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russo-woso · 1 year ago

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Could you do a Leah smut based on the song casual by Chappell Roan

Casual | Leah Williamson

Warning SMUT 18+, toxic relationship, praise kink

Summary Leah wants to keep your relationship casual, resulting in consequences

“I don’t get why you’re still going out with her. You know what she’s like. You’ve heard the rumours of all her previous girls. She just used them. It’s like she can’t love anyone.” Your friend, Emma, told you as you sat down at the table to have lunch.

It was true. Leah’s reputation was well known throughout your school.

You’d known Leah all throughout your schooling.

Going to primary school with her, and then going to secondary school with her and then eventually going to sixth form with her.

You and her would always say hi to each other. You wouldn’t go as far as saying you were friends with her, but would respectfully smile at one another.

Until you found out the truth about her.

It wasn’t anything bad. That’s what you thought until you experienced it yourself.

Leah had a problem. She couldn’t love anyone.

She’d take girls home, either from school, or teammates, sleep with them, act like she loved them, and then tell them it was just a casual thing.

You had heard story after story about this.

Yet, somehow, all you saw was small Leah playing football when she was six years old.

You think that’s how it led you to being one of those girls.

You couldn’t see Leah for who she really was.

You thought that maybe she could fall in love with you.

And so when Leah and you kissed after celebrating the win of one of her matches, it started to become a regular thing and you fell in love with her.

You’d always remember that lunch spent with Emma.

The last words she said to you during lunch, was that you were a loser that you couldn’t see who leah really was.

————————

“Y/N, look, I told some of my friends about what happened and they promised not to tell anyone. I’m sorry.” Leah apologised for all the rumours going around.

“Leah, I trusted you not to tell anyone about what happened.”

What happened. What happened was that you slept with Leah.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t planned at all.

You didn’t want to sleep with her until you knew you weren’t one of those girls, but somehow it did.

It all came back to you looking at Leah like she was still the same girl she was all them years ago.

In a way, you regretted what happened.

As you were leaving Leah’s house that night, she said something that you’d never forget.

Let’s keep this casual, okay?

You nodded and walked away, mentally cursing yourself for falling in love with her.

You really were one of them girls.

And to top it off, you were known as the girl who Leah fucks for fun.

————————

You couldn’t help yourself.

You were addicted to Leah.

You were addicted to her smile, the smirk she’d give you when you walked past her, the smell of her, just everything about her.

That’s what led you to you laying in her bed sheets, out of breath.

She collapsed next to you, using the bed sheets to cover herself.

“That was… wow.” You said, your mind still somewhere else.

“I know I’m just too good, aren’t I?” Leah replied to your comment, a huge smirk taking over her face.

“Don’t get cocky, Williamson.”

“Remember, no attachments, alright baby?”

“Yeah. No attachments.” You said back. You would be lying through your teeth if you said you agreed with her.

After all, you already were attached to her. You had been for a while.

————————

“Fuck, Le.” You moaned as her tongue worked wonders on your clit.

“You taste so good.” Leah groaned into your pussy, sending vibrations to run through your body.

“What if someone sees, le?” You questioned, your breath uneven.

You were currently sat in a car park in Leah’s car whilst she ate you out in the passenger seat.

“Let them see. Let them see how you’re being a good girl for me. Let them hear you scream my name.”

“Shit. Leah, right there. God, please don’t stop.” You screamed as the coil in your stomach tightened.

“Fuck. I love it when you moan my name. Say it again.”

“Le, ‘m gonna cum. Fuck.” You grabbed the car door with one hand, your other flying to Leah’s hair as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

You felt Leah smirk into your pussy as she licked it clean.

Leah climbed back into the drivers seat, resting a hand on your thigh.

She pulled off and out of the car park as if nothing had happened.

“Le, this is still casual, right?” You asked her, just trying to see where your relationship stood, and she frowned at your question.

“Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”

————————

When Leah approached you a few days later and explained that her mum had invited you for dinner at a restaurant, you couldn’t say no.

The fact that Leah had spoken to her mum about you and so much that she’d invited you for dinner made a ray of hope appear.

The dinner had gone okay. Perfect even.

Amanda and David were so nice.

The nerves you felt disappeared as soon as Amanda pulled you into a tight hug.

As you were sat down waiting for your meals to arrive, you kept getting distracted from the conversation.

Amanda and David were talking about Leah’s brother, Jacob, who lived in Australia, but with Leah’s hand travelling its way up your thigh, you couldn’t concentrate.

You put your hand on Leah’s hand, pulling it away and dropping it back in her lap, but not even five minutes later, you felt it on your thigh again, this time even higher up.

“Mum, can I quickly speak to Y/N?” Leah asked and stood up as soon as Amanda nodded, confusion written on her face, identical to yours.

Leah took your hand and dragged you through the restaurant towards the bathroom.

As soon as she pushed open the door, she locked the door and pushed you against it.

“You’re gonna be my good girl and be quiet okay.” Leah’s voice whispered in your ear and she started to suck on your neck.

“Leah, fuck, that feels so good.”

Leah’s hands made their way to the hem of your trousers, sliding them down your legs.

“You’re gonna take my fingers, okay, baby.” Leah said and you whimpered in response, your core already clenching.

“Please, le.”

You couldn’t believe you were in this situation again.

After the events in Leah’s car, you promised your self you wouldn’t let this happen again, but here you were with Leah in the bathroom of a restaurant where you were supposed to be having dinner with her parents.

As Leah still attacked your neck, her fingers pushed your underwear to the side and she stuck one finger into you.

Your head fell onto her shoulder and you moaned into it to stop the rest of the restaurant from hearing.

Leah added a second a finger and began pumping in and out.

“Fuck, Leah, right there.”

Leah’s fingers continued to hit the same spot over and over again, making you bite into her shoulder to stop you from moaning.

“You feel so right around my fingers, babe. You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?” Leah asked and you nodded your head against her shoulder. “Good. Be a good girl and cum for me.”

“Le, ‘m so close. I’m gonna cum.”

The feel of Leah’s fingers in you, the huskiness in her voice and the sight of Leah’s biceps made you tumble over the edge far too quickly.

You rolled your head back against the door and wrapped your hand around your mouth to stop yourself from being caught.

Leah pressed a final kiss to you neck, soothing the marks she’d just left.

She helped pull your trousers back up and wiped the sweat that had gathered on your forehead.

“Now, we’re going to go out there and you’re gonna act like my girlfriend, understood?”

That sentence broke you.

Act. You were going to have to go out there and act like Leah’s girlfriend.

You simply nodded your head, not knowing what to say or do.

You returned to the table, sending a weak smile to David and Amanda.

The rest of dinner was quiet, you barely saying a word. And the words you did say, were mumbled to stop you from crying.

You didn’t want to act like you were Leah’s, you wanted to be Leah’s but Leah could only love casually.

All her relationships were casual, including yours.

“Y/N, are you okay? You’ve seemed quiet the last half hour.” Amanda questioned, purely to see if you were okay.

“Yeah, I’m…actually, no I’m not fine. I’ve had enough of this. I’ve had enough of acting. I want someone who actually loves me. I want a relationship with someone that’s not casual. I can’t believe I’ve let it go on for this long. I hate that I let this drag on so long. You can go to hell Leah. I hate you for doing this to me. You let me fall in love with you and then you tell me it’s all an act. Go to fucking hell.”

You marched out of the restaurant, not a care in the world that the whole restaurant had eyes on you.

Tears streamed down your face as you got into your car. You screamed in anger.

You should have listened to Emma. You should have known that it would end this way.

After all, Leah wasn’t that same seven year old girl you once knew, she had changed.

That seven year old girl knew how to love people, this Leah, didn’t.

Everything she did, including her relationships, were casual.

#woso community #woso x reader #woso #woso imagine #womens football #woso fanfics #woso smut #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson

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milswrites · 1 year ago

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Hobbies Part 5.

~Azriel X Reader~

Summary: In an attempt to keep Azriel away from Elain, Rhys sends him on a sabbatical to the Day Court. With a lot more free time on his hands Azriel needs to find something to keep him occupied. Unfortunately he meets Y/N who has the annoying habit of not staying away. Can she teach him that there’s more to life than he thought?

Grumpy!Azriel X Sunshine!Reader

Series masterlist

Warnings: Lots of fluff. Tiny bit of angst (I can’t even tell at this point). Very vague references to sex. Cliffhanger (Whoopsies)

Five hours later, once Azriel had planned out the date and bathed the sticky multicoloured icing from his skin, he had begun pacing his flat in anticipation of Y/N’s arrival. Shadows swirling around him, sensing their masters spiked anxiety. Should he have offered to pick her up from her own place? Does she even know this is a date? He had asked her to go out but he had never explicitly said the word date.

He was sweating profusely under the black dress shirt he had adorned for the occasion, glad he had one packed. Azriel had been with plenty of women over the years but taking one on a date? This would be the first.

It was only after she had left his flat that he realised he had never even given her a definite time to meet, just a vague promise of seeing her later. Azriel blames Y/N for this lack of communication, planting the kiss on his cheek and leaving him speechless.

So here had been for the last hour, moon now high in the sky, waiting for her to arrive. Having far too much time to overthink about everything that could go wrong. He had to stop himself from anxiously walking over to the mirror in his bathroom for a sixth time to make sure his hair was in place and question whether he should wear other clothes than all black, not wanting to look like death personified next to Y/N’s radiant self. No, he would stick with what he was comfortable with, Y/N wasn’t one to judge. That and Azriel didn’t own anything other than black clothes and he was sure if he ran to the shop now he would miss Y/N.

Finally, a soft knock at his door broke his pacing. His shadows all flew to the door whispering in excitement, waiting for it to be opened so they could be blessed by her presence. Straightening the collar of his shirt, Azriel took in a deep breath. He wasn’t going to let his fluctuating attitudes ruin tonight. He would allow himself to have fun.

He grabbed the handle of the door, looking up to the ceiling and praying to the Mother that tonight would run smoothly, and slowly pulled it open.

~~~~~

If Azriel was the personification of death, Y/N must have been that of life. As she stood there in his entryway, mouth slightly open as her eyes drifted over Azriel’s form, he couldn’t help but think that everything in his life just felt like it now made sense.

He looked from her dress, a soft pink which Azriel thought complimented her oh so beautifully, the entirety of which was patterned with hand embroidered flowers of a deeper shade of pink, and forced his gaze to move to her face where a nervous smile was resting.

“You look…wow” he finally spoke, gulping as he took in the sight of her. A rosy blush that matched her dress crossed her face, “Thank you. You clean up nicely too”. A matching tint formed on his own cheeks.

“So what’s the plan?” She asked curiously, looking up into his eyes which were still trailing the length of her body.

“Uh well I realised I don’t actually know anywhere nice to eat in this Court so I’ve kind of planned something else” Azriel tried to keep it vague, hoping to keep the true plan somewhat of a surprise.

“Sounds perfect! Lead the way!” She grinned, before stepping to the side to allow Azriel and his wings to fit through the doorway. Before he could even step out, his shadows rushed towards Y/N twirling around the skirt of her dress. Fearful that his shadows would scare her, Azriel went to angrily call them back. But he was stopped in his tracks by a melodic laugh slipping from her lips as she began to spin round with them as if they were dancing.

It was at this point Azriel made the decision to not stand there stunned like he usually does in situations where Y/N makes his heart pound and he doesn’t know what to do. Instead, trying to find some semblance of confidence, he reaches out to take Y/N’s hand which was outstretched for balance as she spun. He grabbed it in his own scarred one, and raised them together, allowing her to twirl underneath him, shadows in tow.

Their surroundings forgotten, this little dance continued for a few minutes, smiles on their faces as they were absorbed into the moment. Spinning and moving together fluidly. Wanting to feel her even closer, Azriel reached out his other hand hoping to come into contact with her waist, only to be interrupted by a squeak from the end of the corridor which caused him to draw his hand back.

His head snapped towards the sound, eyes viciously landing on the neighbour who earlier that day had witnessed him standing there in his frilly yellow apron. A low growl came from Azriel’s throat as the neighbour awkwardly rushed forward to pass them in the corridor, Y/N’s hand leaving his to make space for the neighbour to get past with a high pitched “sorry” coming from them as they sped round to the other stairway.

Azriel’s shadows had stopped dancing, electing to disappear during the awkward moment. The moment was gone much to Azriel’s disappointment, the embarrassment of being caught creeping up his spine was testament to that.

Noticing his red ears, Y/N placed a calming hand onto his chest, which of course made them even redder. “Come on! I’m excited to see what you’ve planned!” Of course Y/N wouldn’t be phased after being caught dancing in the corridor.

“Yeah” Azriel sighs, dejected. Annoyed at the lack of control he had over his body prior to being caught, and so when the pair walked out of the building he made sure to leave some space between them, not wanting to do anything else rash that would undoubtedly lead to further embarrassment.

