#but on the other. like. im writing it in one year. of course it reflects my feelings in that year -sighs-

[cielospeaks]

im also realizing how much kasumiverse parallels my real life experiences since its broken nicely up into years

b2 (2018)- stereotypical romance but actually not bad i reread it today, as my life was probably the most stereotypical and no stakes (or very small stakes) romantic at that time

b3 (2019)- trying to be happy but actually extremely sad, trying to find normalcy in the face of feeling super down all the time, and at the same time being aware that im kinda pathetic

b4 (2020)- fucking redemption arc baby! starting to be like “im not gonna let this bad situation define me” and just powering through and becoming better for it too

b5 (2021)- loredump time! idk. complicated but like. more maturely (and verbosely) handled than before. like a mix of everything but also worldbuildey and more wordy

b6 (2022)- the sads but in a more. the transient nature of life sorta way. very melancholy and almost like “twilight years” kinda vibe. like the end of things as they were sorta feeling

[tulipatheticee]

i've been waiting for you

violet bridgerton x youngest! daughter

bridgerton siblings x younger! sibling

synopsis; From the moment Edmund Bridgerton passed, leaving his wife widowed with eight children and one on the way, Violet found herself adrift until the arrival of Isadora, her youngest daughter. Isadora, quiet and calm, becomes Violet's constant companion in bustling Mayfair, offering solace and steadfast support at her mother's side.

word count; 1.3k

master list

a/n; i have arisen yet again, this is my first bridgerton fic so hello to the brigderton tag! i have archived all my old stuff because they are old and tbh the fandoms have died SO LET ME INTRODUCE MYSELF

my name is tulippa and im from sicily, im pretty confident in my english now but let me know if you see any errors! i mainly write fluffy family stuff like this, i love it idk. if you like this and want to see more like it let me know and ill provide for you! but its not like i wont write x reader romance cmon of course i will, but im best at parentxchild and siblings (PLATONIC ALWAYS DONT BE WEIRD) anyways i could go on and on but i wont, enjoy!!!

kinda proof read, kinda not, you've been warned

I'll carry you all the way

Violet Bridgerton had weathered many storms in her life, but none so devastating as the loss of her beloved husband, Edmund. His passing left her shattered, a widow with eight children to care for and another on the way. The pregnancy was fraught with complications, exacerbated by Violet's grief and the toll it took on her health.

Days turned into months as Violet withdrew into herself, mourning Edmund's absence even as life continued around her. Her family rallied, but Violet's sorrow was a heavy veil that separated her from them. It was during those long, solitary hours that she felt the weight of loneliness and the fear of losing both husband and child.

And you'll choose the day

The labour came unexpectedly, fierce and unforgiving. Violet's strength waned, her heart weary from loss and longing. The doctors and midwives worked tirelessly, their faces etched with concern. Hours passed like eternity until finally, a cry pierced the air—a fragile, yet determined cry that signalled new life.

Isadora was born amidst tears and relief, a tiny bundle of hope wrapped in Violet's trembling arms. The room, once fraught with fear, now glowed with a soft, golden light as mother and daughter gazed at each other for the first time. In that moment, everything seemed to still, and Violet knew she had been granted a miracle.

When you're prepared to greet me

She named her daughter Isadora, after the delicate Dahlia flower that Edmund had loved tending in their garden—a reminder of the beauty that bloomed even in the darkest of times.

As Isadora grew, she became Violet's constant companion, a beacon of joy and innocence in the Bridgerton household. Her older siblings doted on her, especially Anthony, Benedict, and Colin, who saw in her a reflection of their lost father's spirit. Isadora's laughter filled the halls of Bridgerton House and her curious mind sought solace in the quiet moments spent with her mother.

One afternoon, in the hushed serenity of the drawing room, Isadora sat at the pianoforte while Violet embroidered nearby. The soft melodies Isadora coaxed from the keys wove through the air, a testament to her growing talent and Violet's nurturing guidance.

"Does this sound right, Mama?" Isadora asked, her voice a melody in itself.

Violet looked up from her embroidery, a fond smile gracing her lips. "It sounds perfect, darling. You have a gift."

Isadora beamed with pride, her small hands continuing their dance over the keys. Despite her tender age, she played with a grace that belied her years, a testament to the bond she shared with her mother and the legacy of love that surrounded her.

I'll be a good mum, I swear

Anthony, Benedict, and Colin entered the room together, their voices low with shared memories and unspoken affection for their youngest sister. Anthony, ever the protective eldest brother, approached Isadora and knelt beside her.

"How are you today, Isa?" he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead.

"I am well, Anthony," Isadora replied, her gaze never leaving the keys. "Mama teaches me a new piece every day."

"Is that so?" Benedict chimed in, leaning over to peer at the sheet music. "You are quite talented, little one."

"Indeed," Colin added with a smile. "Father would have been proud."

Violet's heart swelled with bittersweet emotion at the mention of Edmund. She had feared she might forget the sound of his voice or the warmth of his touch, but in Isadora, she found echoes of him that kept his memory alive.

You'll see how much I care

"Mama, are you well?" Isadora asked suddenly, sensing the shift in her mother's mood.

Violet blinked back tears, her hand reaching out to clasp Isadora's. "I am well, my love. I am with you, and that is enough."

Isadora nodded solemnly, her understanding far beyond her years. Together, they continued their afternoon ritual, finding solace in music and shared moments that bridged the gap between past sorrows and future joys.

When you meet me

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

In the sunlit gardens of Bridgerton House, where the scent of roses mingled with the laughter of children, Isadora found herself in the company of her older sister, Hyacinth, and brother, Gregory. Despite their lively spirits, they adapted to Isadora's quieter demeanour, creating a harmony that transcended their differences.

You thrill me, you delight me

"Isa, look what I found!" Hyacinth exclaimed, holding a caterpillar in her small hands with excitement.

Isadora approached cautiously, her eyes widening with curiosity. "Oh, wow! What is it?"

Gregory, always eager to share his knowledge, chimed in, "It's a caterpillar, Isa! Hyacinth and I were just talking about how it turns into a butterfly."

Hyacinth nodded eagerly. "Yes, Isa! It's like magic! One day, it will have beautiful wings and fly everywhere!"

Isadora's face lit up with wonder. "That's amazing! Can I hold it?"

Hyacinth carefully passed the caterpillar to Isadora, who watched it crawl across her palm with fascination. Gregory leaned in, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. "Let's play tag, Isa! You're it!"

You please me, you excite me

Isadora giggled as Gregory darted away, Hyacinth joining in the chase. "Catch us if you can, Isa!"

Isadora laughed, her heart light as she chased after her siblings through the garden paths, their laughter mingling with the rustle of leaves and the gentle hum of bees. Despite their differences in temperament, they found joy in each other's company, weaving memories that would last a lifetime.

You're all that

I've been yearning for

— —- —- —- —-

In the quiet of evening, as the Bridgerton family gathered for supper, Isadora remained close to Violet's side. Gregory and Hyacinth, full of youthful exuberance, regaled their siblings with tales of mischief and adventure, and how Isadora won tag earlier in the afternoon. The three eldest Brigderton men shared the lovely pianoforte they witnessed Isadora performing in the morning and spoke of how she is progressing very, while Eloise, Francesca, and Daphne shared knowing glances over the table.

I love you, I adore you

"Isa, do you have to be better than us at everything?" Eloise teased playfully, nudging Isadora with her elbow.

Isadora looked up, a hint of confusing in her eyes, she went to speak before Violet interjected “ "Eloise is just being foolish, darling, she means well”

Isadora quickly understood and replied "I only wish to be like everyone else Eloise, you are so clever, and Francesca is so graceful, and Daphne—"

"—is the epitome of charm," Francesca finished with a smile, her gaze softening as she looked at her youngest sister.

I lay my life before you

Daphne reached across the table to tousle Isadora's hair gently. "You are quite the storyteller yourself, Isa. Perhaps one day you'll write tales that surpass even Eloise's wild adventures."

Isadora's face lit up with delight at the praise from her sisters. "Do you really think so, Daphne?"

"Absolutely," Daphne assured her. "You have a way with words and a heart as big as all of Mayfair."

I only want you more and more

Violet watched the exchange with a tender smile, her heart swelling with pride at the bond between her daughters. Despite the challenges they had faced as a family, moments like these reminded her of the joy that filled their lives.

And finally it seems

My lonely days are through

Later that night, as Isadora drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the love of her siblings, Violet tucked her in with a sense of peace. The Bridgertons, each unique in their strengths and passions, formed a tapestry of love and support that would guide Isadora through the years ahead.

I've been waiting for you

"You are so loved, Isadora," Violet whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her daughter's forehead. "Never doubt that."

Isadora stirred, a contented smile playing on her lips. 

I've been waiting…

And as Violet watched over her sleeping daughter, she knew that the bonds of siblinghood, and the enduring love of family would carry Isadora through any storm that life might bring.

…For you

pt2

a/n pt2; thats it guys :( i actually had so much fun writing this and if you want anymore of violet and isa or any of the siblings with isa let me know because i'd love for this to become a little oneshot series typa thing! your feedback is greatly appreciated <3

all my love!

~tulippa

[hugshughes]

this is me trying L. Fantilli

Luca Fantilli x fem!reader

synopsis - You just want Luca to know that you're trying.

wc - 2.5k

contains - cursing, academic burnout (self reflection...), crying, not feeling good enough, reader has an older brother, um suggestiveness??? (reader makes one joke), that's it! LMK!

an - im so sorry i kept you guys waiting... but happy thanksgiving, forgive me im so thankful for you guys. this was a bit more self indulgent than my other fics... THIS WAS SO LATE BECAUSE i wrote 2000+ words then they didn't save and so i literally cried over it and couldn't write for the rest literal week whenever i came back to it i was upset, like i was that sad guys. and i really don't love this because it just isn't as perfect as the first one i wrote was. anyways hope you love this!

-

i've been having a hard time adjusting. i had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting.

You were sick. Not like physical illness, go to the doctor and get medicine sick. You were sick of waking up every day, going to the same classes, eating the same food, coming home, sitting alone in your dorm, then falling asleep and doing it over again. But you couldn't afford to do anything else at the same time. If you wanted to get the grades you needed to pass your current classes, you were going to have to work your ass off.

You were always considered gifted. You took advanced classes all of high school, attending college-level courses in your junior year. Even in your freshman year at Umich, you passed with flying colors, but now, now it was different. You don't know why classes were so much harder now, and it was especially hard because everything had always been so easy.

Even with all of this, you had Luca. Luca had been your boyfriend since October of freshman year. He'd always stood by your side no matter what, but now it felt different. He'd never seen you like this, struggling so much with things you were known for being good at. You remember him telling you how proud he was when you had gotten a 98% on one of your final exams last year, you were worried he wouldn't be proud anymore.

As a child, you were conditioned into thinking that better grades meant better treatment from your parents. Your brother had been a star student always until he'd slacked off senior year and ended up going to a college he was way too smart for. When that happened, your parents decided you wouldn't be like your brother. You would go to a good school, and get good grades, and in exchange they would love you, at least that's how it felt.

i didn't know if you'd care if i came back, i have a lot of regrets about that.

All the love you'd ever known was for a price, your parents', your boyfriend's, even your brother's it was like you had to be good enough before they would consider you lovable.

You never felt this from Luca, but you never gave him a reason to think otherwise. You'd always been this smart girl for him, a girl he bragged about to his friends. The girl he could go to for help in classes.

You didn't mean to be pushing Luca away, but you were so stressed and didn't want to bring him into it.

I know I already said you weren't sick like an illness, but right now you felt gross. You were stuffy and coughing and had a pounding headache, but you had assignments due at 11:59 pm and they couldn't wait. It was 9:03 pm and it didn't look like you were gonna get any relief from class work for a while longer.

pulled the car off the road to the lookout. could've followed my fears all the way down.

You didn't even know you were crying until you saw tears fall onto your iPad screen, where you were currently writing notes for a quiz you had tomorrow. You felt completely helpless. You couldn't stop and let yourself wallow, because you had to get moving on your study guide.

You dropped your Apple Pencil and just buried your face in your hands, rubbing your eyes till you saw stars. Your pity party was interrupted by your phone ringing. Your phone was on your studying do not disturb so if someone's call was coming through it had to be Luca's.

You quickly tried to steady your breathing before swiping to answer the call.

"Hi?"

"Hey. So, what's with you totally skipping my game? You know that meant a lot to me."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. How did you forget? You were the worst girlfriend ever.

"Oh my God, Luca. I'm so fucking sorry, it completely slipped my mind, oh my God, I didn't even know. I had a really long day, baby, I'm so sorry."

You were trying not to cry even more, you didn't want Luca to think you were a crybaby. Crybaby. That's what your parents called you whenever you got like this, too much for them to love.

and maybe i don't quite know what to say,

Luca just sighed, upset. He was upset with you, and you couldn't fix it. You could hear rustling on Luca's end, and another voice. All of a sudden you were seventeen getting a call from your nineteen-year-old boyfriend while he cheated on you, while another girl laid with him.

but i'm here in your doorway.

You didn't think Luca would do that to you, you really knew he wouldn't. But that one part of you was just screaming that you'd proven yourself unworthy to him, that he was done.

i just wanted you to know,

"I just, I don't even know anymore. You haven't consistently talked to me in weeks, every time we do speak you're in your head, and you keep pushing things off and forgetting. I just don't know what I'm doing wrong here."

Fuck, you couldn't stop the floodgates now. You quickly sniffed, holding the phone away from you so he wouldn't hear, soaking the cuff of your sweatshirt sleeve with tears before trying to respond.

"No, no Luc, you're not doing anything wrong. The last month has just been tough, I just don't know how to tell you. I'm trying Luca, I am, and I'm sorry. I know it doesn't fix anything and you still have every right to be angry with me, I understand why-"

this is me trying.

"Hey, it's whatever, just don't worry about it."

No. No this couldn't happen like this. He couldn't be checking out of your relationship right now. You needed him, even if you didn't know how to tell him. You accidentally let out a whimper when you tried to speak, before shakily breathing a deep breath and trying again.

"No, it isn't. I'm not being good to you. I just- Fuck Luca I'm sorry I didn't mean to forget, and I'm not meaning to be such a bad girlfriend I just, there's just,"

"Just what?"

"I don't know how to tell you! I don't want you to think differently about me Luc. You've never seen me like this."

Your trauma was truly shining through, you were terrified of Luca thinking you weren't smart.

"Are you like uninterested now? You could just tell me, not lead me on! Not just ghost me!"

"No Luca! I love you so much, I'm in love with you. I just-"

You cut yourself off, letting out a stressed sigh, rubbing your eyes when you felt the tears prick in them.

i just wanted you to know,

You didn't know what to say, it was so complicated. Every time you ever tried to talk about this with your family they shut you down, told you you were wrong for feeling like you did, and you didn't want Luca to think those things too.

"I just can't do this stuff anymore,"

"What?"

this is me trying.

"I'm just not smart anymore, and everything is so hard. And I don't know how to talk to you about it 'cause I don't want you to think I'm not smart, but I don't think I am anymore."

"Oh, baby."

Luca was stunned, his girl was going through something and he was upset with her over a hockey game. He thought you were beginning to distance yourself from him because you started to be uninterested in him. He never would've assumed you were doing it because you were scared to talk to him. He never would've assumed you were scared he would think less of you.

"Hey, it's okay. Everything's gonna be alright, okay? How about I come over? We can talk more about everything and I know I'm not the brightest guy when it comes to all of your stuff but I could try to help. That okay, pretty?"

"Yes. Please, Angel. Need you right now."

"Okay, give me a couple minutes, I'll be right there. I love you, okay?"

"I love you, Luc."

Luca let you hang up, taking a deep breath and sitting for a moment just to take in what had just happened. He had a bad feeling in his stomach now, knowing how you were hurting. He quickly recovered and got up, putting his shoes and a hat on backward before leaving his dorm.

He walked fast through campus to get to your dorm building, the cold motivating him further. When he got to your dorm building, he quickly went up the stairs, taking two at a time, and to your room. You were in a single this year, so he wasn't worried about a roommate being bothered by his presence. He knocked on the decorated door gently, bouncing on his feet waiting for you.

they told me all of my cages were mental, so i got wasted like all my potential.

Luca could've sworn he felt his heart break when he saw your face, the exhaustion mixed with sadness wearing you down. He didn't say anything before jumping to wrap his arms around you, just holding you for a minute. You clung to him so tightly, you'd missed him so badly while digging yourself into a hole of isolation.

"Hi sweet girl."

You could've started crying again. He held you gently but firmly, and it was all you ever needed. You felt yourself relax for the first time in two and a half weeks.

and my words shoot to kill when i'm mad. i have a lot of regrets about that.

"Hi Luc"

You sniffled, and Luca just melted. He pulled away from you just a little, pulling his arms away so he could cradle your faces in his palms. You brought your hands up to rest on his wrists, rubbing your thumbs back and forth.

"I missed you, pretty."

You missed him like a little kid. But it was your fault you were ever apart.

i was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere.

"I missed you. 'M so sorry I isolated myself from you, I'm so fucking stressed right now. Everything is hard and it's scary 'cause it's never been hard like this for me, and I-"

fell behind all my classmates and i ended up here,

"I know baby. It is scary. College is just scary. And you are like the smartest girl I think ever so I know it's like even scarier for you when things don't make sense quickly, but it's gonna be okay. Because you have your amazing, talented, stud of a boyfriend to help you."

pouring out my heart to a stranger. but i didn't pour the whiskey.

You gave him a look, laughing for the first time in many days.

