#but i haven’t seen too many fics that focus on it the way i wanted to see it…so i wrote it! (haha) this may indeed be ooc for him…

[azul-marie]

leon. (brume)

fem. reader. angst, suggestive mentions.

your husband is a stranger.

the man you married months ago has been reduced to nothing, ground to bits, reborn as a soldier, a tool, a puppet. he is no longer yours; he will never be again.

the color of the sky, his eyes shone bright, now sullen and sunken with unspoken hurt. hollow cheeks from missed meals, dark bags from little sleep. of these things and more, he says nothing. shares nothing. and you let him be, out of love, out of fear, to keep the distance between the two of you from growing further apart.

nevertheless, he treats you much the same. still kisses you soft, still holds you close in all the ways he knows you like. but there is a new edge behind his movements. unfamiliar. paranoid. his hands, calloused in places they weren’t before, grip too tightly your own when you’re out and about. his unnerving stares towards alleys and doorways, his too quick response to his hip at every sound. was he always this way? or was it the city, the hell that brought it out?

leon, you’d whisper, come lay down and rest.

he listens. in the evenings he curls up next to you, lets your scent, your warmth, engulf him like a cloud. a tangible reminder of what he wants to protect. lets you tuck his face close up against your heart. he listens to its beating until it slows to a pulse, then slips away to stand guard at the front door again. and when you wake up alone in the dark, you pretend his version in your dreams sleeps soundly besides you.

leon, your arms hug around his waist, make love to me today.

he listens. be it by day or moonlight, he indulges you in every way you ask. his too rough hands grabbing, bruising, taut muscles grown slick with sweat and lips parting to kiss at your breasts. this body is unfamiliar, no matter the pleasure it brings. his newly assigned training, grueling and relentless, has wrung out every bit of softness he once had — he is sharp, cutting at your flesh, pulling and shaping you beyond what you knew. who is this stranger, loving you as he did? who is this man, whose dark eyes you avoid when he looks at you?

“leon,” you plead, sorrow in your throat, “please tell me you love me.”

he is quiet. stops stuffing his go-bag with mission ready supplies, beckoned by an early morning phone call before dawn even crackled through the sky. a part of him wishes to throw this godforsaken bag out the door, or crush his phone into the pavement and hope he finds a way to keep from being found. another wishes you’d just go back to sleep.

“you know i do.” he replies without turning around, voice heavy with a humorless sort of huff. a disbelieving sound. “don’t tell me you forgot already.”

“just tell me, please. say it before you go.” your voice breaks faintly at the end.

leon turns and peers so intensely at you that tears swell forth in your eyes. it prevents you from discerning his expression. was it one of pity? exasperation? you bury your face into your hands, woe bubbling up like a spring.

strong arms embrace you. whispers of affirmation dull against your sobs, against the outpour displaying your silent suffering. if only you could find comfort in this man’s arms. in the way he kisses your seasalt tears across your cheeks, how tenderly he runs his hands through your hair. through the blur, you see the youth of your love, the hopeful candor who was once your leon. when you blink, then blink again, it is the face of a jaded, somber man who gazes at you the same way he did, once upon a dream.

“i do. i swear i do.” leon insists. he presses kiss after kiss on every inch of your pretty face, unsure how else to soothe you. “you’re everything to me, remember? you’re why i’m still here. you’re all i have. please don’t cry, darling. i love you, i love you.”

you close your eyes. bask in the noise. if you try hard enough, you can still make out the soft cadence of your leon’s voice hidden beneath his baritone pain. but it’s not him, is it? it’s not anymore. try, try harder, and perhaps you’ll learn to love him like the leon he was before. maybe then his kisses wouldn’t feel like thorns, and his hugs wouldn’t choke you blue.

“i just want you back. that’s all i really want. please stay here, don’t leave me waiting alone.

oh, leon, please don’t go again.”

[madridfangirl]

A Weekend in Ibiza - Part 4 (final)

(Jude Bellingham smut fic)

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)

5.2k words. Jude*female reader. Smut & suggestive language. And many confused feelings.

A/n - When we don't get Jude holiday content (the kind with other women), we make shit up

................................................

You missed him.

Son of a bitch, you actually missed him.

Jude had left an hour after waking you up for an early morning tumble. It had been your idea, since he kept yapping in your ear after you two were done, with the typical annoying chirpiness of a morning person, while you just wanted to snuggle in the cozy sheets, & enjoy the pleasant relaxation washing over your muscles. So, you had nudged him to take care of whatever it was he needed to take care of and he had left, promising to return soon.

But now, you missed him. The room suddenly felt too big, too empty, too quiet without him. 

His cologne was still all over you, on the pillow next to you. The sheets reeking of his scent. His belongings spread on the side-table - an expensive looking watch, an LV waist pouch, and a box of condoms.

Would it be downright pathetic to ping him for an ETA?

YES. Your inner voice chided you, loudly.

Remember what this is. What you are to him. The flavour of the week, if even that. 

Fine, you were gonna wait. Let him take his sweet time. You’d rather die than be accused of being clingy, especially in this context.

It’s been 90 minutes, stop being so dramatic. Screamed your inner voice again.

You stretched your limbs before getting out of bed, sighing at the soreness. A hot bath was the need of the hour. And house keeping.

Twirling in front of the mirror in your new deep blue summer dress, another daring purchase for the trip, you wondered if he’d like this one. 

Well, he had liked blue on you yesterday. A lot.

Heck, it DID NOT matter. It SHOULD NOT matter. You were dressing for yourself. To look good for yourself. 

But a little bit for him too.

3 hours. He’d been gone three hours now. It was already 10 am. You started to wonder if he was coming back at all. But he left his stuff? Well it won’t even be pocket change to him. Did he get bored already? Moved on to finer pastures?

Right on cue, the door opened, taking you by surprise. Jude emerged, in all his glory. Donning a loose multi-coloured unbuttoned summer shirt, with matching shorts. Chiselled abs on full display. The chest hair, with a trail going down into his shorts. And then there were those legs. Despite your annoyed state, you nearly salivated at the sight. 

He was mumbling something about taking your keycard, in case you were still asleep. But you couldn’t register a word. Senses too distracted to focus.

Jude had this air about him - a casual nonchalance, an unshakable confidence, an inherent swag. Used to getting his way in life. Making the world bend to his will. It was sexy as hell. 

But it irked you too. Was it because he operated like he owned every room he walked into, and everyone in it? Or because you wanted to let him own you? You couldn’t tell anymore.

‘Could have knocked first.’

Jude cocked his head sideways at the comment, smirking mischievously, scanning you up & down. A sight for sore eyes. Blue really was your colour.

‘Nothing that I haven’t seen already.’

But something he’d like to see a lot more of. All day today. The dress looked like a million dollars on you, but he’d still prefer it on the floor.

Your hands gripped your dress (a movement his eyes followed), to curb the shiver running down your arms. Even while being arrogant, he was still charming.

‘Someone else could have been here with me.’

You managed to find your wits, and shot back. 

His whole demeanour changed. Features hardening, gaze intensifying, as he stepped closer. Subconsciously, you retreated, gasping when your back hit the desk. He stood toe to toe now, towering over you. Your fingers started fiddling aimlessly as you avoided his burning glare, realising you had touched a nerve. HARD. 

The tension in the air reverberated through your body and you jumped when his large hands gripped your ass, kneading the exact spot he had spanked yesterday. The residual sting making you whimper & bite your lip, drawing his attention to your mouth.

Jude bent down, biting your earlobe, drawing another whimper, as he whispered in a low, raspy, menacing tone.

‘I NEVER share what’s MINE, especially when I have wanted it so much.’

You wobbled, and clutched his biceps for support, as his hand slid under your dress & found your dripping core. 

‘Already?’

The tone was half-mocking, half-proud, as he cupped you over your panties, your legs spreading on their own accord to accommodate his hand. Then, with a measured move, he lightly slapped you there. Sending shockwaves through your nerves.

You mewled and fell forward onto his chest. Stunned & turned on beyond any fathomable limits. Moaning his name, sounding unabashedly needy.

That proved to be his undoing. 

You found yourself bent over the desk, face down into the glass top, your dress yanked down & pushed up to pool at your waist, your hips adjusted to his preferred angle, your panties discarded somewhere, your hands struggling to find some kind of purchase on the glass, your shaky breaths making patterns on the sheer surface.

Vulnerable and spread open for him. Exactly as he liked.

A quick preparation with his fingers, and he was sliding inside you, groaning at the hot, tight squeeze of your walls, stretching you fully. Your back arched, as your body struggled to take him in. But he kept going, till he bottomed out. 

Sounds of sex filled the room - your choked moans, his uneven grunts, his body slapping against yours, while yours slapped against the desk. Your nails scratched on the glass, his angles shooting sensations up & down your spine, hitting spots inside you didn’t know existed. The rapid movement of your bare nipples pressed on the cold glass made you scream. Which brought him out of whatever trance he was in.

Jude paused instantly, bent down, & brought his face to the side of yours.

‘What’s wrong?’

Words failed you. Somehow, you managed to point to your chest. He understood, bringing one arm underneath your breasts, shielding them from the glass. You whimpered at the relief. He stayed put, unmoving, panting over your neck.

‘Too much? Should I stop?’

Your nervous shake of head was all the signal he needed. He went again, tad slower this time, but still rocking your world in a thousand different ways. Making you see stars & entire galaxies as your vision blurred. Your scream when you came was muffled by the glass, and you were far too overstimulated to register his groan as he climaxed soon after.

Jude put his hands on either side of you, half-bending, half-standing, still buried inside, as he came down from his high. Looking over your spent form.

As you stayed half passed out, few things became clear in your mind about him. 1) He was possessive to the hilt. 2) He liked to take from behind when he was in the mood for fucking / hard sex. Face to face was for softer, calmer, gentler situations, like this morning. 3) He was as much a boobs guy as an ass guy. 4) Football wasn’t his only natural gift, to the point it was unfair to other men. No way they could compare to the whole package that was him, and he knew that all too well. 5) His dominance and aggression didn’t end on the football pitch, he brought it to bed too.

Lost in these thoughts, you didn’t register when he carried you bridal-style to bed, looked you over for any bruises (he was kicking himself hard for not factoring in the glass top properly), cleaned you & tucked the blanket over you.

Only coming to your senses when you were pulled against a hard muscular body, laying on your side, his arms wrapped around you, his cheek caressing yours, as you heard him mutter softly.

‘Say something. Please.’

Jude had been half-hard before he walked in, the hours away were literal physical torture. Then that dress, and especially your comment made him tip over the edge. He hadn’t planned to be rough, not so soon in the day at least. Definitely not after last night.

You sighed as he showered you with forehead kisses, somehow re-discovering your voice.

‘You snore in your sleep.’

Amused, he turned his face slightly to look at you, then laughed an infectious laugh, his whole body shaking with the sensation, as he squeezed you lightly in his hold, bringing a smile to your tired face.

‘Well, we have already established you are a liar.’

‘Please, have the others not told you this?’

He didn’t usually sleep in the same bed with the others all night, not so soundly anyway. Even on some rare occasions, he parted ways swiftly in the morning, without much conversation. What was happening right now was not the norm, it was a massively astronomical exception. Something he was still struggling to wrap his head around.

‘Stay a few days more?’

That came out of nowhere, even for him. 

She turned her head, looking at him oddly.

‘Can’t. Work calls.’

‘Say you’re sick. Or, if your boss likes football, tell him he can have season tickets in whichever stadium he wants.’

You rose up on your elbows, to laugh at his silliness. But he looked sincere so you changed tact.

‘Clearly you haven’t worked in a corporate before.’

He hadn’t. And that effectively shut him up on the topic.

Few lazy minutes passed in silence. Your fingers traced patterns on his chest, half laying over him,  while his fingers carded through your open messy hair.

‘You really don’t do this, do you?’

He didn’t need to elaborate. You understood he was referring to casual sex.

‘I meant what I said earlier. Every word.’

‘Then why this? Why me?’

He sounded sincere, not trying to fish for compliments or anything, genuinely curious to know.

Because it became physically impossible to resist you.

‘An adventure I guess.’

You shrugged, trying to not give away anything more. Anything real. Anything about the state of desperation he had put you in.

He hummed, as he mulled over it.

‘And this trip was an adventure too?’

This time you didn’t need to lie.

‘Kinda. Work was getting a bit much. Needed this mini escape.’

‘Me too.’

He blurted out, again out of nowhere. Jude started to wonder if he was coming down with some kind of bug or something. 

‘Like how?’

He had sworn not to dwell on this, to leave it behind on the field, like he had promised his mum. But it was easier said than done. 

You sensed the heaviness in the air, and in his mood. Your hand moved to his face, stroking it gently, nudging him to continue. He accepted the comfort, leaning into your palm.

‘Lost a very important final for my country. Couldn’t play my best. Failed them.’

You didn’t know what to say to that. It must have been hard to deal with, and almost impossible to forget. 

‘Well, you have a long journey ahead. Second chances will come.’

He shut his eyes, not wanting to reveal the heartbreak. But his expressive face did the talking. 

‘This was the second chance. A third chance rather. And we blew it. I blew it. They won’t forgive me.’

His face contorted, and he sank further into the mattress.

The words clutched at your heart, and his pain hurt your soul. Deeply.

‘Heyyyy, look at me.’

He didn’t. He couldn’t. Still too raw inside.

You climbed on top of him and smothered his perfectly symmetrical face with kisses, every inch of it, slowly. Then moved to his lips, giving them a quick peck, which he reciprocated. Moving below, you brushed your lips against his long neck, as his hands unfisted from the sheet, wrapping around your waist. Your whole body weight was on him now, which he seemed to welcome.

But he was still hiding from you, behind closed lids.

Your thumbs massaged the frown lines on his forehead, soothing them, as you bit the tip of his nose affectionately. He sighed, a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

‘If you care this much, then you’ll make it happen again. And this time, you’ll go over the line. Just need to keep believing and working for it.’

Finally, he popped his eyes open, flashing a delicate, hopeful smile. You smiled back and leaned in to peck his nose again, but pulled you in for a deep passionate kiss, only breaking it when he sensed your breathlessness, & let you roll off of him. 

Jude turned to his side, eyes roaming your spent form (you hadn’t even bothered to pull up the blanket), as his warm hand splayed on your stomach.

‘We need to work on your stamina.’

Offended, you tried to push him away, but he stayed put & giggled at your meek efforts. 

‘Well, I am not a professional athlete, hello? And….I don’t do all this….stuff…nowhere as frequently as you. So, I am good, thanks.’

‘But what if someday you want to try more?’

Irritated, you decided to get back at him, knowing he won’t be able to retaliate given his guilt over your exhausted state.

‘Yeah, like what? A threesome maybe?’

That wiped the smile off his face. Good start, then.

‘Not gonna lie, it’s always been a fantasy having both of these (you pointed to your tits) sucked simultaneously.’

Jude had recovered enough to catch on to your little game by now. 

‘Careful, doll.’

You ignored him completely. Having tasted blood, you couldn’t stop, going for the kill.

‘Anyone from your entourage, maybe? Or a teammate? Cama looked cute on your Insta, is he here by…’

Jude didn’t let you finish. In a flash, he was on top of you, pinning your hands over your head as his mouth claimed yours in a punishing kiss. You squirmed under him, to no avail. 

‘Threesome huh?

He barked in between demanding kisses.

‘You barely take ME fully and you want another man? Tell me, how will you take two together? WHERE will the other one go?’

For the second time today, you realised you had bitten more than you could chew. The bear had been well & truly poked.

‘Here?’

He shoved two fingers in your mouth, past your gag reflex. Eyes wild, showing you what he was picturing.

You shook your head from side to side, desperate to hold on to at least some of your erstwhile principles. And panted when he withdrew his fingers.