~~~~~

Azriel led the way, walking towards the location of the date. He wanted to talk, but after what had transpired outside the flat he was afraid to and so he had to put up with walking in silence. Y/N clearly wasn’t bothered as she hummed happily, either having not noticed the arm length of space between them or choosing not to comment on it.

Azriel was kicking himself, he was on a date with a beautiful woman and he couldn’t bring himself to find the words to speak. He wished he had his brothers with him. Cassian would have prepared him for the date, he would have made sure his friend was filled with confidence and prepped lots of things for Azriel to talk about. Rhysand would have fussed over his clothing and given him tips on how to flirt, how to complement a woman and make her blush until her knees wobble.

Yet his family had abandoned him here. But now weeks later after the fact, Azriel couldn’t help but feel grateful for the events that had transpired otherwise he would have never met Y/N.

Y/N who was walking next to him, eyes full of love and admiration as if she was taking in the moonlit surroundings for the first time even though she undoubtably walked these streets daily as she headed to and from work.

On and on they walked, Y/N’s humming being the one thing that kept Azriel earthed, preventing him from freaking out and flying off in fear that he couldn’t do this right. Fear that he didn’t know how to act on a date. Until finally they approached the garden Azriel had found during one of his nightly flights around the city.

Azriel had originally landed in this hidden piece of paradise because he was searching for a little trace of Elain, a reminder of what he was missing out on from being away from home. Only once he had entered the gates to be greeted by garishly bright sunflowers his thoughts were only on Y/N.

He had spent hours walking around the garden on the first night he had discovered it, appreciating the hundreds of plants and flowers that grew inside of the gates. It was only after his third visit here during his nightly outings that he pictured Y/N here with him, walking along the trailing path, smiling up at him as she smelt the flowers, admiring their beauty as he admired her. It only made sense to Azriel that he had to bring her here. See if Y/N reacted to it in the same way she did in his dreams.

Her reaction did not disappoint. Azriel held open the gate for her, allowing Y/N to enter with a gasp upon her lips.

“Oh Azriel it’s beautiful! However did you find this?” Y/N was whispering, her awe at where she was overwhelming. Azriel silently watched on as tears filled her eyes, trying to cement this moment into his mind forever. Y/N in her pretty pink dress, standing in the garden.

It was only after he was certain the picture of Y/N, surrounded by flowers as beautiful as she was, was permanently fixed into his brain did Azriel then allow himself to talk. “There’s more” Azriel too spoke in a quiet whisper, afraid of interrupting the perfect moment that was occurring.

Y/N’s eyes which were filled with an emotion Azriel couldn’t place, looked to his expectantly. Gently, Azriel placed his scarred hand onto her back and led her through the garden, allowing her to stop whenever she wanted to appreciate a flower she found particularly beautiful. Until finally the plants broke away, revealing a clearing in the middle of the garden where Azriel had set up a blanket, jars of faelight holding it down and twinkling under the light of the moon. A wicker basket was placed on top, filled with goods he had bought from the market earlier in the day.

“Oh Azriel!” Y/N cried out, taking a step towards the picnic. His hand moved from the small of her back, tentatively grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the blanket to sit down.

“I know it’s not fancy, I should have probably taken you for a meal out. And don’t worry I didn’t do any of the baking, wouldn’t want to poison you again.”

Y/N didn’t even laugh at Azriel’s joke, she just threw herself over the basket on the ground and latched her arms around his neck, pulling him in tightly for a hug. It took three deep breaths before Azriel responded, wrapping one arm around Y/N’s body which was pressed against his, whilst using the other hand to brush the hair that had fallen from behind her ear back.

She pulled away, wincing in pain from the basket that had been digging into her stomach. “It couldn’t be more perfect Az” she smiled, resting her hand over his.

The two ate the food Azriel had bought, making light conversation about the garden they were sitting in and the food they were consuming. Until finally, stomachs full, they both laid back onto the blanket in order to gaze at the stars shining above them.

“What’s it like? In the night Court I mean” Y/N shyly asked, as if afraid of talking about the spymasters home might set him off.

Azriel felt no spike of anger as she mentioned his home court. In fact he didn’t even feel the painful longing he usually did at the thought of it, wanting to be nowhere else but in the present with Y/N.

“It depends where you are. The Illyrian camps are no paradise. But there’s some places…a city that is so magnificent it still takes my breath away every time I see it. That’s where I live. Sometimes I spend hours flying above it and no matter how many times I do I always see something new.” Azriel said whilst closing his eyes, allowing himself to picture it.

“Ah Velaris, the secret city,” Y/N teased, causing Azriel’s eyes to snap open as he sat up and looked at her in shock, “Helion’s a talker” she shrugged as if it was common knowledge.

Azriel laughed and settled back down, head resting onto his hands behind his head, gaze once more returning to the stars. “I’ll take you one day” he confirmed, wanting nothing more than to share his home with Y/N.

He didn’t have to look at her to know she was smiling as she replied, “I’d like that.”

“Maybe you could make a dress just for the Night Court” Azriel mused, imagining what Y/N would look like in all black before deciding he wasn’t sure if he would want to see her with her colour taken away.

“I’d make you a matching tunic so we could wear them together, only I’m not too sure how to make clothes for Illyrains.” Y/N brushed his wing lightly with a finger as she said this, causing Azriel to stiffen as they twitched responsively.

Obviously he didn’t expect Y/N to know about the sensitivity of an Illyrians wings so he did his best to calm himself, nervously stuttering, “yeah the wings are really something.”

“It must be the best feeling ever, flying.” She said wistfully, staring at the night sky as if imagining she was up there. “I can think of some better feelings…but yeah it’s definitely up there” Azriel spoke, turning his head to admire Y/N. The moonlight making her skin shimmer.

“If I were born with wings I’d travel the whole world. I would see everything Prythian has to offer.”

Azriel wanted to burst her bubble, tell her most of Prythian wasn’t even worth visiting. Yet he held his tongue, not wanting to dampen her dreams. Instead he encouraged them, “where would you fly to first?”

“To Velaris,” she said, finally turning her head to meet his eyes, “I’d have to pick you up first before we go.” Her hand creeped over to Azriel’s which was laying on the blanket before entwining their fingers. “I have a big wingspan, what makes you think you’d be able to keep up?” Azriel warned, smirk on his face. “I think you’d wait for me” Y/N said knowingly, matching smirk on hers. “I’d wait forever for you if I had to” Azriel squeezed her hand as he said this.

“Just you and me and the whole world to explore. Sounds like a good dream.” Y/N smiled sadly, no doubt referring to the fact she didn’t have wings like Azriel’s and reminding him their planning was all based on fiction.

Adamant he didn’t want to see her sad, Azriel shot up onto his feet, hand held out to Y/N to pull her up, “Come on!” He ordered.

Y/N sat up on the blanket, eyebrows creased in confusion, “What?”

“Come on!” He pressed, pushing his outstretched arm even closer to her impatiently, “We’re going flying.”

Y/N released a sound of disbelief, grabbing onto his hand and jumping up from the ground excitedly, “Brilliant! So how do we do this?” She asked, referring to how she would be carried.

Azriel’s eyes widened slightly, “uh well it would probably be easier if I just…” and with that he grabbed her and swept her into his arms, one going behind her back for support and the other holding up her legs.

Giggling in anticipation for the flight, Y/N once more ran her fingers down Azriel’s wings in admiration as he spread them wide and shook them ready for flight. He flinched abruptly, almost dropping her in shock before he stuttered, “It’s probably best you stop touching them or I don’t think we’ll ever get round to flying.”

This time instead of just her cheeks flaring red, her entire face flushed, clearly now understanding the implications of touching an Illyrians wings. Finding himself liking her response, Azriel bravely sent her a wink before shooting into the sky. Y/N’s arms flying around his neck and face pressing into his shoulder with a squeal at the speed he had launched from.

Azriel steadied out once high enough in the air, but Y/N still kept her face tucked into his neck in fear. “You can look now” he teased, urging her to lift her head but all he felt was the firm shaking of it against his shoulder so he continued, “We can’t go flying the world together if you won’t look at it? You won’t see much like this.”

That got her attention, Y/N’s head raising, but her eyes didn’t take in the view. Instead they found their home on Azriel’s face. “But I don’t have wings” she pouted up at him.

“But I do” he said with a laugh, batting his wings a little harder so they blew her hair into her face playfully.

“You mean it?” She asked in disbelief that he’d be willing to carry her just so she could see the world.

“Only if you take a look” he whispered into her ear, daring her to break eye contact and take in the view. And so she did and Azriel couldn’t have been more in love than he was in that moment.

Y/N beamed as she looked down on the city. “Look you can see the palace!” She pointed out the large building that towered over the rest of the city, “and my house! This is amazing!”

Azriel didn’t move his gaze to take in any of the sites, instead it stayed locked on Y/N as he replied, “yeah it is.”

“I’m going to want you to fly my everywhere!” She cheered excitedly.

“Wherever you need” Azriel replied, taking his focus off of where he was flying so he could rest his head against hers while she sat happily in his arms, “I would never put you down if you asked me not to.”

Azriel could see the struggle it took for Y/N to pull her eyes from the stunning sight of the twinkling city at night but she managed to, turning to Azriel and shifting slightly in his arms to face him better.

“And if I asked you to hold me forever?”

“Then nothing, no one, would stop me from holding you until the day the Mother takes me.”

Y/N released a small strangled cry at Azriel’s words before she leaned forward in his arms to softly place her lips onto his. Responsive, Azriel meets her halfway, their lips moving together in a passionate dance. Y/N went to deepen the kiss, drawing her tongue languidly against Azriel’s lower lip and in his surprise at her need to take control he completely forgot the two were in the air, relying on the beat of his wings to keep them afloat.

And so they fell.

Y/N releasing a scream as their lips tore apart and Azriel struggled to regain his grip on her flailing body as he turned his attention back to flying. Once she was secure in his arms one more he spread his wings out wide to level out, stopping their freefall.

Y/N panting slightly as her adrenaline at being dropped slowly evaporated, bravely placed her lips near Azriel’s until they brushed before pulling away as he eagerly tried to meet them once more. She shakily spoke against them “I think we’re going to need a rule about kissing while flying.”

Barking out a laugh, Azriel agreed before asking her which direction her home was in. He held her even tighter as he flew in the direction Y/N had pointed in, not wanting to permanently scar her so she never wanted to fly with him again.

He landed as gentle as he could, pulling her closer against him to make her feel safer as he did so, before he carefully placed her back onto the ground, a large hand around her back to ensure she didn’t stumble as she regained her footing.

“I think it’s safe to say this has been the best birthday I’ve ever had.” She grinned up at him, her hand finding his once more.

Azriel opened his mouth to reply but was interjected by one of his shadows moving up to frantically whisper in his ear, causing a frown to adorn his face. In her euphoria Y/N failed to notice this, instead she led him by their interlocked hands towards her front door.

