shade inside, its beady eyes only on Mor. 

‘You need anything?’ Ayla peeked at her visitor before crouching by the door. Lustrous strands slipped loose from the messy knot at the nape of her neck. She brushed them away with the back of her hand and reached inside a bucket on the ground. She tossed something at Mor, ‘It’s clean.’

Mor caught it before it hit her in the face. Rude!

It was firm and cool and. . .red. She threw an apple at her.

The mare trudged back to Ayla, looking down over her shoulder. A leather brace encased its right forelimb, winding up from hoof to knee. When Mor moved closer, drawn by its beauty, it whipped its head away and backed into the shade. 

Ayla got to her feet with a dancer’s fluidity, an apple in her hand. ‘I got you. You’re safe now,’ she cooed. ‘No one’s going to hurt you.’ 

She hushed softly. The mare stilled under her touch. She brushed her fingers through its mane, the hair shifting like spun silver. As she breathed, the horse breathed with her.

‘What happened to her?’

Mor couldn’t take her eyes off them. Over the centuries, she had witnessed many fae and humans alike attempt to tame a beast and waste years to earn its trust. She had never seen anyone so in tune with a creature before. Or rather, a creature in tune with a fae.

‘Her owners weren’t kind to her,’ Ayla held the fruit out. The mare caught a sniff before sinking its teeth into its flesh. ‘When she couldn’t breed anymore, they worked her until her leg gave out. They ignored her when she started showing signs. She was in much pain.’

The creature shuffled closer, eager for her touch and words.

Ayla smiled, ‘But that’s the past. She’s making a recovery now. Brave girl, aren’t you?’

Something deep inside Mor cracked and ached. She swallowed, turning to the male horse. It bore no sign of illness or injury. ‘What about him?’

The silver one wearily made its way to a corner hiding from the stranger. But the darkness couldn’t hide the glow in its watchful blue eyes.

Ayla cared neither about Mor nor the threat her horses seemed to sense. She inspected two more apples between her slender fingers as she carried them to the gelding. ‘You’re not here to discuss horses with me. I know who you are, Morrigan.’

A chill went down her spine. No one called her that anymore, at least not in Velaris. She was Mor—Mor who escaped her father and her fate. Mor who freed herself from the darkness from which she was born.

She opened her mouth, unable to resist the urge to correct the woman in front of her. Distant thunder rumbled above the mountains like a warning. A reminder from Mother herself to speak true. Her words halted. It wasn’t the name that unsettled her. But the way Ayla spoke it, the quiet command in it.

Mor mustered the smile she reserved for the courtiers and nobles. ‘Then I guess it makes this less awkward. Tell me about the fae.’

‘What fae?’ Ayla petted the dark coat of the horse. It shimmered like starry smoke under her fingers, and Mor longed to feel its softness on her skin.

‘The one you’re hiding in a secret room back there,’ Mor pointed at the smithy, though Ayla didn’t bother to look at her, unlike her horses who wouldn’t take their eyes away from her.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Seriously?’ Mor snorted, ‘Is this what you want to lie about? Rhys was inside that room.’

‘There’s a room, but it’s no secret.’

Mor rolled her eyes. She regretted not asking Rhys about her first. ‘Fine. Why don’t you tell me about this not-a-secret room and the child you’re harbouring?’

‘She’s not your concern.’

‘Of course, she is. She lives in this court.’

‘No, she’s not.’ She smiled, a twitch of her lips in mockery. ‘Despite what your High Lord believes he heard, that child was never in danger. Regardless, she can protect herself.’

‘Mine?’ Ayla’s chin dipped ever-so-slightly, her gaze shifting. Mor pressed, ‘You said my High Lord.’

‘I’m not mistaken.’

‘Where are you from?’ 

Ayla stayed silent. Mor studied her. Her hair, lighter than a raven’s, a deep brown shone with a tinge of coppery sheen in the sunlight. Her eyes matched her hair, deep and intense. Her skin had a golden hue to it, not tan like the three Illyrians she knew, and not fair like the Archeron sisters. Somewhere in between. Her body showed no hints of other courts’ blood.

Right when she was about to press again, a cool calmness that was the essence of her cousin nudged her mind. 

He’s home.

Keep him busy, she told him. If Rhys were to be believed, Az clung to a delicate thread of restraint from shadowing Ayla day and night. And when that snapped, she wanted to be as far away as possible.

Mor tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘So, Rhys says you’re a weaponsmith.’ 

Ayla pursed her lips, resisting a smile. She petted her gelding, running her nails over its glossy coat, and coaxed it to accept her offering. It hung its head low, careening into her hand.

Mor sucked in a breath. ‘You’re going to ignore me?’ 

‘It’s pointless to state the obvious when you came here knowing who I am. And,’ Ayla drawled, ‘you’re standing in front of a forge.’

Mor snapped her mouth shut at the sound of her cousin’s chuckle in her mind. She almost forgot he was witnessing her trial. What did you do to her that day?

I can’t take credit for this. It’s all her. His amusement was loud and clear. Did you get anything yet?

Mor looked down at her hands. She gave me an apple. Does that count? He laughed again.

‘I understand why you won’t work for other courts. But why refuse your own High Lord?’

Ayla shrugged, ‘Why shouldn’t I?’

Mor tugged at the bracelet coiling around her wrist, almost as tight as the words in her throat. ‘Would it hurt you to give me one straight answer?’ 

Ayla didn’t utter a word. Her gaze drifted to the mare at the tone only for a minute. 

Even as a courtier, it had been a while since Mor had to strain every nerve for a simple conversation. Why would Az lose his mind over her? He wouldn’t want her without the bloody bond. For a moment, she pitied her friend. He waited centuries only for Mother to bind his fate with this infuriating woman. 

Then she remembered her thoughts weren’t secure. She took a breath, ‘Fine, hate Rhys all you want. Why do you hate me?’

‘I don’t have a reason to hate you or your High Lord.’

I tried, Mor sighed.

Try harder. Rhys’s response was instant.

Get down here and do it yourself.

Mor, he warned, his power radiating even through their minds. Then his voice was gone, and so was his commanding presence. Mor inhaled deeply at the emptiness, as if her cousin had taken her thoughts along with him. Come home. I think he’s onto us.

You think? She surveyed their surroundings. Lush plains stretched in every direction, providing no cover for a particular shadowsinger if he chose to stake out. Give me another minute.

When she turned around, she met the coal-like eyes of the gelding that peered into the depths of her soul. It watched her like it sensed what she had been up to, that Rhys was watching it back.

Mor knew such beasts well. So she matched its stare. Tiny drops of rain hit her skin, but she refused to bow down. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the mare edging close to the entrance. Its steps were as quiet as the one challenging her. Neither made a sound with Ayla around, only their breaths a sign of their attention when she spoke to them.

‘I know you’re hungry,’ said Ayla, twirling the apple between her fingers. ‘We’ll go for a ride later if you take one bite.’ The beast nuzzled against Ayla’s neck, but it didn’t relent. She tipped her head and a thin veil of her hair blocked its view. ‘For me?’

Mor shifted her weight to her right foot, and it whinnied out a hoarse breath. Its forelimb twitched, muscles pulling taut along its length, warning her of what it wouldn’t hesitate to do if she made one wrong move.

The Truth-Teller strapped to Az’s thigh flashed in her mind. Or was it Rhys?

Ayla spoke softly, ‘I won’t let anyone touch you. You’re safe.’ She smoothed her palm between its eyes, down its neck, through its mane. ‘Easy now.’ 

The horse blinked. Ayla repeated her affirmations. It slowly turned, leaning into her hand, an eye watching its foe. The crunch of the ripe flesh between its teeth echoed in the air.

Mor shuddered. Yet, she couldn’t mask the smile on her lips or her thoughts. Tell me you're seeing this.

Ayla rewarded the gelding with a kiss between its eyes. ‘Good boy,’ she held out the other apple. But the beast pressed its forehead to her cheek and nuzzled, backing her towards the stone building, away from the stranger. Ayla chuckled as she steadied herself. ‘Come now. Don’t be rude.’

Mor ached to winnow back and tease her friend about his mate and her territorial pet. It wasn’t just her who felt that. 

Does Az know his mate already has a shadow? 

Oh, he won’t appreciate this competition. Rhys laughed.

Mor snorted. The beast stilled, its ears perked up. She cleared her throat, ‘He’s adorable. What’s his name?’ 

A minute passed and another. Well, Rhys would have to find some other way to get his answers. 

Mor sighed, though a little of the guilt and doubt in her chest had dampened. ‘If you ever need help, you can come to me.’ 

To her surprise, Ayla looked at her and nodded.

.

.

.

Seven days. Two cities. One woman.

Some spy he was. For five centuries, Azriel hunted men and women across lands. Never had he felt as useless as he did in those seven days.