"He is pretty amazing, and talented, and hot, isn't he?"

i just wanted you to know, that this is me trying. i just wanted you to know, that this is me trying.

He nodded reassuringly, before putting his hands on your hips and pushing you back into your room, closing your door behind him.

"Damn, you just got here."

"Shut the hell up."

You laughed as you climbed up onto your bed, pulling Luca up next to you after he took his shoes off.

at least i'm trying.

"So, about this class. What do we need to learn?"

You explained how tonight you only really needed to do two things, finish a paper that was 75% done, and do another assignment that if you could figure out how to understand the concept, would be done in no time. You both snuggled close together while looking at the paper, Luca helping you through sentences you got stuck on. You finished the paper quickly, then pulled up your notes for the concept of the other assignment.

and it's hard, to be at a party when i feel like an open wound. it's hard to be anywhere these days when all i want is you.

At one point Luca took your laptop to read through the notes so you just turned over and rested your head on his chest, before seeing his gorgeous hair covered by a stupid hat grabbing it off of him, and putting it on your bedside table.

"No hats in my room."

"What? Since when?"

"Since I want to see your pretty hair, not the maize and blue hat I see every other day."

Luca just laughed, shaking his head and running his non-scrolling hand down your back. Luca somehow understood the concept and reiterated it to you in a way that made everything click. He was your good luck charm, you knew it. Everything made sense with him.

you're a flashback, in a film reel, on the one screen in my town.

You made him lay on your chest with your laptop resting on his back while you completed the assignment. One hand was in his hair while the other was gliding across the keyboard. You finished it in 20 minutes. And your chest felt so much lighter after you hit the submit button.

You closed your laptop, sliding it onto the floor before putting both of your hands into Luca's hair.

"I knew you could do it, baby. You just needed someone to tell you that."

"I love you."

"I love you so much."

Luca's arms around your middle tightened, and he moved his head to look up at you.

"I know you feel like you have to be this perfect person, baby, but I need you to know you don't have to do that for anyone, especially me. Because you are everything, and I can't take care of you if you're scared to talk to me about how you're feeling. I know your parents and other people make you feel like if you don't do good at school they will love you less, but you need to know that you could flunk out of school, and you would still be the most important person to me, okay?"

i just wanted you to know, that this is me trying.

You were crying. You pulled him somehow closer and hugged him so tight, pulling away after over a minute to give him a good long kiss that expressed your gratitude. Because you were, so fucking grateful. This boy had seen all of it, and still chose you, and would continue to choose you until his last breath.

(and maybe i don't quite know what to say,)

"Thank you, Angel. You don't know how much hearing that means to me. I love you, so so much."

"You're everything. I see that you're trying, and that is always gonna be enough."

i just wanted you to know, that this is me trying. at least i'm trying.

[onakomiyaki]

just a silly crush (not) pt.2

pairing : daniel ricciardo x childhood friend-brabham!reader

summary : your wall is starting to crumbling down, thanks to daniel. and the ice exterior you've been putting on for years started to melt, thanks to the daniel, the sunshine himself.

warning: unedited and rushed work, harsh words, slowburn.

a/n : we start to explore what's going on with y/n brabham. and honestly this is one of my favorite chapter to write so far!

most of juniors that tried to befriended you have one same goals; to get you to help them to get close to some of your friends-your driver friends of course. or maybe that's just how you've been treated your whole life when you grow up, so you just assume that they want you for something–link to the drivers in this case.

if there is something you know best about f1 is that it is a hot topic amongst your juniors in modelling world and oh how they wish to be one of the wags of the f1 drivers.

many have tried, from buying you some expensive gift, trying to go on a lunch date with you, or just be your matchmaker–which let's be honest, sound kind of dumb when you surrounded by some of good looking-breath-taking drivers, not only in f1 but on some other motorsports as well–and the list is still counting.

and you, by natural, got a lot of heat from it. but you're fine. by the end of the day you're still the one who spend some holidays with those drivers, not them.

but not even once succeeded to even own your private phone number.

"(y/n) you really need to be nice to your colleagues, the media is onto you again." anna, your manager, watch your reflection with annoyed expression.

"what is it now?" you simply ask, eyes closing as you massage your temple.

"you were voted as the most cold-hearted models to work with." she exclaim, walking towards your direction with ipad in her hand.

you just stare at the pad with unamused expression. you read the headline with a frown on your face, then let out a scoff.

"(Y/N) BRABHAM, THE EVERCHANGING ICE PRINCESS,"

"COLD AS THE ARTICS, HERE ARE (Y/N) BRABHAM'S ICONIC RESTING B**** FACE!"

"i honestly adore (y/n) so much, she's an icon. but it is-it is hard to get close to her. to make friend with her outside the work talk. almost like she build this wall around us."

"i remember she's constantly sat alone in the dressing room-sometimes she just sat there with her headphone on. and when she's alone no one dare to talk to her-she's just that intimidating!"

and there's more articles and some interview snippets from your junior about how unapproachable you are.

"ice princess? what am i, elsa from frozen?" you said, scrolling away.

"i told you to be nice to those young models, (y/n)." anna said, snatching the ipad from your hand.

you finally turn your body, looking up at your manager. "they only want me because they want to get to know my friends." you stated.

"well maybe they want to be your friends? can't you just humor them for once? it won't kill you to gave them some of your friends' numbers..." she asked, sitting down on the sofa, just across you.

"anna, im not trying to gatekeep those men. they are welcome to get to know lewis, lando, carlos, charles, max, esteban, pierre-"

"and daniel."

"-nope. not daniel, not a chance." you finally turn your body, pointing at anna with frown on your face.

"why not? you know him the longest i'm sure you'll find a model that will fit him as a girlfriend." she asked, throwing a little smirk at you.

"that's the problem, i've known him almost all my life! what if i introduce him to a wrong person then shit went downhill? what if they only want his money? i can't risk that anna." you said, voice gone an octave higher.

"(y/n) you know that's not true. that's just you being scared of nothing-"

"anna you don't understand! he is the one constant in my life that i can count on–he keep me grounded okay? i am me with him and the thought of losing him-"

"(y/n)-"

"‐point is im not gonna risk my friendship like that. especially with daniel. if they want to get to know those drivers, just attend the race, get a paddock pass or something. im sure if those drivers truly interested they will come." you finally stated, voice stern as you turn your back on your manager like a kid throwing small tantrum.

anna shakes her head in disbelief as she walk away from you, taking the ipad with her. "you're such a child sometimes."

"oh but you love me enough to stay with me for 10 years." you bite back.

"and i am amazed at myself for doing that. okay back to the topic, can just think about befriending your junior, please? that's all i ask from you, and you know i never asked anything from you." anna said as she walk out from your room, closing the door behind her.

you just sat there, pouting as you return your attention to your original task, watching the replay of british gp on your laptop.

it has been almost 2 months since your party and your meeting with daniel. and its also been 2 months since you call him. yes, texts were exchanged, but of course you miss his voice as well.

between your tight schedule and his race, you never find a time to call him. well you can but choose not to. you don't want to distract him.

as you saw the checkered flag being waved you take your phone, wanting to send daniel a congratulations text for his p5.

p5 bigman. congrats! podium next maybe? i miss watching your shoey thingy.

you stop, hovering at the send button. you want to call him. should you call him? you should probably call him instead. its his highest position of this season afterall.

but what if he's busy? he should be loaded with interviews by now right? ah there's also briefing right? you shouldn't call him. but, it won't hurt trying to call him. worst thing that can happen is the call never got answered anyway.

so you just sat there, phone in your hand as you chew the inside of your cheek, tasting a bit of iron when you accidentally bit too hard.

10 minutes have passed, and you're still staring at your phone. pretty sure by now daniel would've changed his outfit, already out of his race suit and maybe already headed back to his motorhome.

before you chickened out, you press the call button. the call is connected and you shriek, pushing the phone away as if the phone burn you.

"please don't answer, please don't answer! please-"

"hello?"

"p5 mate, that's a good one." one of the engineers welcome him with a clap on his shoulder, but voice is not as excited as it should be.

"yeah, thanks. i can do better, i will do better next time." daniel said, voice a bit trembling from the adrenaline that still coursing through his body.

he pull the baclava off or his head, sweats dripping from his brown curls. his freckled face flushed, chest heave heavily as he wait for his water. if you look close enough, you can see steam seeping out from his racing suit.

he tear the velcro of his race suit, pulling the zipper down. "daniel! points for both of us!" lando, race suit sat snuggly on his hips, greeting the older man with a beaming smile.

"and you did amazing out there. keep up with the goodwork." daniel said, ruffling the younger's hair, smiling proudly at the young brit.

although daniel got points for mclaren, he knew that all eyes are on him. expecting something more from the ferocious honey badger, a win maybe. and truth be told he also expected more from himself.

the fact that p5 is his current highest position in this season really speak something. of course its not a bad thing, but he can't help it. he knew mclaren put a lot of faith on the 7 times champions to take home the first trophy for mclaren.

he silently walk back to his driver room, helmet sat snuggly on his waist beneath his arm. michael, his trainer, follow him while he ramble about their next training session.

but of course the only voices he heard right now is just some static buzz and noises. he is dissosiating, moving autopilot towards the sofa and plop down. his body instantely melts as he stare blankly at the ceiling.

"- and (y/n) will be there and all." michael said.

at the mention of your name, daniel's ears perk up and he only gave the other man a puzzled looks.

"sorry, you were saying?" he said.

"daniel this is getting ridiculous. i've spent 5 minutes explaining how we can improve your training and you just listen to me after i mention (y/n). just call her for godsake." michael said as he put some notes for daniel down on the table, throwing an acussing stare at him. daniel flustered under his gaze.

"sorry i was just– its not that! i–"

"i get it buddy, you're hopelessly in love with (y/n)" michael said, patting the aussie on the shoulder as he walk out from his room. "you really should call her man, stop playing the tough guy card, you're not fooling yourself or anyone."

daniel sigh in defeat, unable to come out with a comeback. to think that everyone but her knew about that–his feeling–is just sad at this point. michael was right, he is hopelessly, pathetically, desperately in love with you. for years now.

he knew he loved you eversince he saw your freckled face blushed under the australian heat, helmet in your hand 20 years ago as you listen to your father explaining how you can improve your turns and how you should control your kart well.

he loved you eversince you introduce yourself, voice cocky and proud after winning the carting session. "(y/n) brabham, and i will be an f1 driver." he remember what you said as you walk towards him and he was stunned, just silently watching as you walk away from him, your ponytail swaying left and right.

he loved you eversince you give him a can of cold soda, putting the can on his cheek. he jumped, flinching at the sudden cold sensation on his cheek. and that was the first time he heard your–oh so cute–cackles.

he loved you eversince he found you hiding away out of the karting field, sitting alone on the grass. he saw how your back was trembling, so he sat down with you. "i will never be a driver. i will never be enough." you said, wiping your tears as you lean into his left shoulder. and daniel listen to the voice of your soft sobs, letting his race suit wet from the tears.

he loved you. still love you. and will always love you. desperately so that it hurts him whenever you call him your bestbuddy ever or whenever he listen how you cry after unlucky relationship with some random man or when he went out on a date with some random girls, trying his best to burrow his feeling deep, which of course doesn't work.

just let me be your man, dammit.

so, daniel let out a deep shuddered breath as he sat down. his eyes landed on his phone that laying on the table, next to the report papers michael left for him.

should he call you?

he shakes his head, raising from his seat to walk towards his fridge. he took one of the bottled juice michael had prepared for him. he took the lid off as he empty the bottle in no time.

after throwing away the empty bottle, he shurg off his race suit, tossing it to the nearest chair.

he was halfway from taking his heat suit off of his body when his phone rang. its so embarassing how his head whipped quickly to his phone and how he struggle to just shrug his heat protector away.

"oh shit-"

he crashed, fall to the floor before quickly running for his phone. he accept the call, let out a wheezed air as he press the green button.

"hello?" he calmly said as he rub his elbow.

"hi danny, you busy?"

"no-no not at all. i was just chilling in my motor home. i have interview in 5 though. do you need something?" daniel finally sat down, this time on the floor.

he wait for your response as lay down, face facing the ceiling.

"oh. no, not at all. i just want to congratulate you on p5."

"you watch the race?"

"i always watch your race, maybe not in person, but i never missed your race."

and now daniel turn into 17 years old girl who got called by his crush, giggling and twirling his hairs. "really?" his voice squeak pathetically, so he clear his throat.

"yes, of course! i will always support my best buddy no matter what, even if it from afar."

oh.

yeah, bestfriend.

ouch.

"aww, geez. thanks, brabham. i knew you're in love with me."

"hah! you wish, ricciardo! anyway-"

"yeah?"

"you're doing great sweetheart. do not forget who you are and what you capable of. keep your chin up, bigman."

daniel smile slowly creeping back on his face. he can feel how flushed his face right now.

"thank you, (y/n)."

"you are most welcome, honeybadger. bite 'em okay?"

he turn his body so that he's laying on his side. he used his left arm as a pillow.

"can i bite you instead?"

silence. daniel held his breath, biting his bottom lips as he wait for your answer. and when he about to apologize, daniel heard you clearing your throat.

"alright pump the brake romeo. anyways, i will leave you be now. i'm gonna catch some sleep here. talk to you later, ricciardo."

"alrighty, cheers, brabham."

and the call end just like that. and daniel feel silly. he pull his phone closer to his face, gently hitting his forehead with it.

"you stupid boy..." he said to himself.

but he can't help it, he wished that you're here with him. god how he want to hug you right now. even better, kiss you right now.

"oi, danny! we need to go now!" one of the pr team shouted as he knocked the door.

"yeah! coming! just gimme a sec!"

meanwhile, you on the other side, had to stop and do a manual breathing after the call. you're slapping your face with both your hands as you watch your reflection on the mirror.

"bro pull yourself together! he is your bestfriend!"

"can i bite you instead?"

"AAAAAAAAAH!"

you let out a scream as you recall what he said to you. his deep voice haunted you–making you both dizzy and anxious (in a good way). no, definitely not. you can't! panicking, you get up from your seat as you pacing around the room.

"that bastard."

prev next

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 13- Step Bro!Dazai/Reader/Step Bro!Fyodor

Notes: I think it's a little ooc, but i really couldn't decide which characters to go with so yeah.

also, uhm, that fyodor header picture has nothing to do with the actual story, i just though he looked so fucking hot with that gun(also yes, ik im using the step silbing/dad concept twice but its just so sexy to me yaknow*)(*and also, if your wondering, i actually have a wonderful relationship with my father)

Ever since you can remember the house had been cold. You didn't call it your house, even though you had lived there all your life. No, it was more akin to a creature unto itself, a perfect reflection of your childhood. You were born in this house, the only child Mother, or Cecilia as she insisted upon, didn't abort. You spent your younger years with a nanny, who cared for you the best she could. She taught you to read and write, and you excelled especially at math. But Cecilia didn't care. She never cared. And the house reflected her disinterest.

The nanny, a kind woman named Martha, had been disposed of when you turned eight. Cecilia decided you were old enough to function on your own and fired the waste of money. You spent your years after that in the library, absorbing information, reading fanciful stories with mothers who loved their daughters. You wondered why Cecilia never loved you. 

When you turned ten, Cecilia brought home a man. She introduced you, and you stood like instructed, pretty and well behaved. He patted you on the head, but never spared you a glance. He was tall, blond and very, very young. Much younger than Cecilia. And he was much too enamored to care for you, Cecilia's little child. Cecilia encouraged this behavior, and although the number of people in the house had grown, you were all alone. You were always alone. But it was ok, you were used to the silence. You sat in your large playroom, and cried into your pillow, muffling your feelings in the silk. Cecilia didn't need your burdensome feelings. 

The summer you turned eleven, Cecilia brought another man home. And this man was kind to you at first. He gave you candy and treated you with kindness, luring you into his trap like a spider. The first time he hit you, you had cried defiantly for Cecilia. And of course Cecilia had not come, for she would rather believe her boytoys over her own flesh and blood. Humans were cruel things, ready to hurt others at the drop of a hat. And Cecilia was the cruelest. Nothing comforted you for ounce as you cried into your comforter, as unloved as before. 

The summer you turned fifteen it was clear you had inherited Cecilia's peerless beauty. You spent the rest of the summer mastering makeup and when you arrived at your private school you were instantly popular. The makeup just elevated your already peerless beauty and people, both boys and girls fell at your feet. You reveled in the popularity, the love. A different kind of love, but love all the same. The house congratulated you, but Cecilia didn't care. She never did, after all.

Your grades never fell however, you simply could not let them. If you were proud of anything, it was your intelligence. It was wholly yours, unlike your beauty, inherited from Cecilia. You hated that you were her creation, hated it with your entire very being. You loved your intelligence, however. It came from your father, you were told briefly by Cecilia, and because you had never met him it was easier to accept his qualities. The house was from your father, his money at least. A gift to Cecilia. 

And the one gift he had ever gotten you was a ring, a gorgeous piece of silver and emeralds that Cecilia had taken, stoll right from your pudgy two year old hands. You had never even gotten to hold it as an adult. You didn't miss it, not really. But you hated the trait you shared with Cecilia, a sense of selfishness, and a love for jewelry. 

 It was on your sixteenth birthday, sitting at a table alone as you were blowing out the birthday candles, that you truly cried without the comfort of your pillows. Cecilia was out, and as you eat your cake, you soon come to realize that you had grown up too fast. You had been an adult since the moment Martha was fired and you had sat in the cold walls of your beige playroom, crying and crying for comfort, something that would never find you again. You were a shell, a puppet, a beautiful china doll empty of  love. You were Cecilia. The house laughed at your plight, as you sobbed into your pillow, muffling your feelings into the comforting silk. 