“Would you like to come in?” She asked, dropping his hand to unlock the door. He cursed under his breath at the untimely appearance of his shadow. “I’d love to really but I’m sorry, I best go home. It’s getting late after all” he had to force the words out, throat closing tightly to try and stop him from saying them.

Y/N’s smile stayed on her face, Azriel knew if she was disappointed she wouldn’t let it show.

“That’s alright”, she said perhaps a bit too overly happy, “you’re right it’s late. Besides, I have something fun planned for us tomorrow, I should get that ready.” Azriel released the breath he didn’t know he was holding at the fact she wanted to meet him tomorrow, Y/N mustn’t be too hurt.

“Oh yeah”, he smiled back at her, batting away the shadow that was still whispering in his ear, “what fun things have you got planned?”

“That’s for you to discover tomorrow” she chided before her lips came to meet his once more. Azriel kissed her back, deeply breathing in her vanilla scent and gripping her waist tightly to avoid his hands wandering elsewhere. His shadow, annoyingly still chittering away into his ear, causing him to reluctantly pull back from the kiss.

“Tomorrow” he huffed, disappointed he had to leave and couldn’t come inside as he wished.

“Tomorrow” she confirmed before retreating into her house for the night.

~~~~~

Azriel was growling the whole flight home. His perfect night had been interrupted, he tried to brush away the thoughts of what could have happened if he had entered the house with Y/N. Best not to dwell on what he couldn’t have. He had tomorrow to make up for that.

Roughly landing outside his flat he stormed through the buildings corridor, where he had danced with Y/N, to his door, flinging it open in anger and stepping inside.

His shadows alerting him to the presence in the corner of the room.

“Hello brother,” Rhysand purred, “ready to go home?”

Part 6

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Taglist: (oh my there’s so many of you now! Thank you guys for all your continued support xx)

@minnieoo @thelov3lybookworm @going-through-shit @iluvyewman-blog @laughterafter @amysangel @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @justvibbinghere @honeybeeboobaa @willowpains @tele86 @mysticalfuncollectorus @mybestfriendmademe @starryhiraeth @gorlillaglue25 @moonlwghts @darling006 @anuttellaa @serendipityx150 @xxxalicerogersxx @that-one-little-soybean @scatteredstardustt @naturakaashi @nyx-the-alien @lostinpages13 @namelesssav @dreamlandreader @fightmedraco @maxmouse001

(If I’ve missed any of you off I’m so sorry please let me know)

#acotar #fanfic #azriel x reader #acotar imagine #azriel imagine #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #azriel oneshot #azriel #azriel shadowsinger

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callophelia · 26 days ago

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[Storyboard 2] Dead Center and Thirds

This is definitely going to be another long one, isn’t it? (╯▽╰ )

This was another school assignment of mine where we had to draw eleven mini illustrations utilizing the assigned camera shot types of: extreme wide, wide, knee-up, medium, close-up, extreme close-up, high-angle, low-angle, dutch-angle, over-the-shoulder, and point-of-view. As you can probably also tell from just a quick look at these drawings, I cranked up the fanart dial to the max so everything here is outright fanart of some kind (≧▽≦) (Although it tends to hurt my hand adding all the extra details, it does help prevent me from developing outright hatred for my school work /ᐠ˵- ⩊ -˵マ)

Anyway, time for some art notes about each of these drawings! ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

The first drawing in the list is the one for the extreme-wide shot! Chronologically, however, this was the sixth drawing I made! The first thing that came to mind when I read camera shot type was a big landscape, but I’m not really good at drawing landscapes and didn’t really have the time to learn to make something decent, so I used that one drawing of Haikaveh sitting on a hill by @dekoi.art as reference. I also made this into YingYangz fanart because they’re my favourite vtuber pairing and they have absolutely altered my brain chemistry. I love Cass and Luci's interactions so much lmaooo. It was a bit difficult drawing in all their little details though, but I think I managed to get enough of the important points down for it to be recognizably them (as long as you have their pics for side-by-side for comparison lol)! I also gave Luci a lil umbrella for protection, tho I don’t know if he ever mentioned in lore if he was immune to sunlight or not, but it was still a fun idea lol! ꉂ (≧ヮ≦)

The next drawing on the list is the wide shot and was the fifth I made chronologically! I don’t remember how I came to draw it, but I think I got the idea for it when I saw a picture of some sort of… place (I can’t remember what it was or what it was called, but it was pretty), got reminded of the Inbetween from TFTSMP, and then decided to draw Karl exploring it. (—ᴗ—) I designed this Inbetween hall after the image of the place I saw and designed Karl’s clothes after this cute Cookie Run design I saw someone make of him! I don’t remember the artist’s name, but I think it was something-ddissey…? I also decided to give this drawing some values to set apart the dimness of the hall and the brightness of the courtyard ≽^•⩊•^≼ I don’t know if the topic of Karl Jacobs is controversial considering his connections to Mr. Beast (Tho I think it might be?) Just in case he is tho, I swear I do not agree support any of their shenaniganeries ಠ⁠︵⁠ಠ I just really like Tales from the SMP ◉_◉

Keeping this short, the next one is the cowboy/knee-up shot and was the fourth drawing I made chronologically. For this one, I just really wanted to draw my Food Fantasy oc, Jelly Art ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ However, since her design is still sort of up in the air, she doesn’t look like this the other times I drew her. As for the actual scenery, it was just something I drew as a second thought lol (≧▽≦)

Anyways, on to the medium shot! Chronologically, it was the third drawing I made for this assignment, and I just really wanted to draw Ororon because he’s one of my fave Genshin Impact sons >ᴗ< However, I decided to use @_versavea_’s design for him specifically because it’s just so nice, I love it! (∩˃o˂∩)♡

The close-up shot was the second drawing I made for this assignment, and I immediately had a vivid idea of what I wanted to do for it! I don’t remember how I decided on it but I just knew I wanted to make draw Aesop Carl from Identity V as a hunter ฅ^>⩊<^ ฅ I know his original artist already made a hunter form for him, but the moment I remembered that his “mask” were two hands intertwined with each other, I was like “Aw heck naw” and decided to draw @mr.vanhellis’s hunter Aesop Carl design instead lmaooo ꉂ (≧ヮ≦) I also decided to give this drawing values to communicate the mysterious night-time vibe I had imagined! One last fun fact about this: I originally drew Aesop’s head too big but didn’t have the time to fix it before I turned it in, but now that I’m uploading these drawings to my social medias for fun, I decided to fix it lol (ᗒᗜᗕ)՛̵̖

Anyways, onto the extreme close-up, this was actually the first drawing I made for this assignment! I don’t know how I came to decide on this subject, but I think I just really liked the idea of drawing Wanderer from Genshin with cracks/kintsugi fillings on his face as it is one of my fave headcanons for him ≽^•⩊•^≼

Next on the list is the high-angle shot and let me tell you: it was one of my least favourites to make ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡ Drawing foreshortened bodies really wasn’t my strong suit and finding reference images had been an absolute pain. In the end, I just drew a random body based on a ref image I found and tried drawing another vtuber I like, Rosco Graves, over it. Of course, it doesn’t look like him (and I blame part of that on how detailed his design is), but honestly, I was so sick of that drawing at this point ૮(˶╥︿╥)ა

The low-angle shot was no better. I had a vivid idea of what I wanted to draw in mind but couldn’t find the right reference image to help make it happen, so in the end, the perspective is pretty off (╥ᆺ╥；) This drawing is sort of a fanart for a short Homestuck fic I read on ao3 by cosmicRoadkill where, in it, Karkat is the one who dies instead of Aradia and ends up being brought back by her as a ghost! I wanted to draw him, but his regular appearance lacked the elements that Aradia had in life that made her ghost form look cool (long hair and skirt), so I decided to give ghost Karkat a cloak so that he can have the same ominous appearance! The background was whatever.

The next drawing was the dutch-angle drawing, but as proud as I am of this one, I’m not quite sure how to explain my thought process behind it… I guess, to put it simply, the subject of this drawing is a heavily headcanonized version of Scott Major from a lil Life Series SMP AU I have. His signature weapon is a bow and he can create shooting stars with it, which… is basically what he’s doing in this drawing (≧▽≦) I did a little experimenting with this drawing regarding the shooting star arrow, and I think it turned out well all things considered! The actual design I used for Scott in this was something I cooked up on Gacha Life 2 since I didn’t want to go through the trouble of making up a design for him on the spot ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

Moving on, we have the over-the-shoulder shot, and at this point in time, I was fairly sick of these drawing and just wanted to be said and done with them ૮๑ˊᯅˋ๑ა Originally, it was going to be an over-the-shoulder shot of Gingerbrave from CRK looking at Cream Unicorn Cookie, but when I drew the body for Gingerbrave, the body-type came out wrong, so I scrapped the original idea and decided to essentially redraw a scene from a Homestuck Lyricstuck video of the song “Nothing Left to Say Now” by @paperseverywhere, where a Doomed Dave wakes up in the Dreambubbles and is greeted by a Doomed John. I think you can tell from the look of it that every second working on it was like pulling teeth out ( ´ཀ` )

Finally, this brings us to the final drawing of this assignment: the point-of-view shot! Surprisingly enough, despite being the last drawing, it was one I was actually excited to work on. Although I’m aware that a lot of opinion regarding the Dream SMP these days tend to be… less than stellar, and that the topic of Wilbur Soot is 100% controversial, when I tried to think of ideas for the point-of-view shot, the only thing I could think of一the only thing that came to mind, was that once scene from SAD-ist’s Dawn of 16th animatic where Philza reaches out to Wilbur as he salutes back moments before his death. Although I was never really attached to Wilbur Soot’s content outside of his music, I did always adore the story of the Wilbur Soot character from DSMP (ESPECIALLY Ghostbur (my freaking beloved)), so the drama regarding cc!Wilbur Soot did upset me a lot (｡╯︵╰｡) To remedy this, I technically, basically, created an oc named Talullah and jam-packed her with all my c!Wilbur Soot headcanons to replace c!Wilbur Soot in the fanon recreation of the DSMP in my mind ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ So yeah, the point-of-view drawing is basically my redraw of SAD-ist’s scene but with Talullah lol! Now, with all of this in mind, one might wonder why I did not do the same with Karl, and to that I say… I did not think of it at the time ._. But if I ever decide to draw “Karl” again, I’ll probs replace him with an oc lol ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

So yeah, this was my entire artist notes for this singular school assignment. It ended up being a little over 3 entire pages in my docs ₍^. .^₎⟆

Good grief.

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ohmtoff · 1 year ago

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Shots, shots, shots (Part 1)

Nick Sturniolo x Masc!OC

Summary: Nick is most definitely not having fun at a frat party Madi dragged him to, but this boy who’s staring at him hungrily may help him to have a good time (or: a very cliche and very self-indulgent fic of Nick getting it on with a frat bro)

WC: 4.8k

Contains: college!AU, frat bro!oc, drinking games, making out

Disclaimer: no smut yet, smut is in the next part. not an american, idk anything ab frat culture and the american college system in general, so there’s gna be some inaccuracies. this is just based on the frat fics ive read and my own college experiences.

a/n: was supposed to be a one-shot but i suddenly wrote 10k words💀 although i know nothing ab frat culture, how my american friends describe it is basically like any faculty organization in an indonesian uni lmao so hope my knowledge of how those orgs work help this a slight bit. anyways hope you enjoyyy <333

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Nick is most definitely not having fun.

He frowns as he feels the bitter burn of his fifth (or was it sixth?) shot going down, tipping his head back to get it to go down easily, well and truly smashed at this point. Madi would be proud. Speaking of… he hasn’t seen his best friend since they arrived at the party, the girl pestering him for hours earlier in the day to come party with her. Madi is tired of listening about The Breakup, and to be honest, Nick is too, but he didn’t agree to come with Madi only to have his supposedly best friend ditch him at the door, leaving him alone at a frat party where he knows absolutely no one. Especially not just so she can run off and suck face with some junior.

Nick spies his best friend making out with a boy he doesn’t know, back to him through the haze of the crowd, barely visible in the shitty purple LED lighting, especially with everyone packed into the house like sardines, the place filled to over capacity so that no one can move without being pressed up against someone or another. Well, unless they are sticking to the wall like Nick currently is. And he’s about to go give his friend a piece of his goddamn mind when he hears the voice beside him, his irritation still visible on his face as he turns to look.