He scoured every inch of Velaris for the woman who hurt Ayla. Day and night he searched every inn, listened to whispers in the streets, and sent his wraiths to gather news about foreigners. He searched for her in expensive bars and restaurants, to the theatres and landmarks. He went as far as to look into the seedy taverns on the other side of the city, just to be certain. If she had known they were inside the room while she threatened Ayla, she should have been smart enough to keep to the shadows. Even Hewn City wasn’t spared. He spied every courtier who set foot inside the mountain city in the past two weeks to ensure none of them knew of Ayla’s existence. 

He found nothing. It wasn’t a question of how, but who stumped him. All his efforts were futile, for what did he know of this mysterious enemy?

Azriel played the events of that day in his mind over and over again. His instincts had set in the instant he walked out of the hidden room. His shadows crept along the floor and writhed at his feet like serpents waking from each step. There was no trace of that woman—not her magic, not her scent. The only sign of the ordeal lay red on Ayla’s tender neck. He combed through every spoken word, every moment to find one clue that could lead him to her. A name. A court. But all it yielded was the churning rage in his gut at the voice that rang in his ears—her mockery, her threats, her laughter. 

I don’t work for any court , Ayla had said.

His brother wasn't beyond sending someone to test Ayla, but taking him to the smithy on the same day? Rhys could be cunning, but he was no fool. 

The woman didn’t belong to Night. But she knew where to find the city. She walked past the wards unhindered. She recognised them from their scents alone. She had met them before, at the least, been close enough. Why did she want Ayla? Was it to spite him? No, she mentioned Rhys only when she was denied what she came for. She wanted Ayla. And the girl. 

Azriel found only a mild comfort in all this—if she knew them, they knew her.

From the constant fussing and wary glances between the two, he knew his brothers sensed his desperation. So he went to work and pretended to be past it. He employed every spy of his all over the court, but he kept the details to himself. Every crossing past the borders of the two cities and the court was reported to him, irrespective of who and why. It was tedious work and inappropriate use of resources for his personal matters. He had never done that before.

And yet, it didn’t feel wrong.

Fourteen days. Three brothers. One woman.

Azriel needed answers. But he had no leads. Not true, he had three—none willing to help.

Confronting Ayla would be easier than chasing a phantom around the court. She refused to make weapons for her High Lord—fine, Azriel didn’t care. But as citizens of Night Court, she and her friends were their responsibility despite what she thought. If one of them was in danger or involved with other courts, he had the right to demand answers from her. She wouldn’t have a choice but to comply.

Mother above, he sounded like Rhys!

Ayla hated him. Azriel remembered the way she stepped back from the threshold when he reached for her. Her hand remained on the doorknob, but her back pressed into the stone wall with each step he took. Her breath stilled in her lungs as though she couldn’t bear to breathe the very air that touched him. Once he and his brothers were a few good feet away, she released a breath, and it was enough to crush his heart.

Her naked observation when she had him pinned to the floor was lost as soon as she realised who they were. Emotions flickered in her eyes—deep and haunting. They were nothing more than a threat, worse than the woman who almost killed her.

His brothers promised to protect Ayla. They reassured him her feelings would change with time, as they did for Feyre and Nesta. 

But Azriel wanted to disappear and never to return. He might as well do that. Leave her alone and never intrude into her life, even if the bond killed him.

After he found the woman and skinned her alive. 

Each wasted day chipped at his sanity. The horrid mark on her flesh was seared into his memory. Branded on his soul—a reminder of his incompetence, how he had failed to protect his mate. Not with his sheer Illyrian power, not with his shadows.

It was hard not to imagine, not to see so clearly. Shock and panic flooding her eyes before the fear settled in. Or her fingers clawing at the hand to savour one more gasp of air. Or her legs scuffing on the floor as she fought to level herself. Or her head hitting the wood hard to rattle the wards within, her eyes pinching shut at the impact. Every rasp of hers, every strained breath echoed in his ears—the little choke escaping her lips as the hand enclosed around her neck. 

There was no escape, not for him. Not when he had witnessed many in that position—put many in that position.

It was a twisted joke Mother played on him. A fitting punishment for what he had done over his lifetime for his friend and brother, for his High Lord. A punishment for who he was. To stand helpless and hear his mate endure what he had inflicted upon many without mercy. 

She was his mate. She was so close. She was scared and confused. 

And he couldn’t help her.

Twenty-one days. One shadowsinger. One woman.

Stop.

His shadows hissed as Azriel stared at the worn-out door from across the street. He couldn’t bear to face her again, but he couldn’t stand failing her more. One conversation, he told himself, just one.

He wasn’t afraid. He longed to see her face. He longed to hear her voice. Maybe even a touch, if he was lucky. Yet his body wouldn’t move.

Home.

The one time he wanted assurance from his shadows, they disagreed with him. Azriel balled his fists and turned away, only to meet the very eyes he had been running away from.

Ayla looked at him, the bar, and then back at him. A mere second. That’s how long it took for her to decide to ignore him like he meant nothing to her. She walked past, opening the lid of a brown box she carried in her hand.

‘Wait,’ Azriel said. When she didn’t stop, he called out. ‘Ayla.’

He hadn’t spoken her name out loud before. Not with Uri, not with his brothers, not in the privacy of his room. It had always been her. And now that he had spoken it, it was the only word he ever wanted to utter. The only word that held any meaning.

She came to a slow halt and looked over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed. Azriel held his breath waiting for her to return to him. Instead, she walked to the side of the building and leaned a shoulder against the wall facing him.

Azriel waited a moment before he approached her. For an alley, it was too clean, even in the dark. Behind her stood an iron door leading directly to the office inside. The only shred of light poured down from the streets. And the faelight next to the inscribed plaque of the bar cast an iridescent glow on part of her face.

The usual sternness she carried herself with was replaced with a casual ease. Her legs crossed at the ankles. Her hip jutted out, revealing that sensuous curve of her waist through that large shirt. Locks of hair that never seemed to stay held in her braid spilled around her face. The high collar hid her neck from his eyes. Azriel knew he would only find her flawless skin underneath. Still, he ached to pull her shirt down and see for himself.

The golden rings on her bracelet glinted under the faelight as Ayla reached into the box. Her fingers hovered over the crisp layers of pastries that sat inside. Scratches and cuts littered her knuckles. If the flex of her fingers were any indication, she was in pain.

One made his breath hitch in his throat. One too deep that it split the skin open between and around her knuckles. 

‘Those are new,’ he said quietly. He couldn’t take his eyes off the dried blood. What did she do? Did that woman return? Did Ayla have to fight her alone?

‘Yes,’ she hesitated, ‘I just bought them.’

Azriel looked at her. As confused as he was, she was staring down the street where she came from, at the bakery she went to every week. The worry that nagged at him day and night lost its hold in a heartbeat. He bit the inside of his cheeks and tapped the back of his hand with his fingers, suppressing his urge to hold her hand and inspect it himself.

The little frown between her brows disappeared. She nodded at his face—his broken nose. ‘So is that.’

Courtesy of his brother during their morning training when he was so distracted that he practically threw himself into the punch. But she wasn’t interested in it. 

Ayla picked up a pastry. The sweet fragrance of chocolate and butter filled the air between them. Better than her scent, for he needed to think straight if he intended to find simple words around her. Her hand froze close to her mouth as she held out the box to him. 

Azriel’s heart stopped. He was sure of it. Did she know what it meant? Did she know how she was tormenting him?

He gawked at the flaky shell of the dessert. He could do it—take a bite, make her his. 

No!

The weight of his shadows curled around his hands and pulled him back. He shook his head, smiling.

‘Let’s hear it then.’ She returned the pastry with a sigh. 

‘And,’ he started carefully, ‘what is that?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Who is the child? Where is she? Why are you hiding her?’ 

Voices floated towards them. A band of faeries headed for the bar, giggling and stumbling before they caught sight of him. Their pale skin shifted and glimmered like fish scales under the faelight. Glancing between his wings and his face, they blushed and whispered to each other. Until his shadows wound around his shoulders and chest. And they hushed into silence. 

Ayla watched them rush through the door.

‘Are you safe?’ The words left his lips in a whisper.

Her eyes snapped to his face. The calm ones, yet so terrifying in the way they unravelled him every time she looked at him. Slowly, she graced him with a smile. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘I know you were holding back that day.’ He took a step closer, drawn in by her gaze. ‘You could’ve stopped her. Why didn’t you fight?’

‘There was no reason to.’ She shrugged a shoulder, her shirt shifting over her breast with the movement. ‘She can’t hurt me.’

‘But you let her.’

‘She wasn’t there for me.’

‘Hamra.’ Ayla hesitated at the young fae’s name, still nodded. Azriel asked, ‘Why does she want her?’

‘It’s not my story to share, shadowsinger.’ 