His hand slid behind you, poking at the back entrance. Your whole body jolted at the touch, and the implication, as you tried to peel his hand away.

‘No? Didn’t think so.’

Next, he gruffly squeezed your boobs close, admiring the valley in between.

‘Now this is tempting, but still not enough to climax. Which leaves this.’

Jude grabbed your right hand, looking straight into your flustered eyes. Challenge loud & clear in his animalistic gaze.

You wanted to run. At the same time, you wanted to meet him head on, to wrestle the control back.

He could tell you were considering it, and pounced on the opportunity, dragging your hand to his briefs, over his crotch. You both gasped at the touch.

‘Yes? Say yes.’

You couldn’t deny him. You didn’t wanna deny yourself either, curious about what he’d feel like.

The moment you nodded, he ripped away his briefs, and brought your hand back over his already excited member, covering it with his. Guiding your motions.

Your eyes widened at the feel of him - he hadn’t put on a condom this time, wanting you skin to skin. No barriers.

‘Come here doll, let me show you.’

Jude proved to be a good teacher. And you had always been a good student. Keen, curious, eager, fast learner. And in this specific instance, deeply enchanted with a gorgeously horny boy, therefore extra motivated to be good for him.

Going by his grunts, you WERE good. Considering the way his eyes were rolling to the back of his head, you were better than good. He grabbed your face and smashed his lips to yours, cursing into your mouth, while his hand continued to guide yours, going at a frantic pace now.

Throughout, you couldn’t sway your eyes from his face. Every little twitch imprinted deep into your mind, a core memory even. One could climax just looking at him like that. If you weren’t so sore & spent right now….

‘FUCKING HELL.’

He came with a groan. Splashing everywhere. Making a complete filthy mess of the sheets. And of you.

He panted against your lips, slowly calming down, plopping back on the pillow. While you remained dazed by what you had just done & witnessed.

After a few minutes, he gathered you in his arms again, carrying you to the shower. You welcomed the comfort of hot water, and the support of his body engulfing yours, keeping you from crumbling. The sight of him under the water, all wet & glistening, was pornographic. Another memory stored for life.

A nap seemed super enticing post the shower. Wrapped in bath robes, limbs intertwined, you both fell into a relaxing sleep. When you woke up, it was time for lunch. Jude knew the drill by now, quietly hiding in the washroom when the waiter came with the tray. Both had built an appetite, so the food felt extra delicious.

Post lunch, you cleared out a few emails on your laptop, preparing for tomorrow, while he sat next to you, watching some pre-season match on TV, head resting over your shoulder. It was impairing the movement of your arm as you typed but you were never going to make him move. 

‘So, where do you work?’

You paused, and gave him a side-eye.

‘You are not supposed to know.’

‘Jeez, I mean which city.’ 

‘Amsterdam for the next 5 weeks. Then, back home.’

‘And where’s home?’

‘Far away. Not in Europe.’

You kept typing, eyes firmly on the screen, and Jude understood he wasn’t going to get anything  more than this.

‘Wherever it is, I could fly you out, you know.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Fly you out, to Madrid. To be with me. Whenever we want.’

To be his booty call is what he meant. Now you understood. Is that what he did with others too? All part of some playbook? Well, she wasn’t going to become another entry in the long list of girls he had at his beck and call. 

‘Jude, I told you this was going to be just one weekend. Then we go back to our lives.’

‘I know, but, why is that set it stone?’

‘Because this is not me. I can’t go about my life while still doing this.’

‘But why? 

‘Why? Because I don’t recognise the person I am right now. I am not so rash, carefree, whimsical, BOLD. This is an anomaly. And for what it’s worth, I like who I am in my real life. I have my own little world that I am content with. My own principles, which I stand by. Taking an 8-10 hr flight for hook-ups does not really fit into my scheme of things. I’d much rather wait for a real relationship, stick to my beliefs.’

Jude listened intently, soaking in every said and unsaid thing, trying to get to the root of what was getting you so riled up.

But he had always been a straightforward person. Didn’t like living with regrets. Go after what you want was his mantra.

‘Do you like the person you are right now, with me?’

You stared open mouthed, connecting the dots of how he was trying to check-mate you.

‘I am not gonna play this game with you.’

‘It’s not a game. Maybe the universe is sending you a message.’

‘I highly doubt the universe would be messaging me to keep hooking up with you. Universe has better things to do than that.’

‘Has this been so forgettable for you, then?’

He knocked the wind out of your chest with the poignance of his words and the disarming vulnerability of his voice. You felt lightheaded, and reached for his arm to steady yourself. Your tone softened.

‘I - I never said that. Never meant that.’

‘Then why are you so cross with me? Looking at me like that. Was it so wrong to want to see you again?’

You scooted closer, towards his body heat, and rested your head on his shoulder.

‘Didn’t mean to. I guess shit just got too real when you said that.’

And because you hadn’t still fully come to terms with the choices you had made this weekend. Deciding to continue it will not let it remain an anomaly, and will go against everything you believe in. No, you can’t fall for this. Will have to resist the temptation that was this man. Cut the chord this weekend, for the sake of your sanity. And return to normalcy. Never letting a single soul know what happened here.

He was quiet. And still. Processing the rejection. You climbed into his lap, cupped his jaw, gazing into his turbulent eyes.

‘We still have half a day. Let’s not spoil our remaining time together?’

He didn’t say anything, just looked at you with a blank expression, and you threw your arms around his shoulders, hugging him close. Feeling a strange sense of guilt. But you hadn’t done anything wrong, this had always been the arrangement. He was anyway going to get bored of this (you) soon even if you had agreed to continue. This was for the best. A clean cut.

Then why was it eating away at you? Making your insides churn?

‘Please, Jude. Please, just..’

You snuggled your head into the crook of his neck, and felt his arms settle around you. He lifted you out of his lap and made you lay on your back, as his eyes roamed over you. And his mind worked extra time to arrive at a decision. You waited patiently.

‘How much do you like this dress?’

A lot.

‘Do whatever you want.’

He tore it off, ripping with force, taking his frustration out on it. Laying you bare for him.

But he wasn’t rough. No, what happened over the next hour was more intense than even any BDSM out there. 

Because, Jude made love to you. Worshipped your body. Touched you in ways that was ruining you for other men. Whispered such things in your ear that no other voice would ever be good enough. Looked at you with such longing & passion that you could see your image in his honeyed orbs. Kissed you so fervently that you were becoming addicted to his lips. Sucked your boobs so thoroughly that you almost came just from that. Ate you out with such determination like his life depended on it. Fucked you to oblivion, to the point you thought you were getting a stroke. Made you peak over & over, like he was trying to set a new record in the history of mankind. 

All while never breaking eye contact with you, never letting you slip away or hide from him.

You could tell he was proving a point, showing you what you would be missing out on. That the two of you still had a lot more to discover together. That only he could make you feel a certain way. And that sex with him can be like this also - more, different, real. Not just a sating of lust.

But you had to stay strong. Because if you fall, it’s gonna be a slippery slope. A bottomless pit. You had so much more to lose in this, because he clearly was not ready for anything more. Even if he didn’t fully realise that, you could tell as much. And this half-in, half-out arrangement would be a recipe for disaster in your life.

As your sweaty bodies laid intertwined with each others, basking in the afterglow, you couldn’t resist placing little kisses on his chest, earning sweet sighs from him.

It was almost evening now. Only a few more hours left with him. 

You had to pack, book your cab to the airport, do your web checkin. And call home - since you had been practically MIA for two days. So much to do, but you couldn’t move from his side. Just a few more mins like this.

Finally, you got up, moving around the room to gather your stuff. While he laid on his stomach, towards the edge of the bed, arms crossed & tucked under his chin, just watching you silently.

‘You…don’t have to stay if you are getting bored, you know.’

‘Do you want me to leave?’

You zipped your bag and kneeled in front of him, cupping his cheeks with both hands.

‘I want you to stay.’

‘I want you to stay too.’

You sighed, pressing your foreheads together, unable to respond in any other way. Because there was nothing to say.

‘How about dinner on the balcony? And some wine?’

You tried to sound enthused, looking at him expectantly. He gave in.

‘I have a bottle you’d really like.’

The dinner was light, neither of you in the mood for anything elaborate. The wine was heavenly though, you hummed appreciatively with every sip during your first glass. Later, both of you gulped it down fast, to fill in the awkward silence, emptying the bottle in an hour.

You swayed a little as you walked to the railing, soaking in the sound of the waves and the moonlight dancing on it.

Jude stayed on the couch, eyes firmly glued to you. The silver nightdress shone in the moonlight, creating a halo like effect. An elusive, mysterious fairy, who was flying away from him in a few hours. Never to be seen again. Pangs of a strange, hitherto unknown emotion gripped his heart.  And he closed the distance between you two, while he still could.

Strong arms came around your waist, holding you gently. You leaned back into his chest, as your hand reached behind to stroke his face.

‘Won’t you miss this?’

Wine had numbed your filters and inhibitions. You couldn’t lie anymore. Couldn’t pretend.

‘I will.’

‘No one special back home then? Someone who could make you feel this way?’

‘No.’

His lips brushed your shoulder, sending a shiver down your back. The cool night air adding to the charged touch, as his fingers played with the strap of your nightdress.

‘So let me have you till then. Till there is….till you find…..and then you can…..’

He couldn’t bring himself to say the rest - the sheer thought of you settling down with someone so unpleasant, like a punch in the gut.

‘If you are around, I won’t be able to.’

He was dangerous, so dangerous for your sanity.

He had gotten what he initially wanted - your body. Why wasn’t that enough? Why was he asking for more than you could give? Why did he want to come for your soul, your heart too?

‘You won’t know till you actually try. Maybe I’ll change your mind. Or maybe you’ll change mine.’

Another emotional whiplash with his thoroughly befuddling words. Chipping away at the carefully constructed shield around your heart.

It had to stop. This had to change course.

‘Please, this is the wine talking. You’ll be repeating this to someone else a few days later.’

‘You think so? You think I’d jump in bed with someone else straightway? Like tomorrow?’

His grip became firmer. On your body. And your senses.

‘Won’t you?’

‘Would you like that?’

‘It’s none of my business.’

‘WOULD YOU LIKE THAT? Answer me.’

‘Jude please…’

He flipped you by your waist, grabbing the back of your neck.

‘Stubborn. So stubborn.’

A wet, needy make-out ensued, where you met him halfway. Gripping your butt, he lifted you up as your legs wrapped around his waist. 

But he didn’t take you inside, settling on the balcony couch instead, making you straddle his thighs.

‘Not outside.’

‘Yes outside.’

‘But…’

‘It’s dark. No one can see us. Trust me.’

He lifted your nightdress over your head, pleased to find you naked underneath. His briefs were quickly discarded too, as he started to pull you down over himself, spearing you with this angle, while his mouth wreaked havoc on your chest, and his hands roamed your back with abandon.

For one last time, you submitted to him. Wholeheartedly. Just laying in his arms as he took you on a joyride. His hands doing most of the work when your legs couldn’t keep up with his thrusts.

‘How are you still so tight? After everything?’

Your body was filled with his marks and bruises, and you refused to even acknowledge the unseen marks he had left on you. The way he had penetrated the depths of your conscience. Clawing his way in.

Tears started to pool at the corner of your eyes, but you fought them valiantly. Not letting him see.

Jude had finally been able to put a finger on the strange emotion he had been feeling all day. It was desperation. He was desperate to not let you disappear forever. Feeling completely powerless - he’d never been on the receiving end of this before.

‘At least give me your Insta.’

He mumbled as you both were close, his strokes becoming sloppy.

‘I won’t follow. Won’t do anything to draw attention to you. But at least I’d be able to see you.’

But then he’d know who you were. Where you lived. Where you worked. He’d be able to find you, reach out to you. And this weekend won’t remain your secret only. 

‘Let me…think about that…yeah?’

You kissed him, shutting down any further protests, taking in the feel of his lips. For the final time. You moaned into each others mouths as you fell apart together. Wrapped around each other. Naked on a balcony. Under the dim moonlight. 

He carried you back to bed, settling in next to you. Both too emotionally & physically exhausted. You clung to him, moulding your body to his, snuggling into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent as you both willed yourselves to go to sleep. With a heavy heart.

Next morning, when he woke up, you were gone. Unable to handle the prospect of another goodbye, plus not wanting to wake him up after he had twisted & turned restlessly most of the night. Frankly, you weren’t sure you had it in you to leave if he woke up and looked at you in that trademark way of his.

He understood why you did what you did, looking around the now empty room. Not knowing what to do next. Feeling a sense of loss he didn’t know how to process. Needing a hug from his mum.

Just then, he saw a note on your pillow, carefully tucked under the TV remote.

‘I’ll always remember you. Please know, this was the only way.

Love,

Your first name.’

That made him smile. He said your name over & over, deciding it suited you perfectly. The signature making his heart flutter a bit.

He clicked a photo of the note. As a plan formed in his head. Of another post, drawing you back in. He knew you’d be checking his profile, maybe even following him by now. Yeah, he’d get you back, he just knew it already!

.............................................................

And there it is, the final chapter. This was meant to be a 2 part series but your love & feedback kept it going.

Thank you, I am so grateful. And I can't wait to hear your thoughts on this final instalment :)

[physalian]

In Defense of Fanfiction (Or the perfect starting point for your original novel)

Fanfic gets a bad rap pretty much everywhere except Tumblr. It’s misunderstood and misrepresented by its average works, seen as juvenile and cringey, or a banal point of contention between a famous person or piece of media and its fans.

Outside of fanfic that writes about real people, especially smut fics of real people, I support the art wholeheartedly. Fictional characters are one thing, but personally, caricaturing a celebrity’s life for public consumption and writing or drawing them in compromising content without their consent is a little weird. You do you. Don’t like, don’t read, as they say.

Fanfic is the perfect starting point for a few reasons:

It places you in a creative box and forces you to work within those constraints

It does all the worldbuilding and character concepts for you

It lets you write way outside your comfort zone

When published and receiving feedback, it boosts your self-confidence

It's incredibly flexible

It’s practice. All practice is good practice

—

Behold your creative box

When I was little I had no idea the majority of fanfic was shipping fics. I always pictured and looked for canon-divergent alternate universes. Like, what if X happened in this episode instead of Y? What if this character never died?

Fanfic demands you work within someone else’s canon, whether it’s an OC in the canonical world, or the canonical characters in an AU. These are like little bowling bumpers saving you from the gutter, but also keeping you on a straight-ish path toward the pins.

The indecisiveness of too many choices can be too intimidating when you’re first starting out. You want to be a writer but you have no idea where to begin, what genre to pick, what characters you want to chronicle, what themes you want to explore.

Even if it sits on your computer never to see the light of day, you still got those creative juices flowing.

Pre-packaged worldbuilding

Sometimes all we want is to get to the good stuff. Maybe I want to write a story about elemental magicians but Last Airbender already exists and I just want to play in a pre-existing sandbox. So I write some OCs into that world and have a free-for-all.

I don’t have to come up with my own lore, world history, magic system rules and mechanics, politics, geography—any of it. I get to just focus on the characters.

Even if you’re writing an AU, like say a coffee shop AU, you don’t have to think about brand new characters, you can just think “What would M do?” and go from there. The trade-off is your readers will expect canonical characters to behave in-character, but I think it’s worth it.

Stretch beyond your comfort zone!

Do you hate writing action scenes? Go practice with a shonen anime fic. Need work on dialogue? Write some high-fantasy fic, or a courtroom drama. Practice a fistfight by watching fistfights and writing what you see, and do it over and over again until what you read makes you feel like you're watching what’s on screen.

But beyond that—practice genres that you aren’t super familiar with. If you’re new to fantasy, write fantasy fic. Or a mystery novel/show, thriller, comedy, satire, adventure, what have you. The nature of fanfic still gives you those “guardrails” and you can get some brutally honest feedback on how you’re doing.