It was a hot summer day, a few weeks after you turned seventeen when Cecilia broke the news. You were sitting by the pool, sunbathing in your swimsuit. Cecilia simply walked in, spared you a glance, and informed you she was getting married. You felt a small shiver of surprise run up your spine. Cecilia had had many boyfriends, yes, but she never married them. This man had to be different. Or maybe it was her age, and her fading looks. You hated the spike of happiness that pillaged though your heart, you hated how feelings of hatred turned you into a spiteful shrew, just like Cecilia. Cecilia had cracked open a beer, flipping through her magazine, sparing you one last glance. “He has sons, two of them.” She had said, closing the screen door behind her. 

⋆｡ °✩

“There you are, Name. You're late.” Cecilia said, giving you her usual faintly disapproving stare mixed with disgust. You still quail under it, even though it's the same one you’ve seen for years and years and years. You still fear her disapproval, even after all. 

“I'm sorry Cecilia.” You say, straightening your spine. You're still in your school uniform, and the bus was late but you know better than to give excuses. Cecilia doesn't care for those. The little skirt and blazer combo is one of your favorites, and the only thing you truly love about St. Catherine's private school for young ladies. The walls of St Catherines are barren and cold, but not as cold as your own. Cecilia flips her hair, looking perfectly put together as always, although her age is beginning to show around her eyes. She hates it, you know, and you love it. You can't wait for Cecilia to wither away, her personal worst nightmare. 

“Don't embarrass me, Name.” Cecilia says, her cold eyed stair rooting you to your place. “Just smile pleasantly and entertain your step brothers, alright Sweetheart?” She says. The pet name reeks of disinterest but her disinterest is preferable to her anger. For when Cecilia angers the foundations of the very house shake. You nod, and Cecilia takes that as enough. A knock sounds on the door, and any ugly expression is gone from her face as she flies for the door, opening it and hopping into the arms of the man behind it. 

He’s your mothers usual type, tall and handsome, but several years older than you would have guessed. He spins her around, and they kiss. You look away. There are two boys standing behind him on the doorstep, and to your surprise they also look away from the torrid display. Their strange boys, both around the same height, but that is the only thing they share in common. They don't even really look related, but who are you to judge? Done with their display, Cecilia and her new husband step through the door, still attached at the hip. Cecilia throws you a glare, and you put on your customary smile, a smile so fake you feel like a barbie doll. 

“My daughter, Name.” Cecilia almost imperceptibly grimaces at the word daughter, gesturing at you. You smile. “Hello.” You say, feeling like a fake. The man gives you a smile, gesturing at his sons, who have stepped through the door, and now stand on either side of him and Cecilia. “My sons, Fyodor and Osamu.” The one on the right smiles at you, the other one simply gives you a nod. They're so different, you’d almost think them adopted. But you can see their features in their father. 

The smiling one, Osamu, has short wavy brown hair and sparkling brown eyes. He gives you a tiny wave, and you feel your smile become genuine for a second, before you catch yourself. The ones who smile are more dangerous, you had learned long ago. They lure you with kindness and hit you with force. He’s dressed in a wrinkled button down and uniform pants, his posture casual with his hands in his pockets. A matching tie hangs crooked on his neck. It's the uniform for your school, or the boys school across the street. St. Catherines school for young ladies and St. Andrews school for young men share a single campus separated by a metal fence. 

The one on the left side is pale, almost sickly pale, with dark circles to match his long dark hair. It looks soft, his hair, and brushes just below his jaw. H’s eyes are dark, and they run over your face, almost as if they're checking for cracks in your composure. He’s dressed in the same uniform, but his appearance is more neat. His tie is tied correctly, and he wears a black jacket over the rest of his uniform. They are strange boys, but you are very used to strange after all. 

“Name? Entertain your new brothers, Sweetheart.” Cecilia says. You wince at the nickname. You hate that nickname, you hate it so much. “Yes Cecilia.” You bite out, smile still in place. You feel empty, like a porcelain doll. A tool Cecilia can use and discard at any moment. You feel disposable. You hate it. 

⋆｡ °✩

Your new brothers are kind, if a little strange. The quiet one with pretty hair, Fyodor, is a year older than you. He plays cello and dislikes Cecilia, which makes you like him a lot. Fyodor treated you with an amount of distance at first, but slowly warmed up to you when he found out you play piano. He had informed you one day, when he was helping you with homework, that his mother was a Russian supermodel. And he’s handsome, you're not really surprised. He’s kind in a quiet kind of way, less teasing than his younger brother. You also notice how he subtly moves forward, shielding you whenever Cecilia is angry. You love him for it, that protectiveness. 

Osamu is younger than you by about six months, and loud. He quite clearly makes it his goal to be the loudest person in the room and you love how it annoys Cecilia every time he steals her thunder. He’s a very touchy person as well, unlike his brother. He would comfort you with jokes when he saw you were down, and could not cook for the life of him. His reaction to Cecilia was the most reactionary. He taunted her, shot smart alec remarks in her direction, or just plain ignored her. And every time he got a reaction. Cecilia’s face would flush red with anger, and she would strike out, just to be dodged with a snarky little comment. And the more angry she got, the more pleased Osamu became

And they hate each other, the brothers. At first you had thought they got along well, but then you noticed the snarky little comments they would trade back and forth, the glares behind their parents back. Everything is a constant competition, be it a board game or report cards they make it their goal to beat the other each time. And you don't really mind, the house feels warm and full of life, and you feel included. To them, life seems a game, and the people who live it merely pieces, to be moved to and fro to their pleasure. You must assume yourself a spectator, not a piece, but if you were a piece you would like to be the queen. Cecilia didn't like your new brothers, that much was obvious. But she still used them to belittle you every chance she got.  

“Your brothers got all A+.” She would say, pinning you with that faintly disgusted expression she used as default. “And you got an A.” You would surrender to your room to cry in peace, away from Cecilia's proud eyes, and the prying ears of your much to perceptive brothers. 

But if they shared anything, it was a sense of mystery. Because each of them never allowed you to get too close, keeping you forever just a length away. You tried not to take it personally, but you still shed a tear or two. 

But for the first time in many years, you were happy. The house congratulated you, as its hallways filled with laughter to replace to silence, its rooms with color to replace the beige. Cecilia was as unpleasant as ever, but she was busy with her husband, and left you and your step brothers to their own devices. But still you feared it would all go away. That soon, they would tire of you, that they would never let you close, that Cecilia would grow tired of her husband and toss out the trash as she always did. It was a nagging fear that came back to haunt you in dreams, until you woke up in a cold sweat. 

And there's an odd tension that hovers in the air, whenever you and the brothers interact. A strange tension that makes your blood sing with excitement, that leaves you on your toes with anticipation. When Osamu slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a loose hug of sorts. When Fyodor pulls your hair behind your ear, his cold fingers brushing your face, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It's a tension you’ve felt before, a tension you don't want to give name to, a tension that scares you. But then, you're sure it's just you, that your new brothers simply treat you as a sister, like how you should treat them. You should not desire your step brothers, Cecilia had told you the night before they moved in. But then again, Cecilia had never been a very good role model. 

⋆｡ °✩

It's raining, big fat drops pattering against the roof, wind splattering the droplets against the window panes. A faint clatter can be heard from outside, as if the wind itself is crying, banging at the doors. The wind sounded lonely. It banged on the doors of the world, begging to be let into the light, much like you had when you were young. You wanted to comfort the wind, to hold her in your arms with the warmth you had never been given, but everyone knew you could not hold the wind. So you simply told her to stay strong, and let the night and rain embrace her for you. 

You would always read when it rained. You remembered a book you had read long ago. It had been the one to solidify the wind as lonely, and had been oh so impressionable to your young mind. ‘Keep strong wind’ it read, ‘keep strong and soon the rain and night will hold you in their comforting embrace, will keep you warm and happy…’. You had always seen yourself in the lonely wind, and had dreamed of your rain and night to comfort you. The library had long been your only comfort, and you begged for human comfort, human warmth.(You didn't dare to hope that your step brothers could be your night and rain, because you knew god would hear you and laugh in your face. Because god loved Cecilia, not worthless you.)

Cecilia and her husband are gone, on a weekend trip to Hawaii. You were not invited, because of course not, and neither were your brothers. 

The house is almost silentand with Osamu out at book club the house seems to sigh in relief, giving itself time to relax before the loudness returns. 

You are curled up on the couch with a book, listening to Fyodor as he practices his Cello. It's a cozy evening, the fire crackling in the grate, the strains of the first movements of Brahms – Cello Sonata No. 1 floating through the cozy atmosphere. You hear the piano part along with him unconsciously, fingers tapping your things in rhythm. You can never quite beat the musician out of you, it's embedded into your very being at this point. 

Brahms – Cello Sonata No. 1, the first movement is a deep piece, and slightly depressing if you're being honest. But you love the melancholy that surrounds it. It creates a certain air, allowing the instruments to tangle together beautifully almost as if the melodies are dancing together. They twist like lovers, the parts, dipping one then the other, a beautifully teasing medley of pure emotion, something you could never truly give in life. It would be nice to dance with Fyodor, he was such an elegant human being, from the way he walked to his looks. You imagined the two of you would sail across the floor of the ballroom, his gloved hand on your waist, twirling you and spinning you and only looking at you. You wanted him to gaze upon you with reverence, much like the men your mother married gazed upon her. You want to be loved.

The Cello part comes to an end, and you sit silently for a moment, hesitant to break the spell. Then Fyodor's accented voice, still slightly hushed, breaks through the atmosphere. “How was it?” He says. You love his accent, it feels all full and warm. “Good, good as always.” You say, putting a finger in your book and looking up. “You were a bit sharp on the first note of measure twenty seven.” You're reading Pride and Prejudice, again. You’ve always loved it, and have read it some many times you’ve simply lost count.

Fyodor sighs, leaning back in his chair and resting his cello back into its case. “You always catch my mistakes. What would I do without you, Name.” He says with a small smile. Your heart warms at the praise, your smile threatening to break out of its confinements, all together and split your face in two. You tamp it down, putting on a face of disinterest you're not sure he believes. You always get the vague feeling that your brothers know you better than you know yourself.

You flip through the channels on tv, happy to have control of the remote. It's all the usual, sports games and real housewives and spanish game show episodes. You put on a random movie, which sounded interesting. ‘Essential object of enjoyment,’(is a title that to anyone else would scream softcore porn film, to you, still a sheltered girl of seventeen years old, it seemed as innocent as a daisy. You were not a virgin, but inexperienced and somewhat oblivious, so at odds with your calm adult attitude.) Fyodor plops himself on the couch next to you, a tedious foot away. He seemed too far away but all at once to close, the heat of his body a tease beside you. You clench your legs together, pulling in on yourself.

The film is about a young woman named Maria, who is taking a vacation on a very sketchy manor in a strange small town. It's a low budget film, with crappy acting and even crappier scares, but it's entertaining and you find yourself settling in against the couch, slowly leaning closer and closer to the warm human beside you. And soon, as Maria decides to ignore all the advice of the locals and enter the abandoned church late at night, you're so close your shoulders are almost touching, and finally, you dare to lean into him. 

He lets you, slinging an arm around your shoulders with an excuse none of you are listening to anyway, and pulls a small blanket over your bare legs. “You're cold aren't you?” he says, voice hushed in your ear. You shiver, with a nod. You arent that cold, but you want to be close to him, to feel his heat, his warmth. You're sure he knows this, and you let yourself feel hopeful for once, curling into his body like a pedigree cat. 

And as you watch the movie, heart pounding in your throat, it dawns on you that something is very clearly wrong. The budget is too cheap, but the camera work is too advanced, the camera’s to expensive. The acting is too bad, but the actress has professionally done makeup and hair. And then, as you watch Maria get tied up by the clean masked man, it all makes too much sense. It's softcore porn. You move for the remote, fishing around for it on the couch, desperately. You're already flushing, your thighs rubbing together as you reach around for it. The idea of watching a porn film with your step brother is humiliating and embarrassing and frustratingly arousing. 

“Do you need something?” Fyodor says, rubbing little soft patterns in your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. You nod. “The remote, gonna switch channels.” You're already flushing, but have stopped your frantic fishing for the remote. He frowns in disappointment and you automatically tense, so used to Cecilia’s disappointed or angry stares. “Can we leave it, I'm actually enjoying it.” He says. You glance at the screen, where Maria is now being threatened by a knife. You desperately want to say no, but the people pleaser in you insist you agree. And so, you sink back into his touch, flushing. 

‘Where is it? Where is it?’ The masked man is saying to Maria. The film takes a moment to focus on the actress’s bountiful chest, and you try not to writhe with embarrassment and jealousy. You bet Fyodor likes big boobs, Cecilia said all men like big boobs. Her’s are fake, but you don't feel the need to protest and get a slap. 

The bad guy of the film is a man in a purple mask. He’s thin in stature, and tall, overwhelming Maria’s small frame. He reminds you distinctly of the man sitting beside you, with his face hidden like that. He has a russian accent in the film as well, just like the man beside you, and as he whispers in her ear it does stuff to you. 

‘Tell me where it is or there will be consequences.’ the man in the mask says. 

‘I will never tell you!’ Maria says definitely. You watch in horror as the masked man's thin fingers slip between her thighs. The camera cuts to her face of surprise. It's clear that this is where the actress’s true chops shine, as her mouth drops open in a little oh of surprise. 

You feel hot, biting back a whimper as you press your thighs together, hoping that your step brother doesn't notice. 

‘Your such a slut for my fingers aren't you?’ The man in the mask bends Maria over a table, the camera now showing a cut of his hands pulling her thighs apart. All you can picture in your mind is you as Maria, and the man in the mask as Fyodor. When the man in the film speaks all you can hear is Fyodor’s voice, his teasing lines, him all him all him. 

And then, the other bad guy of the film appears. And honestly it should shock you out of your dirty fantasies, but the other man, this one in a teal mask, sounds very similar to your other step brother. 

You can imagine yourself in Maria's place, bent over a table like that, fingers shoved up your cunt, dick keeping you silent. And most of all, pretty praises falling out of your step brother's mouths. ‘Such a pretty girl, such a smart girl, so good for us, such a slut for us—’

Fyodor’s eyes are on you, you can feel them even as you focus resolutely on the screen. He speaks near your ear, a pur, a whisper, a tease ment for seduction. “What are you imagining, darling?” He says. He speaks like he already knows, and through your haze of arousal clouding your brain you let the words escape before you can stop them. 

“Fingers in my cunt.” You say, your voice a whimper. Maria on the screen begins to moan, loudly. The volume goes down on screen and you're too lust clouded to question why Fyodor had the remote. 

“You want fingers in your pretty cunt baby?” Fyodor purrs in your ear, his long pale fingers teasing the edge of your uniform skirt. “You want my fingers stuffed up that tight cunt of yours? Would that feel good?” You whine, head falling back against his arm, eyes falling closed. 

“Oh yes, please.” Your voice is embarrassing, all breathy and whiny. This whole situation is illogical, and if you were able to see through the haze of lust in your brain you would have backpedaled immediately. But you're horny and in love and he’s encouraging you. 

His fingers caress the edge of your panties, teasing you with glances of touches, driving you crazy. You grip his arm, the one teasing your pussy and shove the hand against your drooling cunt. The man beside you bites back a groan, muffling his pleasure, but you hear it. It reassures you that he wants you too, but also drives you insane, craving sweet relief with his touch. 

Fyodor’s fingers find purchase, clever musicians' hands pulling back the crotch of your panties. He chuckles as you clutch his arm, still clothed in his loose white turtleneck and jeans. “You're so wet darling, your little cunt is absolutely drooling.” he says, his accent doing things to your brain, to your pussy. Your eyes catch on the dirty picture. He drags his fingers through, collecting a fair bit of wetness and popping his fingers in his mouth. The picture is nasty. He keeps eye contact all throughout, sucking his fingers wetly, the dirty slurping sounds filling the room. 

“Here darling.” He holds out his wet fingers, dripping with a mix of saliva and your own arousal. “Suck.” He says. You take them in your mouth obediently, tasting the mix of arousal and saliva. The very idea that you're tasting him, that you're tasting his very being, makes your abandoned cunt clench around nothing, the nasty slurping sounds you make only fueling the arousal perfuming the air. At some point Fyodor had turned off the porn, and now the only sounds that fill the room are from the two of you. A different kind of music than that you're used to, a symphony of debauchery. 

His fingers leave your mouth with a pop, and you open your eyes. He smiles at you, all hazy eyes and spit slicked lips. “Good girl.” He says, and then shoves both fingers in your cunt. You arch off the couch at the abrupt intrusion, clenching down hard around his fingers with a scream. ‘Oh, oh god Fyodor!” You say, panting. He looks vaguely proud as he scissors you open, watching as you thrash around on his fingers, bucking desperately. 

The sound of the door slamming penetrates the haze, and you grip Fyodor’s fingers, trying to stop him. He just continues to fuck you open, grining all the while. 

“Man, fuck you Fyodor.” It's Osamu, looking less surprised and more annoyed. Fyodor just continues grinning as you moan on his fingers, drooling pussy on display. “I consider this a win then?” He says, smirking. Ah, another one of their competitions. You would pay more attention but your being fucked open by Fyodor’s long relentless fingers. You keen as he adds another one, gripping his arm with a nasty whine. 