With one simple statement, she quashed the only excuse for a conversation he had. They stared at each other. One more minute of silence and she would walk through that door. One more minute of silence and she would leave him. Azriel couldn’t find any words. But then, he didn’t have to.

‘You need to stop harassing her,’ she said.

Azriel narrowed his eyes. ‘I met with her once. That’s far from harassing.’

‘So you’re telling me,’ she arched a brow, ‘the shadows following her around is not you? Hmm, must be another shadowsinger I’m not aware of.’ 

It was his turn to shrug. ‘Who knows? That one seems to attract a lot of trouble.’

‘And how would you know that?’ She clicked her tongue, ‘You only met with her once.’

Azriel chuckled, and her eyes flicked to his lips. ‘How much do you know?’

‘Your brother came by the shop exactly when I was away. You’ve been asking Uri about my whereabouts. And Hamra threatened to stab you if she saw you again.’ She missed nothing. She continued, ignoring the dark gleam in his eyes, ‘Those are loyal to me, you know? What made you think they would tell you anything?’

If only she knew loyalty had nothing over pain and the will to live. 

Uri was prone to talk, but he swore to secrecy as Ayla's safety was concerned. Orvin was fiercely defensive to let Ayla know the High Lord she despised and his brothers took an interest in her. Azriel only worried about Hamra, but he trusted her to be smart, especially after his warning veiled as a lecture. He sensed wrong.

‘We believed they cared about you. Besides,’ he crossed his arms across his chest, ‘I can be. . .persuasive.’

Idiot.

His shadows flittered over his shoulders. They were right. What was he trying to do—scare her away?

She watched him in silence. His eyes, his lips, his face. His crossed arms, his body. And finally, she stopped at the knife strapped to his thigh before she met his gaze. She leaned her head against the wall and smirked, ‘Not enough.’

Gods, what did she think of him? Nothing good, he knew.

Her eyes burned with challenge, daring him to hurt the ones close to her. She lived in the city long enough to have heard of the rumours about the shadowsinger—Night Court’s torturer. They weren’t rumours if they were true.

‘I don’t intend to harm them.’ Azriel tried to salvage his dignity, ‘I was trying to find some truth.’

‘Is this your High Lord’s way of protecting his civilians?’

Closer.

Azriel wanted it too. But he stayed still.

‘It’s not him,’ he said quietly.

Her smile faltered.

Silence stretched long and tense. His shadows swirled over his arms drawing her attention. When she blinked at them, they skittered between them, daring to reach for her. Azriel took a sharp breath, and they withdrew.

‘Next time, shadowsinger,’ she pushed off the wall holding his gaze, ‘I find any of you following one of us, I will hand over a dagger to Hamra myself and she will keep her promise.’

With that, she left. And Azriel stared at the closed backdoor with a grin on his face.

Next Chapter: Relic

Someone tell me Azriel came off as a drama queen.

[t-art-c]

"This is not love, Scaramouche..."

CW: Domestic Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Human Trafficking, Manhandling, Self-deprecation, Toxic Cycle, Implied Stalking, and Gaslighting

A/N: GUYS!! Just to remind that I do not condone the actions I write for my yandere oneshots. This is only explorations of how abuse or toxicity affects a person. There may be inaccuracies, but I always try to make it as accurate as possible and always give respect, especially towards victims.

-----

The words you uttered did nothing but make your husband rage. His eyes turned sharper, and his scowl even deeper. He tightened his grip over the whip he has been using to punish you yet again over something menial.

He would always say that it may be menial to you but it is detrimental to him. As the spouse of the Balladeer, Scaramouche, every action you make will be reflected to him. So, every action you do that is not to his taste meant that he married a slob, a whore and every insult under the Sun.

There was this one time when the Jester visited Scaramouche's manor. Your husband was not home at that moment so you decided to be proper host and offer tea to the harbinger.

The Jester had an overwhelming presence that made you shake. So when you were pouring him tea, you have accidentally spilled some over his white coat. With terrified eyes, you bowed your head to the ground and begged for your life.

Fortunately, he spared you and told you that he will have it washed when he leaves. Unfortunately, your husband witnessed the whole thing. He pulled you into an empty room and berated you over how you embarrassed him with your actions.

For the second time of that day, you apologized with your head down and just took all the insults he threw at you.

After taking all the abuse for years, you have finally had enough. You do not even care what would happen to you when you confront him.

Death?

Yes, you had nothing to lose anymore when all he ever did was take everything from you.

"What would you even know about love?"

He went there. In all honestly, you should not have been this surprised, but you can always count on your husband to know how to hurt you.

"More than you ever will..."

Saying it felt freeing. There is not an ounce of fear in your body, not even anger. You felt happy. Without raising your head, you know that he shaking in anger, maybe even grinding his teeth.

A few seconds pass, but nothing happened. There was only an uncomfortable silence surrounding the both of you.

"You do, don't you?"

He walked closer and made you look at him in the eyes.

"But that's what I love about you."

He slapped you hard to the point you fell to your side. The wounds you have gotten prior from his previous punishment throbbed and started bleeding again.

Tears started to form from the corner of your eyes. You held the cheek he slapped and smiled bitterly.

"As I said again, this putrid thing you force on me will never be love."

You stood up from the ground and stared at your husband.

"Every single day, I have to tell myself that what we have is just something other couples go through. But I know deep down, it's wrong, and abnormal."

You walked closer to him and softly held his hands.

"What did I do to deserve this?"

Scaramouche's face softened. He tenderly held your bruised cheek and placed a kiss on it.

"You deserve everything. My love, my wrath, my loneliness, my happiness, every single one of it."

-----

Love truly is a fascinating thing.

How cruel of your husband to choose you to be the receiver of his putrid love. A man who will forever stay young while you grow older and inevitably leave him all alone again.

Maybe, that is why he shows you all of himself. He knows that one day you will not be there by his side to give him comfort. Even if the comfort he feels from you might be just like warmth from an already extinguished bonfire.

You did love this awful husband of yours once upon a time. But now, you do not know what to feel for him. Anger? Sadness? Regret for even meeting him one faithful day?

In a rare occasion where he will allow you to explore the outside world again with him by your side, you have always thought of running away. It will be futile as he is much more stronger and faster than you could ever be. But if you do hypothetically escape, where will you go?

You were a nobody, prior your life with Scaramouche. Not even one person ever knew of your existence. Just some orphan who was able to survive the unforgiving world by stealing from other people. That is until you messed with the wrong person and was taken to a human trafficking ring.

Other orphans like you from the ring had their names taken away. Nobodies who did not bother to care for each other, because caring for someone in a dangerous place meant weakness that can be taken advantage of.

When The Balladeer suddenly visited the ring, you were ecstatic.

Finally, there might be a chance for freedom for you from this wretched place. Finally, a place far better than this one.

You did everything you could to make him notice you. Made yourself look pitiful in hopes that he would glance and choose you.

But, he never did. Instead he chose a young boy from beside you.

"I'll take this one. And make it quick."

"Certainly, my Lord!"

It did not work. Of course, it would not work. Who in their right mind would choose someone as weak as you. The Balladeer probably already have a specific person in his mind.

You were not able to stop the tears from coming out your eyes.

It was probably the most pathetic you have ever felt. Not even once have you cried when you were beaten and starved by your captors. But you just know yourself that you will never be able to escape this place.

This place will be your resting place.

"Hm... I'll take this one too."

In your self-wallowing, you did not even notice that the Balladeer is standing right in front of your cage. Only then you noticed when you were roughly grabbed by the arm and dragged away by his men.

The boy he picked was nowhere to be seen.

In your shock, you can not even verbalize how thankful you are of him. So, you just cried again.

"Again with the crying. I order you to stop that or I'll be sending you back in that hellhole."

You dried your eyes quickly from his threat, in fear that he will make true of his promise. However, the dirt from the shirt you have been wearing since you were taken stung your eyes, which caused you to tear up more.

"Tch. You can't even follow orders properly."

You started to tremble from the glare he sent your way.

"I apologize, my Lord! T-the dirt from my shirt just stung my eyes that's all. I hope you can forgive my mistake!"

Just before he says something, you have arrived at a wooden carriage. Inside, you can see the boy from before curled at the furthest corner. The man gripping your arm let go of it and ordered you to get in.

After that initial interaction with the Balladeer, you have seen him until a year later.

-----

You loved Scaramouche with all your heart. He is probably the only person your heart will ever know to love. Even after everything, your husband will always be the one you adore.

The pathetic, worthless you who will always crawl back to him after every punishment. Seeking his love and forgiveness.

After all, who else would be able to withstand his overbearing, opressive love?

"I will always love you..."

The way you said it was bitter, but accepting.

Your husband only stared as he pulled your head to lay on his shoulder. The scent of his sakura cologne filling your senses. He held you tight as if he was afraid to lose you.