And, of course, the realm of M-rated romance and smut fics. I haven’t because I think I would die of embarrassment if I tried and I never intend to include sex scenes in my works anyway, but if you do want to, use the internet as your test audience. Post it on a throwaway account if you’re nervous.

Build that self-confidence!

The fandoms I used to write for are super dead, so it’s insane how I still get email notifications that so-and-so liked my fic to this day. Comments are as elusive as ever, but random strangers on the internet telling me they liked my work is a magical reassurance that my writing isn’t actually awful.

Random strangers on the internet are, as we all know, beholden to no moral obligation to be kind to your little avatar face, or be kind to be polite. So a rando taking the time to like my work or even leave a positive comment can feel more honest than one of my friends telling me what they think I want to hear.

I tend to avoid the more present aspects of fandom like online communities, forums, social media, what have you, so I get a delayed and diluted aspect of any given fandom through completed works. Which means, in general, I get to avoid the worst and most toxic aspects of fandom and get to sift through positive feedback and critique.

Even if your fanfic isn’t written with stellar prose, it’s fanfic. We don’t expect Pulitzer-prize winning content. And if your work isn’t up to snuff, people are more likely to just ignore it than put you on blast (at least in my experience, I never got a bad comment or a “flame” in the old FFN days).

Fanfic doesn’t care about the rules of published literature

On the one hand, try not to practice bad habits, but with this point I mean that your layout, punctuation, formatting, paragraph styles, chapter length–all of it is beholden to no rules. I get as annoyed as the next reader with giant blocks of paragraphs, or the double-spacing between pages of single-sentence paragraphs, but if the story’s good enough I might ignore it.

There’s more than just straight narrative fics, though. People write “chat” fics, or long streams of text and group chat conversations. The scene breaks can come super rapidly–I’ve seen fics with a single sentence in between line breaks to show the passage of time. And without the polish of a traditionally published novel, I’ve never seen a purer distillation of author voice in any medium more than fanfic.

All practice is good practice

Even if it’s crack fiction, or a one-off one-shot, or something meant to be lighthearted and straightforward and free from complex worldbuilding and intricate plots. It really helps break writer’s block when you can shift gears and headspaces entirely and you can get relatively instant feedback to keep you motivated.

Beyond that, the “guardrails” help you stay consistent as far as character growth and personality if you struggle with designing rich characters.

The most recent fanfic I wrote was just a couple years ago, for a dead fandom I didn’t think would get any traffic whatsoever. It wasn’t my original works, but the feedback on that fic gave me the kick in the butt I needed to get back into writing more seriously.

—

In short, I support fanfic. I may not be proud of my earliest fics' prose now, but I am proud that they walked so I can now run.

[twola]

Two words: messy blowjob.

Teehee, let’s go. 

Also, s/o to @revolversandlace, who mentioned writing a possible 1k+ scene literally describing a blowjob, so obviously, I had to give it a try myself. 😉

Convalescence

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Feelings are realized as you nurse Arthur back to health after his run-in with the O’Driscolls. Actions, however, are a bit limited during his convalescence.

Everything hurts. From the searing pain in his shoulder to the overall ache of his muscles, this definitely ranks as one of the most painful experiences of his life.

Regards sent to Colm O’Driscoll, of course.

He opens his eyes and a shadowed figure slowly comes into focus, a small, feminine frame seated on a stool next to his cot.

It’s you, but your normally tressed hair hangs limply in a ponytail, your eyes bloodshot and puffy, and it was obvious that you’ve been crying as his vision clears up.

“Wh- why are you cryin’ there, sweetheart?” He hoarsely whispers, voice rough from disuse.

You rub at your eyes, but it is mostly in vain as you can’t stem the flow of tears tracking down your cheeks. “When y-you fell off your horse when you came back, I-I thought you were d-dyin’.”  

Your voice cracks on the last word.

Arthur frowns, “Sweet girl, I ain’t worth them tears. Save ‘em for a good man.”

“You - you’re such a fool,” You grit out, teeth clenching, “You - you are a good man. The best of them, Arthur Morgan.”

“C’mon now, darlin’. Stop your lyin’.”

“I’m not lying.” You move to sit on the side of the cot, hovering over him, “Why can’t you see what a good man you are? Why are you so blind to it?”

He remains silent. Silly girl. You haven’t seen what he can do - what he does - to other men. The blood on his hands. You’d be far less likely to be praising him, far less likely to be…

…leaning in closer to him.

A pang sears through Arthur’s chest, sharp as a whip, when he realizes you aren’t pulling away from him.

“You’re by far the best man I’ve ever known.”

“Reckon you haven’t known many men then, little miss.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, and in that moment, you lean completely over him and press your lips against his, a move he’s not completely surprised by.

His good arm, unburdened with the wound on his shoulder, winds around your shoulders as you press against his chest gently, still hovering so as not to put too much weight on him.

Arthur allows it all, from the first timid press of your lips on his to the far less timid pressing of your tongue, demanding entry into his mouth. He groans in response as he lets you in, and a mewl works its way up your throat.

It's only then, with you hovering inches above his chest, lips, and tongue working against his own, that he realizes that this is quickly turning into a predicament. Of course, it is, considering the view he’s gotten down the front of your blouse.

Someone, god, hopefully not you, stripped him of his bloody union suit, which probably did need to be burned, but failed to re-dress him. He was nude as the day he was born underneath the blankets, and it became increasingly clear as he felt his blood rushing toward his groin. 

Of all the times to act like a damn teenage boy-

He cannot help the groan that wells up in him as you shift, the curve of your waist at the flare of your hip pressing against his own - pressing against his hardening member.

He internally curses when you slowly pull away. 

But your eyes are lust-blown, a red blush settling on your cheeks. 

“Darl-”

“Let me take care of you.” You say, slowly sitting up and reaching for the edge of the blanket with your small, thin fingers. 

He wants to tell you to stop, that you don’t have to do this, that you don’t have to do anything, that he’s been smitten with you since you rode in half-starved and doe-eyed on the back of Davey’s horse all those months ago. 

But silent he remains as you slowly draw the blanket down his body. Your nose crinkles as your lips turn downwards as inch by inch of his chest is revealed to you - bruises and lash marks and signs of the torture he received at Colm’s hand.

“Oh, Arthur.” You sigh sadly, eyes watering over again.

“ ‘m gonna be fine, sweetheart. Just a little uglier than usual.” He tries to lighten the mood with self-depreciation, but the deepening of your frown tells him that’s not working. You blink the tears collecting away and continue to pull the blanket downward, revealing his navel and the trail of dark, wiry hair leading downwards.

He sucks in a breath as the collecting fabric brushes against his ramrod-hard cock.

Finally, finally, your hand slowly pulls the blanket over his hips, first over the curls at the bottom of his pelvis, to expose his cock, leaking from the tip and laying heavily over his thigh. 

You look back at him, and he’s wide-eyed, biting his lower lip, looking down at you hovering over his hips. You can see his chest expanding with his breathing, speeding up as he stares at you. 

You lean down and Arthur’s good arm swings over his head to block his vision, because if he sees this, he’s sure to make embarrassing noises loud enough for the whole damn camp to hear.

He feels your small hand wrap around his cock, and he bites his lip not to make a sound as you gently pull it upright.

But he is not able to stifle the noise he makes when his cock is enveloped in something wet and warm - his arm flies upward and he cranes his head to watch you take him into your mouth. An embarrassingly needy whine escapes his mouth, but that’s better than the shout he wants to let out as you suck gently at the head, your tongue pressing against the weeping slit of his cock.

“Jesus Christ.”

You let go of the head of his cock with a pop, and he bucks up slightly, as if to follow your warmth as you look up at him.

“You alright? Need me to stop?” You ask, one hand still wrapped around his length.

“Oh, darlin’, please, please don’t ask me that.” His forearm slides across his eyes again as his other hand.

“So you want me to keep goin’?”

“Jesus fuck, of course.” He replies incredulously, flabbergasted that you could doubt this felt amazing.

You smile for a moment before turning back to his length, enveloping him once again in the velvet warmth of your mouth. His head hits the pillow as he loudly sucks in a breath.

You slowly, deliberately, work your way down his length, bobbing up and down, sucking on his skin gently as you take more and more of him into your mouth.

It feels like years you’re doing this, inch by inch of velvety skin warmed by your wet cavern. 

Finally, you gag slightly as your nose touches the chestnut curls at the base of his cock, saliva dripping down from your lips and slowly running down toward his heavy, full testicles, and he has to actively clench the sides of the cot to stop himself from bucking upward. 

“Oh, oh god, woman.” He mutters as you slide back up, fingers once again grasping the base of his length as you suck in a breath, looking up at him with a hint of a smile, your lips and chin shimmering with your spittle. His cock shines against the oil lamp’s yellowed light, absolutely dripping wet from your mouth.

You lean back down again, but instead of taking his length into your mouth, you run your tongue down its side, all the way down where you nuzzle against the globes at the base of his cock, gently sucking one into your mouth. He whines, whines, this gunslinger, this outlaw, this hardened mountain of muscle beneath you. All being torn apart as you suckle on him.

After several moments, you pull back, and he’s panting, chest heaving, a sheen of sweat developing over his clavicles, and the bandages wrapped tightly across his pectorals and shoulder.

Your thumb presses gently on the underside of his cock, and he closes his eyes and lets out a low, long moan. You smile, rubbing at his hip affectionately.

“Christ alive, woman, you’re killin’ me.”

“Ain’t done yet, Arthur.”

And with that, you resume, leaning down and retaking him, sucking harder than you have before, leaving him squirming beneath you. 

You suck, and bob, you squeeze his balls and rub at his thighs. Lord almighty, he must have died at Colm’s hand - this had to be heaven.

The burning in his gut reaches a fever pitch, and he knows he’s not long to last.

He tries to sit up, but can’t with his shoulder bound, and finds that he just has to make enough noise to tell you to get off of him.

“Darl- darlin’, I’m gonna come- you- you need to move-”

His sentence goes unfinished as you look up at him, mouth full of his cock, and slowly, deliberately, slide all the way down, saliva dribbling out of your mouth again as the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat.

Arthur’s eyes go as wide as saucers, and he audibly swallows before his head hits the pillow once again. You slide up and down, sucking, tongue working around his length, the gentle suction of your mouth causing him to whimper.

He grunts, hands clenched around the wooden sides of the cot, hips moving despite his attempts not to. He is completely at your mercy - each lick and suck of his cock sends him further down that road of unabashed pleasure.

“Sweet- oh god, oh - fuck - I’m -” Arthur cannot finish his sentence before he trails off into a groan, his hips bucking up as you press down, and he shoots his spend down your throat, you pull back, gagging slightly, and as you sit up, Arthur can barely believe his eyes as he watches a dribble of his white, milky spend drip from the corner of your mouth. Christ, it makes him want to come again.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, clearing your throat, and pull the blanket up to Arthur’s chest once again, where he just looks at you, stupefied.

You cock an eyebrow at him as you slide up the side of the cot, sitting next to his chest. “You alright? That wasn-” You frown, “God, I hope that wasn’t bad.”

Arthur’s good hand grabs the collar of your shirt and yanks you down, where he presses his mouth to yours desperately, not caring at all that he can taste the bitter tang of himself on your tongue. You draw away after a moment, and Arthur tucks a strand of your hair that escaped its braid behind your ear.

“Woman, you’re the only one takin’ care of me from now on.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 11

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: the best way to spend you Tuesdays is pissed at an old man.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Time passes too quickly. The clock counts down to your fate. Again. It feels like you’ve done this already. 

You laugh even though it hurts. You try not to think of what comes next. You just stay in the moment and help Kara clean up the mess the cops made of her place. She’s in high spirits considering. A night in jail can put things in perspective. So can the prospect of life imprisonment. 

You order sushi. You figure if Andy’s paying, you’ll splurge. She doesn’t ask how you can afford it and you won’t explain. Fuck it. It’s your last hurrah. A final little spark before your flame is tamped out. 

When it’s time to say goodbye, you’re choked with tears. You fight not to show it as you hug Kara and tell her you’ll message when you’re settled in your new place. You want to cling to her forever. You sense a reluctance in her as well. 

“You okay?” She looks you over as you pick up your purse. 

“Yeah. Yeah. A lot of change. Tired.” You yawn. You really are exhausted. “I was so worried, Kar. Really. I'm so happy you’re out.” 

“Oh, tell me about it! But hey, I’m kinda a bad ass now. I got street cred.” She flexes her arms and giggles. 

You laugh too. You’re going to miss that. You will hold onto every lame joke and cherish it on those days when you can’t make yourself smile. You know with Andy, those will be far and few between. 

You leave and linger outside the door. This could be the last time your here. You won’t think that it could be the last time you see Kara. Too many ifs, and just as many scary certainties. 

You reply to Andy’s text. He’s waiting around the corner where he won’t be seen. It’s bad enough you’re lying to Kara, but her knowing the reality is worse. At least in this, he is your ally. You meet him there.  

He smiles and kisses you as you buckle your seat belt. Your disgusted by him. You say nothing. If you speak, you might just tell the truth. You lean back and close your eyes. He shifts into gear and the engine whirs softly in the night. 

“You okay?” He asks. 

He asks you that as if it should be. You turn your face to the window. 

“Tired,” your murmur. 

He steers into a lot and you look up at the bright white facade of the hotel lit by spotlights. It’s the kind of hotel you could never afford. You never stayed in one before but you expect one of those roadside motels is more your pay grade. 

It feels like another boast. Look what I’m giving you. Look what you wouldn’t have without me. Yeah, yeah. You owe him. 

He gets out and you follow. That’s how you’ll get through. Let him lead the way. He’s so much older, so much wiser, so why not? Just go along with it all. He knows what he’s doing. Exactly what he’s doing. He entrapped you. He pretended to be his own son and tricked you. 

Your angry thoughts boil over as you enter the hotel room ahead of him. He steps in close enough to brush against you. You pull away sharply and focus on untying your shoes. You drop them and stare at your hand. 

“I need the bathroom.” 

“Oh, it’s just down--” 

He points and you’re already on the move. You rush into the bathroom and lock the door. You want to scream. No, stay calm. You can’t let him get to you like that. 

You stop and lean on the counter. You look at yourself in the mirror and exhale slowly. Sleep. Don’t worry about anything else. You need rest. You can see it in your eyes. You can feel it through every part of you. You push off and go to the door. You emerge and stop short. 

One bed. Your bag is beside it already. You can tell he’s been there all day. You sit on the edge with your back to him. 

“TV has streaming. Tub has jets. Your pick.” He suggests. There’s a fragility in his throat that irks you. He’s acting like he’s afraid of you. Like you have any power in this situation. 

“I’m going to lay down.” You lower yourself to your side and curl up. 

“Shouldn’t you... you want something to change into?” 

You don’t answer. You’re empty. You don’t have anything left. You just want to lay there and never move. 

“Sweetie?” 

“Tired.” You say. 

“Right, well...” The TV flicks on and the menu clicks as he shuffles through. “I’ll put on something for white noise. I’m gonna hop in the shower. Figure I’ll do it now so we can get on the road early.” 

You grumble and shrug. You close your eyes. His presence looms before his footsteps pad away.  

He doesn’t close the door. It’s probably intentional. Does he think you’re going to go in and join him? Has he really deluded himself into thinking you want any of this? That you want him? 

The shower buzzes lightly through the wall, beneath the audio of the TV. It’s some syndicated law show your grandmother had on all the time. You roll your eyes and shift to get under the covers. You nestle in and lets your fatigue cocoon you. Even so, you’re too agitated to fall asleep. 

He emerges as you hide. You catch a glimpse past the blanket. He’s in only a towel. His thick arm is rounded with muscle and his broad chest is covered in hair. Boys your age don’t look like that. 