Osamu speaks to Fyodor, but his eyes are fixed on you. “It's not over yet, you fucker.” He says, slamming his backpack down on the floor and sauntering over to you. “Name declares the winner. Deal?” Fyodor, now rubbing a thumb on your clit nods, holding out his other hand to shake. “Deal, that sound good darling?” You nod around your moans, not truly comprehending what that means. Osamu sends you a rather scary looking grin and pounces. 

They move you into a doggy position first, Fyodor replacing his fingers with his cock. You're already so close, and as you feel the large intrusion bully your walls apart you cum right there, your head falling against the couch cushions. “Oh, oh, oh god, ‘m coming!” You scream, drooling onto the couch. Fyodor grunts behind you. “You're tight.” He coos. Osamu grips your jaw, draggin you off the ouch to look at him. “So pretty too, just perfect aren't you.” His dick is already hard in his jeans, you can see the bulge as Fyodor begins to move, fucking you through the overstime. You whine in pain, the sharp pains of overstimulation mixing with the blinding pleasure they give you. Dazai chuckles. 

“We’re going to fuck you do good darling.” He says, running a gentle hand through your hair. “Make you feel our love.”

⋆｡ °✩

It's when you're three orgasms deep, and you're hung over the couch backwards, a dick down your throat and cum dripping from your pussy, that you maybe start to have second thoughts. Their stamina seems endless, and they bring to the edge relentlessly, their competitive natures making them drive you to orgasm after orgasm. The world is hazy at this point, and all you feel is pleasure, all you hear is their voices, all you want is them, them them. 

“Switch her around Osamu.” Fyodor says, his accent rough though the haze. You feel yourself hoisted up, and now you're folded into a mating press and Fyodor’s fat cock is bullying your walls again. Cum leaks out of all your holes, the loud squelching sound letting you know that you're thoroughly ruining Cecilia's favorite couch. You're covered in sweat, completely naked and makeup ruined, and to the boys you’ve never looked so pretty. They tell you at length, compliments showered on your exhausted form. 

And as you cum yet again, clenching around Fyodor’s dick with a weak cry, you feel so loved, so appreciated, and so optimistic. 

And then you bended into another position, Dazai’s dick lodged into your ass, Fyodor’s in your dripping cunt.

⋆｡ °✩

“So, which of us won anyway?” It's Dazai, and he sounds plenty exhausted. You sigh tiredly, holes dripping cum onto the carpet and exhausted. “Draw.” Is all you manage to pant out. 

Fyodor beside you chuckles. “I guess we’ll have to have a rematch then.” You're exhausted, but you feel your pussy clench tiredly at the mention of that. “Yeah.” You sigh out tiredly. The boys chuckle beside you, each pressing a kiss to your cheeks. 

“Love you Name.” You hear them whisper in your ear. You smile as you drift off the sleep. 

End Notes: I am actually a piano player, and every time I listen to classical pieces nowadays I feel really bad because I haven't been practicing lately because my piano teacher is taking a break because she had a baby. 

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

hello! im a big fan of the childhood friends trope and was wondering if you could write that with alastor? (ex. what being friends with him as a child was like and how he’d act towards reader when theyre both in hell)

Life and Death

Navigation!! // Mastlierst!!

A/N: Clearing out my inbox is proving to be a lot harder than I thought, but nevertheless, I really enjoyed writing this so thank you so much for your request!! I actually wrote something similar to this, which I will link here in case anyone wants to check it out :)

The old manor on the edge of the forest was a place of whispered secrets and endless possibilities. It was here, among the ivy-clad walls and shadowed corners, that you and Alastor first crossed paths as children in 1910. The air was thick with the scent of adventure and mischief, and you were drawn together by an unspoken bond that only childhood friends could understand.

Alastor was a whirlwind of energy, always dreaming up new schemes and fantastical stories. You were his constant companion, eagerly diving into whatever trouble he cooked up. One day, Alastor burst into your room, eyes wide with excitement.

“Guess what I’ve unearthed!” he announced, brandishing a dusty, old book he had found in the manor’s attic.

You looked at him skeptically but couldn’t resist his enthusiasm. “What is it?”

“It’s a tome of ancient rites!” he proclaimed with a theatrical flourish. “We could summon something marvelous!”

Later that evening, under the flickering light of a candle, you followed Alastor’s instructions from the book. The ritual involved chanting in an archaic language and mixing some peculiar ingredients. Alastor’s dramatic flair was on full display as he recited the incantations with exaggerated gestures.

“Prepare yourself for an awe-inspiring spectacle!” he declared, his voice rich with anticipation.

You nodded, and moments later, the “ritual” resulted in a shower of harmless, yet dazzling sparks that illuminated the darkened room. You both laughed, delighted by the harmless chaos.

Despite his penchant for mischief, Alastor had a protective streak when it came to you. One day, a local bully who had a knack for tormenting other children cornered you near the edge of the forest.

Alastor, who had been hiding behind a tree, sprang into action. He marched up to the bully with exaggerated, theatrical bravado.

“Unhand my companion, you ruffian!” Alastor declared, his voice echoing with a dramatic authority that surprised even you.

The bully, taken aback by Alastor’s sudden appearance and his unyielding confidence, quickly backed down. You watched, both relieved and amused, as Alastor escorted you away with a triumphant grin.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said, trying to suppress a smile. “But thank you.”

“Of course I did!” Alastor replied, puffing out his chest. “Who else could possibly defend you from such knaves?”

Your shared adventures and mischief were punctuated by quiet moments of reflection. After one particularly wild escapade, you’d sit together under the sprawling oak tree in the manor’s garden.

Alastor was sprawled out on the grass, staring up at the sky. “Did you know,” he mused with a playful glint in his eyes, “that the stars are the souls of ancient heroes, forever shining?”

You lay beside him, looking up at the sky as well. “Really? And what about us?”

Alastor turned to you, his expression a mix of seriousness and playful charm. “Well, we must be destined for greatness. After all, we’ve survived countless escapades without a scratch.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “And we’ll conquer many more adventures to come.”

Years later, in the chaotic, glittering world of Hell, your friendship with Alastor became a source of stability and comfort. The year was now 1910, and Alastor, having transformed into a powerful and enigmatic figure, still sought out your company. Despite his new persona, there was a spark of the old Alastor that remained when he was around you.

In the neon glow of Hell, you both found solace in each other’s presence. During a quiet evening, Alastor stood up, his posture exuding both confidence and nervousness. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, softened as he prepared to confess his feelings.

“Mon chère,” he began, his voice rich with an earnest emotion that contrasted with his usual theatricality, “even amidst all this ceaseless darkness, you’ve become a beacon of light in my existence. I’ve never felt this way before—not even when I was alive. Your presence… it’s something I can’t simply ignore.”

Your heart ached at his words, and you replied with the same mix of warmth and reserve that defined your relationship. “You’ve always been a part of my world, Alastor. Even now, despite everything that’s changed, I still see the child I once knew. And I can’t deny that I feel the same way.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken promises. As the night deepened, you both found solace in each other’s presence, a testament to the enduring bond forged in childhood and strengthened through the trials of the underworld.

In that moment, under the neon glow of Hell, you were not just two powerful entities but childhood friends rediscovering a connection that transcended the boundaries of time and space. The adventures of the past and the mysteries of the present merged into a shared future, one where the echoes of your childhood laughter resonated with the promise of something deeper and more profound.

[hxltic]

Im not sure how to request cause this is like my first time doing it but would u write anything w iwazumis timeskip? like how hes an athletic trainer.. YK DO UR MAGIC idek how to request also x reader if thats ok. THANK U

Hey ofc!! You can be as vulgar and straightforward as you want, this is a safe space😘 (idk if you wanted nsfw or not so if not I’m sorry! I just made it suggestive because I was unsure :P)

The ass crack of dawn peeks through your window, enough to have your body twisting and turning until you’re inevitably forced awake.

Of course you drag yourself to the bathroom and check yourself out a bit, admiring how your new waist training is going and your puffy lips of the morning before brushing your teeth to start the day. Some argue you’re a morning person, but you aren’t. And you feel no kind of guilt admitting that.

You only get up because you have to—to remain consistent, especially with allowing yourself to grow not only physically, but emotionally, finally feeling free from the weights of stress by exercising and feeling good about your figure.

Also, the routine is great for you. It makes you feel productive in the morning, so now when you reflect before, there was this emptiness that came with sitting at home with the same three things you have to do on repeat.

And then of course, the motivation of going to the gym for a man you’ve been seeing around recently. He recognizes you now, probably casually assuming the relationship is nothing more than a mutual gym buddy.

And it’s likewise; you wouldn’t call it a crush. The both of you are grown, just two adults with the same hobby even though you are relatively newer to the activity.

So you pack up your bag and tip your head back for a swig of the protein smoothie you prepared and head out the door.

The gym doesn’t smell anything like how you imagined it would when you first cluelessly walked in. It actually smells clean (mainly from the overwhelming scent of chlorine in the pool water), and it wasn’t super busy around this time. If there were people, they definitely weren’t teenagers coming for their afternoon rounds. The receptionist waves back at you as you pass.

Today was legs. You recognize how far you’ve come, because initially, no day was your favorite, each as long and tortuous as the last. But this has got to be what it means to become accustomed to the pain. Does that make all gym-goers masochists?

If so, Iwaizumi has got to be the worst, because the only other person insane enough— that even remotely looks like he does anything other than train— to be here before you, is him.

“Morning,” you chime. His headphones are off, so the switch that usually tells you when people don’t wish to be spoken to doesn’t go off.

To your delight, he responds with just as much pleasure without turning around, currently sitting on the Lax machine and tugging the resistant handles. “Good morning,” he grunts.

He eventually does, even as he attempts to convince himself to stay focused on his set, but even the discipline he’s built over the years couldn’t prevent him from catching a glimpse of you. You were sitting your stuff down nearby, relocating to the floor to stretch.

He’s been watching you. Not in a creepy way, he justifies, but it becomes a habit when you’re working how he does.

Your progress is a miracle. He could count on one hand the amount of people that come in fresh and immediately get to working, just to return consistently, and cycle through this process until they reach their desired figure and continue after that. You, however, stepped in with a determination on your face he’d never seen before.

You hadn’t requested a trainer, and by what he sees, didn’t need one either. He remembers when you came in talking about how badly you wanted to rid of your little tummy, as well as slim down your plush thighs, pleading someone to teach you how. Of course he knew how; he keeps his work strictly professional with the women who came in asking for the same thing.

He’d always found the little pudge attractive, but it’s your body. It’s just somehow, he wasn’t on the verge of telling them how good it looks or the pure desire he has to press on the fat while his head is between their thighs like he was you. Someone must have heard his prayers though, because instead of slimming your legs down, you became comfortable with the idea of them getting stronger, ultimately making them slightly thicker.

The man was close to finishing the set but that one glimpse of you had him do five extra for good measure since he lost count. How could he focus?

As you split your legs and tilt to one side, you watch the man not too far. The black compression shirt he wears hugs his carved body perfectly, only cementing this fact as his back and arm muscles flex with every controlled pull of the bar. Everything about him was sharp from his shape to the hair on his head.

It was no doubt he was attractive, and since having graduated, attention wasn’t just found anywhere. Maybe some small talk will help?

“What are you doing today?” He hears you call. He almost flinches with what he thinks you’re asking until you add, “Workouts I mean.”

Iwaizumi chuckles at your mishap, more for himself, but it flushes your cheeks nonetheless. It’s a genuine, gentle sound. “Arms. Tomorrow is core,” he says coolly.

“I hate arms. I should probably do them more often, but lifting is only fun if you’re already strong.”

“I see where you’re coming from,” he pulls off the machine, rotating himself on the seat to face you. You’re in a lunge now, oversized t-shirt covering half of the skin tight shorts desperately trying to contain the glutes you’ve grown. He makes sure to force his emerald green eyes to yours. “You won’t get stronger if you don’t give it a try.”

You scoff, “You sound like my old therapist.”

The humor you two shared was nothing more than the surface level awkward kind so this unexpected comment from you had him laughing. Actually laughing. “And you sound like an old friend of mine.”

Smiling at this, you get one more good stretch in and come to your feet. You stand proudly with your hands on your hips, staring at him.

He blinks around happily, “What?”

“You said to give it a try right? Show me the way."

—•—

“I can’t do this,” you say, already struggling just with the form part of the exercise. You switched positions with him since it was closest machine. “How do I pull it if I can’t move my back?”

“Well, that’s the workout part,” he walks around the seat while inspecting you, waiting for you to figure it out with his advice. “Sit up completely straight and slightly lean back. Stay in that position the entire time, but try to pull the bar down to you instead of pulling yourself up to it.”

You try to replicate what you saw him doing. By this point, you had gotten majority of the positioning right, even keeping your back straight, but the damned bar wouldn’t move an inch. “Are you sure the setting on this thing is right?”

“Oh shit-” He pauses at this, then renders that you’re completely right. You’re trying to pull his weight.

As he shuffles over to the side of the machine to adjust it, you watch him with a smug expression and your arms crossed. I’m not just that weak, I knew it, it reads.

Moments later he comes back around, “That’s my bad, try it now.”

And you’re finally able to do it, but your form falters when you successfully pull the bar to your chest. He knows you know, you’re a smart girl, so he gives you a few more tries to correct it. “I feel like I’m about to fall,” you say finally.

“Here, that means you’re leaning too far.” He comes and presses a hand to your back, pushing you forward. “Don’t think about it too much. I’ll hold you right here for a few until you can support yourself.”

He was already hovering beside you, lurking and seeping into all your senses, making the air warmer than it usually is in the gym. With his palm on your back too, you’re starting to think this little affection of yours is getting out of hand. You don’t even look to see how much it has helped.

Somehow, you do eventually get through the sets, but you hadn’t realized that during that time he would actually train you. It was progressive overload, and he brought the weight up to what he thought you could handle each time. You were on the last few.

“C’mon, you got it.”

“I don’t,” you grunt while somewhat laughing, still pulling it to your chest. His voice is more declarative now. You deem it as his professional tone. You also wonder which voice he tends to use in—

“You do. It’s one more—make it your best.”

“Ready for the next?” His lips stretch into a smile, already predicting your answer.

And you do just that, slumping on the seat in victory.

“Good girl,” he praises, clapping, and he changes the weight on the machine to just five before twisting around and holding a hand out. He helps you up when you take it, but you’re really trying to figure out if what he said was professional if it made you clench your thighs.

You bend and get your smoothie, popping the top and drinking, “There’s a next? What’s next?”

“Pull ups of course.”

Truthfully, doing pull ups right after lax for someone who doesn’t really train arms is a death wish. It’s just this once though and your arms will already be sore so he might as well make the most of it while the adrenaline is there.

“Oh dear God,” you sigh.

“I’ll do them with you,” he reassures.

—•—

And he stands on his word, because after walking over to the bar, he clips the belt attached to weight around his hips. The bar was relatively high, even he can admit, so he isn’t surprised when you ask how the hell you’re supposed to get up there.

And you weren’t even necessarily short, it’s just the bar was made for 6’0 and over men, and athletes, so people like you were left out, hence the stacked boxes meant for help beside it.

Iwaizumi makes sure the belt is secure around himself before walking over to you, taking a stance directly behind.

He commands, “Arms up, sweetheart.” And it must be the proximity, because you do just that without a fight. The pet name contributed too.

But when he lifts you, he first drags his hands from your shoulder blades, to your ribs, and into the small of the your back. So smooth you’re questioning if he did it on purpose.

He couldn’t help it. Not when he’s hovering behind you, almost a foot taller. With one small nudge of his hips forward, he’d rest comfortably right between your ass, smelling the coconut shampoo of your hair. Though instead of being a pervert, he’d stick to the nicknames and the gentle touches until you get the damn hint.

Sometime later he’s effortlessly hauling himself up, counting one by one with you. He says you’ll only do 3 sets of ten. Either way it was burning by the ninth.

—•—

Finally you’re done. The only reason your arms aren’t completely limp is the adrenaline of just being around the attractive man next to you. He literally regulates your blood flow.

And you regulate his.

“Okay, now you have to do my workouts.”

He unclips the belt, turning to face you, amused. “I have to do your workouts?”

Your arms come to a cross offensively. “What does that mean? Yes. I did your arm day, now you have to do my leg day.”

He throws his hands in the air defensively, the curl of his lips threatening to break his character, “I’m just saying it won’t be the sa—”

“This way!”

—•—

This was a horrible idea.

He’s situated on the angled leg press machine at a diagonal, now gripping onto the handle bars. The amount of circular plates you usually have on it are already there. You’re standing beside him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to add weight? I usually go more than this,” he challenges.

“Fuck you— no.”

His laughter intensifies at your irritation. Then he brings his legs down slow and controlled, somehow still managing to appear like he could do it with his fucking finger if he tried. You’re not surprised, he’s extremely fit; though you had already catered to this by going whatever your highest weight was.

He guffaws again at your blank expression. “Fine. How much more do you need?”

He appears to think for a moment. Instead of calculating the math like he should be, he’s actually doing nothing of the sort. “Get up there.”

He bends his legs as if confirming he’s dead serious by allowing you to actually step foot on the back of the plate. You stand there still, having not even realized what he’s asking you to do. “What?”

“Get your sweet ass up there and that should be about what my usual weight is.” He shoots a nonchalant glance to the machine. “You won’t fall, if that’s what’s bothering you.”

After a few moments, with an incredulous look painted on your face, you slowly step to the lowered machine, and push yourself up and on to the back, past the weighted plates, to sit not-very-comfortably in the middle. “Uhm…”

“Perfect.”

This time, it didn’t look as easy, but he very much did an entire press to extend his legs out. You watch in wonder over the plate as he carried your weight and plus some just in his legs.