“Hey.” The boy is staring at him with an intensity that is disarming, dark eyes set in an intense unwavering gaze as he looks, just enough light to make out the half-smile on the other boy’s face, only one corner of his mouth upturned slightly. The boy’s hair is half in his face, looking damp and mussed like he’s just stepped out of the shower. And Nick trails his gaze downwards, appreciating the other boy’s outfit, a black t-shirt with some obscure band logo, sleeves cut-off hastily, clearly homemade, the edges ragged, showing off the nice curves of the boy’s shoulders, the definition of his upper arms from hitting the gym obvious. All thrown over a pair of oversized black jeans.

The other boy is looking at him like he wants him, and Nick is too far gone to stop the delicious pit of arousal churning in his stomach, the euphoria going straight to his head, making him dizzy with desire. He’s not the type Nick usually goes for, in fact, the boy is the exact opposite of his ex, but that doesn’t stop his body from screaming fuck me now. “I haven’t seen you around before. Transfer or something?”

The question makes Nick give out a little snort of laughter. “No, not at all. Just not my scene.”

“Oh?” The boy raises an eyebrow questioningly, his tone clearly teasing as he slides in closer to avoid another boy trying to make his way past the two of them squeezed into the corner. Nick inhales sharply as the boy moves in closer, trapping him, his back pressed up against the wall with no room to go back further, the other boy bringing his arms up to brace against the wall, forming a makeshift barrier around Nick, casually caging him in. As he does, the smell of beer hits his nose, a smell he normally despises, but it’s mixing with something the boy is wearing underneath, something sweet and woody, and the combination is fucking intoxicating. “And what would be your scene then?”

He ignores the question, not wanting to say that maybe his scene is in his room, pitifully stuffing himself with fast food and crying into Madi’s shoulder about his ex months after the breakup, choosing instead to shift the topic, mumbling. “You smell like shitty ass beer.”

“Shit, sorry.” The boy relaxes his arms, his face softening into a sheepish apologetic look that Nick finds almost endearing, backing up a step so that he’s not so deep into Nick’s personal space, and Nick takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heartrate. “Got doused with beer earlier when they were spraying it into the crowd.”

“Seems like a waste of alcohol if you ask me.” The unexpected response makes the other boy’s eyes go wide, a moment of silence before he bursts out into raucous laughter.

“Yeah, shit, it probably is.” Nick hates that his breath hitches automatically as the other boy runs his hand through his black hair, shaking his head in apparent exasperation, looking unfortunately all too attractive in the process. “Imagine how many people could be more drunk than they already are if they hadn’t wasted all that beer.” The boy shoots him a grin, which he finds himself returning, or at least he hopes he is.

“So how did you get here?”

“My best friend, Madi. She dragged me here.” Nick admits, a slight eye-roll accompanying the statement. “Otherwise there’s no way I would come to a party in a dump like this. Complete shithole. Floor is disgusting, and the whole place looks like it’s going to collapse in on itself if they throw another couple of parties.” He finds himself having to yell to be heard, the music playing far too loud, the bass turned up so that he can quite literally feel the floorboards vibrating underneath his feet.

To Nick’s surprise and appreciation, the other boy appears to take an interest in listening to him, craning in closer and cocking his head to the side to hear better. His ex was an asshole that wouldn’t bother to make sure he was comfortable at parties, even after knowing Nick didn’t love large crowds, preferring to hang out with small groups of people instead. Plus points. “Oh, I know Madi, met her at a general ed class last semester. She’s also friends with one of the frat bros here, I think. Nate. Anyways, enough about your friend. I haven’t even gotten your name yet.”

“It’s Nick.”

“Nick.” The other boy repeats it, long and drawn out as he rolls the sound around in his mouth, and the thought of the other boy saying his name as encouragement flashes in his head, mentally kicking himself for even thinking about blowing this complete stranger already within ten minutes of meeting. It’s the alcohol talking, definitely the alcohol. He desperately tries to repeat it to himself and believe it as he watches the other boy bite his lower lip in thought. Fuck. Yeah, so maybe it isn’t the alcohol making him want this boy. Maybe it’s the fact that he hasn��t been fucked since The Breakup. Which was 3 months ago. Nick scowls. Fuck Madi for telling him he needs to get laid, and double fuck Madi for being right.

“And yours?”

“Evan. My name’s Evan.” The name sounds familiar, but Nick can’t quite place it, putting aside the feeling for now, instead choosing to concentrate on his plan of perhaps getting laid tonight. Which shouldn’t be hard considering the way Evan is looking at him right now. Like he wants to ravish Nick. With maybe a touch of possessiveness. Nick doesn’t mind the possessiveness, as long as they don’t go overboard. Possessive makes for a good fuck.

He gives in.

I’m here already, might as well have a good time.

He turns on the flirtiest smile he has, his lips curling into a natural irresistible pout as he keeps talking, his hand coming up to brush Evan’s arm, his fingertips lightly grazing the other boy’s bicep. Very obvious, very forward. No one would ever accuse Nick of being subtle, especially when it comes to getting what or who he wants. “Well, Evan, since this does seem to be your scene and not mine, what would you say to being responsible for me having a fun time tonight?” The words have the desired effect, Nick tracing the tightening of the other boy’s jaw with his eyes, pleased at the barely veiled show of restraint.

Nick feels a shiver of anticipation run up his spine as Evan leans forwards, tilting his head downwards as he speaks, the other boy’s hot breath against his earlobe, pressed in so close that Nick can feel the ghost of a touch from Evan’s lips. He isn’t able to prevent the gasp from escaping when he feels the other boy’s tongue, teeth giving him a quick nip. “Well, tonight’s your lucky night, baby. I am at your service. For anything you want.”

The words make Nick bristle, bringing both palms up to push at the other boy’s chest, startling Evan into stepping back off-balanced. “I don’t like being called baby.” He mutters. “Don’t do that.” His ex had called him baby, as an insult, somehow managing to insinuate every time that Nick was too demanding, too high maintenance, turning the word into a mocking reprimand each time. “My ex used to use that.” He pauses a beat. “Not in a good way.”

“Oh, shit.” Evan frowns, his eyebrows drawn together giving almost a menacing look, and Nick feels a sinking feeling in his stomach at the thought of Evan losing interest. Maybe I came off too strong. “Your ex sounds like an asshole.” He lets out the breath he doesn’t even realize he was holding, a ripple of relief running through him. “And all I meant…” Nick’s breath catches as the other boy slides his hand underneath his chin, tilting it upwards as he speaks. “…is that you look pretty. Delicate. Like someone who deserves to get everything they want.”

Everything they want.

The words make Nick flush, the heat crawling up the base of his neck, stinging his cheeks. I want you. And his first instinct is to throw all caution to the wind and regret his decisions tomorrow morning after the alcohol has worn off, when there isn’t a buzz in his veins making him want to throw himself at this boy. And he desperately wants it to be just a physical thing, after all, he doesn’t really know this guy. He could turn out to be some weirdo psychopath for all he knows, but damn it if it doesn’t make him feel good that this boy thinks he deserves everything. But before he can open his mouth and resign himself to his fate, a hand appears on Evan’s shoulder, accompanied by the loud voice of another boy.

“Hey, bro.” The hand on Evan’s shoulder becomes an arm pulling the taller boy into a half-headlock of sorts. “Not like you to hide away in the corner for so long. Don’t you miss being the life of our party?” The boy turns slightly, catching a glimpse of him, and Nick becomes acutely aware that he’s probably gaping. “Oh, I see now.” The boy gives him a salacious and knowing wink, casting a sidelong glance at Evan. “You must be the reason our leader here is hiding instead of greeting the guests.”

Leader?

The new boy smiles at him, bringing his free hand up in a little wave of acknowledgment. “I’m Nate, by the way.” Nate squints, giving him a careful once-over, and Nick feels like squirming, getting the distinct feeling that he is being sized up though he doesn’t know for what. “You’re Nick, aren’t you?” Nate grins excitedly at the realization. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Madi.”

Nick furrows his brows thinking how does he know Madi and why Madi’s talking about him, getting more lost within the conversation by the second. “Madi said he’d be your type, and it looks like he was right. Fuck.” Nate lets out a string of profanity, “Fuck me, Evan. That means I owe her fifty bucks. So really, fuck you.” Nate narrows his eyes at Evan, who isn’t even trying to hide his mirth, chortling at his friend’s distressed expression. “Unless, you two dickwads set me up.”

Evan shakes his head. “No, man, I didn’t even know who he was until he gave me his name.”

“Fuck.” Nate lets out one last swear in a drawn out sigh, smiling fondly at Evan. “Well, I hate to interrupt the overwhelming sexual tension between you two, but I do think our new president should give a speech at our first party of the year.”

“President?” Nick echoes the word without meaning to, the sound of loud buzzing in his ears drowning out the sound of everything else around them, noting the shit-eating grin on Evan’s face that is getting wider by the minute.

“Yeah, president of Chi Alpha Omega. You know, the ones hosting this party right now.”

Nick can feel the color draining from his face, accompanied by some wooziness in his head. Madi had told him about the president of ΧΑΩ before, about how he “got around” quite frequently, always with someone new every other weekend. And apparently in no short supply of people who want to casually hook-up with him. In short, a player through and through. And Nick can’t tell whether he’s disappointed that Evan is probably not interested in any type of relationship or just excited that the boy is likely a really good fuck. Or both.

But none of that really even matters because he had literally called Evan’s house a shithole.

Fuck.

Evan winks at him before turning to Nate. “Yeah, I can definitely say a few words. And by the way, Nick here thinks we should probably stop spraying beer into the crowd to hype up the party.” He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the overly serious and solemn expression on Evan’s face as he says that. “Apparently we’ve been wasting alcohol when we could be using it to get everyone even more drunk.” Nick wants to sink into the floor at the other boy’s next words, hoping desperately that the ground can swallow him up.

“And he’s also made me aware of the fact that apparently, we live in a shithole.”

Nate’s eyes go wide. Nick wants to kill himself.

“Well, not exactly a lie.” Nate laughs, clearly bemused by his worried expression. “We’ve been trying to get administration to move us out of this shithole for ages. They just won’t do it. So we figure if we throw a few extra ragers this year, and this dumpster fire of a house finally breaks, maybe they’ll consider letting us have a different building for the frat house.”

“Wait, so…” Nick says the words slowly, his head slow to catch up, not quite believing what he’s hearing. “…you all actually want to break this house. Like that’s your actual plan, and I’m not stuck in some weird-ass twilight zone time warp imagining this.”

“Correct.” Evan nods.

“You all are fucking crazy.”

“Correct.”

“Sooo, about that speech Evan?” Nate asks, stealing another glance at Nick. “Any time soon? Or am I assuming that you’re gonna be busy for the next hour or so?”

The implication makes him half-cringe on the inside. Is it that obvious?

“Yeah, of course, now is fine.” And then Nick feels the other boy’s hand around his, Evan’s fingers settling to interlock with his naturally as if they belong there, warm and inviting. A little overly warm, probably the alcohol. But it feels nice, gives him the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest for the first time in a long time. “You’re coming with me, baby.” Nick wants to protest the nickname, but he isn’t given the opportunity to, finding himself being dragged along by the taller boy, weaving through the crowd of people deftly, trying to keep close to the other boy’s back, his free hand reaching out to grab the untucked edge of Evan’s t-shirt. The other boy heads to the kitchen, passing by the crowd that is busy dancing, flirting, and Nick reminds himself to yell at Madi tomorrow, spotting his best friend out of the corner of his eye still attached to the face of a guy.

The kitchen is slightly less crowded, the only people slipping in and out to grab more beer or shots, the entire kitchen counter covered with half empty alcohol—rum, vodka, gin, whiskey. God, how much booze do they have? Evan doesn’t let go of his hand as he opens the fridge, rummaging around before finally coming up with another handle of vodka. The taller boy just shakes his head as Nate gives him a questioning look. And then Nick follows as he is dragged along again, making their way back to the living room, heading straight towards the epicenter of all the noise in the house. Evan finally lets go of his hand, and Nick feels a twinge of concern as he watches the other boy climb up onto the ping pong table, ignoring the cry of protests from the people playing beer pong. No way he’s sober enough for this. Somehow Evan’s voice is louder than the music, his voice floating above the noise.