You shut your eyes again as you burn in shame. You’re so stupid. You remember hearing his voice and thinking it couldn’t be some scrawny kid. You knew it! You knew it and you were too shy to call it out. 

Andy gets closer to the bed. You can smell the scented soap and feel the moisture in the air. The zip and rustle of his bag stir beneath the television. The bed dips behind you and he groans. He lays down and hooks his arm around you. 

“Hey, how ya doin’?” 

“Get off,” you hiss. 

“Huh? Sweetie.” 

“I said I’m tired.” You push him away and roll off the bed. You trip as the blanket catches your ankle. You spin to face him. “I’m tired and I want to sleep.” 

“I know, honey. I just--” He sits up, leaning on his arm. He’s in only a pair of briefs. Ew. “I was checking on you.” 

“I’m trying to sleep. I don’t need you all over me.” 

You come forward and grab the pillow. He seizes your wrist and keeps you from retreating. You tug and growl between your teeth. “I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

“Why are we going backwards? I didn’t do anything.” 

“You need--” you twist your arm in his grip. “You need to give me space, okay? Give me a chance to think. I can’t-- Andy. You knew the truth all along, I didn’t.” 

“Backwards,” he drones in an annoyed monotone. 

You drop your shoulders and huff. “Fine.” You let go of the pillow and put your knee on the bed. “Fine. I’ll come back. I’ll sleep in the bed.” 

He lets you go and you put your back to him again. He sighs and his weight shifts behind you. The tension roils over you. Let him simmer. You’re on fire in anger and shame and despair. He can handle a bit of neglect. He deserves it. 

🎮

You sleep. Not soundly. Each time you rouse, you remember where you are. Each jarring reminder adds to your struggle. You scrape together a few hours, if that. 

You crawl out of the bed as Andy’s even breaths turn stolid. You can’t bear it any longer. 

You sit in the chair and stare. You don’t bother with your phone or the TV. There’s nothing that can distract you from your life. 

When he wakes, he says good morning. You feel his gaze but you react. He asks a question but you don’t respond. You just sit and watch the wall. His shadow moves around the room, around you.  

He nudges you. You wince and surrender. You look up at him dully. 

“Hey, wanna hop in the shower before we go?” 

You shake your head. 

“Okay, well, you should probably change into some fresh clothes,” he says. He checks his watch and your eyes find the digital clock by the bed.  

You stand and grab your bag and your purse. You carry both to the door and step into your shoes, bending down the backs under your heels.  

“Sweetheart--” 

“Let’s go.” 

“You can’t go out like that--” 

“Who cares? I'll just be in a car.” You grumble. “I just want... it to be over.” 

He silently measures your words. He grabs his keys and slings his bag on his shoulder. He nears and you grab the door handle. “You’re right,” he pulls the door back as he reaches above you. “Can’t wait to be home.” 

Home. That word sinks like a boulder in water. You go out into the hallway and he points you toward the elevators. Across the lobby and outside across the lot, under the dim early morning hue. 

He puts your bag in the car for you. You let him. Then he opens the passenger door and you climb in. He gets in on the driver’s side and starts the car. He asks if he should turn the air on. You shake your head. You can’t feel much of anything. 

He doesn’t ask as he stops at a drive thru. He gets you both a coffee. You thank him only as you sense his eyes on you. You just have to do enough to keep him off your back. 

“Alright, let’s go,” he takes the paper bag of biscuits and bacon and hands it over. “In case you get hungry, sweetheart.” 

Another thank you. Your voice is gravelly and grim. You don’t sound like yourself. You don’t feel like yourself. The motion of the cars disorients you. You feel trapped in your body. It’s as much a prison as the house waiting for you at the end of this journey. 

The road sprawls ahead of you. Your vision glazes over. Your head lolls against the seat as NPR drones in your ears. 

Hours and hours. You eat only as he asks for some of the food. You know he’ll accuse you of being ungrateful if you waste the sausage and pastry. You chew and swallow without tasting. You wash it down with the bitter coffee and wipe your fingers on your shorts. 

“There’s napkins,” he rebukes. 

“Sorry.” 

“It’s fine. Just saying...” he grips the wheel tight. “Why don’t you close your eyes? I know you didn’t get much sleep again.” 

“I’m fine,” you insist. He knows you didn't sleep. Is he so clueless as to not guess the reason?

“Mm,” he grumbles. 

You turn your head and gaze unseeing out the window. His sighs put you on edge. You twiddle your fingers. 

“You’re in yesterday’s clothes and you’re barely talking,” he insists. 

You cringe and put your head straight. You drop your chin and shrug. “I’m sorry, Andy.” 

“I’m trying to be patient,” he lowers the volume on the stereo as he speaks. “But I’m worried. What happened to the girl I know? The one I spent all night mining with? The one who would giggle at the creepers?” 

You nearly shriek. You flip your hands down and squeeze your legs. You bite your lip until you think it might split. 

“Things are...different,” you mutter. 

“I know but we can do it together. We can change each other. For the better. I just need you to meet me halfway.” 

“I’m trying,” you whisper. 

“I’m not saying you aren’t but trust me. I know that communication is the most important part of a relationship. We have to talk to each other.” He explains. “Look, I’ll be honest. I’m scared too. I’m nervous. It’s been a long time since I had someone and sweetheart, I just—I’d hate to let you down. I really would.” 

Relationship? Scared? It’s too much. It’s a bunch of lies he’s convinced himself of but you can’t believe them. You can’t make yourself, even if you know you should. 

He’s well off, he’s established, he’s older, he’s confident. He's offering you everything a woman wants; money, a home, a partner, yet you can’t accept any of it.

You didn’t choose this. You never even had a chance in your life to consider it. To imagine who you would want those things with. He’s snuffed that part of your future out along with your trust. You can at least thank him for ridding you of the last of your naivete. 

“Okay, Andy. Trying. Honest. I’m trying but... I don’t know what to say. How to say it.” You run your hands down your cheeks and exhale. “I’m still thinking.” 

That’s true. You have nothing to say. You’re lost. He might know where he’s taking you but you have no idea. It’s not about the house or the city or any of that. It’s about everything. What does he want you to be? Can he figure that out when you never even figured out that question for yourself? 

[cassiopeiasdaughter]

To not leave Draco Malfoy out of this celebration, maybe an angsty fic with the prompt “Don’t leave me”?

Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

A/N:I've always wanted to write something in this format, thank you for the inspiration and the request 🤍 Draco Malfoy masterlist & celebrate my academic hardships

Warning: mentions of war and everything related to it

The five times Draco Malfoy needed you away from him and the one he was desperate to keep you close.

First Year; you found him with Hermione, you were both looking for Nevilles toad, asking around the students if they’d seen one.

He gave you a snobby look ,as you entered the room he was in, taking in your form. After introducing himself to you two and learning you were both Muggleborn he said “Leave us, we haven’t seen a toad.”, snickering with his friends- and driving you mad with the need to hex his pointy face out of the window.

Third Year; your interactions as the years went on, had gone from a quick sneer at the hallways, to insults and yelling after quidditch practice- and especially games- specifically the ones where he lost.

That wouldn’t happen that day, though, because Draco was determined to win. He had been practicing for this game for weeks, exhausting himself in the quidditch field.

The image of him rubbing it in your annoying face that he had won and you had lost, was the only motivation he needed.

He was confident, so confident that before the game he walked up to you, way too cocky and said “Good day to lose, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know Malfoy, you tell me.”,you replied smirking 

This was usual for you, teasing and taunting before matches. That, turned into a silent challenge between you two.

Who could fly the fastest? Who could impress the crowd more? You fueled eachother; your relationship was an endless competition. 

And secretly you both loved it.

In the midst of the game, he found you alone looking over the field, deeply focused on the game.

He doesn’t understand what frivolous thought resulted in him flying up to you; just for a few seconds, he said to himself.

“Go away, Malfoy, I am trying to focus.”

“Save yourself some trouble, maybe relax your forehead before you get wrinkles, and accept your defeat.”, he said with a smug face

“Stop buzzing around me like a fly, go spin around some more over there, will you?”, you said clearly annoyed and he laughed at that.

Before he could get the chance to reply, he noticed a strange movement behind you. He wrinked his eyes, trying to get a better look and realized it was a bludger coming straight to you- and you the complete idiot you were, were staring at the opposite direction.

He supposes there are many other things he could have done that day. He could just warn you, scream at you even. He could fly away and mind his business- focus on winning the game.

But if the bludger hit you, who would he make fun of, then? 

That, and only that, is why, he flew infront of you, with the bludger hitting him in the ribs- causing him to fall several feet to the ground.

As he laid in complete darkness, with a piercing pain in his chest, he thought he heard screaming and then your voice; you were okay, he could rest now.

He woke up to the sound of whispers, and pages turning. The room smelled of clean sheets and he felt cold. He shivered and opened his eyes groaning.

“Sleeping beauty is awake.”, he heard Blaise and before he could open his mouth, he felt Pansy rush to his side, grabbing his hand.

“Are you completely mad?”, she asked furious “What were you thinking, you-”

“Let him be, Pans, you can scold him once he is out of here.”, Theo interrupted her “How are you feeling mate?”

“M’fine, I feel stiff- and thirsty.”, Draco replied slowly, batting his eyes- preventing them from closing again.

His three friends looked at eachother, as if speaking silently, plotting together-specifically something only he wasn’t supposed to know.. 

“What?” He asked annoyed “We lost. Is the team mad? Just say it.”, he said between groans- moving his body to stand a little straighter- look stronger.

“Uhhh-”, muttered Theo

“We’ll get you some water.”, interrupted Blaise

“The three of you? Where are you getting it from exactly, the Lake?”, he replied annoyed at his friends- and himself for getting himself into this mess.

Pansy groaned impatiently and rolled her eyes at him “You have a visitor, see you later.”

With that, she walked out of the room- followed by Blaise and Theo, both smiling at him, the first mischievously and the latter sympathetically- holding his book in his arms.

He groaned then and threw his head back- staring into the empty ceiling, that looked as depressing, as his actions. Honestly, what was he thinking? He blew everything up, wasted so many hours of work and practice; in just one single second-

“Hi.”, he heard your voice, soft and gentle. He couldn’t recall, the last time you looked at him, without a sneer or a scowl. With your mouth relaxed and your eyes gentle.

“No need to gloat, I am not in the mood, right now.” You scoff at that, “I came here to thank you, you impossible twat.”

He smirks, at your words, and how natural it feels to hear them from your mouth. He gives you a knowing look; slightly amused.

“Sorry.”, you mumble 

“Thank you for what you did there.”, you said and sat at the bed, next to his body, your hands almost touching.

“Uh- it’s not like I could have gone anywhere else.”

“You could have stayed still, it would have hit me, not you.”

“And you’d have fallen on me, we’d both end up here. Honestly, I did it to save myself from your voice, annoying me even here. It’s more peaceful this way.”

“Oh, Malfoy, shut up.”, you said trying not to look amused “We both know Pomfrey can’t stand your whining, I heard she’s considering resigning.”, you continued, fake whispering with a face that makes him laugh even now, remembering it.

He sees his friends enter, and quickly snaps back to reality. You are his competitor, the person he wants to show off to- they are his friends, the ones who want to see him do well, they care about him- not you.

And he cares about them, certainly not about you.

“You’re giving me a headache, go away, please.”, he said and noticed how your eyes saddened slowly.

Your face returned to its usual look, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly turned and hands crossed in front of you. 

“Ah- right, bye.”

And with that you left, leaving him with his best friends, who loved him and protected him from everything harmful.

But then again, why couldn’t he stop the throbbing in his head, every time he thought, of you leaving?

Fourth Year; he was perfect. His robes looked great on him, he knew the dances well- after all the training he had had through the years- and he’d gone with Pansy, who he trusted.

Then, why couldn’t he have fun? 

It was your presence surely- it drove him mad. You were dancing around with your friends- missing steps and then laughing at yourself. You were clumsy and graceless and laughed with your mouth open.

All the manners he had learnt to obey, were nowhere to be found when it came to you.

But then, why couldn’t he take his eyes off of you? 

“Excuse me for a moment, Pans.”, his mouth muttered despite his protests not to

His feet carried him to you, he begged them to stop- turn around and insult Potter or the Weasel, don’t go to her, not her. But they had a mind of their own and he cursed as he bumped into you.

You turned around and stared at him with a surprised look on your face “Malfoy.” ,you said confused and scanned his body with your eyes, your gaze lingering at his face before lightly shaking your head “Something wrong with your eyes?”

He didn’t answer though, not as he was taking in your form; your dress and how its color complimented you perfectly. Your hair loose, with strands falling across your face like a waterfall.

Your skin glowing as the colored light fell on it; making you look like you didn’t belong in this world, but in the fairytales he would read as a child.

He couldn’t breathe, maybe you’d thrown something in his drink- you’d love to ridicule him at the Ball, the whole school would talk about it- then again, maybe these thoughts had always been there, found shelter in a dark place in his mind he didn’t want to acknowledge. 

“Draco, are you alright?”, your voice worried then and his name falling from your lips felt like a spell shot directly at his chest.

“Ah-”, the sound of music cut him off and the image of his classmates pairing up and dancing, drove him to eventually ask “Dance with me?” 

And the moment you said yes and held his hands; a fire inside him started. It warmed parts of his soul that had never seen the sun, they were cold and dying, but your light healed them. 

Your moves were seamless and your hold was gentle. You let him guide you, with trust he secretly wished could last.

You could not help but giggle as he swirled you two around and the sound of your voice was contagious, the smile on your lips something he wanted to memorize.  

As the dance progressed you two moved closer; his hand was holding you tighter and your eyes were curious, as if you yearned for more.

And as your face tipped forward and your lips parted slowly- he felt a strange and unwanted force dragging him back to reality.

To his reality, the one filled with your differences and his friends and family. The reality that wasn’t the fairytale you two belonged in.

He pulled back, causing you to lose your balance slightly and almost fall on him. You looked betrayed and embarrassed, like a wounded animal showing trust, begging for help only to receive the opposite.

He didn’t say anything to you, as he exited the big room, and he didn’t acknowledge his friends who looked at him with a puzzled face. The only thing on his mind was how much he needed to get away from you.

Sixth year; the room was spinning. There were bandages all over his body and a sharp pain on his limbs. It was incredible how he had managed to end up in the infirmary again.

He remembered Potters face, filled with hatred and betrayal as he cast the unforgivable, directly at him. It brought him shame, how not even Potter could believe he would join the Death Eaters, it was low even for him.

He felt shame and fear, It’s not my fault he wanted to scream, I didn’t choose this, he needed to let everyone know- but he was too scared of everything that would follow.

Myrtles screams and cries were ringing in his ears “Please stop”, he whispered with his eyes closed- tears falling down his cheeks.

“Stop what?”, he heard your voice ask, hoarse as if you were crying and he cursed himself then.

His mind played cruel tricks on him. Not only did he see you in his dreams every night but now he could also hear you in his wake. He couldn’t protect you in his dreams; the Dark Lord used you against him- made him do things that he wouldn’t even imagine prior to this summer.

And after doing everything the Dark Lord asked of him, he would see you die in front of him.

His cries grew stronger, but a hand strongly closing on his stopped him. He tried to open his eyes and turn his head, “Does it hurt? Do you want me to call Pomfrey?”, you asked scared with swollen eyes and dark circles under them.

“No.” He whispered quietly and felt your grip on his hand and your thumb tracing the skin there.

Your eyes landed on the inside of his sleeve, where the Dark Mark still lies and you looked at him with sorrow in your eyes. “I am sorry.”, you said and let tears fall.

He wishes he could have been strong and push them away, but more than that he wishes he would had prevented them in the first place.

However, you were neither his lover or his friend, so he had no place wishing any of the two. 