It was his arm day, and you didn’t get to fully watch him do the pull ups since the focus was keeping yourself on the bar. But you got a glimpse when he finished, biceps flexing and pulling extra weight then too. He was strong. You wonder if he puts it to use with his partner?

With his partner. What if he does have a partner? You shake your head, no, he wouldn’t have asked you to do what you’re doing if he did.

His grunts were a nice addition too.

Counting for him aloud, and not completely sure if you didn’t skip a number even though you’re only going to ten, you helped him through the set. It had been a while since there was someone to cheer him on. He was always doing the cheering.

“Okay okay,” you wait for him to finish the set, then get off. It feels so good to have your feet on the ground, sure that you won’t be yelled at by the gym staff to remove yourself from the equipment. “You’ve proved yourself, muscleman.”

“Great, I’ll take you out Saturday then?” He asks, pressing up the remaining weight easy and locking up the machine so he can leave it.

A flush runs across your cheeks, driving you to pick up your drink and sip to hide it. “You don’t know me. What if I have a husband and kids at home?”

You were projecting, you know that. It was fresh on your mind since you slightly wanted to ask him the same question. He stalks over to you.

“I don’t see a ring on your finger,” he observes, nodding to your right hand, making you look as if you didn’t know it was bare. He only stops walking until you’re face to face, way too close to just be a professional interaction. It only worsens when his thumb and index finger pinches your chin, his eyes sending flames through yours. “And let’s both be honest— if there was someone waiting for you at home, you wouldn’t be here with me.”

Let alone at the gym at all, he wanted to add. Whatever pussy was letting you come here to workout instead of telling you how good it feels to have your thick thighs ricocheting off his skin or how good your stretch marks look after being swollen with a child for nine months, doesn’t deserve you anyway.

He doesn’t kiss you, but he swipes your lips with his finger and retreats. The heat doesn’t dissipate.

“Saturday at 7?” You speak softly. So softly and breathless you aren’t even sure if he heard it as he walks away.

“My number’s in your bag, beautiful,” he winks, and then he’s turning the corner, back to where you met earlier in the morning.

smash

If you wanted like actual nsfw, (whoever sent the ask) just send in another into my inbox or just dm me asking!! LMAO

You get unlimited access!!

©️hxltic

[fierymiasma]

ʚ Keeping his promise ɞ | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Request: Can I request HufflepuffMC x Sebastian, 10 years after Hogwarts? Like they see again in some kind of reunion (they have been writing to each other but not so much) and Seb is like taken back how lovely the MC become and all? If u would like Could u also do the same with Ominis? (Is thats alright with u ofc). I know Im asking much sorry -From omg-edzia-stuff

Summary: It's been a whole lifetime since she's seen Sebastian.  Ten years since she refused to speak to him, terrified of the person he was becoming.  Years of absolute silence from her, never once opening any of his letters.  Now, ten years later, with their class reunion coming up, he can't help but wonder if she had forgotten about their time together.

Sebastian certainly hasn't.

Words: 2.6k

My work: FieryMiasma

It was one of their rare moments of peaceful quiet.  The winter of their 5th year was fast approaching. The last few leaves of autumn were starting to fall.  Sebastian had invited her to the shores of the Black Lake to witness "the best sight of all of Hogwarts" and conjured up a soft blanket for them to sit together.  It was either good fortunate (or good planning) that the sun was setting right onto the Black Lake's surface.  His Hufflepuff was sitting next to him, bundled up in Slytherin robes that she'd borrowed from him to protect herself from the incoming night chill.  He couldn't help but admire how the dying light shone through her hair, giving her an almost golden glow.  

"You know after all of this is over, and Anne is back to her usual self, I would very much like to do this again, maybe at the Three Broomsticks, just the two of us, and…under a bit different circumstances."

"Sebastian Sallow."  There was a blush on her cheeks.  "Are you asking me out on a date?"

Sebastian couldn't screw the courage to look at her in the face.  "If you find it agreeable."  

Her shy hand found his.  "Yes, after finding a cure for Anne, defeating Ranrok, getting all this silly Keepers' nonsense out of the way, and of course, passing our OWLS,"  Sebastian chuckled.  "I would very much like to start seeing you."  

Sebastian grinned.  For the first time since his sister had been cursed, his heart truly felt light, free of its chains.  He was itching to kiss his Hufflepuff, to show her how wonderful she truly was, to suffocate her with his affection.  "It's a promise then.  A date after all this is over."

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Solomon.  Lodgok. Professor Fig.  Anne.  The unforgivable curses.  Ominis…

...A particularly nasty fight that changed the course of their friendship forever…

Sebastian sighed.  Sitting by himself once again in the corner of the Leaky Cauldron, he stared at his untouched drink in front of him.  They never did manage to go on that date did they?  Even after ten years had passed, Sebastian couldn't help but play the memory over and over in his head, like a pensieve on loop.

After…everything that happened, they drifted apart.  Her, consumed in her grief of her mentor, now burdened as the last living Keeper of ancient magic.  And Sebastian….a remorseful idiot, who lost everyone he loved with just one spell.  

He tried.  He yelled.  He begged.  He manipulated.  He cried.  He pleaded on his hands and knees, for her to give him a second chance.  For him to show her who he truly was.  He was lucky he supposed, that she didn't just throw him into Azkaban like Ominis and Anne had intended.

To this day, the fear reflected in her eyes still made him want to hurl.  How, the most powerful witch of this century, who didn't bat an eye at trolls, goblin generals, or a hoard of dark wizards, feared Sebastian.  She was terrified of him.

It was years, years of groveling for his best friend's forgiveness, years of caring for Anne at her bedside, and years of grieving at his family's graves, wondering where it all went wrong.  Sebastian hoped he'd changed in the 10 years since graduating Hogwarts.  At least, Anne told him he did, but she always had that way of saying things to make him feel better.  He hoped he'd change from that vengeful wrathless boy he once was to…at least someone worthy of a fraction of her time.

Finally picking up the goblet of firewhiskey, he tried to find the energy to drink it.  It wasn't the first time he got lost in thought thinking about her.  He'd become an avid reader of the Daily Prophet, every morning frantically combing through the pages, seeing what next great wizarding accomplishment she'd achieve.  What impossibilities she did with the smallest modicum of effort.  

Of course, he wrote to her obsessively.  His poor owl flying around the globe trying to find her.  It always seemed to come back exhausted, with Sebastian's unopened letters in its beak.

Speaking of letters…Sebastian dug Poppy Sweeting's invitation from the confines of his robes.  He had been sitting in the Leaky Cauldron for the better part of two hours, half debating on jumping into the floo fireplace and going back home to Anne.  Scanning the invitation, he reread the details he had already memorized.

A 10 year reunion of their Hogwarts classmates.  At Hogsmeade.  Tonight.  

He wondered if she would be there.

Mustering up the courage he didn't have as a lad, he threw back his shot of firewhiskey.  Slamming down two knuts on the table, he smoothed his dress robes, wondering why he even bothered up to dress up for this whole silly affair.  He made his way over to the fireplace.  Sebastian hoped he wouldn't regret his decision.  Climbing into the floo network, he turned around and declared:

"Three Broomsticks!"

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

She worried at her bottom lip, wondering for the millionth time, if this whole thing was a mistake.  Merlin, she felt like a schoolgirl all over again.  Looking at herself in the butterbeer, she nervously touched at her make up that Natty helped apply on her, smudging it worse than before. She's gotten a fair amount of new scars since Hogwarts.  She was by no means that fussy over her own appearance, but…if Sebastian were coming….ugh.  Her make up was definitely fully smeared now.  The ugly scar on her face was peeking through.  Now, Natty was going to yell at her again.

"What if he isn't coming?"  She couldn't stop herself from asking her own reflection.

"Oh, he'll be here alright."  Imelda answered from behind the former Hufflepuff, throwing her now-long cascading hair back behind her shoulders.  "He's a simple man.  Any hint of the ‘greatest witch of our generation’ being here at Hogsmeade and Sebastian will apparate here faster than a diriclaw."

The former Hufflepuff blushed heavily.  "You know the Daily Prophet makes all it up right?  Half of that stuff is just utter rubbish."

Imelda laughed, adjusting the padding on her professional quidditch uniform.  "Yes, yes, humble as ever.  You haven't changed a bit since Hogwarts."

"Imelda," Natsai Onai, the up and coming auror, appeared at their side. "Help me with the decorations!  They're not going to hang themselves!"  

"Duty calls."  Imelda drawled as Natty swept the quidditch player away.

Alone, she sat next to the fireplace, with nothing but her worry.  She couldn't help but speculate if Sebastian had changed at all.  She wondered if she'd ever again see the charming, hot-tempered, loyal Slytherin she met at the first day of Hogwarts.  He'd all be disappeared by the end of their 5th year, replaced by a darker version of the boy she had fallen in love with.  Overcome with grief, she had left Hogwarts and London behind, traveling the world with Natty, far away of any new possible mentions of new Dark wizards in England with wild brown hair and gorgeous chocolate-eyes.  

"I’ve always said that travel broadens the mind."

Her head shot up, almost afraid to see who was going to step through the fireplace.

It was Sebastian Sallow.   The second the pair made eye contact, he couldn't help but smile.  "Well, there's my favorite Hufflepuff."

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

She was dazed.  She could hardly believe that the man before her today was Sebastian.  He had filled in since she had last seen him in 7th year.  His shoulders now broad and strong, his arms thick, and bare forearms sun kissed.  His face was more defined and masculine, freckles now erupting all over his cheeks.  He had expensive well-tailored dress robes that showed off the hard lines of his figure.  The only thing that had stayed the same was his wildly untamed hair, looking as soft as the day she first met him.

The biggest change of all were his chocolate eyes.  They were no longer cold and harsh.  They looked so kind, a couple of soft creases around the edges, warm and inviting.

She stood up from her seat approaching him for a closer look.  She couldn't believe he was even real.

"S-Sebastian, hi!  Wow, you've….you've certainly changed a bit."

"And you've looked just as gorgeous as the day I lost you."

Sebastian was delighted at the way her skin turned pink.  Her blush traveling from her cheeks and spreading to her neck, just like how it used to.  It was a lie, in a way.  Somehow, the most beautiful girl in all of Hogwarts turned even more lovely.  Her body no longer hidden by baggy school robes.  She was now dressed in an Adventurer's outfit.  Dragonhide, leather straps, armor, and buckles adorned the skin tight clothing.  Her clothing gave Sebastian a nice view of her full and very nice curves.  Her eyes which used to be so soft and full of hesitancy were now sharp.  They were quick and bold, daring her enemies to challenge her.

Of course, the biggest difference was the new (or was it now old?) fading scar that was across her nose.  It figured that she of all people would have a scar that only made her look more powerful than ever before.  Sebastian couldn't help but want to duel her once again.  To have a girl as amazing as her knock Sebastian back on his ass with a few well-placed spells.  Their very first duel was still the most thrilling experience Sebastian has ever had.  

"How have you been?  How's Anne?" she asked.

"She's been well.  Wishes, she were here but…you know."  He shrugged.  "We take it day by day.  Some days are better some days are worse."

"Well," she bit her lip in worry, hesitant over what she was about to say.  "If you need any help, just say the word-"

"No," Sebastian gently stopped her.  "I'm through with asking you to give up everything for me.  I might have done it in my youth, but…no longer.  You have my word."  He chuckled darkly.  "Not that it means much given everything that has happened."

Her shoulders softened.  "Sebastian, we were both young and quite stupid.  Those days are behind us now.  I forgave you then, and I still forgive you now.  You did everything out of love.  I can see that now.  What can be a better reason than love to turn to the dark?"

Sebastian laughed, his voice now a deeper rich baritone.  "Well, it's nice to know that I still have one good friend by my side."

She hid her face behind her butterbeer.  Hoping to get away from touchy subjects, she shifted focus.  "What are you up to now?"  She asked.

Sebastian spread his arms out, allowing her to get a good look at the emerald green healer's dress robes he was currently wearing.  "I'm a healer now.  I'm the head of the Department of Irreversible Curses and Dark Maladies at St. Mungo's.  It's a new branch, just founded a year ago, by well, me I guess.  You, Anne, even Ominis, really inspired me to take a bit of a…different path than the one I was headed on."  

She blinked in surprise.  Sebastian?  A healer?  Well, she supposed it made sense.  He was always buried in books when they were in school together, constantly researching the next healing breakthrough for Anne.  It was no wonder that he managed to pick up a thing or two here and there.  "And…that's it I suppose?  No more, dark arts?"

"Now, hold on."  Sebastian teased.  "I didn't say that.  I'm the head researcher into the medical dark arts at St. Mungo's.  A new subject invented by yours truly of course.  There's so much untapped unexplored magic out there, that can be used for good, incorrectly mislabeled or misinterpreted as the dark arts.  It's the cutting edge, it can really help our patients with otherwise incurable diseases."  He laughed at the alarm on her face.  "Don't worry.  No more inferi.  No more unforgivable curses.  No following the advice of a clear lunatic like Salazar Slytherin. Anne is an associate healer on our team when she can make herself available.  Half of my projects would be nowhere without her.  She keeps me in check, making sure everything I do is by the books.  She'll wring my neck if she ever found me even toeing the line of something dangerous."  

She felt slightly bad, jumping to conclusions like that.  "Sebastian, that's…that's amazing to hear!  I'm so glad to know that you and Anne have done so well."

Sebastian took a bold step closer.  "Well, you might have been able to hear about it sooner, have you opened the letters I was sending you."

She winced.  How could she explain herself?  Would he even understand?  How broken her heart was after she left Hogwarts.  How that sly, cunning boy that she first met had turned into a wicked dark wizard who was a stranger to her.  How it tore her to pieces seeing what he became after using the Unforgivable curses.  How terrified of him she was looking into those unrecognizable cold eyes.  Lately, every time she saw his harried looking owl, she was sent into a panic.  All of her life she has only heard bad news.  Her parents.  Lodgok.  The curse of being a Keeper of ancient magic….Professor Figs.  She couldn't bring herself to read any of his letters.  If, Sebastian Sallow had turned into the new Victor Rookwood, who else but she, the Hero of Hogwarts, would be expected to put down the new threat?

"I'm sorry, Sebastian.  I'm a coward."  She admitted.  "I couldn't bring myself to read your letters.  The thought of learning of something awful happening to you.  To Anne."  She shook her head at the thought.  "I couldn't bear it."

Sebastian stepped close, their shoes practically touching.  "And I can't bear the thought of you being alone out there.  Traversing the world all by yourself, on all your dangerous adventures, without me watching your back."

She took step forward.  They were only a breath apart. She inhaled, smelling the rich oak scent and soft cologne that was unmistakably Sebastian.  "Things were a lot easier, when I had you fighting those nasty insects in the Dark Forest with me."

"Spiders."  Sebastian couldn't help but correct.  "Spiders aren't insects."

Her glare had no heat behind it.  "I suppose I deserved that one."  

Sebastian laughed, wanting more than anything in the world, to wrap her up in his arms.  To go all the way back to 5th year where they were sitting together by the lake, watching the sunset.

"You know," he drawled.  "I never did take you to that date to the Three Broomsticks that I promised you, did I?"

She blinked rapidly.  "I nearly forgot.  What, with everything that has happened, that you tried to pursue me during our 5th year."

Well, Sebastian, certainly hasn't forgotten even a second of that night.  "Well, what do you say?  We're here already.  With a lot more friends and a lot less privacy than I planned.  Want to make me a man of my words?"

Feeling bolder now that she was older, she stood on her tip toes, body mere inches from his, planting a soft chaste kiss on his cheek.  "I have a better idea.  Why don't use the very first spell I learned from you, disillusion ourselves, and sneak out of the party.  Let's go back to the lake again, just like back in 5th year. We can bring some butterbeer and some of Poppy's pastries."

He couldn't wipe the smile from his face.  "You do remember."  Wrapping her tightly in his arms, he held her close to his side, casting evanesco over the pair of them.  

"I'll follow your lead." He said, as if they were suddenly back in 5th year, about to fight another goblin camp.  

She laughed.  Her hand found his invisible one, lacing their fingers together.  

The bustle and laughter of the party was loud in the Three Broomsticks as friends and family alike reconnected.  No one noticed how the large oak front doors seemingly opened on their own to a twin pair of laughter disappearing into the moonlit night.

[scp230kinnie]

Hey bro I see that your back now!!:)Was wondering if you could write a Hunter fic there are none on this app and I’m dying😭💕

YESS OKAY OKAY ermmmm let’s see

Hunter Sylvester x reader

Character: Hunter Sylvester

Genre: Fluff I guess😭 sum angst i think

Lots of it is paraphrased cuz I didn’t wanna sound stupid.. I also change the plot a bit

Warnings: I KEEP SWITCHING BETWEEN SECOND AND THIRD PERSON IM SORRY mentions of his mommy issues. Arguing. I suck at writing things. Reader = y/n💀 That’s it I think,,,, nOT PROOFREAD

Hunter Sylvester and you were once kindred spirits, enduring the rough path of middle school together. Your friendship was going perfect for a while, and he’d even started to gain feelings for you.

The long shadow of change began to appear as the first day of high school approached. Hunter, a sentimental guitarist with a heart full of unsaid things, started to notice changes in the shapes of your friendship. The smooth relationship you used to have was torn apart by new people, different schedules, different levels of popularity, and new environments. When high school came around, you started to get (somehow) more popular, and he felt as if he was left behind.

underneath it all, Hunter had more than just a quiet crush that had grown stronger with time. When life threw a curveball at him in sixth grade, your friendship came through for him. His mother had left abruptly, leaving a kind of void in him. You were one of the few constants in the midst of the chaos, providing comfort during the storm.