"You know I will never leave you..."

You hugged him as you contemplate about the life you have lived.

"Hm... I will not let you even if you tried."

A laugh went out of your mouth at his response towards you. Your shoulders were shaking as you cried.

-----

It has been a long time since you last saw the Balladeer. It took you some time to fully adapt to your new environment. As a new orphan recruit of the Fatui, you were given a new name by your coworkers.

Pavel.

They told you it meant "small". Which you guess is understandable since you are the shortest of all the recruits. It does not mean you are happy with it.

Work in the Fatui can sometimes be very boring or hectic. It is currently in its hectic stage since you have received news of the Balladeer visiting to check on how things are going.

"Pavel! Can you help me with auditing?"

Lev.

He was the boy you were with when the two of you were bought by the Balladeer. Just like how you were given a nonsensical name, Lev was also a victim of it. Your coworkers said that Lev meant "lion", as they are always reminded of a lion when they see the boy.

Over the course of a year, the two of you have grown closer to the point of seeing each other as family. Although, you two are close, not once have the two of you ever shared about your lives prior the Fatui.

"Alright, which part should I help you with?"

The boy gave you a thankful look. He then handed you another notepad to write into and pointed over a pile of papers on a table not far from him.

"Just those. Don't worry, I already finished most of it. I just want to take a quick break. My head is killing me."

You gave him a pat in the head and let out a sigh.

"Remember to visit the clinic."

He let out a laugh and exited the room.

You proceeded to audit the pile of papers. It was quite peaceful, even if there a bustle of people just outside of the room. Everyone is working hard to await the arrival of their Habinger.

It has been a while since you last saw the Balladeer. No other interactions happened between the two of you after being forced in the carriage.

He probably got his hands full the moment we arrived at Snezhnaya. Even with his youthful face, he is still a cutthroat harbinger.

"To think there's someone lurking in this room"

You jumped from your spot as you heard a voice just behind you. You turned around and saw the person everyone has been preparing for to arrive.

"L-lord Scaramouche!"

You kneeled one leg on the ground as you greeted the Balladeer with respect.

"Rise."

You stood up and maintained yourself to not anger him. Knowing his temperament from what your coworkers have told you, he is not to be messed with.

"What are you currently doing?"

You showed him your notepad.

"I am currently auditing some papers right now, my Lord."

He let out a sound of acknowledgement as he waved his hand.

"Follow me."

Without wasting a second, you walked in front of him and opened the door, then went behind him to follow.

The two of you walked in silence as the people around you stopped what they were doing and kneeled towards their Lord.

"We welcome you, Lord Scaramouche!"

The Balladeer waved his hand and everyone piped down. He spoke of an event that every single Fatui member must attend to. A festival that let those with family to go back home and spend time with them.

Everyone was excited and have started talking amongst themselves after the Balladeer has explained the situation.

The two of you walked back to the room where the two of you met and saw Lev already working on the audit.

"Lord Scaramouche!"

He kneeled and bowed his head.

"Are you the one who was supposed to be auditing?"

The boy gulped from the inquiry.

"Yes, my Lord. I have asked Pavel to cover for me for a while as a I go visit the clinic to get some medications."

The Balladeer glared down at him.

"I order you to never do that again. Do the job given to you, even if you're sick. I don't care what excuses you have."

"A-affirmative, my Lord..."

After all of that, you have never seen Lev again. You were taken by the Balladeer and have started working directly under him.

Your old coworkers who you thought you were close with never interacted with you again. Every time you try to talk to them, they will make an excuse to run away from you.

It made you feel disappointed as you feel alone once again.

-----

"Do you really think my love for you is disgusting?"

Scaramouche's hug constricted you body against him. It is getting more difficult to breathe.

"Yes. It's so disgusting that it makes me want to puke."

Perhaps you have a death wish, but you know yourself that your husband would never let you die until he has his fill of you.

"How brave of you to be truthful to me. But I guess that's what I love about you. Only you will I ever allow to insult me like this."

His grip on you became even more tighter as he place his head on the junction of your neck and shoulder.

A disgusted part of you tells you to push him away, but then there is that lovesick part of you that feels comforted in the pain of his hug. The dichotomy between your emotions leaves you breathless.

He knows how to play with your heart. Maybe he already knew how much he has wrapped you around his finger. He might as well have actually tied invisible strings around your joints like a puppet.

It sometimes makes you feel confused of what you should be even doing. Since everything you have ever done seems to have only inconvenienced him.

"Love is supposed to make me feel safe in your company, Scaramouche. Not once have you ever tried to make me feel safe."

You started to comb his hair with your fingers.

"But for some reason, I feel even more safe knowing that you hurt me. All the insults and the pain you have forsaken me with, I openly accepted"

Scaramouche rubbed your back as he kept his silence.

"We are so different from each other. Yet, we are unfortunately perfect together."

-----

It has been a month since you started working for the Balladeer. He never called you by the name that was given to you by your former coworkers. For some odd reason, he asked for your real name.

"My real name is (Name), my Lord."

It was the name left to you by your mother before abandoning you in the streets as a child. You never had much use of it as nobody would ask a dirty rat like yourself for it.

"(Name)..."

The way the Balladeer whispered your name sent shivers down your spine. Your cheeks started to have a rosy hue from how he kept repeating it under his breath.

It made you feel strange as this is not a befitting behavior from a subordinate.

"If you do not mind me asking, my Lord?"

He stared at you

"Speak."

You clasped your hands together as you finally asked your question.

"May I visit a friend of mine for my day off this coming Saturday?"

The air around suddenly became heavy.

"No, you can not. After all, there's nobody waiting for you anymore."

Even in such an icy environment, sweat started to fall from your forehead.

"Pardon?"

The Balladeer let out a chuckle as he placed his cheek in his hand."

"I have eyes everywhere. What do you think happened to him?"

Without even answering him, you bolted out of his office and ran through the cold weather. You were determined to see the answer for yourself and hope to whichever archon is listening to you to this one time to grant you goodwill.

Your lungs started burning from how much you are inhaling the cold air. But it never even made you stop running as you finally reached the apartment complex specifically built for Fatui agents.

Since the you and Lev came together, they made it so to make the two of you roommates. It was a fairly average room for two, but since you two are always at work, it is kept quite boring. Only Lev's action figures are strewn over the place.

You opened the door with the key you have kept in your person.

"LEV?!"

There was no reply to your call. Only silence and an equally empty room with no warmth. Lev's action figures were nowhere to be seen.

"I guess no one's home."

Is there truly no archon who will ever listen to you? Is this why back in the human trafficking ring, nobody formed friendships with each other?

"Since you've already seen your answer, let's head back."

With nothing else to do in an empty room, you followed the Balladeer back to his office.

The silence in the office was deafening as he signed the papers you have handed to him. Only the noise of his pen scratching the paper surrounds the both of you.

"What if I tell you that I'm meant to be a god? Would you worship me?"

You stared at him.

"If that is what you want from me, my Lord. Then yes, I will worship you."

He blinked at you.

"What a fascinating answer. However, it's not what I'm looking for. And here you wonder why the gods don't listen to the likes of you."

What else does he want from you then?

-----

"I finally have what is rightfully mine. That annoying fox and that dumb traveler made it all too easy."

Scaramouche is currently bandaging the wounds he has inflicted on you while recounting the story of obtaining the electro gnosis. To be frank, you could care less of what he thinks as you do not like gods.

"What's your plan now?"

He glared at you as if you have just asked the stupidest of quesitons.

"Become a god, what else?"

You laughed.

"How boring."

Your husband dropped your arm and stood up from the bed. He carried with him the first-aid kit back to the bathroom. You laid down your bed and await his return.

When he went back, he made you pull the blanket over the two of you.

"I'll not be back for a few weeks. Even if I don't want to, I have to since only that bastard the Doctor can do something about it."

You frowned at him.

"The Doctor is dubious at best. Are you really sure?"

Scaramouche pulled the blanket over the two of you to shut you up.

He may be hundreds of years old, he can never stop being a brat. But you guess, that is one of the few things you find endearing about him. Even if there are more bad things than good things you can see about him, your heart will always beat for him and him only.

You hope this endeavor of his is finally the thing the ends him.

"Even to the end, I will never be apart from you. For you are the only one I have left to lose."

[queerxqueen]

Has writing the Dustin Experiment changed your perspective on the ST characters in general? I’m curious as to whether you were already a Dustin or Eddie fan beforehand, or if writing this book made you feel *closer* to the characters, or simply more appreciative of them in ways you might not have been before. I can just imagine how cool it’d be to be able to write an official book for a show you’ve loved so much and wanted to know if the process has given you a new outlook on certain aspects

This is such a fun and thoughtful question, thank you!