“What are you doing here?”, he turned his head- staring at the cold empty ceiling, once again.

“I heard what happened, Draco-”, you stopped, didn’t know how to continued- what to say.

“Why are you here?” , his voice was angry now “I don’t need your pity, after all those years, how can you still not understand that? You are supposed to hate me.”

“Well I don’t. I-”, care about you, you almost confessed- but he couldn’t let you.

“Leave! Leave me alone.”, he said closing his eyes and forcefully removing his hand from your grasp.

And, sadly you did. But not for long.

You returned that same night, with books and notes in your arms and a look of determination on your face.

You placed everything on his nightstand and sat at the same place as earlier. 

“You have missed too many classes, you need to catch up. Come on.”

He stared at you confused and tired, so so tired of handling everything by himself, of protecting his family and everyone he loved. And he was so tired from convincing himself that lowering his walls and letting you in would result in his distraction. 

Because at that moment, the only thing that had managed to offer him relief from the ache in his chest was you.

“I am sorry.”, he said ashamed.

“It is fine.” You replied sincerely and then shook your head lightly “Charms, page 431, chapter 18.”

It shouldn’t have been this easy for him to fall in love with you. You helped him with schoolwork and then with adjusting to normality again. You teased him, like before, but the look on your face now and the gleam of your eyes were completely different. 

You would talk outside of class and quidditch practice. He would often meet you, to study together and talk about your days.

And the most important, at night, after proving his loyalty to the darkness he was forced into, he’d run to you. You would remain silent, on top of the astronomy tower, thinking about the future and the past; of all the actions and choices that led him up there, with you. 

“I am sorry.”, he said one night, turning his head to look at you

“What for?” ,you asked back     

“I don’t know, for being a jerk? For treating you terribly?”, he let out a deep sigh before continuing “For everything I guess.”

“We both treated echother shitty. We are fine now, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, I suppose we are.”

“Just.” You started “Be careful, with them, I know you say you have everything under control, but be careful.”

“Why- why do you care? You shouldn’t care.”, he said amused and annoyed by how you would open your heart for anyone to find shelter in, even him.

“Because I want to, that’s is why.”, you held his hand and turned your head to look at the stars in contrast to the night sky- lighting up the darkness.

June 30th 1997;he wished he hadn’t grown closer to you, that day. Dumbledore was dead, and the Death Eaters were coming, the castle was in danger and there was nothing he could do about it.

As he ran down the halls, begging his mind to focus and not panic at the madness around him, he kept wishing you were safe.

He found you, looking around scared- terrified. And as your gazes locked you ran into eachother.

“Go away! Leave!”, he said, but despite his words, his hold on you grew stronger.

“What about you, I can’t leave you.”, you shouted back

And he knew you meant that, but he couldn’t come with you, couldn’t put you in any more danger; that was his excuse for what he did next. 

His hand moved to your face and he grabbed you; smashing your lips on his. You kiss was filled with longing and years filled of your pushing and pulling. Your dance around eachother.

It was filled with his gratitude for you, for being the safety he longed for, while nothing in his life was safe or stable. He kissed you for being his friend, when he had to distance himself from his- to protect them.

But, he also kissed you, because if he were to die in the moments to follow, the selfish- twisted parts of him wanted to at least have known how you tasted, how your lips felts against his, and how your body would mould against his.

You parted, your lungs aching for oxygen and he said again, in a gentler voice “Leave.”

And you did.

May 2nd 1998; he is tired. He doesn’t know how long he has been running for, screaming; your name the only sound falling from his lips.

His vision is blurry from the dust, the building around him slowly collapsing; his home for the past seven years will soon be nothing but a ruin.

And the thought of you buried under it, stops his breathing as he picks up the pace and runs faster.

“Draco?”, he hears his name being called, the voice entirely familiar. 

He turns around and sees you, with your hands around your waist and ashes all over your face.

He doesn’t have to think twice to sprint to you, not caring who he bumps into or if a spell hits him right there in the chest- not if it means that the last thing he'll see is you, alive.

He crushes you in his arms and breathes in deep, your scent hovering over him and his hands around you, shielding you from the battle.

He wishes you two could stay like this forever, he should apparate you both somewhere far away from this hell, somewhere where he could protect you, keep you safe, and show you how much you mean to him, how much he lov-

The voice you let out, filled with pain and regret crushes all his dreams and he pulls back in an instant.

“Are you hurt? Where does it hurt?” He instructs and uncrosses your arms from your body, to reveal blood all over your clothes.

You give him a tired look and his scared eyes beg you to stay close to him, but your body is weak and you fall to the floor taking him with you.

He lifts your shirt carefully and gasps when he sees your wound, bloody and open, your body emptying, losing blood dangerously fast. 

“It’s okay.”, you whisper “It is going to be okay.” You smile weakly 

“No, no, no.”, he repeats unable to accept what’s happening.

His hands are stained with your blood, leaving your face crimson-red and sticky as he cradles it for dear life- as if his hold on you will keep you alive.

“Don’t leave me.”, he begs “Please.”,and he leans in your hand, caressing his cheek lovingly, as he cries.

Only when your touch loosens and your hand slips to the floor does he stop to let out a haunting scream.

I love you, he meant to say, “I love you.”, he says now, wishing you could hear it.

sorry for any mistakes; comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated 🩶

[queen-haq]

Fic: Never You - (Penelope/Colin) Part 1

Rating: R

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV show)

Spoilers: S3 scene released yesterday.

Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn't giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.

Excerpt:

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

Part 1

Penelope stared out at the pond, her last conversation with Colin still running through her mind. I miss you. Few months ago his words would have sparked incredible joy in her but hearing his smug confession last night had elicited nothing but rage. Even now an explosive anger threatened to burn her from the inside out - but she reminded herself to stay composed. Losing her calm over Colin Bridgerton was simply not worth it, not when she had far more important things to worry about.

“Penelope. How are you?”

Hearing Lady Violet’s voice from behind, she turned around to greet the older woman. Except she wasn’t alone. Of course not. Behind her stood most of her family, Colin and Eloise on one side, Gregory and Hyacinth on the other. Penelope quickly shifted her gaze back to Lady Violet. “I’m quite well. How are you?”

“You haven’t paid us a visit in a long time.”

Penelope sensed the scorn vibrating off of Eloise in waves, but she ignored her former friend. Even though her soul ached at the loss of their friendship, a part of her had already grown resigned to their new reality. “I’m afraid country life has kept me busy all these months.”

“Well, you’re back now. I hope to see you at the house more often.”

There was no mention of the falling out with Eloise, nor did Penelope expect there to be. Especially with Eloise pretending she no longer existed. Her eyes roamed over to her friend, only to be ignored. Inevitably her gaze slid over to Colin, and she suddenly found herself the recipient of his intent focus. Somber blue eyes penetrating her through to her very core, making her rattled and anxious and breaking down the very calm façade she worked so hard to build.  

Throughout their entire friendship he’d always been sweet and funny, filling her dull world with hope and color, but the night of her mother’s ball she’d seen the kind of cruelty he was capable of. It was a side of him that she never wished to see again. And feeling his piercing gaze right into her soul, in a way he’d never looked at her before, reminded her of how much of a stranger he really was. “Forgive me, Lady Violet, but I must take my leave. Mama shall be waiting for me.”

She quickly walked past the group, breathing a sigh of relief at no longer being under Colin’s scrutiny. Her relief, however, lasted only a few seconds. Because almost immediately Colin was striding alongside her.

“Pen, we need to speak.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Then I’ll do the talking.”

“And I’m not interested in listening.”

“Too bad. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

She cursed his long legs, because while she struggled to keep up the fast pace he seemed to glide along the path without much effort. Short of running away from him, which would surely cause a scandal amongst the crowd promenading, she had no choice but to keep walking.

“I’m sorry. Truly.” His voice was soft, velvety like butter, like he’d practiced the words many, many times in preparation for the performance of a lifetime. “My words that night-”

“Do you know that I read your letters over the summer? Despite my anger, I still read them.”

An unexpected rawness laced his voice. “Why?”

“Because I needed to know. Would I recognize that insincerity in your words now that I knew the truth about your disdain towards me. And do you know what I discovered?”

She finally turned to look at him, and just for a moment the world stopped. Like it always did. His eyes were bluer than the sea itself, a symphony of agony and need, beckoning her towards him. She suddenly found it difficult to breathe, her heart caught in a whirlwind of chaos.

“Tell me.”

It wasn’t a request, nor a plea. It was a demand. As if he was entitled to her thoughts, her heart. Her very soul.  Well, damn him. Damn him for playing her for a fool. And damn herself for ever loving him. “You are an extraordinarily talented writer, Mr. Bridgerton. So good in fact that I woulld never have guessed your true thoughts if I didn’t hear you utter them myself.”

“That’s not fair. It was one night, Pen! One night! When I was drunk out of my mind and said something foolish. Are you really willing to give up on me after years of friendship because of something so small?”

“Yes.” Her response was quick and resolute, surprising even herself.

Stunned, Colin stared back at her. “Yes?” The tremor in his voice was unmistakable. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I?”

The change in him was sudden and abrupt, taking her by surprise when he moved swiftly to block her path.

The blues of his eyes were so dark they bordered on brown, a storm brewing in them. Staring back at her was a man she didn’t recognize, different from the boy she grew up with,and the man who humiliated her without a thought. This was a stranger in front of her, anger etched on his face, jaw clenched with tension.

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

She didn’t think he could hurt her more, but he managed to do it nonetheless. “I never expected you to court me, Colin. You don’t love me. I’m quite aware of that. But you could have told them there was nothing between us. You could’ve even said I meant nothing to you. Instead you mocked me, derided me so you could look good in front of your peers, and that makes you someone I never want to associate with.”

 “I made a mistake, Pen.”

“Miss Featherington,” she bit out through gritted teeth. “That is who I am to you from now on. Nothing more.”

“So that’s it? I make a mistake and you erase me from your life just like that?” He snapped his finger angrily. “Are you so fucking perfect that you’ve never wronged anyone?

They’d been standing still for far too long, their conversation growing more potent every second. All of a sudden she was acutely aware of glances in her direction, people’s eyes sliding over her and Colin, and she realized how dangerous this was. Risking her carefully crafted plans for a few heated moments with him was idiotic. “People are staring at us, Colin.”

“I don’t care.”

“Obviously.” She offered a small smile at the couple who walked past her, trying to appear amiable. “You may not be concerned about my reputation but I am. And I would appreciate it if you stayed out of my way.”

“I’m not willing to give up on our friendship like you.”

His snarky words drew her gaze back to him. “Walk away, Mr. Bridgerton. Let me be.”

“And if I don’t?”

The hint of menace sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. “You would not be the gentleman you claim to be.”

“Perhaps I’m not. Perhaps everything you’ve accused me of is true.” He took a step closer, eyes shining brightly. “Maybe I am cunning and cruel. What then?”

Her heart pounded in her chest. “What is it that you want from me?”

“Forgiveness.”

“Fine. You’re forgiven.”

“You’re lying.”

“And you’re being rude.”

Eyes locked, they regarded each other intently. She didn’t understand what he was doing, why he was behaving this way. Why his stare seemed to be all consuming, studying her, trailing down to her mouth when she licked her bottom lip before drifting back up again. He’d never behaved this way before, A complete stranger in every way. “If you ever valued me as a friend, you would do as I ask.”

“I could say the same. If you valued me, you wouldn’t cast me aside.”

“You can not force me to continue this.”

“Would that be such a hardship? To move past one mistake and leave it behind us?” Desperation brimmed from him, he swallowed audibly. “I may not wish to court you but you are important to me. You’re my dearest friend. I can not envision a life without you.”

She exhaled a long, drawn-out breath. “You must.”

His lips twisted into a cruel plea. “Why?”

“Because I am to be married, Colin!” Instantly she regretted her words, hating herself for letting him provoke her. Yes, it was the truth, a plan that had taken months to carefully develop and plot – and now she’d ruined it by announcing it too early, and to him of all people!

“What?” He faltered back, stunned by her words. “You’re engaged? To whom? Why-”

“All you need to know is that my future husband and I have already discussed the matter and he wishes for me to have nothing to do with you. So goodbye, Mr. Bridgerton, because this the last time you and I will speak alone.” She stormed away, before he could stop her.

To be continued...

A/N - Um, thoughts? Feedback is always appreciated. I'm liking the idea of Colin and Penelope going head to head over the destruction of their friendship :)

[slutouttanowhere]

WIP Week

Pairing: Drew McIntyre x Black!reader

Warnings: use of the word “cunt.” Oral(m) &(f) receiving.

a/n: welp it’s about that time again isn’t it? I’ve found an unfinished smut/fic burried under piles of google docs, and since I’m never gonna finish it I decided to share with you all and show you what could have been. Recently a lot of these wips have been Drew one shots to be honest because I just have sooo many ideas flowing for him all the time I hop around a lot. Anywho, I hope you all can still enjoy this in some shape or form. *I did not design the divider down below* Follow me, and check out my pinned post for more.

Drew teaches you how to grip it.

“Please.” You begged, since Sheamus adorned Drew with his family heirlooms, he’s been bringing it to the ring with him ever since. Angela, his large, long, shining silver sword. The way he’d stalk down to the ring with it gripped in his big hands, you’d stand at the apron, and watch him adoringly as he stands center ring with Angela held high above his head.

“For the tenth time, no. I am not letting you swing the sword, it’s too dangerous, and you’re too small to hold it properly.” He said sternly, a pensive expression on his face; he knew how adorable you’d look with such a large weapon, but he didn’t want to take the chance.

You blew a raspberry, “buzzkill.” You pouted and fell back onto him on the sofa, your hair flopping in his face. Drew rolled his eyes. He was reading but your little stunt knocked it out of his book out of his hands. He knew you were only bugging him about it so much today because you became obscenely obnoxious when you were bored. Hunter had given you two a plethora of off days, but as Drew puts it, you’re a ‘busy body.’ He had to come up with new, interesting ways to entertain you, or else you would become like this. He was used to your childlike behavior, your goofiness is one of the things that attracted him to you. From far away your laughter could be heard, and that gorgeous smile of yours would light up a room. He embraced your popularity, and learned to share you with your co-workers as you were everyone’s best friend.

“If I show you how to swing the bloody sword will you stop nagging?” He sighed finally caving, his hands held onto your thighs as he pulled you onto his lap. The grin on your face grew, you knew you’d get your way eventually. He could never resist the sad face, and pouty lips.

“Really? Like right now?” You rapped your arms around your shoulders, a look of adoration passed over his face. He couldn’t fight his own smile, he tapped your skin with his hands playfully.

“Yes really. Now, to the garage!” Drew shouted, without hesitation you hopped up, and ran off.

The garage wasn’t super huge, but it was big enough to swing a sword, that’s all that really mattered. Drew held onto the hilt with a firm grip, standing in just his jeans, and socks, he grinned at the look on your face. A mix of excitement, and amazement rolled into one. It’s not like you haven’t seen it before, but that doesn’t make it any less of a spectacle. Drew approached you, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he began to circle you playfully. His eyes traveled up and down your curvy body. By the time his eyes got to your breast, he just then realized you weren’t wearing a bra underneath his t-shirt. He swallowed, ‘focus Drew, if you don’t give her what she wants right now, she’ll never let it go.’ He thought to himself. “So you wanna learn sword wielding aye?” His accent slipping into a heavier tone, he spoke slowly, and you hung onto his every word. Captivated by Drew, as usual.

“Well darlin, the first thing you must learn…is how to grip it.” He came to a halt directly behind you, your eyes closed as you let Drew’s immersive presence engulf you. His fingers pulled your hair back behind your shoulder, pressing his lips to your ear as he spoke; his breath tickled you. “Are you gonna be a good girl, and listen to all my instructions?”