The strains of life’s melody transformed into a battlefield where your two bands were destined to be put against each other—a Battle of the Bands. As the band's frontman, Hunter struggled with the memory of a friendship that had endured heartache and the passage of time in addition to the need for victory. He would do anything to win the battle of the bands, and you both knew that.

On that crucial night, Hunter's nerves were crazy. His fists tightened, and like a melancholic tune, the recollections of sixth-grade hardships and your support reappeared. You tuned your instrument (or practiced your vocals), symbolically adjusting the common past that appeared through the bonds of your friendship.

The night goes on and the crowd seats and sings along with all the different songs that the different bands were playing. The judges had made their decision and everyone was waiting to hear who the number one champion. Or “metal lord” would be. (I’m so sorry💀)

Hunters band, Skullflower secured the place of runner up. A bittersweet taste after hearing that your band had been the winner. Amidst the cheers and applause, Hunter knew he had to come find you. He may have been a little upset, but ultimately he was extremely proud of you for winning. He’s always known you’d loved music, and you would constantly practice.

He found you in the band room in another hallway of the school. “Hey.” Is all he can manage to say. He says it quietly, but just loud enough for you to have heard it. You turn to him and look up to meet his eyes. “I’m glad you guys won, you really deserved it.” He says. He tries his best not to sound bitter or sarcastic, because he really means what he’s saying. You smile in return.

“Thanks Hunter. Honestly I feel like your band should’ve won. You guys were amazing” you say in response. He smiles the slightest bit back at you.

“I feel like you should know.. while it’s just us..” he starts to say, but doesn’t know how to finish it. His eyes reflect years of shared history, as well as love for you. He thinks you look absolutely beautiful tonight. As well as every day of course. “I really missed you. Being with you- I’m- hanging out with you I mean. We used to be so close I guess we just.. drifted when we got to this school you know? Your popularity just intimidated me a bit and I thought you would turn out like the other fake bitches at this school.”

“I missed hanging out with you too. We used to be so close and I just.. thought you didn’t want to be friends with me anymore when you stopped talking to me. Stopped calling me to talk about random things and texting me about your day. I thought you hated me” you respond.

“I thought I did too. But if I have to be honest, I was just scared. I just really liked you. Ever since middle school.. I mean- I still do, but I- I just- I don’t know. I thought that if I told you that you’d make fun of me and tell all your friends and stuff. I dont Care if you don’t feel the same, I just wanted to tell you.” He says. It sounds like he’s just saying whatever comes into his mind, without even thinking. “You just looked so beautiful on that stage and I just felt so proud when I found out your band won”

You’re not sure how to respond. “Hunter i… what..? Why..? I’ve never really seen you as the type of guy to have a crush on people. I thought you were too ‘metal’ for that” admittedly you’d caught him staring at you a fair bit of times. You’d had a hunch he felt something for you, but you couldn’t be sure because of his usual demeanour. “I really like you too, if I’m being honest. I always regret us drifting apart. I felt like you’d never like me back, but knowing what I know now.. it’s really.. I don’t know”

“So if that’s the case, want to go out with me? I have some tickets to a concert in town later this week”

And whatever you can imagine what happens from there

Thanks for reading, sorry if it’s bad or hard to read. Leave me more metal lords requests AND ALICE IN BORDERLAND REQUESTS PLEASE

Read more of my stuff yay

[13leaguestories]

Hi! I have finally decided to start the journey of creating an interactive fiction story. I absolutely love your works and have always found I have an inkling for writing, If you have any basic tips or general things that helped you I would really appreciate it because looking online is so confusing. Im a 19 year old full time college student and athlete so it will be a slow process but any insight would be extremely helpful. Thankyou! :)

Oh shit, I was in the same boat. Used to be a college athlete as well so I know exactly how much time you're about to have on your hands to do other things lmfao.

General advice and biggest: do not over exert yourself. I know this is something everyone says and it feels so ... simple. But I am being 100% honest. Even when you think you're on a roll and can write like 50k in one sitting, don't. I say that because burn out WILL catch up and burn out doesn't just leave after a week of a break, that bitch takes forever to truly recover from. I don't know how else to say it but please take care of yourself. Your brain, hands, all that.

Keep it light and fun. Remember to keep it light and fun. I wrote Dragon Racer while in college and a lot of shit fucked with my mind leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

Another piece of advice that I know folks always talk about but always like to argue: write for yourself. I kinda lost that along the way but it really is true. At the end of this, you're the one whose going to fall out of love with something you wanted to do. That doesn't sit well. This is for you, first and foremost. Ask yourself if only a handful of people ever read your work and if that makes you never want to write again. If the answer is yes then some self reflection needs to be had. Just being honest. Where's that meme of "try to change my mind."

Of course you want folks to read your stuff but if you're not in love with what you're doing then it will feel like a job and that's when it falls apart.

Resources wise ....

Just learn coding. Never stop learning. Never cut yourself off from learning coding.

Tons of writing resources. Have an entire folder on them. Also figure out what your weaknesses are (yes, we all have them, I for one suck at action) and get advice and guides on them. Like, there are tons of them everywhere. Like this is literally just my subfolders: Do not ask how many files and folders are in those. Literally just type in something to a search engine like "shades of colors" or "ways to describe sadness" shit like that and you'll get tons of results. Have numerous articles about the same thing.

Read. Read. Read. Read.

Read some more. And I mean things you wouldn't normally read too.

Either get a writing circle or join writing groups so people can give you their thoughts. You need that, period. Ask other writers. Most of us don't bite. Some of us do.

https://www.motoslave.net/ for Twine things. That's my bible for SugarCube

Oof that's enough, hopefully. I really do wish you all the luck in your writing. And I'm honored you even thought to ask me for my sliver of advice and thoughts on it. I love seeing more writers appear, we just want to share our vision and the world can never have enough of that especially nowadays will bullshit AI.

[mommyownsmee]

Hi 🥺 (idk if i can call you mommy, i don’t want to be disrespectful)

Do you have any advice for someone who is mot sure about their sexuality?

i have been always attracted to men mostly, but for few years now i have this feeling that i might be attracted to women too… i’m 23 and well when my friends and colleagues were experimenting with theirs sexualities i was nit a part of this ( strict and overprotective parents) and now that i have a freedom to experiment, theres no one to do it with. And i dint want to lead anyone when im nit sure of my sexuality.

Any advice maybe? you have this aura around yourself that ,made me feel safe enough to ask this, i hope i didn’t push or step over any boundaries.

🥺🙈

Hey sweety! 𝒙𝒙

Of course, you can call me mommy if that feels comfortable for you! I'm honored that you feel safe enough to reach out with such a personal question. Exploring your sexuality can be both exciting and a little daunting, especially if you haven't had the chance to do so until now.

First, it's important to remember that sexuality is a spectrum and can be fluid. It's perfectly normal to be attracted to different genders at different times in your life.

I wrote down some tips for you that helped me too:

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Self-Reflection

Journaling: Write down your thoughts and feelings regularly. Reflect on moments when you felt attraction towards someone, regardless of their gender. This can help you identify patterns and understand your emotions better.

Mindfulness and Meditation: These practices can help you become more in tune with your inner self and feelings. Sometimes, our busy lives make it hard to notice subtle changes in our attractions and desires.

Past Experiences: Reflect on your past crushes, relationships, and attractions. Were there any moments when you felt drawn to someone of the same gender? Understanding your past can provide insights into your current feelings.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Educate Yourself

Books and Articles: There are many excellent resources on sexuality and sexual orientation. Consider reading works by authors like Lisa Diamond ("Sexual Fluidity") or Emily Nagoski ("Come As You Are").

Documentaries and Videos: Visual media can be very powerful. Look for documentaries on LGBTQ+ experiences or TED Talks that discuss sexuality. These can provide diverse perspectives and relatable stories.

Websites and Forums: Websites like Scarleteen and forums like Reddit’s r/bisexual or r/lgbt are full of people sharing their own journeys and advice.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Join Supportive Communities

Online Communities: Websites and social media groups can offer a sense of belonging and support. Platforms like Reddit, Tumblr, and Facebook have groups dedicated to exploring and discussing sexuality. I also have a Telegram group that you can join at any time.

Local LGBTQ+ Group: Check for local community centers or groups. Attending meetings or events can provide face-to-face support and friendships with people who understand what you’re going through.

Support Groups: Some areas offer support groups specifically for people questioning their sexuality. These can be safe spaces to express your feelings and learn from others.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Take It Slow

No Pressure: Give yourself permission to explore your sexuality at your own pace. There’s no rush to label yourself or come to a definitive conclusion.

Exploration: If you feel comfortable, try going on dates or meeting people from different genders. This doesn’t mean you have to jump into a relationship right away; casual and friendly interactions can be very telling.

Experimentation: Experiment with your sexuality in ways that feel safe and comfortable for you. This could be through fantasizing, watching different kinds of media, or even engaging in conversations with friends.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Communicate Openly

Honesty: When you start dating, be upfront about your journey with potential partners. Most people appreciate honesty and will understand that you’re still figuring things out.

Boundaries: Establish clear boundaries with anyone you’re exploring with. Make sure they understand your situation and respect your pace and comfort level.

Feedback: Ask for feedback from those you trust. Sometimes, friends and close ones can provide perspectives that you might not have considered.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Seek Professional Guidance

Therapists and Counselors: Look for professionals who specialize in LGBTQ+ issues. They can provide a safe space to explore your feelings without judgment.

Sex Educators: Professionals in this field can offer practical advice and information about sexuality, helping you understand your feelings better.

Support Networks: Some areas have networks of professionals who provide counseling and support specifically for those exploring their sexuality.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Personal Tips

Self-Acceptance: Embrace the journey and be kind to yourself. It’s okay to feel uncertain and to take your time in understanding your sexuality.

Stay Informed: Keep learning and stay curious. The more information and perspectives you gather, the more comfortable you might feel with your own sexuality.

Community Resources: Utilize local community resources such as LGBTQ+ centers, hotlines, and support groups. They often offer free or low-cost services for those exploring their sexuality.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Remember, there's no "right" way to discover your sexuality. It's a personal journey, and it's okay to take your time. You deserve to feel happy and fulfilled, and understanding your sexuality is a part of that.

I'm always here to talk if you need more support or just someone to listen. You didn't push any boundaries, and I'm glad you reached out. Take care of yourself, and trust your feelings—they are valid.

[notiddygxthgf]

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙔 𝙈𝙊𝙉𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍 !

synopsis: the one where you have the hots for your dealer, and Wakasa is always eager to please a customer. (don't let your boyfriend stop you from finding your husband.)

pairings: wakasa imaushi x f!reader, light takeomi x reader

content warning: smut, prn with plot, car sex, cheating, oral sex, sneaky link, sexual tension, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, sex while high, consensual drug use, mentions of abuse, waka is a FREAK, MDNI!

word count: 5.4k

author's note: im not gonna say nothing but... I was ovulating. be warned. (keep those comments coming though yall give me motivation to keep writing.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight

TAKEOMI THREW HIS HEAD BACK, chest jumping with the force of his laughter. A stray hair fell into his face, breaking his otherwise flawless facade. You had to admit; seeing him like this was a rare treat. 

“Oh, Shit,” he sighed, wiping a tear away from his eye. “Shit, man, that’s funny.”

You glanced over at the other side of the room. There was a little bar hidden away in the corner that was being tended by a pretty blonde woman. Wakasa and Shinichiro sat in front of it, immersed in conversation. Shin had his back turned to you. Wakasa was facing the woman at the bar, chin poised on his hand. There was something about the way he gazed at her, the way you could practically hear the sweet nothings melting off his tongue like warm butter from here that made you green with envy.

You knew it was obsessive – but still, you couldn’t help but wonder if they were talking about you. The two were close, to your knowledge. There was no doubt in your mind that he already knew what had happened between you and Wakasa.

It didn’t seem to bother him nearly as much as it had been bothering you. No, of course, it didn’t. He wasn’t the one who stepped out.

But, still, something in the way his hand brushed hers as he reached for the beverage in her hand – and lingered for a moment too long – that had you squirming in your chair. 

As if he had sensed you thinking about him, Wakasa’s half-lidded eyes shifted their attention from the female bartender to you. He swished the amber-colored liquid around in his glass before flashing you an all-knowing grin.

Stop it, you had to remind yourself, shaking the thoughts from your head. Behave.

A well-timed distraction came in the form of your boyfriend’s hand over your shoulder. You found yourself whipping your head back around.

“She’s a doll, isn’t she?” Takeomi had been saying. “Tell them, baby, how long have we been together now?”

And there he was again, boasting of you to his business partners like you were some sort of trophy. 

Still, you put on that fake smile again and you answered happily, “Six years.”

Keizo Arashi whistled. Like Wakasa, he had a certain distaste for formal events. This was reflected in his choice of attire – a white tank top, a gold chain, and a pair of black pants. “Shit, that’s a long time to be with a boring fucker like you.”

The few men around you began to laugh.

“Beats having no one,” Takeomi retorted.

Cue the comedic ‘oo’s.

Benkei gestured toward one of the female waitresses that had been circling the room. “Another round of shots, please – Tequila,” He called. “I can’t talk to this man sober.”

Takeomi laughed again. You felt the noise shake you.

You felt Wakasa come up behind the lot of you. He and Shinichiro took a seat across from you this time, choosing to perch on the smaller couch on the other side of the table – facing you. 

“What about you, Waka?” Your boyfriend asked. It was a harmless question, truly, but you couldn’t help but tense up at his words. “You seeing anyone?”

You peered over at him. It would look too suspicious if you averted eye contact, seeing as everyone else seemed to be awaiting his answer.

Please don’t, you pleaded internally. All it would take was one slip-up before this whole shindig came crashing down. One slip-up.

Wakasa’s eyes didn’t quite meet yours. He dragged his index finger over the lip of his glass rather tentatively. “You could say that.”

Seeing someone?

That piqued your interest. You knew you obviously weren’t the only one Wakasa had been seeing; that would be incomprehensibly naive of you. Hell, he’d flirted with one of the workers tonight right in front of you. 

But, still, seeing someone? Did that mean you had only been rebound?

You couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. Wakasa probably had multiple pretty girls wondering the same thing about him – wondering naively if they, too, were the only ones.

“You’re always seeing someone,” Takeomi slurred. His tone was humorous, but you could feel that there was something deeper he wasn’t explicitly saying. 

Who is this someone? You couldn’t stop yourself from wondering.

The group laughed again. Wakasa chuckled as well, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. – his eyes remained poised on the deep-colored drink that sat untouched, balanced on his palm.

He ran his tongue between his plush lips, bringing the drink up and taking a few sips. “I think this one might be different,” he mused after a brief pause. Setting the glass down on his thigh, he brought his gaze up from the floor and looked at you. His gaze was intense, burning hot, and for a moment, you could have sworn you saw his pretty eyes darken. “Haven’t been able to get her out of my head.”

Your eyes traced the length of his tatted forearms up to his neck, and then further up to his lips. When you met his passionate gaze, you felt your heart squeeze almost painfully. 

He’s looking at me.

He’s looking right at me. What does that mean?

“The White Leopard,” Benkei remarked. “Pussywhipped. Never thought I’d see the day.”

Thankfully, Takeomi had been too busy looking for the waitress to take much interest in the conversation. A quick glance back at him revealed that the waitress was making her way back over to the table with a tray of drinks in hand.

“Your drinks,” She said. Bending over slightly, she set 6 glass cups on the table. 

Does he feel the same way?

It didn’t matter. You were a taken woman.

You looked up from the table. Your eyes met Waka’s. Maybe it was the light playing tricks on you, but it seemed as if he was wondering the same thing.

You sat alone in a booth with blue cushions, ones which matched the lights flickering down upon the dance floor. You didn't know the name of the song that was playing, but you liked it. The group you were in had moved downstairs. You were still in what was considered to be a VIP area, just closer to all of the real action.

Takeomi had been too drunk to notice your behavior – you knew that. Yet, still, there was this nagging anxiety that had you rethinking everything.

"So, I gotta ask," Began Shinichiro. “What did you do for a living before you met Take here?”

You shrugged for the millionth time that evening, reaching for your glass of merlot. Swishing the deep red liquid around in your glass, you took a sip. “I was a University Student.”

Shin’s eyes widened. “No shit, for real? What was your major?”

You took another sip. The expensive wine here tasted just like the cheap wine Takeomi kept at the house. You weren't quite sure what you had expected. "Pre-Law."

He folded his arms on the table, resting his head on his hand and gazing at you while he took another sip of his drink. “Wow,” he hummed. “You’re probably smarter than half of us here.” 

You huffed a polite little laugh, shaking your head. You were a trophy wife. Your job was to stay quiet.

So instead you turned your head to the dance floor. What were you looking at, one might ask?

Take a lucky guess.

You observed him as he sauntered up to a woman near the edge of the dancefloor. He whispered something in her ear, something that made her giggle, and then she took his hand. The two of them wandered off into the sea of bumping, grinding bodies.

You furrowed your brows. Turning your head back to the table where the rest of you were sitting, you gave your glass another sad swish.

" Take! " A familiar voice approached you from behind. " Long time no see!"

"Hey!" Your boyfriend took one last sip of his wine. A smile crossed his face, revealing crooked, nicotine-stained teeth. He turned around just as the stranger clapped him on the shoulder. “Long time no see indeed.”