I have so much love for every single Stranger Things character but writing them from a canon perspective definitely made me appreciate them more. Like, I always appreciated Dustin for his humor and smarts, but in doing my analysis of his character and in writing his problems, fears, and flaws, I definitely came to love him and understand him even more. I hope people reading the book also take away a new perspective of our little Dusty-bun! He's so much more than comic relief or even the voice of reason or the provider of lore for the Upside Down. He's also a kid who cares so deeply and so loyally for the people he loves while simultaneously being terrified of being unwanted and being left alone. Here's a lil snippet of the whopping 10 pages of notes I did for my Dustin Bible while doing a Dustin-centric rewatch before writing this project -

(Disclaimer: this was completely my own personal analysis and prep, not approved by or even shared with the ST team, which is the only reason I can share it here, lol.)

Getting to that core "fear/pain" is always essential for me to understand a character. And for Dustin at this point in the timeline between seasons 3 and 4, having felt left behind by his friends in seasons 2 and 3, enduring the change of friends leaving after season 3, and going into high school, I really wanted to dive into those feelings and fears of being left behind and people changing and moving on without him. That is ultimately the core emotional conflict of the book. That's also what makes the novel tie-ins so fun--these feelings brushed off as one-liners in the show actually have the time to develop and unravel in a book focused on Dustin's character. Understanding those fears and how they play into how he goes into season 4 definitely made me love him and relate to him so much more.

The other big character I developed so much more love for was Eddie. I loved Eddie but never was wholly obsessed the way many people are, but writing him and his relationship with Dustin made me love him so much more and he ended up being amongst the most fun characters to write in the whole project. His voice and mannerisms are so fun to play with, the balance between rough-and-tough-metalhead and nerdy-softy-heart-of-gold was such a fun line to toe. He's over-the-top at times, and surprisingly restrained in others. And he cares much more than he wants to admit. Writing him from Dustin's perspective gave me so much more love and appreciation for him. I know how much people love Eddie, how protective his fans are of his character, so I really wanted to do him justice. I told friends half-jokingly while writing that if the Eddie fans are happy, I've done my job well. (No pressure, haha.)

Maybe I'll do a more formal analysis of my reading of Dustin's character as we get closer to the book's release :) I'm also eagerly awaiting permission to share even tiny snippets of the actual book... But for now - writing this story absolutely gave me a deeper understanding of most if not ALL of the characters but especially Dustin and Eddie. I hope when the book comes out, you guys feel even a small amount of the love I poured into it!

[letteredlettered]

I wanted to make a separate post about this, partly because I'm feeling a lot of emotions I feel like I've never experienced, or at least don't know how to identify.

There's a lot that goes into writing a fic. You have to consider every word, weighing it against every other word. You read and you reread and you edit and you reread; you sit back and say, "How do I make sure the reader reads this as it is meant to be read; how do I make them feel the weight of the words in the right place; how do I engineer the timing such that this joke lands, this repetition lands, this echo or this feeling or this meaning lands; how do I write this dialogue in a way that allows the reader to understand the tone in which it is being said, the mood with which it is spoken, the feeling the dialogue provokes in the other character listening; how do I make phrase A resonate with phrase B so that the reader can connect the dots between the phrases in a way that produces C?"

Writing is wrangling words so that they behave in an exact way to produce an exact result. The "exact result" is for the writer, not the reader--different readers are going to interpret the meaning and characters differently. But the writer is arranging words in a precise formation to express exactly what they mean, so that the mood is produced exactly as they intend, so that the joke lands at the precise time to land the joke accurately. The reader might not get the joke; they might get the joke but not laugh at it; they might laugh but not like it. Same with tone, mood, meaning, etc. The reader cannot and will not interpret it the same way. But the writer wants to produce the exact equation that will work for them, and then they want to show it to you and hear what you think, even if you work through the equation and get a different result.

This is why writers like comments. They want to hear whether you worked through the equation and got the same result; they're interested in your different results. Like a teacher, they want you to show you're work--how and why did the different parts of the equation lead you to your result? They want this because they poured so much time, energy, thought and feeling into every single portion of that equation. They put so much of themselves into every single word that they want to know how every single word landed.

I'm writing this post because @raitala has started posting their podfic of my fic, Time Signature. And this podfic delivers every single word of this story exactly how I imagined it. Exactly how I meant it. The timing of everything is exactly how I wanted it to be read. The tone of every line of dialogue is exactly what I heard in the character's voices while writing it. Listening to it felt like writing, a feeling so extraordinary that I don't know actually how to describe the things I felt listening.

If you like my writing and have ever wondered what writing feels like for me, how I hear it in my brain, how I mean for it to be read--this is it. And if you don't like my writing, I think that you will still like this podfic, because this podfic is its own entity. I would be recommending the fuck out of it regardless of whether it was my fic, because listening to it is absolutely gripping.

Look. I'm proud of my writing. I think I'm good at it. I think I'm good at things like pacing within a scene and capturing voices in dialogue. But listening to this made me love my writing in a way I never experienced before.

This fic isn't a comedy, but the beginning is meant to be amusing. But listening to this podfic, I was fucking dying of laughter--at lines I could already recite! Because I had written them! I had written them with the intention of being a little witty, a little wry. But hearing them spoken with timing so precise, so exact, I couldn't help but feel that this is some of the funniest shit I've ever heard.

This fic is mostly porn. It's extremely filthy porn. Porn as often awkward read aloud; there are the actual mechanics of bodies moving, then all the feelings, then the moaning and if you're me, lots and lots of dirty talk. And sex scenes in audio books usually bring me a certain measure of embarrassment--this reader is trying too hard to pant and sound needy; that reader is being to clinical and removed; this reader is making it sound like a porno; that reader is failing to sound sexy. But this podfic is read so perfectly that listening to these sex scenes sounded like the experience of reading them--or at least, how I want them to be read. When you read a good sex scene, the words should fall away, and the scene itself should play out in your head, whether visually (for some) or just through cognition (for me). You should feel the emotions of it without feeling distracted by things like sentence structure. And this is how @raitala reads. Yep, it's someone saying the words "cock" and "pussy" a whole bunch, and yep, it's super hot and very explicit. But the timing and the tone are so perfect that the awkwardness of a live person reading these things falls away, and you feel like you're watching a movie.

But this fic is one other thing. It's a fic about two musicians who make music, and while not a whole lot of time is spent talking about music, that's mostly what's happening when there's not porn (and sometimes what is happening when there is porn). I'm not a musician; nor do I particularly invest time and interest in music like most people seem to. But I did a lot of research for the music in the fic, and the reason for that and the research that I did are both described in the post I did here.

What makes this podfic truly extraordinary is that @raitala not only exactly captured the timing and tone of every word, but also precisely captured the meaning and feeling of the music parts of this fic through the soundscape they provided.

I've never listened to a podfic that provided a soundscape. The soundscape in this fic is almost all music. @raitala absorbed the meaning of the music from the fic, then also paid attention to the post I did about the music for the fic, then they did their own research to find additional pieces to fit the mood and meaning of the fic, then put that music into the fic at precise moments, sometimes letting it stand alone, sometimes layering it under the words of the fic, sometimes layering several tracks on top of each other to match the description or feeling of the music described in the fic.

The choices for the music are extraordinary. The layering of the music is extraordinary. The timing of the music is extraordinary. All of it is just literal enough for it to feel a bit like an audio play, but none of it is so literal that the fic is not allowed to be a fic--since it was written as a fic and not a play. The choices made around when the music starts and stops are thoughtful and deliberate and also perfect.

There is one time when sound is used that is not music, and this sound is used to create a distinct sense of space. It occurs when the two main characters are in the car, and what is extraordinary about this use of sound is that when I was writing that time in the car, I was trying so hard to create that sense of being in a small space with one other person you have strong feelings for, the way it can feel like another world, alone on the road. And @raitala took that feeling of otherworldliness and intimate privacy I was trying so hard to create and gave it its own distinct sound to outline the boundaries of that space and that feeling, as though when they read the fic, they got what I was trying to do. They got everything I was trying to do, and made it one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard.

I'm making this post to rec this podfic, but I also just really needed to ...idk, express? how meaningful this is for me personally. Like on the one hand, I want to tell you all that listening to this fic felt like finally getting to watch the movie of the characters you ship so hard fucking and kissing and saying all the things you want them to say--a shocking feat in and of itself, given that these characters are Chinese and speak Chinese and this fic is in English and the podfic and spoken in English. But on the other hand, I just want to go on about the fact that listening to this made me realize wow, this is a good fic, this is a meaningful fic, and if I can make people feel this way and understand what I mean in this shockingly beautiful way, then I really have been doing meaningful things writing fanfic my whole life; it really matters; it really touches people.

It touched me, and I hope it touches you.