You shook your head vigorously, “yes Sir.” You felt his warm soft lips press to the shell of your ear

He brought his arms around you carefully, he held the sword in one hand, and with the other he grasped onto your wrist. “This end of the sword is called the hilt, it is important you hold onto it with a firm grasp.” You weren't sure if he was touching you like this on purpose, or if Drew really is that gentle. Probably a bit of both. He took your hand and replaced it where he was, he held onto you to make sure you wouldn’t accidentally drop it. “Squeeze me tighter, hmm, just like that.” He purred, then pressed himself against you closer, naturally your body leaned into him, and caused you to forget all about the sword. “That’s it, good girl.” He hummed directly into your ear, his beard tickled your skin, and he followed that with a kiss. You bit your lip trying to suppress the moan that threatened to leave your lips when you felt your nipples tighten.

“Now take this hand, and place it here.” He took your other hand and placed it a little lower than the other. Drew stood behind you, both his arms wrapped around yours, and his hands still ghosting your hands. No longer interested in this medieval weapon, you grind your ass against him.

There was a long pause, for a moment you wondered if he was still there, so you turned your head. You barely got a chance to turn before Drew’s large hand grabbed you by the back of the head, “did I say you could move?” His voice now gruff, and his breathing a little ragged. Your back straightened up, not daring to make one move, his fingers caressed your bare thighs. He took his time making his way up to your hips, when he didn’t feel the cotton fabric that would be your underwear, he chuckled deeply. “No bra…no panties, well you’re in for a world of trouble princess.” He held onto you, his hands coming around the front of you to cup your breast underneath your shirt. His lips pressed to your neck, for a second your grip loosened on the hilt, “you better not drop that sword.” He warned through kisses, his fingers pinched, and tugged on your nipples.

“Ah, fuck.” You hissed through your teeth, that stinging pain traveled between your thighs stirring an aching sensation in your core. He slid his fingers down your soft tummy, your hips moved in circles in anticipation; with his unoccupied hand he quickly undid his jeans, and pressed your ass against him.

“You see what you do to me sweetheart, now how are we going to fix this little problem of mine?” He pushed his fingers between your pillow like thighs drawing another whimper out of you.

“I’ve got three holes for a reason Drew, pick one.” You answered eagerly, he chuckled darkly.

“Oh dear, I think you just signed up for a promise you can’t keep.”

“Try me.” You dared, which you knew was a bad choice, but Drew’s smart mouth had a way of rubbing off on you.

“She’s bold today! Just because you’ve held that sword doesn’t make you battle ready, princess. Since you’ve got so much to say, how about we shut you up, because I’m about to fill your throat full of cock, and cum.” He growled out, taking the sword from your hands, and carefully putting it back in its place, then he turned to you. Of course you were standing there looking all wide eyed and innocent as if you didn’t just threaten a wild jungle cat. He pointed towards the garage door that led back into the house, “walk.” Without hesitation you walked back into the house, you took a seat back on the sofa.

Drew came in behind you, “look at you getting comfortable, you know what?” He paused his words coming to stand directly in front of where you sat on the couch, your thighs crossed one over the other. “Actually you’re gonna need that sweetheart, because you’re gonna be in one position for a long time.” As he spoke he pulled his jeans down the rest of the way, and kicked them aside now only standing in his boxer briefs. The man was a sight to behold, he was perfect; tall, thick with muscles, and a handsome face that made you weak in the knees.

With his finger he beckoned you forward with his index finger, “c’mon closer princess, that’s right to the arm of the sofa.” Slowly you crawled to the edge, and propped yourself up on the arm of the couch. Drew met you halfway, one hand gripping himself over the cotton of his underwear, and the other reached out to pat you on the head. You kept your eyes on the hardened erection pressing against his boxers, your tongue darted out to wet your lips.

“Damn, it’s been a while since your cock has been in my mouth.” You moaned out, your hands already reaching for him, and hooking around the elastic waist.

Drew chuckled darkly as he watched your eyes light with desire, you pulled the large tee shirt over your head and tossed it aside. Your naked body on full display, his hands cupped your full breast, and let the weight of them in his palms. His thumbs caressing your nipples, the ghost-like touch was all you needed for them to become painfully tight. “Fuck I need those big tits of yours in my mouth.” Drew groaned, suddenly changing his mind he came to sit next to you, and wrapped one arm around your waist. He slouched down into the couch a little to meet you eye, to breast. His tongue flicked your small brown bud, then sucked it deeply into his mouth.

His gaze found yours as he moved on to the next one showing it the same attention. He switched back and forth between both before he stuffed his face between your cleavage, and inhaled your scent. He peppered kisses across your skin one last time before he let you go so you could readjust. You sat on your knees, reached into his underwear, and grasped his erection. He felt warm in your hands, you pumped him once, twice, then three times. Pre cum dropped from his tip, you tilted your head back to Drew, and planted a kiss on his lips before you swiped his mushroom tip with your tongue. A soft moan fell from his lips, his hand gingerly sliding up, and down your back.

You lowered half your body onto his lap, his muscular thighs becoming your pillow, and your ass perched up in the air. His fingers came to rest on your ass as you slowly slid him into your mouth, he slid his fingers over your slick cunt. His thumb rubbed circles around your clit, with his free hand he held your hair in his hand to keep it out of your eyes. You took him as deep into your throat as your anatomy would allow. The tip of him hit your uvula causing you to gag, but that didn’t stop you. You kept swallowing him till tears sprung from your eyes, “always so fucking greedy for my cock huh?” Drew pushed one finger into you, and then a second. You tightened around him, the hill of his hand pressing against your clit causing you to throb deliciously, and ultimately distracting you.

Finally pulling your lips away from him, you turned your head up to Drew, who’s eyes were lidded. Overtaken by lust he couldn’t be bothered with the saying, or doing anything properly. “Shit that feels so good, can I cum please?” You begged out of breath, wordlessly he pulled away from you, and at first thought you did something wrong. He got up, and pulled you with him. He bent you over the arm of the couch, his hands grasping your booty cheeks in both hands and spread you wide.

[lenacosse]

hi! could you maybe write a oneshot that’s amy santiago x fem reader, fluffy/romantic/friends to lovers? i just got into this show and i really wanna read a good and short fic about her but i can’t find many.

Ordinary things

pairing: amy santiago x fem reader

cw: none

word count: 1,560

‘there's never gonna be an ordinary thing

no ordinary things with you

it's funny, but it's true

there's never gonna be an ordinary thing

as long as I'm with you’

════════════════

You set down your pen after finalising your last report of the night, eagerly you start to gather your stuff up at your desk to head home. You all had been moved to the night shift after rescuing Holt and Jake from Florida. It was causing a real strain on everyone’s mood, everyone was miserable and lacking all sources of happiness, you had undoubtedly learned your lesson. Once your bag was packed you stand up stretching your legs and scanning the floor. You eyes dart over to Amy’s desk to find her hunched over paperwork. You make your way over to her and place a gentle hand on her back.

“Hey, Ames. Shift is over.”

“I know,” she sighs. “Just got so much to do I can barely register anything.” She looks up at you with dark, tired eyes.

“How about you leave it for tomorrow? Come on I’ll take you home.”

“I don’t know… if I leave it I’ll have double the work tomorrow night,”

“I’ll help,”

“No, I can’t ask you to do that,” Amy insists, turning her focus back to the paperwork.

“You’re not asking, I’m offering. Now come on let’s go. Everyone else is gone, you need to rest.”

Amy takes a minute, looking between you and her paperwork as if deciding which is more important. Eventually she drops her pen and makes a move to start clearing up her desk. The two of you make your way out of the precinct and down to the carpark. You sit in a comfortable silence as you drive, it was always simple when you were with Amy. You didn’t have to force conversation or fabricate reality, she understood you perfectly and you appreciated that more than words could describe. There was something about her that made you feel warm, protected and appreciated. Maybe it was the way she looked at you, maybe it was the way she listened to you rant, maybe it was the way her intelligence inspired you. But it was something, a connection maybe, you’ve never believed in soulmates, but when you met Amy that changed. She was your soulmate, no matter your circumstance with her. There was nothing she could do to make you feel indifferent.

“Can we stop to get coffee?” Amy asked, drawing your attention back to the present.

“Yes, God knows we need it.” You smile.

You pull into the nearest coffee shop, Amy runs in to get it and you wait in the spot. From the window you can see her, even exhausted and overworked she radiates kindness. Even watching her interact with the barista has you smiling, you’ve always tried to push down your feelings, marking it as a childish crush. Besides even if you did tell her how you felt it would be pointless, Amy was strictly into men. You were almost certain there was something brewing between her and Jake, maybe that was far fetched but everyone else seemed to think so, as did you even if that made you want to curl into a pit blackness.

“You keep drifting off, everything okay?” Amy said as she got into the car handing you your coffee.

“Oh, yeah no I’m fine. Just tired.”

Amy just smiles, taking a sip from her coffee as you continue your drive.

“Hey, thanks for this, I need to talk to someone other than a criminal.” Amy laughed softly.

“Honestly same, everyone is so clearly done with this. I hope we’re put back onto days soon, I haven’t seen daylight in weeks.”

“Me too. But really thank you, I really appreciate you.”

“Of course, what are friends for?” You smiled, she gave you a short nod, turning her attention out the window.

She sighs then turns back to you, “I want to ask you something, but you have to hear me out. I may be way off, but I can’t keep this in anymore.”

“Okay, is everything alright?”

“Yeah fine.” She bites her lip then looks at you, “I like you I’ve liked you for a long time now, but I’ve been too scared to tell you. I don’t want to lose our friendship and you mean so much to me and I really really want to try this- oh my god I mean do you even like girls? I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said anything-”

“Amy.” You cut her off, just as you pull up to her apartment complex. You take her hand. “Breathe.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No. I’m glad you did,” you run your thumb gently over her hand, “I feel the same, I really really like you.” You smile at her, your eyes bearing into hers. “But I thought you had something with Jake..”

Amy furrows her eyebrows, shooting you a baffled expression. “Jake?!”

“Well- actually I can’t justify it.”

“You’re really bad at reading signals, huh?”

“Shut up,” you laugh, your cheeks flushing ever so slightly.

“How about on Saturday, when we’re off you come around? I can make dinner?” Amy suggests.

“Yeah, I’d really like that.” You smile, a little too obnoxiously.

“Okay, cool cool cool. See you there.”

You both share an awkward hug which leads to you both furiously blushing like teenagers, you watched Amy get out of the car and of course laughed at her embarrassed wave goodbye. The whole way home you were smiling like an idiot, the events replaying in your mind.

════════════════

You ran your hand through your hair again before knocking on Amy’s door, you stand with your hand at your side, the other holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Amy answers the door, looking rather distressed. She doesn’t wait around and rushes back into the kitchen. You follow her, extremely concerned.

“Ames? Is everything okay?” You set the flowers down and look around the kitchen, there were pots everywhere things clearly went wrong.

“No. I ruined dinner, God I’m so sorry. I wanted this to be perfect and now it’s unsolvable.” She sighs, eyes prickling with tears.

“It can’t be that bad? Maybe we can salvage what’s not ruined?” You say, trying to seem optimistic.

“Oh it’s definitely not salvageable.” Amy picks up a wooden spoon inside a pot, except out can the spoon and a block of what you assumed to previously have been sauce.

“…oh, well that’s only sauce?”

Amy opens the oven which fills the entire room with black smoke, you immediately open the window and she gets a towel to blow the smoke away. You bite your lip to stifle your laugh but making eye contact with Amy makes the both of you burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry, this is truly not how I excepted things to pan out.” Amy sighs, before you could reply she was crying.

Immediately you rushed to her side and pulled her into a tight hug, gently you run a hand up and down her back to sooth her. You felt sorry for her, it was clear she put a lot of effort into this just for it to not work out.

“This doesn’t have to mean our entire night is ruined. Why don’t you go get ready, I’ll clean up in here. Take your time we’re in no rush.”

Amy pulled back to look at you, you wiped the tears from her eyes and she softly smiled. “Are you sure? We don’t have to, we can reschedule or something.”

“No come on, I’m already here.”

“Okay, but really you don’t have to clean up. I’ll do that, it’s not your mess.”

“Ames. I don’t care about cleaning the mess. Just get ready, I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to.”

Amy went to get ready and you cleaned the kitchen, as you were putting away the final dish she walked into the kitchen. She was wearing a sheer blue and black flowered blouse with a pencil skirt. You knew you were staring but you couldn’t help it, she looked so beautiful, so effortlessly radiant.

“Ames,” you exhaled. “You look gorgeous.”

She blushed as she walked over to you and wrapped her arms around your neck, your hands naturally rested at her waist. Your foreheads pressed together until she moved her lips onto yours, you pulled her closer and the kiss intensified. When you pulled away you both were blushing.

“Wait, I got lipstick on you.” Amy giggle and wiped her lipstick from your upper lip.

You swear you could have melted under her touch right there, but you knew you needed to collect yourself. You cleared your throat and Amy laughed. The two of you headed to the restaurant and got seated in a booth.

“Again I’m sorry, I had planned for a really nice meal and something more fun than a boring very ordinary restaurant.”

“No, it’s fine. This is still nice, besides it doesn’t matter what we do, we’re together that’s plenty fun.”

“Look at you being all sappy and motivational. I didn’t take you for the type.” Amy teased.

“I’m not usually, guess you bring it out in me.” You winked.

Amy just playfully rolled her eyes in response. The whole date may have started chaotically and completely gone to shit, but in the end you had a better time than you’d ever have dreamed of. Being with Amy truly was a thrill, the addition of knowing she liked you only emphasised that.

[victimsofyaoipoll]

Round 2

Propaganda Under Cut

Gwen

She stands in the way of Merthur, by far the most popular ship in the fandom. I haven’t seen it as much in recent years, but back in the days of fanfiction.net she got slut shamed so badly for having been romantically interested in three of the male characters over the course of the show, which is just... normal straight woman behavior, meanwhile Merlin crushed on pretty much every woman who even looked at him in the early seasons of the show and got no hate for that whatsoever. I barely even read Merthur fics (not because it’s m/m, just because certain aspects of their relationship don’t appeal to me) but the “Gwen is a slut” attitude was so pervasive across the fandom, even fics that weren’t explicitly anti-Gwen would “jokingly” call her a slut. I even saw a few fics demonizing her for having an affair with Lancelot despite the fact that SHE WAS ENCHANTED when that happened, and surprise surprise, Lancelot (who was also under the influence of magic) got none of that hate, and neither did Arthur, who got enchanted to fall in love with multiple women over the course of the show.

Canonically Arthur Pendragon's love interest and an important and interesting character in the show who's completely shoved aside and ignored in favour of the medieval bbc yaoi ship. At best they put her and Morgana in Lesbian Timeout (ie make them get together and then reduce them to wingwomen at best because god forbid we focus on the medieval bbc yuri). Justice for Gwen right now!

She is prince Arthur's love interest (eventually wife). Arthur is MADLY in love with her. He tells his tyrannical father he would give up his crown to be with her (she's a servant in the series). He forgives her cheating on him with Lancelot (!), which in the show is caused by an evil enchantment, but the characters never find out about it. He chooses her time and time again. His love for Gwen is literally never put into question. Many fans insist to this day that there was no chemistry between Gwen and Arthur compared to Arthur and Merlin. Arthur isn’t even particularly nice to Merlin most of the time! The funny thing is that Merlin himself ships these two so hard and does everything he can to help them get together!! Gwen & Arthur are adorable and too many fans were drunk on the yaoi fumes to see it. ARTHUR WAS A SIMP FOR GWEN.