Kyoudai Samegai. One of Takeomi’s most highly regarded past coworkers, and long-time friend. Technically, presiding as boss, Takeomi was his superior. But by the way they spoke, one would never be able to guess that. He was a short man. From your knowledge, he handled whatever dirty work it was that your boyfriend didn’t feel like doing. 

“How you been, buddy?” The man asked. His face creased around his smile. When he turned to you, he bowed respectfully. “And the missus, of course, looking lovely as always.”

" Samegai, " You smiled, offering him the back of your hand – which he kissed. "Always a pleasure.”

“Miss me, Kyou?” Takeomi asked. At this point in the evening, it was pretty safe to say that your boyfriend was drunk off his ass. He usually took any chance he possibly could to drink himself senseless.

"Haven’t slept a day since we’ve been apart," The shorter man cried, feigning agony and clutching his chest for dramatic effect. "How’s business been for you?"

"Business," Takeomi sighed. He said something else, but you had already begun the process of tuning him out by the time you’d heard him speak. 

You had greater concerns to worry about. More specifically, one such concern was currently swaying with some broad on the dance floor. As your eyes found his way over to him again – it seemed you couldn’t resist – you caught a glimpse of how close he had gotten to that woman in the span of a few brief moments. The two of them were chest to chest, her arms thrown around his shoulders.

Readjusting your grip on your wine glass – the stem in your grasp – you felt yourself grow tense.

What’s gotten into me tonight? You had to ask yourself. 

You had spent the last week of your life running away from this guy and now here he was, sucking up all of your attention. 

The strange woman moved her body to the beat of the music again, time turning around and pressing her backside up against him. What made matters worse? His hands found their way down to her thighs.

She swayed her hips back, moving Wakasa with her.

His hands trailed up the length of her waist, ghosting over the waistband of her skin-tight jeans. He leaned over her shoulder to say something else into her ear. Whatever it was, it had the girl smiling.

Against your will, it seemed, you felt yourself begin to frown.

Deep down, you know your hookup with Wakasa was just that – a hookup. But, still, was the show really necessary? It almost seemed as if he was rubbing it in your face.

You didn’t really realize you were staring. Not until Wakasa tore his head away from the woman who was currently grinding on him to look at you – a look that tore you apart at the seams.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

He was grinding on her, but he was looking at you.

“You want something,” Wakasa remarked, leaning forward. “You’re thinking about it.”

Lukewarm smoke fell out of your mouth almost drunkenly. “Want what?” You traded the joint for the millionth time. 

“That is the question,” His eyes flitted down to your lips – briefly – before settling on your eyes. “What do you want?”

You could hear the sound of laughter on either side of you – although very faintly. Your hand tensed.

Wakasa leaned down and pressed a kiss to the back of the woman’s neck, bracing his hands on her hips. She leaned her head all the way back on his shoulder, melting into the rhythm of the music.

“You want me, baby?”

No. Desperately, you tried to say no.

But your heart wouldn’t allow it.

You didn’t dare to move. The answer left your mouth before you could even think twice about it, though it was not much louder than a whisper. “Yes…”

You furrowed your brows further, watching him kiss up the side of the girl’s neck.

You had no idea why you felt this way. You had no right. Not when it had been one night that the two of you had spent together, not when your boyfriend of six years was sitting right next to you with his head turned.

It was all so wrong.

So wrong, in fact, that you spent another three minutes watching him like a hawk – as if you hadn’t been doing that for half an hour already.

"You’re twitching, baby," Wakasa purred, buttery-smooth, and the sound of it almost made you cum right then and there. “You close?”

Blissfully, you let the pleasure take over you. “Mhm.”

That bastard. He’d taken everything from you. He came in and home wrecked your relationship, and now he was toying with your feelings. None of this would have been happening had it not been for him writing down his stupid phone number on that stupid beer box.

It was his fault, and it was like he knew it.

Did I ever matter? You felt yourself begin to wonder.

You were thrown out of your reverie by the sound of glass snapping. Shaking the thoughts from your head, you looked down at the palm of your hand where your wine glass once stood. 

The bottom half of the glass was still clenched in your fist. The glass cup had snapped in half, leaving the top piece tipped over – red wine spilled all over the otherwise pristine white table topper.

It wasn’t until you set the glass bottom down that you noticed the red liquid dripping down your wrist wasn’t wine. It was your blood.

You winced, tossing the broken glass onto the table.

“Shit, babe, are you okay?” Takeomi – surprisingly – rushed to your aid. He grabbed your wrist, flipping your palms over to reveal the distinct image of tiny glass shards embedded in your skin. 

“Yeah, I’m okay, Just…” You nodded quickly. You weren’t. You were just embarrassed. Quickly, your eyes darted around the room in search of someplace to wash up. You could feel everyone looking at you. “I just…”

The room felt like it was beginning to spin. 

Your chair screeched as you stood up abruptly, setting your now bloodied napkin down on the table. “I’m gonna use the bathroom,” You sputtered. “Please excuse me.”

And – ignoring your boyfriend’s shouts of your name – you speed-walked towards the nearest bathroom sign. 

You had tunnel vision. For a moment, there was no one else in the room. At the same time, however, it felt like every time you moved you were bumping into someone else. It was driving you crazy.

All you wanted was to make it to the bathroom in one piece. 

Eventually, you succeeded. You burst through one of the three bathroom doors you saw, chest heaving and shoulders tensed. Immediately, you made a beeline for the sink.

You turned on the faucet, sticking your hands beneath the stream of cold water that came out. The sudden chill felt pretty nice when you were sweating like a bitch in heat.

But, god damn, it hurt like a bitch .

You winced again, turning your palm over to look at the damage.

The skin was red and irritated. There was a shallow gash in the middle, right where the glass had snapped. Smaller shards of glass stuck to your skin here and there, but it was nothing crazy. 

“Shit,” you sighed. Letting the water run, you pressed your head up against the wall. You felt disgusting for feeling the way you did.

Feeling defeated, you sank to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest. It took all of the strength you had left in you to not cry.

Your phone buzzed. You flipped it over, letting it stay on the floor. You didn’t care how disgusting it was.

Take &lt;3   just now

You’re making a big scene

There was no way in hell that you were going to answer him. The screen lit up another time.

Take &lt;;3    just now

If you were planning on embarrassing me

tonight you should have just stayed home.

Feeling your eyes begin to water, you looked away. Instead of ruining your makeup, you tried counting the number of tiles on the bathroom wall. There was a cheap fluorescent light buzzing overhead. The distinct stench of piss lingered in the bathroom despite it being – somewhat – clean. 

You didn’t know why you were crying. It couldn’t have just been Wakasa. If you had to guess, it was probably a combination of that and the overwhelming humiliation you felt from doing the one thing your boyfriend had told you not to do.

Misbehave.

So you remained there on the bathroom floor for a while, keeping your knees pressed to your chest and trying to focus on the throbbing pain in your palm and in your heeled feet. Anything to not feel weak. Anything to keep the anxiety from eating you up inside.

So long, in fact, that you’d lost track of time. It wasn’t until a knock sounded at the bathroom door that you checked your phone to see how much time had passed: Five minutes.

“Occupied!” You quickly replied. Lifting a trembling finger up to your lips, you tried to tap your foundation back into place around your lips. By this point, you knew it was probably cracked.

“I know, doll,” Crooned the voice on the other side of the door. A voice belonging to someone who was quite possibly the last person you wanted to see right now. “ It’s me. ”

“No,” you affirmed. “I have nothing more to say to you.”

For a moment, it almost looked like he had an objection to make. He pressed his lips together in a thin line. “Alright,” he sighed, pressing the ignition button to start the car up again. “Then let’s get you home, doll.”

For a moment, you thought to stay quiet. Your efforts would have been in vain. He already knew you were in here.

Have pity on me, God, You sighed. Rolling onto your side, you began the tedious process of getting yourself off the vile bathroom floor. You dusted the skirt of your gown off. “Why can’t you just leave me alone, Imaushi?”

“I’m not here to talk. Takeomi told me you hurt your hand,” There was a brief silence, and then he offered, “I brought bandages.”

You scoffed. Asshole couldn’t come himself, go figure .

“Let me in?” He asked again.

“How did you know I was in here?” You asked. Still, your hand inched closer to the doorknob. 

He sighed. He sounded exasperated, to say the least. “Not hard to find you when this was the only bathroom that was occupied,” he then added, “You left your purse at the table.”

You glanced around the bathroom. Shit. He was right, you had left your bag in a rush.

“Want it back? ” He asked. It was an earnest question, but it sounded like a tease coming from him.

“That’s not even fair,” You furrowed your brows. “You’re holding my bag hostage.”

Wakasa fiddled with the handle. 

You jumped forward to hold your hand over it. “Okay, okay! I’ll let you in.”

You undid the lock on the door. The moment it opened you felt your heartbeat quicken. 

Wakasa looked a bit messy. His hair – which he had changed into a ponytail at some point during the evening – was disheveled, and a little frizzy at that. He had his arm braced on the door frame, leaning over you with a shit-eating grin. When you finally managed to tear your eyes away from his face, you realized he had your little black purse hooked on one of his fingers.

“Thanks,” you nodded at him. When you went for the purse, he lifted it out of your reach.

“Let me see your hand,” he deadpanned.

You sighed. Figuring that, at this point, you probably needed the bandage, you let him take your hand. It was a desperate effort to not focus on the way his fingers felt on your skin. 

His downturned eyes searched your hand for the injury. When he found it, he let his thumb flit over the small gash. It was a gesture so small, so insignificant, yet uncharacteristically gentle – it had you reeling.

“What happened?” He asked, raising his gaze to your averted eyes.

You took your hand back. “Wine glass broke in my hand.”

Wakasa stepped into the bathroom, letting the door shut behind him. He looked around the dingy place before nodding towards the toilet. “Sit down,” he said.

You furrowed your brows. Who did he think he was? “Why?”

“Sit down,” he said again. His tone was much more pointed this time. Upon remembering who it was that you were dealing with here, you quickly obeyed.

He was still the White Leopard. 

He knew it, too. His eyes followed you as you slowly lowered yourself onto the lid of the toilet seat in an almost feline fashion. 

Walking towards you, he reached into his pocket. He knelt on the floor in front of the toilet. Gently, so gently, he took your hand into his.

You followed his movements anxiously.

He brought out a little packet of first-aid ointment. Tearing into it with his teeth, he squeezed some onto his finger. “You’re still bleeding,” he noted.

“Yeah, it was kind of deep.” It was nothing crazy, not by any stretch. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t relishing in the way his hands traced your broken skin; The way he was holding you right now.

He brought your hand closer to his face. You thought it had been to inspect the wound up close. You thought wrong.

Instead, he pressed your open palm to his mouth, cleaning the mess up with his tongue. 

You pressed your thighs together. Feeling a little conflicted, you wandered off in thought. That was hot, undeniably so. It was also a little disgusting. Still, the fact that he was willing to do that for you was… 

The feeling of the ointment on your fresh wound made you grit your teeth together. It burned a little bit.

He didn’t look at you. Instead, rather focused, he peeled open a bandage. He took his precious time laying it over your injury, like he was scared to get it wrong. 

It was a little funny, in fact. You never would have thought that someone so heavily revered for being a brutal fighter would be so gentle in other aspects of his life.

“You okay?” He asked. When he looked up, your chest felt a little tight. 

“Yeah,” You sighed. Feeling your shoulders relax, you offered, “Thank you.”

It felt different between the two of you. For a moment, it felt as if you could forget about everything that had happened. It didn’t matter that you were having an affair with him, or that he was a criminal. Right now, it felt like the only thing that mattered was the way he was looking up at you right now – eyes wide and genuine while his thumb drew circles over your wrist. It felt almost… normal.

You shook your head.

Wakasa moved to stand up again. 

The words had begun to bubble on your tongue. Maybe it was the liquor, but at the time it seemed imperative to let him know. “We should probably talk.”

He blinked dumbly at you. Finally, he began to smile – you tried to suppress the warmth it brought to your cheeks. “I thought you said you didn’t have anything to say to me?”

You did say that.

Still, you tried to move past that. “You were talking about me earlier, weren’t you?” You remarked bluntly.

“I think this one might be different,” he mused after a brief pause. Setting the glass down on his thigh, he brought his gaze up from the floor and looked at you. His gaze was intense, burning hot, and for a moment, you could have sworn you saw his pretty eyes darken. “Haven’t been able to get her out of my head.”

You wondered briefly if he knew what you were talking about. You couldn’t forget it. 

Wakasa seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, training his lavender gaze on the shitty ceiling light fixture. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, backing up against the wall in front of you and resting his head against it. With his adam’s apple exposed, you could see the way his chest rose and fell as he took a much-needed breath.

“Yeah,” He said after a lengthy silence. “I was.”

You knew the answer to your question before you had even asked it, yet his answer still managed to catch you off guard. The silence that followed was enough time for your mind to begin wandering into dangerous territory.

There was another long pause. You licked your lips. 

“I don’t…” You trailed off. Shit, this was a difficult conversation to have. It didn’t help that you were tipsy. “We shouldn’t be together right now. That was a one-time thing.”

It was more a reminder to yourself than anyone else.

“You can’t seriously still be torn up over Takeomi, can you? We know he must not have meant that much to you if you cheated,” He muttered. It was at this point in the conversation that the energy in the room changed; the air grew denser. He turned his attention to where you were seated anxiously on the toilet. “So what is it that’s actually on your mind?”

“I’m not a cheater, Wakasa. This– ” Here, you gestured to the space between the two of you. “Can never happen again.”

Wakasa pushed himself off of the wall. Sauntering towards the toilet, he popped into a squat in front of you. It became very hard to keep your composure – all of a sudden – when those pretty eyes of his were staring up at you from below rather than from across the room. He was breathtaking from up this close, even under the mediocre bathroom lighting.

“That’s not what I asked, princess,” he mused. 

You felt the rapid beating of your heart become even faster. It felt as if he were reaching into your spirit through your eyes and picking apart your resolve piece by piece – until nothing was left, until the only name on your mind was his.

You swallowed the thick lump in your throat. “I already told you I’ve made up my mind.”

Wakasa’s unwavering gaze challenged your stance on the matter. You briefly contemplated abandoning your morals altogether and drinking the poison cocktail that his presence offered. “I think you’re full of shit,” he crooned like he knew that much was true.

He was probably right.

“I think…” He began. The way the corner of his lip curled into a devilish little smirk had you wishing you knew how to throw a punch. “I’ve been running around that pretty little head of yours as much as you’ve been on mine.”

“You don’t know the first thing about me,” You replied before he even had time to finish his sentence. Face beginning to feel a little bit hot, you knew now would probably be a good time to stop talking. But, as per usual, you couldn’t stop the word vomit. “Don’t tell me what to think.”

“I’m not telling you anything,” Wakasa offered in response. It was no use. You knew, deep down, that he was right. “But don’t think I didn’t catch you staring tonight.”

Shit.

Pointlessly, you began sputtering, face burning hot and red. “Staring? Please humble yourself.”

Wakasa grinned. “Yeah?” 

He moved closer to you. The distance between the two of you closed infinitesimally, and this time you let it. His fingers found the bottom of your chin to lift your line of sight to him and him alone. “I know because I’ve been looking at you all night – thinking about how good you look.” 

You had been stunned into silence. You opened your mouth – as if to say something – but quickly shut it. 

He had you right in the palm of his hand. 

“I meant it when I said you were different,” He added. 

When his thumb slid up your chin and paused over your bottom lip, you made no effort to move away. Instead, the shuddering breath that released itself from being in such close proximity to him made your real feelings about him painstakingly obvious.

He had you cornered.

“I don’t know what was in that pussy of yours,” He breathed. You felt the warmth of his words fan over the lower half of your face, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “Ever since I got a taste I’ve been craving more. It’s been driving me fucking crazy.”

You bit your lip.

“But you keep playing hard to get,” He looked up at you, meeting your gaze with a newfound passion. “What are you running from?”

The feeling of his thumb rubbing slow, gentle circles over your lip was enough to have you melting into his touch. He made you weak, so weak. You knew that. Perhaps that was the reason why you’d been running away all this time.

You didn’t know anything anymore.

“I…” you trailed off. “I don’t know what I feel for you… that scares me.”

“I think the best thing for the both of us would be to just–” You sighed. “I don’t know, just forget the whole thing happened.”

Wakasa’s thumb tugged on your bottom lip. “I can’t,” he muttered. “I don’t think either of us can.”

"Waka, I—" your voice trembled. You wanted him – you couldn’t deny it. Your resolve had all but vanished. At this moment in time, you wanted nothing more than to have his lips on yours again. You wished you knew why. "We shouldn’t be doing this."

You averted your eyes. 

“Look at me, pretty baby,” He hummed. He was watching you so closely, so intently that you could practically feel him burning a hole into the side of your head. 

But you couldn’t. You knew that if you looked at him – looked into those downturned, lilac eyes and those pretty lashes of his, you wouldn’t be able to resist him.

You felt yourself begin to give. This was all too much. “This can’t happen again.”

You couldn’t do this again, yet you allowed him to turn your head again and bring your face closer to his. 

“I think it can,” Wakasa countered. The intensity of his gaze made you squirm. You tried to squeeze your eyes shut – anything to keep yourself from following the promise of paradise behind his eyes – but you couldn’t help yourself from looking at him. He tilted his head towards the tiled wall to your left. “I think it can happen right there… up against that wall.”

“We shouldn’t…” You choked out. And, really, it was your final cry for help.

You hadn’t realized your hands had placed themselves on his shoulders until he threw your arms around his neck. The next words out of his sinful little mouth had you squeezing your thighs together. “Then stop me.”

Stop him.

Stop him.

You didn’t want to.