[greenbadger]

Hello everyone!🖤

*I'm new to Tumblr and writing is my passion. I love to write fanfics, especially about Severus Snape or older men. This is my first smut story here and I hope you like it. Let's hope I do everything right. I'd love to get feedback.

⚠️ WARNING: NSFW, smut, begging, reference to edging, teasing, degradation, oral sex

What it's about:

❗️Reader is a adult woman❗️

You and Severus have an argument that turn into a sexual adventure. It’s a quit long text. Have fun ;-)

————————————————————————

"Honestly, Severus, you can't possibly believe that nettle root is more effective in this potion than powdered asphodel," I exclaimed, rolling my eyes as I flipped through the worn pages of an old potion book.

Severus crossed his arms, a familiar smirk playing on his lips. "And yet, it is. Nettle root stabilizes the mixture in a way asphodel never could."

I huffed, leaning closer to the book as if it held the answer to our perpetual disagreement. "You just can't admit you're wrong, can you?"

He stepped closer, his breath warm on my neck as he looked over my shoulder. "It's not about admitting anything. It's about knowing the facts, something you clearly struggle with."

I turned to face him, our noses almost touching. "Well, maybe if you weren't so insufferable, I'd actually listen to you."

His eyes softened, a rare moment of vulnerability slipping through. "And maybe if you weren't so stubborn, you'd realize I actually enjoy these arguments."

I blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. "You... enjoy arguing with me?"

Severus's hand brushed against mine, a fleeting but deliberate touch. "It's not the arguing I enjoy. It's... you."

My heart skipped a beat as the tension between us shifted, no longer fueled by disagreement but by something much deeper. "Severus, I..."

He silenced me with a gentle finger on my lips. "Let's save the potions debate for another time, shall we?"

I nodded, unable to tear my gaze away from his. "Agreed."

He reached out, his hand cupping my cheek, his thumb gently brushing my skin.

"Severus," i said, my voice firm despite the shiver of excitement that ran through me. „I want you."

Severus's eyes darkened with a mix of emotions-desire, love, and a hint of possessiveness. He leaned in, capturing my lips in a searing kiss, his hands tangling in my hair as he pulled me closer. The kiss deepened, growing more urgent, as months of pent-up longing poured into that single moment.

His hands roamed over my body, explo-ring, caressing, igniting a fire within me. I responded eagerly, my fingers trailing along the lines of his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath his robes. The intensity between us grew, our kisses becoming more desperate, more insistent.

Severus broke the kiss, his breath ragged as he looked at me with a fierce intensity. "Take off your clothes," he commanded, his voice low and authoritative.

A shiver of anticipation ran through me at his words. I complied, my hands trembling slightly as I began to undress. Severus watched, his gaze never leaving me, his eyes dark with desire.

When I was finally bare before him, he stepped closer, his hands sliding over my skin, his touch electrifying.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his lips trailing along my neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. "I can't wait any longer."

With a swift motion, he shed his own robes, his body pressing against mine, the heat of his skin searing into me.

I could feel his erection through his trousers. He rubbed it slightly against my hip, and the sensation made me wet quickly. He guided me to the desk, his hands never leaving my body, his touch driving me wild with need. He lifted me on top of the desk, spreading my legs as he positioned himself between them. Our bodies entwined in a frenzy of passion.

Severus was dominant, his touch firm and demanding, yet filled with an underlying tenderness. He moved with a confidence that sent waves of pleasure through me, his hands and lips exploring every inch of my body.

He softly twitched my nipple between his fingers and kissed my neck as passionately as ever. His hand went down to my inner thigh and caressed it softly. I felt a flutter in my core as he neared my most sensitive spot.

He let out an excited moan. "You are so wet for me." He put one finger slowly deep inside of me, pushes it in and out once, twice. Never take his eyes off my eyes while he’s doing it. Suddenly he brings his finger to his mouth and suck this one gently. You can see pure lust in his eyes.

Before I could respond, he started kissing down my breasts, my belly, and my thighs. I watched him with wide eyes as he looked at me and started kissing my sweet spot. The view was intoxicating. He slowly stuck his tongue out and licked my clit with a soft touch.

I moaned as I felt his warm tongue circle around. He started sucking and licking as if he were craving my wetness. "You taste so good," he murmured, making my core twitch again. He did it so passionately that I knew I wasn't far from climax.

He went a little further and stuck his tongue deep inside me while his nose involuntarily stimulated my clit. His slurps from my juices made my head fall back as I moaned his name out loud.

"I'm coming, Severus," I cried.

He kept going, and it didn't take long before my body felt like it was struck by lightning. I climaxed on his face, and I could feel how much he enjoyed it.

When he came up to me again, his mouth and nose were soaking wet from me. He quickly wiped his face with his hand before giving me a passionate kiss. I could still taste my climax from his lips and tongue.

"I want to feel you inside me," I said through the kiss.

A big erection left a bulge in his pants, clearly more as I said those words out loud.

He looked me deep in the eyes with his dark ones as I freed his dick from his trousers. I wrapped my hand around it, feeling its warmth and readiness. He let his pants fall so he was completely naked too. I started to stroke him and felt a bit of pre-cum on his tip.

"Is your little cunt ready for me?" he asked hotly through his teeth.

I nodded, and he positioned his dick between my pussy lips as he slowly entered with a groan. It felt all so wet, so easy for him to enter. The sensation sent a jolt of ecstasy through my entire being. I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move, each thrust bringing me closer.

Our movements became more frantic, the intensity of our desire driving us both to the brink. He fucked me harder as he watched my breasts move with each thrust. We breathed heavy as we neared climax. He stopped right before, grabbing my hips and putting me down from the desk.

"Bend over," he whispered harshly in my ear.

Did as he asked, feeling the cold wood against my upper body. I felt his hand grip my butt cheek, and suddenly a sharp spank sent a slight pain through me. I groaned with a smile and glanced over my shoulder. He ran his thumb over my cheek and pushed a sweaty strand of hair out of my face.

"That's all mine. And I want to fuck you until you can't stand anymore. Do you want that?" he said heatedly through his breath.

I nodded hastily.

"Say it," he demanded.

"I want you to fuck me, please," I whimpered.

"Good girl." That made him so hard, ready to do exactly that.

Without any more words, he pushed his dick deeply and fully inside me.

Surprised by his fast action, I sobbed and fell completely onto the desk. I felt his dick grow harder with each thrust.

The sounds of hot breath, moans, and skin slapping filled the room. The desk moved under our hard movements.

With a final, powerful thrust, we reached our climax together. I felt his semen fill me as I collapsed on the desk and he above me. He pulled out and took a moment to watch our combined fluids flow out of me, a sharp breath escaping through his nose.

"Let's clean you up," he whispered mischievously in my ear as he helped me up. He took his wand and cleaned everything up, leaving no trace of our passion behind.

„I'm looking forward to the next arguments with you“ I said amused.

„Me too.“ he smirked.

[dododrawsstuff]

Ikevil OC Atlas Fowler

Edit!!!!: the profile template was made by @natimiles

“The star that burns twice as bright, burn half as long” ~ Estella about him

“Where does your loyalty lay, little Robin?”

I'm on a trip with my family this week, so I have plenty of time to work on my OCs and catch up to the expression requests remaining

I had a lot of fun desiging him and his curse (that I took inspiration from filibusterfrog's "Umbralysis") and ended up making a ref sheet of sorts, but I'll still draw his back and some other expressions, other than his little shit smile. I still feel like I can improve him a lot, but I'm impatient and wanted to share him with you.

More about him under the cut! And as always, I'll keep tweking this post as I think of stuff to add or change. Hope you like him!

OC taglist: @olivermorningstar @keithsandwich @scummy-writes @aquagirl1978 @sh0jun @mxrmaid-poet @violettduchess @floydsteeth @lorei-writes @ikeprinces-stuff @flimflam707 (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist)

I'm also tagging some people that showed interest in him on my other post, let me know if you don't want to be tagged and I'll remove you @errethebunny @bicayaya @natimiles @venulus @rou-luxe

Name: Atlas Fowler

Age: 27

Birthday: Nov 22

Height: 181 cm

Affiliation: The Circus

Hobbies: Collecting information, baking, pissing off people he doesn't like

Skills: Singing, styling hair

Likes: Chocolate chip cookies, freedom

Dislikes: Fish

Resents: Disloyalty

Weapon: Daggers

Personality: Atlas is a very charming and charismatic man, always displaying a pleasant smile, he is a natural entertainer. He is always in a good mood and is very positive, almost as if he doesn't even experience bad emotions…?

Beneath that facade he is arrogant and thinks he is untouchable, and believes his ability is a blessing, rather than a curse. The thing most valuable to him is loyalty, he despises betrayals the most.

He is smart and cunning, and is not afraid to use his ability to get information for his own benefit, though he mainly uses it on people who have been unfaithful.