Iris Hawthorne

Ex gf of the MC i lover her ok she is sweet

Phoenix wright’s canon ex girlfriend. Extremely underappreciated because people ignore her to make narumitsu work better

poor girl gets slandered by the fandom so much for being the main character’s ex. i know she was used primarily for the plot but cmon everyone’s just so mean to her. she was manipulated into doing terrible things by her sister whom she loves so much and she didn’t know any better because all she wanted was to have a family. it’s not an excuse for her actions but it’s just so tragic that she did everything for her sister just for her to use her for her own personal gain

[tallatonk]

The hideduo fic i promised. Any comments or thoughts on this are appreciated, this is still a work in progress! Fic is under the cut.

tw: small tiny cannibalism mention, teehee

When You’re Too Scared To Say I Love You

Fit grabbed the nearest book and erased its contents in a rush. The pit in his stomach swelling, the urge to write this letter for Pac is strong. He had so much to say and so little time, the sense that someone, or something, was watching him plagued him all day.

A shaky breath left him as he picked up his pen to write. 

“Dear Pac,” he mumbled as he scribbled through the book. “I miss you so much, I wish you were here right now.” Fit stared into the page, god he can’t say that.

This was so embarrassing. Not that loving Pac was embarrassing, but rather trying to pour his heart out about exactly what he was feeling was. The world suddenly felt like it was going to implode, leaving him to pick up the pieces of his mind he never shared with the man. Yet here he was, too scared to write a few simple words.

He’s one of the toughest people on the server, hardened by the years of 2b2t. His life had been and still is filled with pain, war, and the type of things that would put fear into most. But out of all of that, this scared him the most. This was the first thing in years to make his palm sweat and feel as if he was on hardcore mode.  

It was both infuriating and infatuating, the way Pac affected him this much almost too much but not enough at the same time.

Fit pressed his hands into his face, as if it would help his internal battle, groaning to himself he looked towards the letter again. He can do this, he’s got this. He felt that deep sleep feeling coming, so this had to happen. He had to write this letter. He deleted what he wrote before, forcing his thoughts to focus on a new letter..

He’d restart the letter over and over again as long as he could, the best for Pac.

“I haven't seen you in many days, I hope you are enjoying your sleep. I have been feeling very tired recently and I feel like I will be having a very long sleep soon,” his heart felt it was beating out of his chest as he thought about the possibility he wouldn’t be able to see Pac again. He continued, pushing those negative thoughts in the back of his mind . “If I don’t see you for a while, I want you to know how special you are to me.” That's it, he thought after mumbling those last words, this is how he’ll say it.

Fit paused, reading his words over as though he finally said it to Pac in person.

“I know we haven’t been able to spend much time together, but you are always on my mind. It doesn’t matter how often you spend time with someone, it matters how much you think about them.” The American's eyes begin to sting, he pretends it's the sudden tiredness rather than the tears threatening to fall.

 “The next time I see you, I have a lot of things I want to say. Good things, don’t worry.” He lets out a small, bittersweet laugh as a warm tear runs down his cheek. Would he even be able to say what he wants when he sees Pac next? He can barely get down what to say in a letter, but in person?

It feels impossible. 

He shakes his head and smiles to himself, he’ll do this the only way he knows how. 

“But until then, I hope you are doing well and enjoying yourself. Also, my robe has been SUPER soft since you gave it back to me, so I owe you! I’ll have more fofoca soon! Yours truly, Fit.” He covers his feelings with jokes, just like always.

Something that Pac probably figured out about him by now.

--

The pain was nauseating, the wounds scoring down his chest to his stomach made him want to curl up and die. Fit was stuck in this cave for 2 weeks. 2 weeks surrounded by dead bodies and rock. 2 weeks of being on half a heart and unable to eat anything. The desire to go back to his old ways called to him, to consume the rotted flesh in front of him. He couldn’t do it, with everything Madagio told him– these were their friends, their fellow island members. 

--

Fit threw his head back in agony and screamed. He screamed until his lungs hurt, until his face grew red. He didn’t stop until he was sure the whole empty island heard him. His voice broke as he began to sob. Fit was stuck here, all alone. Things always came back to this, him all alone surrounded by the dead.

--

How i want it to finish--- Something something he doesn't wanna eat people, he breaks down and cries, he screams at the bodies and Madagio, and regrets not telling Pac he loves him. He cries out that he loves him and that he wishes he can see him again. He thinks he's gonna die down here, he mentions that at least he’ll see Max and the dead eggs again, and maybe even get to punch Spreen for leaving him and Ramon.

[papyrusweekblog]

Papyrus week! April 16 – April 22

 (ID: Image of one of Undertale’s official stickers. Papyrus is smiling and happily crying, trying to dry off his tears with a tissue. There are letters above him that read, in all caps, “You’re nice!! You’re too nice!!”  / end ID)

Greetings! This is the first time I ever prepare an event, so trust me I will not be any good at it, but I really love Papyrus and I’ve always wanted to participate in a week appreciation about him, so I might as well make one myself!

The tag for this event will be #papyrusweek2023 and it will start on April 16 and end on April 22

 Read more for all the information:

 Rules:

-This event is for Undertale Papyrus, you can include your own version of Deltarune Papyrus too, but I would prefer the focus wasn't on AUs. However, Papyrus redesigns or human versions of the character are the exception, absolutely post these if you want!

-I want to keep this event sfw, please don't post any suggestive or nsfw content in the papyrus week tag

-Please I ask that you do not draw yellowface Frisk and/or Kris if you include either of them

-No misgendering of characters, not any erasure of characters’s canon identities, no bigotry or hate of any kind

-If you make content about the no mercy run or a couple of neutral runs do tag it properly, it can be upsetting to see for some people

-Of course, inc*st and p*dophilia are not allowed, get out of here. Yes, this includes Frisk and Chara, they are children. This includes Flowey too, there is debate on how old he is but he very clearly behaves like a child, and whether you agree or not I do NOT want to see him being shipped with Papyrus, keep that content out of this event

-While I didn't include a 'ship' day you can absolutely draw ship content, Papyton is allowed here or any other ship (that is normal and doesn’t involve inc*st or p*dophilia. I would prefer to not see selfcest either)

-You can pretty much do anything: drawings, fics, character analyses, videos, music, etc. Have fun!

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

 Days:

April 16, day 1: Hobbies and Jobs

Let's start with an easy one: Papyrus's interest in puzzles, cooking and the royal guard! Papyrus cares deeply about anything he is interested in, even beyond the examples I just mentioned (being cool online, cars, etc). There is even a possibility for him to be The Monster Ambassador! Lots of things to choose, pick whichever you want!

  April 17, day 2: Battles

You're blue now, that's his attack. Papyrus's fight is really interesting isn't it? He has so many cool attacks, he's the only monster able to not kill you, and he might be incredibly strong...? It's a shame we couldn't see his special blaster attack, but if you want you want, you could show us! Or maybe even more interesting ideas for different Papyrus battles! Or simply appreciate the one we have and listen to Bonetrousle all day

  April 18, day 3: Family

Papyrus has a really cool brother, not as cool as he is but still pretty great. Some say he might also have a mysterious scientist dad/grand father/brother.....? We don't know much but that sounds pretty great too!

  April 19, day 4: Friendship

Papyrus wants to be popular, popular, popular! But perhaps what's most important is the friends that care about you for who you really are. And luckily, Papyrus has found friends like that along the way!

  April 20, day 5: Give up giving up

Papyrus is a character that has been very misunderstood in the past, from being reduced to a comic relief to being seen as nothing but an innocent naive character. But Papyrus is a very complex character: he has insecurities, he has flaws, he believes in kindness no matter what, and there are just a lot of things we don't know about him. For some reason we haven't seen him in Deltarune yet...? While we wait for him, let's show everyone how interesting Papyrus is!

  April 21, day 6: Free day

Make whatever content you want! Headcanons, fun ideas that you want to share, ships, post-game stuff, etc. Impress Papyrus with your creativity

  April 22, day 7: Papyrus

We have focused on everything that revolves Papyrus, now it's time for Papyrus himself! What do you love about this character? Do you think he is cool? Let's show Papyrus how many fans he really has

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

 And that’s all! I apologize for being very new at this but I’ll try my best. Most importantly, if you decide to participate even if it’s just for one day, thank you and have fun!

[rose-tinted-vision]

Fic: 只为他 袖手天下 | For him, I can renounce the world

Fandom: White Cat Legend (大理寺少聊游）

Relationship: Qiu Qingzhi/Li Bing, Qiu Qingzhi & Yi Zhi Hua

Summary:

“I wonder what happened to you, for you to become like this?” You. Qiu Qingzhi thinks. You.

In which Qiu Qingzhi would do anything to keep the one he loves safe, even if it means ruining himself.

[read it on ao3] | also why isn't QQZ/LB a tag on ao3...

“Li Bing’s funeral procession got attacked on its way out of the city,” his men hurriedly reports, and Qiu Qingzhi’s blood runs cold. He needs to make sure that Li Bing is okay, he needs to know who it is who dared to attack the one he loves, he needs vengeance, he needs—

He digs his nails into his palms to center himself, forcing his mind to focus instead of jumping to conclusions. He is now a General, he has dozens of men at his disposal– but that would only put Li Bing in danger, if he mobilised so many men for him– it would only turn the attention of the Yong’an Elders onto him.

A pair of wild green eyes flashes across his memory, those words thrown around so confidently, “my blood can extend your life, so that you’ll never die!”

Yi Zhi Hua can help, he desperately thinks. He does not know what that demon finds so interesting in him, does not know if he would even answer the call, but it is the only idea he can think of.

Qiu Qingzhi drags his palm across his blade, ignoring the sting as he waits for what feels like eternity in the few seconds it takes for the demon to arrive.

His blood sings with the need to destroy, to crush whoever dared to insult Mr Li’s name.

“No,” he snatches his hand back as Yi Zhi Hua reaches for it, “help me to find someone. Kill the people attacking him, revive him, if he’s dead.”

“Why would I do that?” the damned cat says, though his eyes sharpen with interest, Qiu Qingzhi notes. He would be, it is the first time he has reached out to the other, instead of waiting for the demon to approach him out of boredom.

“Help me, and I'll play your game. I'll help you to find what you are looking for, or catch you again, whatever it is you wanted.”

“Qiu Qingzhi, begging for help! I’ll remember this day!” Yi Zhi Hua sneers, “Alright, since you asked so nicely, who is it?”

—

Please be okay, Qiu Qingzhi begs, spurring his horse to go as fast as she could– he would spoil her rotten later in apology– he can only pin his hopes on a flighty demon now, hope that his bargain was alluring enough for him to uphold his end of the deal.

He has not felt so afraid before. Qiu Qingzhi, who has been on multiple battlefields, who had to learn how to survive on the streets, who had fought and captured a feral demon cat, has never felt such all-encompassing fear before.

Fear that he would arrive to see Li Bing already dead, killed alongside the rest of the procession, or Li Bing with his neck slit open by the damn cat. It was a damn near suffocating fear, choking him from the inside out.

(Never did he imagine that he would see a white cat).

Qiu Qingzhi feels like throwing up.

He had asked for Yi Zhi Hua to save Li Bing, had not questioned his methods in his desperation for Li Bing to just be alive.

“Oh? How interesting, that’s a new expression, I haven’t seen that one before!”

Distantly, his alarm bells are going off– warning him that he is revealing too much in front of this demon, that this would one day come back to bite him– but he finds his composure slipping away until he is grasping at nothing, too distraught at the sight of the unconscious cat in front of him.

What has he done to his friend?

He had been so desperate to cling onto the silver of light in his life that he essentially ruined Li Bing. The only person who ever saw him as anything other than a slave, the only person who has shown him unfaltering kindness, who provided him with a shelter over his head.

He hears the demon scurrying off, crowing in delight at the discoveries he has made tonight, and still Qiu Qingzhi can only stare at the vulnerable state of his friend, whose fur was as white as his hair. So white that he nearly blends in with the snow falling around them.

Hair that had turned white prematurely– all because Qiu Qingzhi had been too late, too weak, too slow to protect Mr Li.

But because he is General Qiu, commander of the Jinwu guards and currently the fixation of a wild demon cat, Qiu Qingzhi composes himself with a shaky breath. He would have preferred to sit here and wait until Li Bing woke up and explain himself to the other, but he had summons that could not be ignored, and men to command.

(He had already revealed too much by running off at first sight of the news).

Qiu Qingzhi allows himself one last glance at Li Bing, and turns to leave.

His stomach churns with guilt as he makes his way back. Guilt that he was leaving Li Bing all alone in that state, guilt that he was all alone in this world now, guilt at his selfish relief that Li Bing was still alive, despite it all.

The urge to turn back and scoop the white cat into his arms and bring him back with him was overpowering. But he was under heavy scrutiny from Yong’an, and there were many who coveted his position, others who would stop at nothing to bring him down. He could not allow that, not with the Li family in ruins and Li Bing so vulnerable. Qiu Qingzhi would get to the bottom of this– the Zixu war, Yi Zhi Hua’s origins, and the extermination of the Li family– he owed as much to Li Bing and his father.

(He needed more power, if he wanted to be able to protect Li Bing).

---

@randomingoftherandomness - thank you for introducing me to this show and this ship haha

@wuxia-vanlifer - I finished the show!!! :>

[maewritez]

The Fist That Threw The Punch - Crosshair x Reader

Been a while since I wrote anything, so please bear with me. Took inspo from a fic I wrote FOREVER ago.

1.7k words... enjoy

Warnings: Slight angst, mentions of blood, one sided fist fight?

Tried to keep Reader GN, if I slipped up, let me know

The transport buzzed with noise, the troopers glad to have some shore leave if only for a few rotations, the constant battle leaving everyone exhausted. As the medic for the 212th, you were especially exhausted, these boys had a tough time in the field with constant injuries. The only bright side to all the injuries you may ask? The troopers take you out for a night at 79’s as a thank you for every shore leave and having been with the battalion a while, you frequented the clone bar on your off days after stocking up for the med bay. The air was cold on Coruscant, made worse coming from whatever hot, humid planet you’d just been deployed.

“You coming to 79’s?” Boil nudged you with his shoulder on his way off the transport. A group of the troopers already headed in that direction.

“I’ll meet you there.” You said, a tired smile on your face. A nod and smile is all you got in return from the soldier.

The walk to barracks was only a short one from the landing platform, just long enough that you found yourself shivering halfway there. The streets were empty, it was already dark out when you landed not even an hour ago, the only noise coming from the direction of the barracks as you neared it. You became easily lost in thought over the journey, thinking about your now empty med bay, the best spot to get a caf in the morning, what chaos your boys have in store for the night, you missed the sound of the footsteps until they were too close. A large hand grabbed your shoulder and picked you up, spinning you with such force your eyes spun.

“I thought that was you!” A boisterous voice coming from the man in front of you. Though you were still too dizzy to focus on his face, you could recognize the voice of the gentle giant.

“It’s nice to see you too Wrecker.” He grinned in response. “What are you doing all alone Doc? Not very safe out here.”

“I could ask you-” You were cut off by the rest of the batch, scolding Wrecker running ahead, leaving what looked like a heavy box behind.

“But Sarge… Look who I found!” The large puppy of a man moving out of the way, revealing your smaller frame to the rest of the batch.

You’d grown close to the commandos over your many missions with them, Cody often calling them in for extreme situations, even more so after discovering your crush on the sniper.

“Haven’t seen you since Anaxes.” The Sergeant greeted you with a half hug.

“Much too long.” Tech agreed, having tossed you a little smile over his holopad. You think he just liked not being the one responsible for his brothers injuries for any period of time, having a soft spot for you knowing how often they can get injured on their ‘suicide missions’ as Hunter calls them. You pull Echo in for a hug, having grown especially close to the cyborg of the group when you tended to his situation after Anaxes, the batch having scared away any reg medic. You tossed a soft smile to Crosshair, though he gnawed away on a toothpick not giving you so much as a glance.