You couldn’t do this to Takeomi. Not again. Not after you’d spent the last week running away from him.

“If you really don’t want this…” He swallowed, licking his lips. You didn’t realize he had gotten so close to you.

His words played on repeat in the back of your head. 

What are you running from?

You felt Wakasa move his hands over your waist. You could feel his breath against your lips. His eyes pleaded with you for some form of closure. “Stop me or I won’t be able to stop myself.”

He was right. Everything he had said tonight was absolutely, undeniably right to the fullest extent, and that drove you crazy. You’d been hiding from your feelings for years now.

All it took was one more look at his hungry eyes, one more look at his poisonous lips, and you knew your heart had long since decided. It was him that you wanted. It had been him this whole time.

So instead of glorifying him with a response, you looped your fingers beneath the collar of his dress shirt, yanking him towards you. As your lips met his, you felt all of the air leave your lungs in a blissful haze.

You were tired of running.

[frokenkeke]

I cant stop thinking about ashes to ashley. (Im sorry if this gets too personal)

I know i am not a man , i've known that ever since i came out as non binary, yet i ask myself, am i a woman? and i just can come up with a clear answer. im not a girly girl,but at the same time, yes? but a girl in a boy way? boy in a girl way? until i just end up asking myself

What the fuck is a woman?????

There are periods where im just happy with being a masculine presenting "thing", there are times when im just indifferent, and there are times when i enter full gender panic and feel so uncomfortable with myself, and ashes to ashley made me feel like that. Don take that the wrong way (PLEASE!!)Its just, seeing Ashley just say it so nonchalantly without thinking that much about it, getting on that stage and fucking nailing it, can it really be that easy? and consequently i ask myself, if i just try, can that be me? Ashley demolished the cracked shell that was my egg, writing this has made me feel better, i wanted to just say Thank you Ashley and thank you for existing

I'm glad Ashes to Ashley was able to resonate with people in this way. For inspiration, contemplation, introspection, understanding.

Of course, Ashley works on a bit of efficient cartoon logic, stumbling through a wacky and snappy situation that spits her out the other end in a fulfilled and content state. I've been fully out as trans for numerous years at this point, yet I too find Ashley aspirational. She expresses a form of liberation I would want to capture every day. In ways she has helped me reinvigorate my self-confidence in just this past month I've known her.

Still, Ashley is undoubtedly a reflection of myself. Ash is a blatant portrait of pre-transition me, while Ashley is an extravagant exaggeration of how I am now (I have the haircut and the eye shadow, but not the lipstick and the red dress). Years ago there was this moment in my transition where I felt like a light flicked on and I was no longer driven by a longing desire to escape myself, but an inherent need to outwardly express and celebrate what is me. The story is about that moment. It is real and, for me, replicable.

The idea that this comic has helped even one person is huge to me. I am relieved and invigorated by the response so far. You are all the best!

[compacflt]

i’ve got a question about your writing process: in order to write a 30 year narrative, you create it out of hundreds of individual moments & actions, and each one has to function by itself and also part of a whole—have truth to itself and emotional resonance in a timeline. imo the key to doing this successfully is to care about each moment and make each one memorable, which seems very difficult: you have to get at the meat of the human behavior, believably, in a way that matters and explains and progresses the story, every time. and to write 200k words of it you do it hundreds of times! could you talk a bit about idea generation for each moment and how you brainstorm and write them?

omg an excuse to make more diagrams ! Thank you so much for this lovely ask!

okay: in case you don’t want to scroll through like four/five months of my inane icemav Poasting, I’ve done a couple other posts that go into my process — here about specifically chapter 1 and here about the fatal flaw of my fics from a construction standpoint

but from an idea generation standpoint… it’s pretty boring and cynical. I literally just make checklists. “things that HAVE to happen.” here’s my notes app check list of stuff that HAD to happen for the story to make sense in my rewrite of what is now chapters 8 & 9. this is from last december lol

and here’s a checklist/diagram of the major story beats and the changes in relationship dynamics throughout the story. any one of these dynamics changing reflects on the others in a way that‘s worth talking about. the hard part is finding a framing device or scene to talk about them.

the A plot of the fic is ice’s relationship with the navy, primarily. his arc is defined by his rank. so that’s the number 1 dynamic I wanted to focus on in such-and-such scenes, and why I stuck as stringently as possible to the “one rank per chapter” formula until ice got to the top & had to reckon with what being at the top actually means. His change in ranks is inspiration enough for most scenes because it shifts the dynamics in a way that is worth remarking upon in and of itself.

as an example im thinking of this scene (mostly because it’s short but also) because i think it’s kind of representative of how my idea generation process works

It fills a lot of gaps that i needed filled at that specific juncture in the story. the idea started with a stupid little section of dialogue in my head (mav would be surprised that ice’s official Navy docusign signature isn’t his actual signature) that happened to be symbolically relevant too (of course ice would have two different signatures for his two different personas). Then it morphed into a discussion of Ice’s canonically unhappy-looking compacflt portrait, which is canonically unhappy-looking. Then add onto that ice admitting he’s only happy at home (home obviously meaning with maverick, given that he’s literally in his house right now and still doesn’t feel like he’s home) and maverick telling him, “well that’s a problem that has literally the easiest fix in the world. youre making this way more complicated than it needs to be. just come home to me.”

so it’s literally just checking off boxes of things I wanted to talk about. as I said, a very cynical creation process. ✅ ice and mav doing the long-distance-relationship phone call thing (framing device for the whole scene). ✅ mav knowing ice’s real vs fake signature ❤️. ✅ ice’s canon unhappy compacflt portrait that makes an appearance in TGM. ✅ ice not feeling at home in Hawaii. ✅ ice not being fulfilled by the job & only being fulfilled by mav. ✅ ice coming up with excuses to see mav at any possible chance he gets. ✅ ice still obviously thinking of mav and Bradley as his family & maverick as his home. Etc etc. You see what i mean? how many stupid little ideas, symbols, and dynamic shifts can i cram into a page or so? that’s pretty much my thinking.

[simplygyuu]

Cookies - Beomgyu x gender neutral!reader

synopsis ! : After a hard day at work Beomgyu comes home and gets showered with the love and attention he deserves.. plus a plate of cookies :)

notes : reverse comfort, hurt/comfort, gyu crybaby era, i love gyu

wc : 1887

my friend @ddenoudepression made another version of the same idea !!

her version! (read after mine tho keke😝)

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

The minute you saw Beomgyu walk through the door you knew he must have had a bad day. He had come in with his head hanging low, slowly toeing off his shoes and hanging his jacket up. His hair wasn't very long per say, but the way his head hung covered his eyes and all you saw was the line his lips were pressed into.

“Welcome back! How'd it go, babe?” You asked either way, walking over to the doorway so you could greet him properly. You had a clue that it probably wasn't any good news, but it didn't hurt to ask. Maybe he'd open up to you.

“Oh. They rejected it.” Beomgyu simply responded, sounding absolutely devastated and plain tired as he hung up his keys. “Now I need to start fresh.. I don't even know what to write.”

“Oh, I'm sorry Gyu. I know how hard you worked on that.” You frowned, feeling the sadness with him. You had watched him slave over that rough draft of a book for months. He had been nervous if not a bit excited to submit it today. You decided to lean forward and pull him into a hug, rubbing his back gently. He was taller than you so it was a bit awkward but comfortable anyways. After a few years of dating you were used to it by now.

“I tried so hard to get that one accepted yn and he just stomped all over my hard work.” Beomgyu cried softly and you felt your heart squeeze painfully. You used your thumbs to wipe away the tears under his eyes with an understanding look.

“I know baby, I know. Let it out, yeah?” You coaxed him carefully, leaning forward to press a gentle peck to his lips before hugging him once again. Just like you said Beomgyu let himself cry, laying his head down on your shoulder despite the bit of difficulty and wrapping his arms around you.

You had come to realize not long into your relationship that Beomgyu cried a lot. There was nothing bad about that, if anything it made you feel better knowing he trusted you enough to be so vulnerable. That also meant you've figured out some of the best ways to raise his spirits. You held each other until Beomgyu eventually pulled away on his own accord, wiping away the leftover wetness from his tears.

“I'm gonna go shower and get ready for bed.. wanna watch a movie when im done?” Beomgyu offered quietly, rubbing his hand up and down your waist gently. Nothing about it was suggestive, he was truly just a touchy person.

“Of course! Why don't you take a bath it'll be some self care time, hmm? Just relax and I can massage your shoulders later.” You offered, planning on a way to make him feel better. You wanted to bake him cookies, knowing he always loved when you made him anything but it was hard to surprise him with something so time consuming. “I know your achy, old man shoulders need it.” You teased with a smile.

Beomgyu let out a small huff of laughter, beginning to smile again as he playfully rolled his eyes. It was relieving to see him smiling again. Sure his eyes were still a bit red, his cheeks and nose now dawning a dusty red tint and a bit of reflective wetness left on his cheeks, but the small smile made up for it all.

“Okay, okay.” Beomgyu gave in with a smile. “Just know I'll be taking my sweet, precious time.” He chuckled before leaning forward to give you a sweet kiss on the lips before finally letting you go and disappearing down the hallway.

You waited until he slipped into your shared bathroom and closed the door before rushing over to the kitchen with a smile. Quickly you began to pull out all of the things you would need to bake cookies. Hopefully if you made this quick you'd finish before he noticed what you were up to.

You admittedly weren't the best baker ever, honestly you never got the chance to bake often. But you used to bake with your friends and knew a thing or two. You had cookies pretty much memorized, you only hoped you'd be able to pull it off now a few years later.

You began preheating the oven, fluttering around the kitchen easily. You knew the room like the back of your hand having lived here with Beomgyu for two years now.

It was much easier to move around and bake with Beomgyu distracted. He tended to like messing with you while you cooked, following you around and hugging you from behind. He would always just laugh as you complained about not being able to move enough, usually not letting up on his hold on you.

Sometimes though he would just follow you like a lost puppy, peeking over your shoulder to see what you were doing and what you were making. It caused you to bump into him a lot. Usually it ended in you banishing him to another room or you giving him something to do in the kitchen so he'd stay in one spot.

In the shy of twenty minutes it took for you to set everything up, make the dough, and wait for the oven to preheat, Beomgyu had yet to leave the bathroom. The time passed quickly since you were so occupied, so it honestly wasn't too bad.

In no time you were popping the cookies into the oven and setting a timer, smiling as it seems you've pulled off the surprise. Right afterwards though, you heard the click of the bathroom door opening. You peeked around the corner of the hallway to see Beomgyu walking out, a towel wrapped around his waist as he used another to aggressively scrub at his wet hair.

You paused for a second, just admiring him with wide eyes. Despite your five years together you still couldn't get over how hot he was. Sure he was usually a pretty sweet, cuddly boyfriend but god was he hot when he wanted to be. Beomgyu then turned his head to make eye contact with you, raising an eyebrow before realizing you were staring at him.

“Like what you see?” He teased, winking at you playfully before walking off to your bedroom so he could put on some clothes. You just felt your face heat up out of embarrassment and really just because of how attractive he was. Honestly, you really won the lottery with him.

Shaking your head at yourself you made your way into the living room to start setting up a movie like you had promised Beomgyu. You checked the timer on your phone, seeing that there were about eight minutes left. That was enough time.

You easily went through the familiar motions of setting up a movie, you two had frequent movie nights together. You also would watch shows together even if the other wasn't very interested. You decided to wait for Beomgyu before picking something. It would be best if he picked after having a bad day.

Once Beomgyu reappeared and made his way over to the couch you smiled up at him, scooting over so there was enough room next to you. He immediately flopped down next to you, an arm over your shoulder as he leaned into you as touchy as ever.

“Have you picked anything?” He asked, glancing over at you.

“Nope, I'm letting you pick tonight. You better remember this forever ‘cause I'm never gonna be this generous ever again.” You replied back cheekily, handing the remote over to him.

“Thank you oh so much my dearest yn.. how will I ever repay you?” Beomgyu played along with a chuckle, taking the remote that was handed to him.

“Hmmm,” You pretended to think, leaning into his side and resting your head on his shoulder. “Start by feeling better tonight and then we'll see.”

Beomgyu looked at you with that fond smile on his face, just nodding at you with a laugh before focusing back on the tv. Once he looked away, you felt a buzzing in your pocket making you realize that must be the cookies. Beomgyu glanced over at the sound and you faked a sheepish smile.

“Hold on, I'll make it quick.” You promised, pretending it was an important phone call before slipping back into the kitchen. As quietly as you could manage you pulled the cookies out of the oven and transferred them onto a plate. You couldn't help the soft hiss that left you since they were still hot but that was okay, that meant they would be good. You also quickly got a glass of milk for Beomgyu, knowing by now that that's how he preferred it.

Finally you walked back into the living room, Beomgyu looking over once he realized you were coming back before his eyes zeroed in on the plate of cookies you held in one hand and the glass of milk in the other.

“Surprise! I wanted to cheer you up and I know you like cookies.” You said as you walked in, setting the plate down on the coffee table in front of Beomgyu. He had yet to speak yet, just watching you with wide eyes. Despite his silence you couldn't bring yourself to feel nervous. Worst case scenario he said he wasn't hungry.

“You.. you made these just ‘cause I was sad?” Beomgyu finally asked and you immediately responded with a happy nod. With a soft hum you carefully choose a smaller cookie before blowing on it a bit and then dipping it into the glass of milk.

“Aaa~” You playfully said, holding the cookie up to Beomgyus mouth with your other hand underneath it to keep the milk from dripping. You enjoyed taking care of him on bad days like this. He easily accepted the cookie, leaning forward a bit to take one of his signature small bites. What you didn't expect was to see tears well up in his eyes once again.

“What's wrong, Gyu? Why are you crying? Don't cry..” You were a bit alarmed, setting down the cookie to wipe away the tears under his eyes yet again.

“No, no im.. im happy. I can't believe you cooked these just for me.. how did you even manage that.” Beomgyu delved into a wet laugh at the end of his sentence, sniffling again. He was so endearing.

“Oh, you worried me you dummy.” You giggled, leaning forward to press a soft kiss onto his forehead before sitting down next to him on the couch and pulling the table a bit closer to you two. He just chuckled with you, the two of you leaning into each other once you sat down.

“So, did you pick something out yet?” You asked while picking up a cookie of your own, watching Beomgyu lift up his abandoned one from earlier.

“Yeah! It's this movie about…”

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

notes ! : i hope you enjoyed this.. i liked writing it :)

replies and reposts are super motivating and appreciated !!

general taglist ! : @squiishymeow @beomnioa @jwnghyuns @ddenoudepression

if youd like to be added to my permanent taglist send me a message or an ask!!

[ninathekillerzblog]

Rant about Nina Hopkins / Nina The Killer as a character

so i like nina a lot.... could u guys tell...... i bet u couldnt.... no but srsly i like her because her story has a lot more to it then "i went crazy and killed my entire family" she had LAYERS she didnt want to kill her brother nor did she start out crazy - nobody did tbh but she didnt start off hating her family like some of the other pastas nor was her family bad to her, she was a normal kid !!!!

she was bullied because of her interests and literally just being herself, thats what resonates with me because that happens irl!!! its not just "oh shes ugly" its was her interests and her being HERSELF!!! and i think shes very neurodivergent coded, like her hyperfixation couldve been jeff considering how much she focused on him without even trying to be obsessed with him

her story is so much more than what google says or whatever, even the creator of nina has said so themselves!!! "Nina was once a normal fangirl of Jeff the Killer but turned into an insane and remorseless serial killer after one horrible day at school." NOOOO thats not it ughh fandom wiki why are you SO dumb, it didn't just happen in a day. her backstory happened over weeks and a large time frame of her slowly losing her sanity, jeff slowly manipulated her into becoming what she did

she didnt just decide to comit to being a murderer over night, she didnt want to kill her brother she was tricked into thinking she was saving him from the world when she WASNT ughh. Jeff knew what he was doing and the creator also didnt just make nina admire her because the creator liked jeff, no, the creator of nina knew how to properly write manipulation and they knew that jeff was in the wrong in that story. YOU DONT SEE THAT OFTEN IN CREEPYPASTA BACKSTORIES

in many oc backstories they're all like, "slenderman saved me from my abusive family." but with nina the creator KNEW jeff was bad and wrote it like that on purpose because it wasnt meant to be romantic it was meant to be an outlet oc. Nina wanted to protect her brother and idolized Jeff for "protecting" his brother when in reality he screwed up the both of their lives, Nina didn't realize that because she was a TEENAGER!!!! She didn't know any better and she doesn't deserve the hate she recieved. im not playing the age card but cmon, she faced all that hate and bullying of course she's going to believe the first person who tells her that shes worthy of love and shes capable of something.

"Nina was the reflection of everyone who admired Jeff and wanted justice as he did." Nina's creator was 13 years old when nina was made, she was bullied irl a lot. A LOT. She had nina as an outlet and a comfort oc who admired Jeff and wanted JUSTICE like he did because he stopped his bullies. She is so much more than a fangirl omg.

the attached photo is from the creators rant where they abandoned nina as an oc, that was the last paragraph. "I want to hug Nina and, maybe, give her the well-deserved story one day, something interesting and true to the creepypastas,

maybe someday."

in the rant the creator talks about how they would wake up every single day to 25+ comments of people telling them to kill themselves, that their oc sucks, and drawings of peoples own creepypasta ocs killing nina

but through it all they were still like, "not everyone will like her! thats okay, because i do." BUT the hate got to much for a 14 year old and they talked about how theyd cry every night omggg

ninas creators post if ur interested

nobody deserves to go through what they did