“Hey, we having fun tonight?” The cheers and hoots rise up from the crowd, Evan clearly reveling in the attention, waving his arms to tell everyone to pump up the noise, and they do. After a minute or so of cheering, the other boy puts his finger to his lips in a shushing motion, quieting the crowd.

“Here’s to the first party of many this year for Chi Alpha Omega. As the president for this year, hope to see all of you underclassmen at rush in the spring.” Evan grins, and Nick hates that the other boy is so charismatic, everyone in the room turning to hang on to his every word. “And to kick off a good night, how about yours truly start off a round of body shots?” The crowd hoots and hollers. “First up, my newest friend, Nick.” He feels himself outright blushing this time, Evan looking downwards to wink at him, some of the people in the front of the crowd turning to stare.

He startles as Evan jumps down from the ping pong table, landing unevenly, grabbing on to his shoulder for balance before scooting back on to the table to take a seat, his legs hanging off the edge. “How about it, baby?”

And he’s about to object, but his mind goes completely blank as Evan crosses his arms over his chest, gripping the hem of his t-shirt in order to pull it up over his head, the other boy’s arm muscles tightening. The skin above Evan’s jeans comes into view first, the white band of the other boy’s Calvin Klein boxers just peeking out from the top, a sharp contrast from the smooth tan of Evan’s skin on top and the black of his jeans on the bottom. Nick can see a glimpse of the other boy’s hip bones, sharp and defined, and his gaze trails further upward to his belly button, abs slightly visible as Evan moves, and all the way up to the other boy’s chest.

But it’s the tattoo that makes Nick stop breathing.

It’s intricate, clearly well done and by a tattoo artist that cares about how the finished product looks, a revolver with its barrel pointing downwards, the tip disappearing under the white of the other boy’s boxers. And Nick doesn’t think he’s ever had a specific thing for guns. But fuck. Because he wants to think that he’s better than this, better than having the only thought running through his head being it’s pointing to his cock. And the overwhelming urge to find out just exactly how true it is.

“You’re up, baby.” The words make Nick snap his glance upwards, tearing his gaze away from the ink on the other boy’s skin, the embarrassment flitting through him as he realizes how long he had been staring, a fact that had not gone unnoticed by Evan, who is grinning at him, definitely amused. He’s already poured the shot, messily spilling at least two shot’s worth of vodka on the ping pong table, and Nick experiences a stroke of utter insanity, the words coming out before he can stop them.

“You should probably clean that up.”

“Hmm, maybe later.”

“It’s going to get sticky.”

“Maybe I like sticky.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows that the whole scene is probably bizarre as fuck, talking about cleaning while the whole room is waiting for him to take a shot off a boy he doesn’t even know. But Nick feels as if he’s in a haze, entirely blocking out the rest of the room as Evan crooks a finger at him, motioning for him to get closer, the other boy’s legs parting on the table, stretching apart to give him room to fit in between, and Nick is uncomfortably aware of Evan’s jeans, the material stretching over the other’s boy’s thighs, even tighter now that Evan is sitting.

“Come.”

He comes.

The shiver of arousal runs through him as he gets closer, coming up to the edge of the table, Evan winking at him as he squeezes Nick’s sides slightly with his thighs, making the feeling curl deliciously in his groin. And the other boy lies down slowly, not breaking eye contact with Nick as he does, and god help him, because it only makes the outline of the other boy’s abs deepen. Fuck. The shot glass is placed right over Evan’s belly button, wobbling as the other boy breathes in and out, and Nick winces as Evan starts off a chant of encouragement.

“Drink, drink, drink.”

Fuck it, it’s just one shot.

He doesn’t try to overthink it, leaning down with his head to clumsily grasp the shot glass with his mouth, intending on throwing his head back and downing the vodka all at once. He tells himself it doesn’t mean anything as he braces his palms against the other boy’s thighs, enjoying the feeling of muscle underneath his hands. But he’s not used to the motion, not able to use his hands, and he ends up spilling half of it, feeling Evan’s thighs tense around his waist as the cold liquid hits the other boy’s bare skin, some of the vodka settling into the crevices of Evan’s abs, already starting to slide off his body.

Nick doesn’t know why he does it.

But the next instant, his tongue is on Evan’s skin, feeling the other boy tense as he does it, licking the rest of the vodka off of the other boy, the feeling of burning still in the back of his throat from the half he does drink, dipping his tongue in to run along the grooves of Evan’s abs, the slight saltiness of the other boy’s sweat mixing with the taste of alcohol. And he’s pressing half-kisses, half sloppy licks against the other boy’s skin, the tips of his fingers reaching upwards from where they’re resting against Evan’s thighs to brush against the boy’s sharp hipbones, an inch or so above his jeans.

As he dips his tongue into his belly button, Evan bucks his hips upwards, the wanting movement making the arousal go straight to his cock. And he tells himself it’s because he’s trying to clean every last bit of vodka off of Evan’s body, but it isn’t the alcohol giving him a high as he runs the tip of his tongue slowly down the barrel of the gun tattoo that Evan has, the thought of going further and further down until he reaches the other boy’s cock making him hot and dizzy. The thought of Evan holding his head down and tugging on his hair as he gives the other boy a blowjob. Further, further. Evan squirms as he licks his way downwards over the exposed skin, and Nick wonders if it tickles, his nose already nudging the edge of the other boy’s boxers.

A bad fucking idea.

And he’s just about to pull away, the feeling of regret mixed with horror hitting him as he surfaces from his reckless decision, half-aware that they’re still in a very public room for the first time since Evan had told him Come, when he feels it. Evan half-hard against his palm, his hand accidentally brushing too close to the other boy’s inner thighs as he tries to move back, and before he can process that fact, everything around him moves.

Nick yelps as he feels Evan’s hands on the back of his thighs, dangerously close to his ass, and he’s suddenly being lifted up into the air, his legs coming up to wrap themselves around the other boy’s waist, his hands grabbing at Evan’s shoulders to balance himself. He vaguely hears the sound of catcalls coming from the crowd, his head falling forward, his face buried into the crook of the other boy’s neck, the smell of beer in Evan’s hair and that smell of wood and vanilla. A few quick strides, and Nick finds his back up against the wall for the second time tonight, Evan’s hips pressed into him, grinding him up against the wall as he plants kisses against Nick’s neck.

The other boy is definitely completely hard now, the feeling against his thigh each time Evan moves his hips making the arousal tighten in Nick’s groin. And it’s a fleeting thought, that he is grateful for wearing a white tank top, giving Evan free access, the other boy’s tongue darting out to run itself along the top of Nick’s collarbones, sucking likely-to-be-hickeys into his skin hungrily.

His fingers curl themselves into the other boy’s hair for purchase, needing something to grab onto as he writhes in Evan’s embrace, his eyes closed, his breath coming out ragged. An unbidden moan comes forth as he feels Evan sneak his hands underneath his tank top, the other boy’s fingers splayed against the skin at his waist, his thumbs digging into the spot just above his hipbones. Evan’s hands feel hot against his skin, burning into him more than he thought possible, and Nick’s eyes flutter open only to remember that everyone is still there, that they’re not alone.

“W-wait,” The words come out weakly in between little pants and far too soft for Evan to hear anyway, and Nick wonders if the idea of the other boy fucking him against the wall in front of a crowd of people should turn him on as much as it does. Fuck.

“Get a fucking room!”

The loud jeer seems to snap Evan out of it, the other boy stopping his attack against Nick’s neck long enough for him to catch his breath. Most of the room has gone back to whatever they were doing before, and it’s nearly impossible to pick out whoever had yelled it. “Don’t mind if I do.” Evan grins at him, not waiting for a proper response. “Hold on.” Nick just manages to get his arms around Evan’s shoulders before the other boy starts moving, hoisting him up slightly to get a better grip on the underside of his thighs, Evan’s chin nestled into his shoulder, the other boy’s breathing hot on his neck.

The sounds of the party slowly start to fade away as they ascend the stairs to the second floor, the stairway narrow and not lit, and Nick winces as he is jostled against the wall a few times on their way up, Evan’s steps not as steady he would have hoped. All he can hear now is the other boy’s breathing, slow and deep, the sound comforting, and Nick breathes in and out to match the other boy’s. I wonder if Madi was right, and I’m his type. And he’s sure that he’s Evan’s type physically, the whole display downstairs has convinced him of that, but for the first (okay, maybe second or third) time tonight, he has the niggling suspicion that he might like it if he is Evan’s type for more, the way the other boy puts him at ease so naturally and effortlessly perhaps giving him more butterflies than he’d care to admit.

His mind unwillingly flashes him scenes on what it would be like dating Evan. Would he like his eggs scrambled or poached? What shows would they binge together? Would Evan show him off to his frat brothers?

Evan licks a stripe behind his ear where he’s most sensitive. Ah, fuck it. Who cares about dating? Nick knows he’s going to get fucked till he forgets his own name tonight.

tags: @thenickgirl @mybelovednick @sukiipjs

#nick sturniolo #nick sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo x oc #nick sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo x male reader #nick sturniolo fanfiction

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blackstarz · 13 days ago

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Wolfstar microfic, you know the drill. You can find the rest of my microfics on ao3, here.

Almost made this one angsty but opted for some fluffiness instead <3

April Prompt: Expecto Patronum

“What does it mean when two people’s patronus’s match?” Harry asked over his dinner, suddenly. Sirius’s eyebrows shot up.

“I suppose there’s a few reasons, why do you ask?”

“Well… in school, we were practicing conjuring a patronus, and two of my classmates had matching ones – they were both snow leopards,” Harry explained, still piling food into his mouth. Remus chuckled from his seat at Sirius’s left.

“There’s not quite a clear answer for that one, I’m afraid. Corporeal patronus’s are rather tricky things, as you know. It could simply be a coincidence,” he said.

Sirius shrugged as well. “But it’s a noted phenomenon that people who- well I suppose you would call them soulmates, have matching patronuses. Either the same one, or the same species. James and Lily had a stag and a doe, you know.”

Remus tutted. “I rather think it’s quite impossible to tell whether two people’s patronus’s match because they are in love, or they fell in love because they were alike in spirit, so their patronus’s happen to match. Chicken or the egg?” he proposed. Harry nodded slowly.

“So they could be just… alike in spirit?”

“Whatever that means,” Sirius added wryly. Remus tilted his head.

“Yes, well… that is a somewhat romantic view of the whole thing – it is just a spell, after all.”

“What are your patronuses?” Harry asked, curious. “Do they match?” Sirius watched with amusement as Remus straightened in his chair. He smirked.

“Take a guess then,” Sirius laughed. “What do you think they are?”

Harry’s gaze flicked to Remus, and then back to Sirius. “A wolf… and a dog?” he said slowly. “Though Hermione would say that’s far too obvious.”

“Well, she might be correct, but so are you. Mine was always a big dog…” He looked over to Remus as the rest of the memory – the why he knew he’d always had a big dog as a patronus – slipped away from his mind.

Remus caught his gaze and nodded affirmatively. “We took bets, in sixth year when we had to learn the spell for our NEWTs. Since your father, James, and… had already become animagi by that time, it was fairly obvious.”

Sirius didn’t remember that, but it sounded like something they’d do.

“How come yours didn’t match?” Harry asked, “if you were already, y��know, in love or whatever.”

Sirius barked a laugh at his godson, a small red blush appearing on the boy’s cheeks. He immediately tried to rein it in. “Moony’s made of sterner stuff, I suppose. He’s not as much fun as Padfoot.”

An amused smile painted Remus’s face. Sirius watched him turn to Harry. “Though, I’m sure you learnt that patronus’s can change, through a person’s life. It’s uncommon, but I wouldn’t go so far as to call it rare.”

Sirius frowned at Remus. “What’s that meant to mean?”