Curse: Peter Pan

It makes so that Atlas’ shadow can move independently from him. He can know what his shadow experienced while apart from him, allowing him to be “at two places at the same time”, he has full control of the shadow and prefers to use his powers at night, as to not rise suspicion from others.

Atlas also discovered a peculiar characteristic of his ability, he can divide his emotions between him and his shadow, it acting almost as a storage for him. The curse manifested when he was still an infant, so he had some time to figure it out on his own.

One thing Atlas doesn't know is the fate of those afflicted by the Peter Pan’s curse, every single one of them uses their shadow as a way to get rid of "troublesome" or "useless emotions", but as they keep pouring those negative feelings, the shadow begins to gain sentience. In the end it usually kills its owner and itself in the process.

Backstory: When he was little his parents got freaked out by seeing him playing with his shadow, they thought he was cursed, or possessed but nothing they did cured him. What broke the camel's back for them was when Atlas told them the culprit of a series of murders in the neighborhood and days later the police caught them, when his parents asked how he knew, he explained that his shadow had seen it and told him.

Not too long after that they tried to get rid of him, but the church nor the orphanage wanted to accept him, since his complicated background preceded him. Until they found an itinerary circus, they lied and abandoned him there. Most of the crew were kind and welcoming to him, especially Estella, the magician, she became a mother figure for him and the reason he decided to follow her steps and become a magician.

Random headcanons:

He learned to style hair from Estella, she says that presentation is everything for a magician

After every presentation, the circus crew gets together to bake chocolate chip cookies

[chairofchaos]

You Deserve Better, and Other Points for Reflection

Hey friends, listen up. Real talk for a second, because nobody deserves this. And, in case anybody cares, I want you to know I come with 12 years of learning on this exact debate we have been having, because I had some very excellent fandom mentors in my communities and in the form of my uncles, who to this day support me writing and reading whatever hell I please, even in the face of protest from my immediate family. There was a lot of learning I had to do to be here with you now, and I am thankful for those people who were willing to tell me so.

If you want to post memes and think pieces and jokes and poems about a fandom debate, go ahead! You create the experience you want to see on your dash, and you will find your people.

If you want to discuss a fandom debate (a little or a lot), go ahead! I’m all for thinking through how we live and act and exist as a fan community.

If you feel that you need to take those things and turn them into vitriol to pour into the DMs and Anons of people who are running a fan week, that is not okay. Not in the slightest.

There is a big difference between debate, discussion, creative protest, and joking around, and intentionally using your words to create harm in someone��s life.

“But, Chaos, this [thing not directly sent to you/not specifically intended for you] hurt my feelings!”

Okay. Get burned once? Great! You learned something: don’t touch the hot iron again. (To translate: block the tag, block the person, whatever you need, and move on. If it isn’t for you that’s ok.) Hurt feelings are to tell you what you can and/or are willing to handle. If you don’t want to see it, block. (I love blocking tags it’s one of my little joys in life lol)

“Chaos, somebody said something really rude to me to my (virtual) face! What do I do?”

Well, you can either respond or you can block. Either way, it will probably help you to move on.

If you are responding, I beg you to keep one thing in mind. I want you to picture 7 year old you at the other end of that message. Or 13 year old you. What kind of words did they deserve to hear in a moment when maybe they weren’t getting something? Use those. Use them kindly, not in a condescending way, but in a “I want to explain this as gently as I would to my younger self” kind of way. If somebody keeps being mean, it isn’t worth it. Please use the block feature and move on. They are not worth your time.

Additionally, I would encourage you to do this: the “touch grass” mentality is something I only direct at myself. (I literally told myself to go touch grass yesterday, and there is at least one person who can corroborate that.) I stand by that decision every single day. It’s kept me out of a lot of trouble. Directing it at others does not end well, but directing it at yourself can be a good way to reflect and to consider sensible actions in the face of overwhelming situations or emotions (of which I experience many).

“Chaos, people are coming into anon and being hateful. Or just rude. Or they’re dumping triggering material into my anons.”

That is on them. That is not on you. They should not do that. And I am so sorry you are dealing with that. I’m going to be honest, I don’t know if you can block from anons (I’ve never even needed to look and so help you all if this is the post that makes me) but if you can, do. I will do what I can to help, if you need it. Regardless of where you stand on any of these issues, because I will not stand for hatred.

“I’m mad about [redacted] and I am going to be rude/mean/intentionally putting triggering material in people’s inboxes and activity feeds!”

You do that and you will be in a world of hurt, my friend. A world of hurt from yourself.

Because we create the experience we think we deserve. If you create an internet experience where it is acceptable to be hateful, vengeful, and downright cruel to other people, that is the experience you will receive in return. You deserve better than that. And if you believe that you deserve better than that but the people you’re directing cruelty towards don’t, then I want you to hear me: you will quickly find that you are not welcome anywhere. There will always be someone to disagree with. There will always be (at least) minute discrepancies in the way two or more people think, even people who are deeply similar.

Hurt the hand that reaches to help you- one day it will be raised against you in hurt as well.

As for me? Well, for that, I leave you with thoughts from George Washington’s Farewell address as paraphrased in Hamilton’s ‘One Last Time’:

“Though, in reviewing the incidents of my administration, I am unconscious of intentional error, I am nevertheless too sensible of my defects not to think it probable that I may have committed many errors.”

I am not a president (and thank god for that because who wants Chaos in charge of a country?). I am simply a fandom member. A writer. A little chaos gremlin lurking behind trees in the forest.

But like Mr. Washington, I am aware that I often fail to live up to my standards and principles. And I hope, truly, though it is wildly uncomfortable for me, that you would call me out for ways I have failed to uphold them, either in the past or in the future. (It would be super great if you like… called me out in DMs and didn’t put me on blast but oh well.)

I am in at least four other major (international, GIANT) fandoms. I am not hopeful enough to think that the ACOTAR fandom will learn from the fandoms of yore. We will have to weather these storms on our own, even with the knowledge and experiences already there. I think that’s okay. Disappointing, perhaps, but okay.

Since this post was much longer than it was intended to be, I will summarize:

If you are intentionally putting hateful materials in the inboxes, DMs, and activity feeds of people you disagree with, you will hurt yourself.

You create the experience you think you deserve, and in doing so, create that experience for others. Good or bad.

Block tags, block blogs, block what you need to enjoy the space. You will find your people.

Being intentionally cruel to other human persons is how you end up finding that nobody is “your people” because you created an environment where no one wants to be. You will be lonely and sad. Don’t make yourself lonely and sad.

I am certain I fail to uphold these principles at times. Feel free to call me out if you see me failing at these. DM appreciated, but I’m the one who invited you to do so so I’m not going to say “don’t blast me on main.” My funeral, I know.

[winterchimez]

A Little Care | Lee Sangyeon

SUMMARY: you have been awfully stressed out with work lately, and your boyfriend notices how it has affected you negatively, so he finally decides to give you some care for the night.

PAIRING: bf Sangyeon x f!reader

GENRE: smut (18+ MDNI!!)

WARNINGS: kissing, making out, fingering, oral (f!reader receiving), nipple play, cum tasting (f! reader), p in v sex, unprotected sex (pls do it safely irl folks)

WORD COUNT: 2,253

A/N: so i know i've said from the beginning how i would never write smut... well, something snapped and things happened so here we are 🤡 huge shoutout to my loves @sungbeam & @juyeonszn for proofreading this & reassuring me that it's okay ily both 😭🩵 this is my very first smut, so pls bear with me ><

update!! i've moved my nsfw works to @midnightfantasiez so do drop by and read my other works & say hi 🥰

The pouring rain that was hitting the train windows was making you ten times worse than you already were. 

It has been such a hectic few weeks for you at the office, but today was the worst of them all. Apparently, your director has been disregarding their employees' well-being and instead kept giving every single one of you more workload than you could’ve possibly endured. They have also made it clear that there will be no exception for losing the deadlines as they are now finally trying their awful best to fix up the company’s image before their subsidiary arrives in Seoul in the coming weeks for a visit. 

Hence, you have been working way overtime each day at the office, and by the time you have gotten home, it was already late enough to the point that most times, you would immediately crash onto your bed and skip dinner. 

Even spending less time with your boyfriend, Sangyeon.

You both have been in a relationship for two years and recently moved in together at the start of the year as Sangyeon managed to transfer to another branch much closer to where you lived. You were thrilled, to say the least, because that would save you plenty of time to take the one-hour bus ride to the city he used to work in back then. 

Ever since moving in with Sangyeon, he has been absolutely the best towards you. He noticed how your hours were much more tedious than he was, and he offered to cook dinner for most of the days while you were in charge of making the lunch boxes for you both since he would be home first than you most of the time. He was also already in his seventh year working for his company, so as one of the higher-ups, his timing was much more flexible, and he basically worked from home at least three times a week. 