“I’m headed to 79’s if you guys want to join?” You offered the group

“I’m in!” Wrecker exclaims, not needing a reason to drink. His excitement about the invite was met with a scoff and eye roll from Crosshair.

“It could be wise, alcohol consumption stimulates cortisol secretion and lowers the body’s stress levels.” Tech said, his hand with a lifted finger in his matter-of-fact tone. Hunter and Echo nodded in response, prompting Crosshair to cave in, after all… what’s the worst that could happen?

You agreed to meet the batch there after changing into your civvies, knowing you now need to dress up a bit more than you originally planned, wanting to impress Cross even if only a little. Digging through what little civvy clothes you still owned, you decided on tight denim pants, with a short red shirt that complimented your chest, and paired it with black boots and a black jacket. A taxi had you there in no time, tossing a couple credits to the driver before making your way into the bar.

It was crowded as always, the dark bar illuminated only by the neon signs. You wedged yourself between Boil and Crys at the bar, easily noticing the yellow and white armor, ordering whatever sweet drink you spotted first. Conversation flowed between the three of you, having finished your drink and picking up a second. You began looking around for the batch, eyes scouring the dark corners that you knew they frequented. Before you could excuse yourself from your current conversation, you spotted a gorgeous Twi’lek with the batch. Skin a soft shade of blue, with long head tails and skimpily clad. Your stomach dropped a bit, knowing you couldn’t compete with the way the batch looked at her, at the way Crosshair looked at her.

You downed the half a drink in front of you, before excusing yourself to the ‘fresher. Splashing some water on your face, you began to reevaluate yourself. Crosshair had never shown an ounce of interest in you, the most you’ve spoken to him at a time being when you had to patch up a nasty blaster shot to his side, the rest being brief responses to any and all attempts at conversation. The look on his face as he stared at the Twi’lek, one of desire, not one you’ve seen thrown your way. He doesn’t like you.

The revelation hurt, a jolt of pain crossing your chest as you took a deep breath. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you decided that you deserved the attention, even from someone else. Adjusting your outfit to better showcase your assets, you made your way back to the bar, this time settling yourself away from the 212th and near a battalion unknown to you. You shot another look towards where the batch were seated, seeing Crosshair with an arm around the Twi, looking in your direction, signature scowl on his face followed the look of realization as you began to converse with the attractive soldier to your left.

Fond of the clone clad in dark green stripes, you began your advances. Flirting not being your strong suit, you took up a couple tips from Jedi Master Kenobi. A wide smile, soft laughter, stray compliments tossed in here and there. It didn’t take long before you were on your fourth drink of the night, with every change in topic you leaned in a bit closer to the clone you learned called himself Steel. It felt like hours since you‘d thought about the grouchy sniper, talking about anything and everything with the trooper in front of you from battles won to favorite activities on shore leave to personal details, your favorite detail being the tattoos that covered his body.

“Each of these represent a fight,” He gestured to his body, “I’ve got a couple more that might interest you if you’re ready to get out of here for the night.” Your finger traced the dark black lines covering his biceps, lips getting closer until you could taste the Corellian ale he’d been drinking.

The shattering of glass caught your attention first, before a fist met Steel’s face, blood now running from his nose. His attacker fled after the one solid hit, though you couldn’t see his face, you saw a tall head of silver hair fleeing the bar. Handing over some napkins to reduce the bleeding, you couldn’t help yourself from chasing after the sniper, a couple napkins still clutched in your fist. He wasn’t hard to find, not having made it far from the bar. Scowl across his face and popped a fresh toothpick between his lips, tracing down his arms you could see his fist which was turning a deep shade of purple decorated with some red splotches.

Wordlessly you walked up to him, grabbing his hand to inspect it closer, his trigger hand. You began to dab at it, wiping away the blood though none of it is. Gently running your fingers across his knuckles you deemed them all intact, though definitely bruised. You spared a glance at his face, words still not falling from his lips. It took everything you had, between the shock and intoxication, to mutter the single word.

“Why?”

He stayed silent, watching you a moment longer. Your fingers tenderly run across his hand, assessing any other damage, cleaning the blood away. He knew he didn’t deserve your kindness right now, maybe not ever.

“He’s a reg.” The usually sharp tone in his voice is gone, replaced with what could only resemble defeat. “What of it?”

“He’s a kriffing reg.” Venom dripped from his words this time. “You deserve better.”

“Who are you to talk about what I deserve?” You snapped at him, no longer willing to put up with his attitude. You stand now, releasing his hand, knowing Tech is more than capable of fixing any other issues. “Goodnight Crosshair.”

You turn to leave, not making it more than two steps before a warm hand grabs your wrist. Opening your mouth to snap at him once more, your words are cut short for a second time tonight, this time by warm lips pressed to your own.

The kiss is hard, but full of emotion, lasting a few seconds but enough to get the point across. Your eyes meeting his, you kissed him again, more aggressively this time, warmth filling your chest until you let go. No words were exchanged, none needed to be. You made your way back inside to where the batch still sat in their corner, no Twi’lek in sight.

“Finally!” Wrecker shouted, the sight of your slight swollen lips giving everything away. Shooting an apologetic glance towards where Steel now sat with his brothers, you scooched yourself closer into the booth, holding the fist that threw the punch.

[elekinetic]

user elekinetic do you have any tips to spare for outlining fics 😭 i feel like I word vomit any of the concept that I have in my head, and dialogue ,and build off that adding paragraphs as I go and I go so slow bc of it. But ive been trying hard lately to write a list of “scenes” and bullet point the story but yeah.

do you know anything that could help me have an idea of where to go start to finish instead of starting at the random spot I’ve come up with first? I waste so much writing time because I haven’t built a backstory for characters and things like that so i don’t always know how they start the story off, only the situation they’re in. Is that something that could help? Making a list for each character or something? Would love to hear your thoughts thank you! <3

hi! first of all i’m so flattered you asked! to be clear, i am a very slow writer too lmao and i’m relatively new to prose writing, and though in very confident in my understanding of what makes a good story (W screenwriting), i am still figuring out my outlining process. but hey! let’s learn together.

sorry in advance for how long this is. i love talking.

so i basically figure everything out in the outline and write after i feel very good about it. if you have a strong foundation, everything gets a hell of a lot easier. t kind of sounds like your process might be similar to mine, so i’m just gonna explain what i'm doing for my current project.

my key document is my “bible.” i split it up into a couple different sections using page breaks (page breaks my best friend ily page breaks):

pitch/word vomit summary

scene ideas

outline

notes

ok so wtf does that mean.

1. pitch/word vomit summary — explain your concept. bc i've got a film/tv background, im starting off with my logline. (e.g. "after robin learns will is gay, they have a heart to heart in an abandoned video store about insecurity and feeling alone. they learn they're not." sometimes i'll follow that up with a note to myself like, "this fic isn't robin finding out, this is what happens after. starts with her already knowing. will pov, focus on his perception of robin changing. subtly reference toward feelings about mike, dont come out (haha) and say it") then, i write as MUCH of the concept down as i can, like i'm explaining it to a friend. (sometimes i copy and paste rants from dms directly into the document). it can be totally out of order, non-sensical, contradictory. just get as many of your ideas down as possible. you want to be able to come back to this and be like, oh i totally forgot about that. vague chapter summaries, personal notes about themes, whatever you want. i have a list of beats that you find in romantic dramas for inspiration and a paragraph abt ways i want to parallel/subvert s3 of st. just. go ham. 2. scene ideas — this is pretty self explanatory. i take some of the stuff i have in the p/s and flesh it out, or put down new ideas. this is where i'm writing out dialogue in bullet points, or what i want them to be Really Saying. (e.g. "mike: [panics bc he feels seen, tries to flip it back on (redacted) and fails] ") this is for when i can see stuff more clearly or i get out of the shower with a whole exchange in my head. gonna be out of order, a little all over the place. 3. outline — so. this is where you start piecing it together. put the bullet points in order. figure out objective of each scene and what needs to happen to accomplish that goal. figure out pacing, what needs to happen when. this step is where im looking at dialogue and thinking "why does mike say that? why does he feel that way? what needs to happen to get him to this point emotionally?" or looking at scenes and thinking "these are two scenes with people arguing back to back. lets make sure they feel different and give the characters different tactics to get what they want (byler argument where mike is avoiding will vs max argument where max is avoiding lucas. i could use this to highlight similarities and differences in the relationships, but having two scenes with the same tactics back to back might feel repetitive. maybe i move the scenes farther apart or change circumstances. maybe mike and will are having a veiled argument while theyre with a group of friends in a public space and max and lucas' argument is outside max's house.) also asking if conflicts are resolved too quickly, if the miscommunications feel too convenient, if characters disappear or are only around as plot devices. write. troubleshoot. repeat. 4. random notes — everything else that doesnt fit. for me this is literally just taylor swift lyrics (writing the fic vaguely off of a Specific Song that SHOULD BE STREAMED MORE WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE anyway) and links to posts i use as character reference to make sure im staying true to the characters. (remembering will said "i was being a total jerk to el, i deserved it," AND "you're ruining everything, and for what!"/"i wasn't moping!")

i want it to be clear im doing all of this at the same time. im jumping around and pulling new ideas and rearranging as stuff changes. i think the thing that's really hard is that i want to be able to sit down, write the outline, and then move on. but for us scatterbrained writers, you're gonna have to re-outline and readjust like. a thousand times. and that's okay. that's good! it feels tedious as hell but the story is so much better for it.

take your time. let yourself be slow. keep finding holes in your story and fill the world in as you fix them.

here are some more questions i ask myself to make the story better:

What are you trying to accomplish over the course of the story? What is it about? (for the will&robin fic, it was something about feeling seen for the first time.) When you get lost in your story or aren't sure why a scene feels stale, come back to this. is the scene furthering that goal?

What is changing internally for each of your main characters? (yes theyre dating by the end but like. what do they learn.)

Are the side characters people or props? (will pov scene of a party-wide picnic where everyone's talking but will is focused on mike's hands.... where is max's head at in the scene? you don't have to have a super long backstory and she doesn't have to be a big part of the plot, but if she's saying something, figure out why she's saying it. if will is having a heart to heart with el, understand why el is responding the way she is. the scene's goal may be to get will through a breakthrough, but el's circumstances will change in the scene too. figure out how this conversation lands with her. oh, and remember the adults are people too!)

Why is this character saying this/why are they responding this way? (this should answer your "where do i start?" question. start in that random spot and figure out A) why they are there and B) why they are reacting the way they do (see last bullet point).

side note: some of the best advice i ever got was "enter the scene late, exit early." skip the prologue. try starting from that random spot. if it feels like something's missing, figure out exactly what that something is, and go from there

Do the stakes feel high enough?

What do i need to set up to make sure this scene/beat is satisfying as possible? (are will and mike going to have a big argument? oh, so we have to show tension before.... BAM you have another scene to write and your outline is fuller)

i could go on a lot longer but. basically.

i edit while i write. i'm someone who needs a very fucking strong outline and a very fucking clear idea of the story before i can start writing it. i'm putting probably 70-80% of the leg work in at the start so i can focus on making the prose (or script, most of the time) the best it can be.

THAT BEING SAID, this is just the way i do it and i have like. a fic and a half published. im taking my sweet time bc im creatively burned out and this is for fun first and foremost. like i said. i am a Very Slow Writer.

i highly, highly recommend hitting up the ask boxes of writers like @/strangeswift, @/wiseatom, @/astrobei, or @/andiwriteordie. no guarantees on responses bc they are busy ppl with busy lives but i really do think theyre some of the best writers out here right now, and im not just saying that bc they're my friends. abby (strangeswift) and i have been each other's sounding board through a lot of projects and she's almost done with one of her first Big Fics, so its worth asking her about that.

i hope this helps! ah!!

[hetalianskywalker]

Day 8: Choosing to Help

Pairing: Mer Vaughn x Jedi Reader

Summary: Sometimes helping is more than worth the danger.

Author’s Note: So I know I haven’t given much detail on the Jedi in this AU. And that will change in tomorrow’s fic. So sorry if anything is confusing here because of that. Hopefully, there isn’t. Also, when you see the prompt… get your mind out of the gutter. It’s not gonna go down that route. 🤣

Warnings: some references to war trauma and this world’s version of order 66. But I think that’s it.

Word Count: 814

Prompt: A squid with human eyes must not be harmed, thrown back as quickly as possible. I’ve seen too many good fishermen cursed to let it happen again. 

Prompt 3062 by deepwaterwritingprompts

The whole fishing boat goes deadly silent when they see what was in your hands. The massive fishing net had been pulled onto the deck. Among all the fish, you had seen the wriggling tentacles of an oddly colored squid; it was white and blue with a little bit of orange. You had slowly picked it up only to be met with a pair of brown human eyes. You just stood there unmoving and soon the whole crew stood around you with a meter of distance.

A gunshot draws you all out of your almost trance like state. Your captain stands with his flint lock pistol aimed at the sky.

“Don’t hurt it and throw it back.” No one moves. “Now! Do you want to be cursed!?” They all scramble out of your way as you dash to the railing. You hold your arms out to drop it in the water only for the tentacles to wrap around your arm. You hear the other sailors gasp behind you.

To your surprise though, it’s gentle and it looks at you expecting something. What’s worse is that you know exactly what it wants, but you can’t blow your cover here.

“Please let go.” You plead. It blinks at you for a long tense moment before it does just that. You let out a sigh of relief as the ship immediately begins heading for shore.

You have never had so many good luck charms thrown at you. The Mer who show interest like that don’t just give up and they all know that wasn’t the end. The Captain is just relieved he was able to save your life. However, for the safety of himself and the rest of the crew, he asks you to find different work. You are a bit annoyed but you don’t hold it against them.

And they are right this wasn’t over; you soon see that squid in the river that ran along the road home. You shiver, but don’t shrink away from it. In fact, you kneel down at the sandy river bank as he comes up to you. This river connects into the ocean you remember as he stops in front of you; you should have taken another way home.

“If I do this for you, they’ll know I’m here.” You want so badly to turn him away, but the pleading look those eyes give you makes you cave. You had seen and felt so many men with those same eyes die around you during the war. Even after your Mer clones tried to kill you, their dying cries on the battlefield still haunt your dreams.

You extend your hand out into the water and softly begin to chant. The squid swims up to you and you feel the slimy skin under your fingers. He waits patiently as you slowly transfer your raw magic to him; even with all your Jedi training, bringing suppressed magic back to the surface is difficult. You close your eyes, trying to increase your focus; you have to hurry.

A loud gasp of an all too familiar voice fills the air and you stop chanting. Your vision swims and the Mer clone’s arms barely catch you before you hit the shallow water.

“Easy. I got you, sir.” You laugh even though it makes your head hurt. You cuddle into him. You shouldn’t after what had been done to you by his brothers, but you have been alone for what feels like forever. It is nice to be held again.

“I’m not a general anymore.” You say softly. You feel him slowly get to his feet, but you can sense his uncertainty. You slowly examine his blue and white armor, recognizing the famous battalion color. “You have been stuck inside a squid since before the end of the war huh?”

“The war is over?” You have a lot to fill him in on and very little time to do so. The Inquisitors will be here soon; you know it.

“We need to run. I am now a wanted fugitive and you are property of the new empire.” You can sense his confusion and fear, but he hold you to him protectively. You could cry; you haven’t felt protected and safe in a long time. Slowly, you look up at the orange and white helmet, recognizing the pattern from an old friend. Those brown eyes from earlier meet yours and you can see black curls with blue tips sneaking out under the helmet.

“I’m Captain Vaughn.” He begins moving quickly toward your home, going the direction you had been headed before. “Gather your strength. I’ll protect you. I promise.”

Once you grab your kyber sword, you and Vaughn steal a small ship in the dead of night. He is able to activate the runes to get the ship in a hyper current just as your Inquisitor executioners arrive.