Remus blinked at him slowly, and with a blank face, took a small breath. “Expecto Patronum,’ he said sternly. A blinding white light exploded in the dark dining room, until the silverly light dissipated to a lovely glow.

Running through their dinner with paws made of nothing but magic, was a large, shining dog. Sirius recognised it immediately.

“You’ve got to be joking,” he said, in shock. Remus smiled at him, a small private expression meant just for him.

“I found out it had changed a few years ago – when I was teaching you, Harry. I… hadn’t had reason to conjure such a spell for a very long time, until that year. You can imagine my surprise, I’m sure.

Sirius swallowed quickly, reaching for his wine. The implication, he knew, was that it must have changed after he’d gone to Azkaban. Remus had thought him guilty, and yet his patronus had changed to take the form of Sirius’s.

The bounding dog began to fade, disappearing in a glittering light. Harry cringed dramatically. “You must be soulmates then,” he said.

Remus’s eyebrows twitched with mischief, but he didn’t say anything further. Sirius put his wine down and grinned. “Close your eyes, Harry.”

“Huh, why?”

Sirius leaned over and gave Remus a quick peck on the lips – nothing overtly traumatising, he hoped – and felt Remus smile against his lips. Harry groaned in disgust, and he pulled away.

“I did warn you.” Despite the façade, Sirius could see the little tilt of Harry’s lips. He waggled his eyebrows for good measure. “Besides, I’ve got proof now. Moony mine is my soulmate.”

#sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #marauders era #remus x sirius #my fics #wolfstar microfic

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biomic · 1 month ago

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hey rob!! its melody question time! what are some of your favourite morphers/rider systems/uhh whatever the ultramen use?? i really like the toqger one which is why i was wondering which ones you like!!

oh i love the toq changer, i snagged one ages ago and it's so fun. very tough to narrow down my faves but at the moment,

sentai changers -> magi phones. flip phones that double as magic wands is exactly why i watch tokusatsu. magi mother's is my favorite

sixth changers -> ryuko no geki. not the most functionally exciting changer but the sounds on this thing go CRAZY

super changers -> super geki claw. the super geki suits are as sexy as it gets and you can't go wrong with a big claw. another one i impulse bought a few years ago and it's sooooo sick. the toy even plays gekiranger's theme song ^_^

rider belts -> tie between the zero-one driver and the kivat belt. zero-one because it's as sleek a design as bandai has ever made and probably has my favorite sounds of any rider toy, and the kivat belt because it's an adorable little upside down vampire bat. what more could you want out of a touy

ultra items -> orb ring. ultra doesn't have as many banger changers as the other two (they've only started being toyetic from the 2010s onwards) but the orb ring is really neat. im a sucker for trading cards and fusing two ultras together for form changes is such a fun gimmick

also have to give metal heroes a shout out with the firesquad from winspector. it's just a car. he has to run to his car every time he needs to transform. it's the most inconvenient henshin sequence in history and i love it

#melody magic #asks #kendrix morgan died for our sins #super sentai for ts #kamen rider for ts #ultraman for ts #metal heroes for ts

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house-of-mirrors · 2 months ago

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Replaying the sixth coil in the waswood just reminded me of the unhealthy competitive atmosphere that I felt during the main run of it.

A mad rush to be the first to do or find something, scrambling for recognition, a drive to be loud so you don't get lost in the rush of other people's posting, and a feeling of being left out no matter what you did or how much you participated. I felt so burnt out and anxious during it, like I was constantly trying to catch up to others, and I struggled to concentrate on anything else for fear of missing out. I'm personally not someone who loves to constantly be online but felt the pressure to do so. Even with being super-online, when I did find something first, only my friends noticed, not the broader and louder side of the fandom.

An individualist perspective might say it's on me to set a boundary and take a step back if I'm unhappy in a situation, and that has truth but is not the point of the post. The post is about how these environments form and suck people into a mindset. This is not the fault of the creator or any one person. It's indicative of how social media and thus socialization as a whole have evolved.

In any situation with a social economy (fandom included, but also business, academics, the arts, and more) this sort of atmosphere is always a risk. Bidding for attention at the risk of own mental health and a sense of detachment from community. Desire for 15 minutes of fame. External reinforcements to unhealthy mindsets. Outside fandom, this sort of competitive environment has bigger consequences on both an individual and the collective if you're in a creative industry and competing for sales and customers. How many stories have we heard about an artist losing jealous friends after they have a little success?

Maybe it's because I'm taking a marketing class rn but this has been weighing heavily on me lately. "You have to be the first, you have to be the loudest, you have to be the most popular, most relatable, funniest, wittiest" these things just aren't true. The fact is that social media and fandom and creative communities are not a mad dash and not a battle. You can just share stuff, or not if you're not feeling it.

It hurts when you don't get the recognition you thought you would, and it hurts to see others getting attention that you wish you had. I'm not denying this. It does suck and it feels bad and it can make you want to withdraw from a space. But notes are not a measure of worth.

You still have meaningful things to contribute if you're not the first to do it, or if you feel you can't word it as well as someone else, or if you get less notes than another similar post, or if you're not part of a popular crowd or trend. "If you build it, they will come" or whatever. Find a couple friends and focus on them. They matter more than a broader, louder fan space of people you don't know. You don't need approval from anyone, especially strangers. Fandom isn't a business or an economy and doesn't have high stakes. It's just about having fun with your interest and your pals. Forget about everything else and in the immortal words of the skeleton meme, "if it sucks hit da bricks."

#I did have a less kind version of this typed that I am not posting lmao #but any kind of situation like this makes me go hmm #anyway #fandom meta #rant

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pholla-jm · 2 years ago

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Make My Heart Beat

IMAGINE: MAKE MY HEART BEAT~ ZORO X READER GENRE: FLUFF WARNINGS: MENTION OF BLOOD ****************************

There weren’t many things that made Zoro’s heartbeat irregularly. There wasn’t anything that made his heart skip a beat. He thought those type of things were silly and ridiculous. There were only a few things that he really enjoyed as well. Of course, that would be alcohol and taking his naps.

That was until he met you.

When you first joined the crew, he was a little wary of you. You are very outgoing, loud, and full of energy. You reminded him of Luffy.

You were also extremely passionate about the things you cared about. And you cared about your nakama. If there was a dangerous situation, you didn’t care about what would happen to you. All you cared about was the safety and well-being of your friends.

Currently the night was loud as the island threw a large party. The island was pretty populated, so there were many things to do. So you wondered why this man has decided to keep bothering you when there were other things for him to do.

Zoro, who didn’t sit too far away from you, kept a close eye on what was going on. Sure, Zoro was a little wary of you, but that doesn’t mean who wouldn’t look out for his crewmates. If anything were to happen to you, Luffy would be pissed. And that is something Zoro didn’t want.

So after the sixth time the man put his hand on your shoulder, arm or hand and pushed him, Zoro got up. Clearly the guy wasn’t taking a hint, so Zoro decides to help him get that hint.

“Hey man.” Zoro starts walking up to the guy who just looks at him with a look of confusion and disgust. “What, don’t you see that I’m busy here?”

A snicker leaves your lips, “yeah… bust being a creep.” You mutter under your breath but Zoro heard it anyway. Zoro steps forward, so that you were now behind him. “Get lost.” He says.

The man takes a great offense at his words. In his mind, he was going to take what he wants. And Zoro was in the way of that.

The man raises a fist, ready to strike the green haired swordman. Zoro could see this coming from a mile away, his hand going down to his sword, ready to strike him down. Usually, he wouldn’t waste his time like this or use a sword on someone like him. But something about him really irked Zoro.

Before Zoro pulled out his sword, you jump at the guy who threatened to hit Zoro.

The guy fell from the impact, and you stayed on top of him. Legs straddling his chest as you continued to throw punches at the mans face.

Zoro’s eyes widen when he looks at your form, his hand falling from the hilt of his sword.

There was a large smile on your face as you continued to punch him. Blood starting to fly everywhere, due to a now broken nose and broken teeth from the man.

“WHAT THE HELL??” Ussop shouts as he runs to the scene.

Laughter fell from your lips like you were having fun… and truth be told, you kind of were.

A small smirk falls onto Zoro’s lips as he continues to watch you. “Aren’t you going to do anything?” Usopp asks.

Zoro doesn’t’ say anything. He just continues to watch the scene in front of him. He then feels an unfamiliar beat in his heart. It felt like it skipped a beat. Soon, butterflies’ flutters in his stomach as he sees the crazy look in your eyes. He didn’t know why, but seeing you like this made his heart beat differently. But he liked it.

“Jesus…. They’re crazy. Remind me not to get on their bad side.” Usopp comments with a gloomy cloud over his head. Zoro looks over at his crewmate at his words. Usopp’s words made Zoro think. (y/n) really was crazy sometimes… but he liked it.

“Woo,” Zoro hears your voice – causing him to look back at you.

You had blood stains on your hands and some splattered on your face.

“So scary…” Usopp slightly whines in the background.

“Sorry about that. I tend to get carried away.” You say and Zoro bursts out laughing. His laughter caught you by surprise. You never heard him laugh much. A smile graces your face as he continues to laugh. His laugh was nice.

Usopp just looks at the both of you like you were crazy. “Just carried away?” He says, “you almost killed that guy.” You look back at the unconscious body, “he’s fine.”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Zoro says while slinging an arm around your shoulders. This action also catches you by surprise and a blush soon covers your face. However, it was covered by the blood, so it wasn’t noticeable.

“Let’s get you cleaned up (y/n).” Zoro says dragging you to an area to get rid of the man’s blood.

Zoro couldn’t believe that your craziness is what made him fall for you.

#one piece #oneshot #zoro x you #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader

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messagesfromthestarrs · 2 years ago

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The Monster Under Your Bed

There is a monster under your bed. It has been there for years now. Ever since that fateful summer night, as a child, you forgot to close your window. It slid in, one with the shadows, finding refuge underneath the warmth of your body and bedsheets.

It knew It would be safe, with you there above It. It spent weeks, months, unnoticed. But perhaps, as a child, you'd had sharper senses, a sixth sense even, and kept looking under your bed, trying to figure out what's off.

the monster wanted so bad for you to see It, and back then even It was so naive, just an extension of the shadows. It trusted you already, and It thought you knew about It already. It had made itself the the shadows of your toys, the imaginary friend, spending days in your closet and nights under your cot. It thought the two of you were friends. So, It summoned all It's strength at the time and took a semi solid form. It saw your eyes widen, and It heard you scream with what It could only assume was joy. Surely you would have been happy to finally see the friend your parents always told you was fake? You were even running out of your room and calling for them!

But the thing was, It didn't like your parents. They were always oh so strict, telling you to put your toys away and go to sleep, then to wake up and go to school. They kept insisting that It didn't exist, that you would grow up and realise how stupid you were as a child, talking to the shadows. It didn't want to waste It's energy on gracing them with It's presence. To be honest... It was even slightly scared of them. They could take you away from It.

No, It would never let such a horrendous thing happen. As soon as It's strength increased, It would focus on making a bond between the two of you first, so you could be forever together. Most of It's kin simply went from host to host, causing nightmares and never staying long. Most of It's kin had abilities related to disguises and quick escapes. None cared for anything other than Themselves. Originally, It had been like that too. But after It found you... It changed It's mind.

Everytime you went to call for your parents, begging them to see under the bed, they would simply be unable to. You called It a monster, begging your parents to just believe you for once. They didn't listen, called you stupid and childish. At one point, you wanted to start sleeping in the same room as them again. They just laughed.