Sangyeon has definitely noticed the change in you. Every time he brings it up, you have decided to turn him down instead, saying how you would rather not talk about it and move on to other much more pleasant topics that you both loved—music, films, and some random cafes that you both found on social media where you both would like to pay a visit on your next weekend date. 

And he respected your decision. Even during your weekly Sunday dates with one another, only a little about work would be mentioned, and you both would have the best days with one another, walking hand-in-hand through the streets while munching on your favourite bubble waffles topped off with ice cream. 

But it seemed as if something had snapped within you today. Your emotions were all over the place, and you just couldn’t wait to get back home and dive into his embrace. 

I just want some cuddles and comfort for the love of God.

“Hey, babe! Welcome home!” 

Sangyeon immediately popped his head out from the kitchen and peered through the door when he heard you unlocking the door open. He quickly approached you while turning the stove off and took your bags into his hands instead. 

“How’s my baby today?” He gave you the biggest smile that you have always loved. His radiant smile would always melt away all your negativity and make you feel much better. 

What he did not expect today was that you immediately dived into his embrace, with tears you have been desperately holding back for the entire day streaming down your face. 

He was pretty taken aback for sure, for the only time you would ever do this was when you two were both cuddling watching a sad film or when you finally got promoted at your job a year prior. Given your demeanour, he knew that something was wrong. 

“Baby… it’s ok. You know you can let it all out, right? You don’t have to hold them back no more.” He cooed while wrapping his arms around you, rubbing your back to calm you down. 

“Sangyeon… I… Why is it just so hard to be happy with my work?” You sniffed, trying your best to talk through your tears. 

“I’ve joined the company because I admired their work ethic and environment. Why is it so different from what I have imagined? Why do fame and money bring out the ugliest in people? Why do they have zero empathy towards our employees who work so hard for them?” 

You were a crying mess, and you just couldn’t stop blabbing out the most profound thoughts you have had for several weeks. You were the type to bottle up your emotions, and you would instead take them to the grave and figure them out yourself. You knew it was your bad trait, which led to you not giving yourself enough time and care towards your physical and mental well-being. And the last thing you want to do is trouble your sweetheart, who has done so much for you. 

But tonight, you have decided that enough was enough, and you couldn’t care less if you finally showed your boyfriend your weakest moment because you just did not have the strength to keep it up anymore. 

When your breathing stabilised, Sangyeon finally cups your face to lift it and look straight into his eyes. “Baby, I’m so sorry you had to go through the shittiest management and deal with their nasty jobs. I may be unable to loosen your workload, but I can surely take care of you if that’s what you want.” 

“But you always take care of me, Sangyeon.” You sniffed.

“I know. But, maybe tonight I could give you some special treatment.” 

You giggled and wiped your tears away. “Okay, and what is this special treatment? Will you give me a spa day?”

It was there, and then you noticed how your boyfriend’s eyes had somewhat slightly darkened, and he was now eyeing both your lips and neck. He then gently drops your belongings onto one of the chairs nearby, and his hands now find their way to pull down the turtleneck top you were wearing.  

“Something much better than a spa day.” 

The next thing that happens, he crashes his lips onto yours, savouring them like there’s no tomorrow. This was different, much more different than what you were used to. Sure, you both have had plenty of kisses with one another, even having slow and sensual ones where you would have each other’s tongues in your mouth. But this was different. It seemed a lot more hasty and perhaps accompanied by lust. 

The soft and sweet Sangyeon you have been accustomed to was gone. Instead, he looked like a beast, thirsty and hungry, as if he had not been fed for a while. 

From the back of your mind, you knew you had to stop and question what turned him on. But with the way his tongue wrapped around yours and he was leaving no room for you to catch your breath, it was impossible for you to think straight at the moment. 

His hands now travel down to your hips, and he eventually forces you to jump and wrap your legs around him as he lays you on the countertop. That was when one of his hands slowly reached down, massaged one of your thighs, and eventually moved to your underwear. 

You gasped and were about to stop him, but he beat you to it. He rubbed your clit, all puffy and pink and sensitive, turning him on even more than before. 

“Baby, just trust me,” he cooed and proceeded to pick up his speed. At the same time, he breaks off the kiss and moves his lips down to your neck, sucking your bare skin. Your moans were getting out of control, each getting louder as his fingers worked their way around your tight opening. When you were finally relaxed enough to his liking, he inserted two fingers into you, earning a loud gasp as you tilted your head back. His fingers plunged in and out of you, his pace increasing. 

You couldn’t think straight. How could you? When your boyfriend is literally fingering you while sucking your neck at the same time. It felt so wrong, yet it felt so good at the moment. 

“S-sangyeon… please…”

“Tell me what you want baby.” 

“I... I want you… down there…” 

Immediately, he smirked and pulled his fingers out as he positioned himself right between your thighs. “I never knew you had this within you, baby. And I’m loving it a whole lot.” 

Sangyeon brings himself towards your clit, licking and kissing while inserting his fingers back into your hole. It did not take him long to insert his tongue into your opening. 

Dear God, you were in heaven. 

“M-more.. Sangyeon… don’t stop.. aaah–” 

As he quicked his pace, and so did your breathing and moans. It wasn’t for long when you finally came, and Sangyeon did his best trying to savour all of your juices. He then lifts his head back up to look at you while diving his lips back onto yours for you to savour the taste of your own cum.

“Baby, you taste so good. How about a round two?”

One thing led to another, and now you were lying naked on your bed. You have been with Sangyeon for two years and have never been naked in front of your boyfriend. And it was also your first time to see how glorious his body proportions were and how refined his muscles and abs were. 

He slowly climbs onto you and lays his hands on your bare skin. You shivered at the contact, you never knew your boyfriend would be so skilled with those glorious hands of his, touching and massaging every bit and corner of your body. He eventually finds their way to your breasts, which you have covered up by wrapping your arms around you. He slowly takes them apart to reveal your bare breasts to him.

“Why would you cover these up? You look so goddamn beautiful to me right now.” 

His lips dove to your right while his hands massaged your left. He circled around your hardened nipples while giving them a little suck every few rounds. You did not know how much your body would react to such a simple action of his, your toes curling and arching at the stimulation. It turned you on so much, and you dug your fingers into his soft brown hair to push him down to suck on them more. 

His free hand now travels back down onto your clit, rubbing it slowly once again to keep you nice and loose. 

“Baby... do you trust me?” 

That was when you opened your eyes and clearly noticed his big bulge poking throughout his boxers, eager to make its way into you. God, you were about to lose your virginity now for real. 

“I... I don’t know, Sangyeon. I’m scared.” 

“Don’t be. I’ll be gentle. And I made you a promise that I will take care of you.” he murmured while giving a gentle squeeze to your hips. 

With that, you slowly nodded before Sangyeon eventually pulled his boxers down, revealing his hardened cock. He slowly lines himself up with your entrance, rubbing your core to capture all your wetness. 

He peered up at you. “Babe. Are you ready?” 

Blinking, you had to take a moment to suck in a massive breath before nodding your head. In one swift movement, he pushes his member into your tight walls, earning a loud whimper from you. Your body quivered at the contact, and your boyfriend came down to you, wiping your tears away. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll give you a few moments to adjust. Hmm?” Even while you both were doing the deed, he was still considerate and ensured you felt comfortable and safe above anything else. 

As you tried calming your breathing down again, you finally gave him a nod, meaning he could proceed. He started slow, dragging his member in and out of your pussy for you to get used to it, all while showering you with plenty of kisses on your lips and around your face. 

When your whimpers slowly turn into soft moans, you let him know that he could pick up the pace. The pain that once bothered you was now long gone and was replaced with pleasure. Your fingers in his hair slid down to his bare back, and you couldn’t help but slightly dig your nails into his skin, which turned him on more. 

“S-sangyeon… faster…” you begged him; you were desperately trying to reach that high.

“Are you sure—you can handle it—baby?” He asked in between his groans. 

“Y-yes.. I want… more…” You replied weakly. 

Your wish was his command, and both of your moans now filled your room and the entire apartment. 

“I-I’m.. cumming.. Sangyeon..”

“Me too, babe—where—do you want me—”

“In..inside... please!” 

Immediately, after a few more thrusts, both of you came together. Sangyeon then leans down and buries his face in the crook of your neck, both of you trying your best to catch your breath. When you both finally came down on your high, your boyfriend broke off the silence. 

“So, did I somewhat manage to care for you today, princess?” 

You turned your head to lock your eyes with him before planting a soft peck on his lips. 

“You have done more than care for me, my prince.”

A/N: i will pretend that i did not write this at all goodbye—

masterlist

taglist: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @k-films @flwoie @hokupi @zzoguri @kyusqult @tinkerbell460 @cheonsafics @sulkygyu @jaerisdiction