At first, It felt hurt. Really hurt. But It didn't hold it against you. Maybe It just needed to improve its form? And possibly get rid of your parents? And then, surely the two of you would finally get to have all the fun in the world.

This continued till your teenage years. Soon enough, you started arguing with your parents more. They started yelling more. You started crying more. It didn't know whether to be happy or not. On the brighter side, you were spending time away from those killjoys, and spending more time in your bed, above It. On the other hand... you seemed troubled. Even It could notice that. So It would slither up sometimes, extend and arm towards you, cold but caring. And you would cry more, It was sure in happiness.

Nowadays, things were different yet similar. You had moved out of your parents' house now, and It had followed, ever faithful. Your new home was just as cold and filled with shadows as your old, so It liked the place very much. It had grown in power, just as you had grown in understanding.

You still had to go to that horrible job of yours, and even to university, but It was a very patient being. At the end of the day, you would collapse into bed, and dream of a better life. And The Monster? It was just happy to be in your presence, under your bed. All it wanted was You.

And Its wish came true. It spent hours in the morning, craving your warmth on top of the bed as it paced in the shadows. And you listened! you left your job, stopped going to classes, stopped talking to 'friends' (It didn't like them, It didn't like that you were smiling with them, and not with It.), you just, existed.

You begun laying in bed all day, wrapped up in blankets in the dark. And oh how happy The Monster was! How kind and caring were you, to devote every second of your existence to It! It craved your presence and your attention, and that's what It got.

You stared into the darkness, and the darkness stared back. And for once, you neither screamed nor cried. You did not smile or blink or speak. And when It reached out, the darkness alongside, you let it.

#for all my monster fuckers out there #unreliable narrator #yandere themes #second person pov #monster x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #it/its pronouns #for the monster #writeblr #writing #idk what this is but i would like to belive it's a vibe #toxic relationship #i think?#yandere #original writing #original story #oneshot

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rorywritesjunk · 2 months ago

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(This was something I posted on Discord so have it in actual fic form. Domestic SunBug with all their kids)

The kids were told by Dad to leave Mom alone. Sunny just gave birth to the sixth child, labor was hell, and she and the baby were resting. No one was to bother her for anything.

That meant the kids were on their own for a bit while Buggy tended to the ship.

That was fine. Gold and Silver were old enough to climb up to the crow's nest by themselves. Prism and Sunny Jr were still too little to be without supervision so they had a babysitter.

Cloud was in the middle. He was always in the middle.

He wanted to go with his older siblings up the crow's nest but he wasn't allowed without Buggy helping him. He still didn't have the coordination for climbing the ropes.

Prism and Sunny Jr were in the kitchen with their babysitter, stacking blocks and playing as toddlers do. Cloud thought that would be fine. He likes stacking blocks! It's fun!

Except he accidentally knocked over what they were building and the second Prism screamed he took off out of the kitchen as his siblings cried and the babysitter tried to console them. Cloud didn't like the sound of crying babies. It always bothered him.

His last resort was Buggy. His dad loved the kids! He was always ready to stop what he was doing to play with them! Cloud should have gone to him first!

"Not now." Buggy told him when Cloud asked if he could play. "I'm busy. Go find your brothers and sisters."

Why did no one want to spend time with him?

Buggy heard the sniffles and turned his head in time to see Cloud burst into tears and take off running. He sighed and went back to work. His boy would be fine.

Cloud stood at the door to his parents room. There wasn't a sound coming out of it. They were all told to leave Mom alone but... But Cloud needed her. He needed a hug from her because she gave the best ones. He carefully opened the door and looked in.

Sunny was awake and sitting up in bed, reading a book. There was a bassinet beside her and Cloud wondered if the baby was in there. Sunny looked up when she saw him and he recoiled, wondering if he was in trouble, but then she smiled and set her book down, gesturing for him to come over.

Cloud didn't wait. He shut the door carefully before hurrying over to the bed. He climbed into it and crawled over to Sunny. Her arm was around him, pulling him closer and he wiped his eyes, happy to be near someone who wanted him around.

"Are you okay?" She asked him. "Do you want to stay with me for a bit?"

Cloud nodded. He didn't want to talk. He just looked up at her and was so happy that she was his mama. She wasn't telling him to leave or to go away. She had her arm around him and was brushing his hair out of his eyes. It was always comforting when she did that.

"Do you want to meet your baby sister?" She asked. "You'll be the first one besides dad."

Did he? The baby was the one who disrupted the last few days, but he was curious. He sat up and leaned over her, looking into the bassinet as Sunny helped him with his balance.

The baby had a tuft of blue hair and a nose that looked like Sunny. Cloud looked between the baby and Sunny. His sister looked just like him!

He settled back down beside Sunny, tucking himself against her side as she picked her book back up.

The thump against the door thankfully didn't wake the baby or Cloud. Sunny stared at the door, ready to throw her book at them, when it opened to reveal a very stressed and panicked Buggy.

His eyes scanned the room before landing on his son, sleeping in the bed beside Sunny with his thumb in his mouth. Buggy nearly fell to pieces, relief on his face, though he was also annoyed that his son broke the rules and went to Sunny.

"I couldn't find him." He wanted to take the kid out of the room and put him in his own room, but one look from his wife had him retreating to Cloud's room to retrieve his favorite stuffed animal.

"He's okay." Sunny told him when he came back. "I think he was lonely." She rubbed her son's back gently. "He's okay, Buggy."

"I thought-"

"He's fine." She repeated. "Now... Can you make me some tea?"

Buggy nodded. He would. He just wanted to make sure he apologized to his son too.

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #sunny x buggy #sunbug #oc x canon #canon x oc

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shouldhavebeenpersephone · 2 years ago

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In GTN chapter 36, Cytherea says “None of you have learned how to die gracefully. I learned over 10,000 years ago"

Do you know/have a theory as to how Cyth could have learned anything pre-resurrection? She was not one of the original lyctors present for the resurrection and it was only 10,000 years ago. It could be hyperbole but I am suspicious of the “over 10,000 years”.

Thank you so much for the ask! I wanted to take my time with it, I hope you didn't mind the wait.

I actually had been chewing on this with my most recent GtN reread. Bear with me as I cut and paste all the pieces that form my thoughts on this - hopefully it's somewhat coherent to read.

Could "over 10000 years" be a hyperbole? Maybe. A lot of characters tell the 'truth' as far as they believe it to be so even if it's factually incorrect. I don't think, however, that Tamsyn would make Cytherea say it in this specific way if it was a hyperbole. In GtN chapter 35 where Palamedes confronts Cytherea we get the following lines, which are what feed my intuition about this:

"Don't lie to me, please."

Dulcinea said, "I have never lied to any of you."

Cytherea has no reason to lie, especially not after being confronted by Palamedes. She tells him herself - she has been giving pieces of the truth and using those to manipulate the narrative. Because of this and because it's much more fun if it isn't a hyperbole I see no point to dismiss it as an emotional inaccuracy.

So let's say she is over 10,000 years old. How does that work?

First thing I went looking for while trying to figure this out was the question of Cytherea's birth. On the fandom wiki, it states that Cytherea was born into the established Seventh. I have been combing through the books, and I cannot find anything in canon that truly confirms this. What we do know of the timeline and her age is the following from HtN chapter 9:

"When they first brought her to Canaan House, I thought there'd been some mistake. - She was just shy of thirty then, I recall. -

-Was she the first gen, or second?"

"Second," said God. "Early second. We were still experimenting with getting the Sixth installation up and running. Some of the Houses were empty."

Mercymorn spoke up: "No. We had it running by then. Because Valancy was with us, and Anastasia."

-"Yes, you're right. We were all there to meet her. All sixteen of us -

'Some of the houses were empty' is the important line here, because in NtN John 5:4 Harrow describes how the resurrection happened:

-You resurrected some of them. You wake up fewer still. You start out with a few thousand, then, later, some hundred thousand, then millions, but never more than millions. You teach them how to live all over again. You teach yourself. -

The houses are named in order of resurrection. The Seventh, then, comes after the Sixth, which should make it obvious that by the time Cytherea arrived the Sixth was already established - or the Seventh wouldn't have existed. Yet, for some reason, for John this is not as obvious. I have found what could be an explanation in HtN chapter 2:

He said, "No. I haven't truly resurrected anyone in ten thousand years. But at that time... I set many aside, for safety... and I've often felt bad about just keeping them as insurance. They've been asleep all this myriad, Harrow, -

The difference wouldn't be as obvious to John, because he didn't resurrect the houses one by one. He resurrected a chunk of the earth's population, kept them dormant, and piece by piece woke them up to populate the houses. Beyond the fact that Cytherea is never said to have been born on the Seventh in canon (again, to my knowledge - please correct me if I missed it), the following from HtN chapter 2 really seals the deal in my eyes that she was not born on the Seventh but rather woken up for the Seventh.

The emperor said gently, "She needs to go home, Harrow."

"That was never her home," he said.

You did not look. "And will the Seventh House accept her?"

I also considered John might feel Cytherea belongs at home with the other Lyctors and therefore denies that the Seventh is her home, but then remembered the following from the same chapter:

He said, "No Lyctor has ever returned home, once we understood the reprecussions... no Lyctor except one, who knew I would come to intercept her for that very reason."

He is talking about how Harrow cannot go home to the Ninth, and referring to Cytherea going home by returning to Canaan house located on earth. John also talks about the kind of people he resurrected in NtN John 5:4:

-We'll get them all back... some of them, anyway... or at least, the ones I want to bring back. Anyone I feel didn't do it. Anyone I feel had no part in it. Anyone I can look at the face of and forgive. -

Part of the same chapter I included above in combination with this one make me itchy almost. Harrow says 'You teach them how to live all over again.' That almost feels like it should be people who recently learned how to live. Like John only resurrected kids.

Think about it. He resurrects his loved ones and ones he can forgive. People who did not take part in the destruction of earth in his eyes. Who other than children could he really be talking about? Children, babies, who have no power to decide or influence to exert, who - even if they did have the power - do not have the capacity to understand the consequences of their actions. Whose memories will be easiest to erase because there is so little to begin with.

It then also makes sense why there were two generations of Lyctors. The population he woke up had to grow up into adults first. Why else would he have half a band of Lyctors trying to settle all of the Houses? If he was able to pick adults worthy of resurrection, he would have been able to pick adults capable of establishing his houses and becoming his hands and gestures.

One final point that drives this home is the following from the very beginning of GtN in chapter 7 when Teacher tells the Ninth about Dulcinea's condition:

"Dulcinea Septimus was not meant to live to twenty-five,"-

Dulcinea's hereditary disease is the same as Cytherea's. John did not know she was sick when she first was brought to Canaan house, which means that when he resurrected her, she must have been young enough to not be actively dying yet. Perhaps a toddler or a child who had been sick for some time - long enough to know what it feels like to slowly be dying.

So, all in all, my answer is that Cytherea was not born on the Seventh. I am not sure where the idea that the second generation was born on their planets of origin came from, but I honestly doubt any of them were born instead of woken. Cytherea claiming to have learned something 10,000 years ago would be a great way for Tamsyn to give us just enough to figure it out - this is, after all, the same author who gave us the big reveal of the second book in the first sentence of the first book of her series.

#Ash Answers #Ash does TLT Meta #the locked tomb spoilers #tlt spoilers #gideon the ninth spoilers #harrow the ninth spoilers #nona the ninth spoilers #the locked tomb #tlt #the locked tomb meta #tlt meta #the locked tomb theory #tlt theory

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kylorengarbagedump · 10 months ago

Text

Playing Soldier: Chapter 7

Read on AO3. Part 6 here. Part 8 here.

Summary: The longest stay you've ever had from home is about to become much longer.

Words: 5000

Warnings: Medical trauma

Characters: William Tavington x Reader

A/N: Cowritten with @bastillia <3

Off we go into the field! We are loving your comments, your thoughts, your excitement and engagement in the story - truly, we are so lucky. I hope you continue to enjoy what we have planned for the future!!

Please credit all of Grace's letter to Bastillia and her genius. Also, please thank Bastillia for her newly formed fixation on the American Revolutionary War - it's because of this we can't help but bring in actual historical figures like they're our blorbos as well, HAHAHA. It's been a lot of fun learning about history and integrating it into the fic (even if The Patriot was not always hyper-concerned about this LOL)

Love you so much! <3

The letter was crisp, addressed in handwriting that swirled across the page like fairy dust. Grace’s penmanship, for certain—something you’d always envied when comparing it to yours, which bore more resemblance to cresting waves in a storm than anything meant for man’s eyes. It had been dated for a little over a week prior.

“Thank you,” you said to Goddard. “You said this was given to you by whom?”

“Major Ferguson,” he said, stepping further into the kitchen. Then, upon glimpsing your expression and perhaps realizing you couldn’t have possibly known who in God’s sweet Holiness that was, he continued bashfully, “The Major, er, commands another unit that was deployed into the backcountry. Lord Cornwallis ordered most of us to return here to Charleston about a day ago.”

You nodded, turning the paper over in your hands. “I see.” What you wanted to ask but didn’t: Does that include Colonel Tavington, then?

It’d been about two weeks since you’d last seen him in his office. You supposed he’d made good on his intention and set out from Charleston that evening. But he’d been in the field since then, and the status of your parole hung in the balance. Ghoulishly, a part of you had hoped he’d been killed in action. Perhaps even more ghoulishly, another, hungrier part of you had wished for him to return.

You’d tried to sate that part with nightly hand-feedings proffered between your legs—but still its appetite rose anew and greedy every morning.

“Who is it from?” said Lottie. “Your sister?” She peered over your shoulder, her red curls bouncing into her face.

Goddard gave a playful frown, running his hand through hair that matched his sister’s in color and texture. “I suppose I’m not offered a greeting?”

Lottie laughed, moving around you and throwing herself into his arms. “Welcome home, Benny.”

You grinned. “Yes,” you said. “It’s from Grace.” You peeled open the wax seal and started to read.

June 10 1780

My Dearest Sister,

Though I write this on only the sixth day since I bade you farewell, I feel it has been a lifetime. You will be glad to know that I was yesterday evening delivered home in most agreeable fashion by the company of a Major Ferguson, who attended to my utmost comfort and happiness the whole journey from Charlestown ; a great improvement, I say, upon the accommodations granted to me thence.

It has been made plain to me that the disruptions we endured, Sister, were the most unfortunate results of misunderstanding. A pity that though I beseech God to upend time, He does not heed me. Impossible notions vex and bedevil my sleep night upon night—would that I might stay Death’s hand before he took Mary and Nathaniel and Elijah and Adam. I can hardly bear to think of them, yet it is with shame and difficulty that I place my thoughts anywhere else.

In my most fitful hours on the road—

“I hate to interrupt,” said Goddard, very irritatingly interrupting. “But I fear the hospital may soon be teeming. We skirmished with militia on the road, and our field medic couldn’t attend every man.”

“Oh!” Lottie looked at you, her brown eyes wide with concern. “We should certainly go and help, then.”

You frowned. You were already feeling a little concerned about Grace’s inclination to Loyalist sympathy in the letter. “Can I not have ten more minutes?”

Goddard shook his head. “The colonel already wishes to depart this evening and needs every possible man made fit.”

So Tavington was back in Charleston. For now.

“Out again?” Lottie said. “But you all only just returned.”

“Yes.” Wincing, Goddard stepped past you both to grab a cloth hanging from the stove. As he wiped his face, he sighed. “Lord Cornwallis is holding a council of war. Colonel Tavington is in attendance with the other commanders, but he hopes to gather more cavalry and depart again by nightfall.” He looked apologetic. “You know how he is.”

You pursed your lips, folding the letter and stowing it in one of your skirt pockets. You know how he is, he’d said, as if everyone in the room all had the same experiences with Colonel Tavington, and everyone in the room all held the same opinion about his demeanor, body, face, hair, hands, and eyes.

And mouth.

“A council of war?” you asked, pushing thoughts of all of William Tavington’s body parts to a corner of your mind that you’d revisit in the evening. “What ever for? I thought the Continental army had left South Carolina.”

“Most of them,” said Goddard, plucking a peach from a bowl on the counter. “But they aren’t the problem. Evidently there’s been a disaster involving a group of Loyalists that the General sent north.” He bit into the fruit and sighed, savoring it.

“What sort of disaster?” Lottie asked, her eyes great dark pools of worry.

Goddard shrugged. “Men died,” he said around a mouthful of peach flesh before swallowing. “Lots of them. Don’t know the specifics. I expect we will be receiving new enlistment quotas, though, especially with these militia pestering us now.”

Lottie frowned. “Perhaps we should—”

“Have you had many encounters with militia?” you asked, your pulse picking up. “They seem to have amassed rather quickly.”

“Putting it lightly,” said Goddard, sighing. “Even with Charleston back under the Crown, it seems the rest of the colony remains determined to resist. We even found a small holdout of Continentals up the Santee.”

“Continentals?” you pressed, struggling to maintain a neutral facade. “I query why they would not have rejoined their forces in North Carolina by now.”

“Seems they received a dispatch following the Waxhaws battle, and stayed.” Goddard shrugged and took another bite of peach. “Tenacious, those men, I’ll admit as much.”

“I’m sure it’s all very interesting,” Lottie said, waving you toward her. “But if the hospital—”

“Did your forces engage them? How many were there?” You spoke just a little too quickly, but you were finding it harder to restrain yourself. “What was in the dispatch they received?”

Goddard raised a brow and glanced at Lottie. You consciously corrected your posture so that he might not think you liable to lunge at any moment. He relaxed.

“I, er, I can’t be certain what it said,” he replied. “I never saw the message.”

You exhaled in frustration. “I imagine you were unable to capture the messenger himself, then.”

“Actually, we were able,” Goddard said. Your heart leapt into your mouth. “Colonel Tavington became nigh on feverish in his pursuit.”

Your next question hung like a noose from your tongue, your body rigid as a gallows. “Who…” You swallowed. “Who was the messenger?”

Goddard furrowed his brow and shook his head, like he couldn’t fathom why you were so interested. “Some boy.” He waved his bitten peach through the air. “A… ‘Martin?’”

You nearly sagged in relief, instead bracing a hand against the kitchen table and affixing a passive expression to your face. “Oh.”

“The colonel made a…” Goddard winced, “compelling example of his family.” He paused, grimacing again. “And of their property.”

“I don’t want to hear of such dreadful things,” Lottie interjected. “Anyhow, we really must be off.” She grabbed your wrist. “Let us not stay the King’s men their care.”

“Yes, of course,” you said, forcing a nod. Though your worry was assuaged, your curiosity was very much not. You had, however, pushed both too far. “Let’s be off, then.”

The morning air was already ripening with heat, sticking to your tongue as you breathed it in. You were glad to be rid of your sling, sweltering thing that it was, before the summer’s wrath descended in full. In the smallest of ways, it was freeing. Even if your shoulder did still twinge with pain from time to time, it grew stronger each day. One less restraint upon your body. And one less reason for anyone to insist you couldn’t be of use.

You had welcomed the introduction of hospital labor into your routine. It hadn't been necessary, but staying in the Goddards’ home on your own only chafed your invisible shackles. Without a distraction, you imagined yourself as an anxious dog pacing in a barren cage. Working in the hospital also gave you the opportunity to collect information while wearing one of the most innocuous disguises available.

And besides all of that—you were good at it.

“I hate that the colonel keeps Benedict away so frequently as of late,” Lottie said as you followed her on the cobblestone. “I worry about him.”

You nodded. “I'm sure he worries about you, too.”

“I’m sure he does,” she said, sighing through her lips in a blubbering sound. “He knows I languish in his absence. It’s so difficult. The loneliness, I mean.”

“The loneliness?” You frowned. “You don’t keep busy?”

She laughed. “Of course I do! But it’s no replacement for companionship. Especially of family. You know as much.” With a playful smile, she added, “Benedict tells me it’s all the more reason for me to be married.”

“Is he pushing you to marry?”

“Not in so many words,” she said. “He does seem invested in introducing me to his fellow officers as often as possible.”

You couldn’t imagine doing the same to Grace. She had been your primary companion in life since your mother had passed—in some ways, more your responsibility than your father’s. After all, for those first few years, you were the only one able to tend to the animals or the crops, you were the only one able to make the meals, or sweep the floors. You would climb into bed with her, hours after she’d fallen asleep, after your father had emptied his glass of gin and you’d gotten him to his room.

Thankfully, your father eventually put down the gin. You didn’t think it was possible to put down responsibility. You didn’t even know if you wanted to.

“I see,” you replied. “Are they kind, at least?”

Lottie snorted. “No,” she said. “Most of the Green Dragoons are utter villains.” She folded her arms protectively over her chest. “I’m much more inclined toward Major Ferguson’s corps. He only oversees men of honor.”

There was that name again, said with the same dreamy insistence that Grace had tried and failed to conceal in her writing.

“Major Ferguson,” you said, as if recalling a long-forgotten acquaintance. “I keep hearing that name today. Do you know much about him?”

“Oh, I dream of it.” She giggled with all of the secrecy of a girl with a crush on a church boy. “I think—besides my brother, of course—he might be my favorite officer of all His Majesty’s soldiers.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Truly?”

“I promise you,” she said, “you have never met a man with greater wit, charm, or passion.” She laughed and gave a teasing smirk. “I think he could convince General Washington himself to throw down his arms and pledge allegiance to the King if given half a chance.”

“I will take your impressions under advisement,” you replied, grinning. You suddenly had an idea who was likely responsible for Grace’s shifting sentiments.

When you arrived at the City Hospital, Lottie dipped off to check on the sick she’d tended to the day prior. You, personally, didn’t see the purpose in conversing with those you had no duties to and decided to sit and read through more of Grace’s letter.

In my most fitful hours on the road, when grief seemed to me a dark and terrible ocean without shore, I was sought by the gracious Major Ferguson, who told most diverting stories and drew from me laughter of a mystifying source. I query whether he may be adept with some beguiling magick to have so oft performed a vanishment of my tears. He is a clever and skillful man as well as kind.

You, I am sure, would think more highly of him than you did Nathaniel, though I fear I am now far ahead of myself, Sister, and must stay my pen lest my flights of fancy make off with me, as you know they are apt to do. I am besieged now by shame to even write it, and know that were you here, Sister, you would soothe me by turning my mind to practicalities. As such, and to ease the pain of your absence I feel again coming upon me, I shall address them. I know the welfare of our home indispensable to your peace of mind, so let me assure you of it.

Despite your growing suspicions surrounding Ferguson, a smile crept over your face as you read Grace’s report on the farm. She listed every crop that had needed tending on her return, the condition of each chicken and goat by name, and included an effusive exaltation of your neighbors who had kindly fed them in your absence.

I do not wish to be alone. Major Ferguson is to depart with his men two days hence—

The delicate clearing of a throat resounded from somewhere to your side.

You snapped from the letter, looking up to see a bashfully pleading Lottie leaning around a doorframe. This version of Lottie was becoming all too familiar given the short time you’d worked alongside her. You let out a sigh.

“Now?” you protested, raising the letter to emphasize that you were occupied.

“Please, oh please,” she stepped into full view to clasp her hands in adjuration. “There’s so much blood, it’s horrid, and the bone is broken, and—”

“All right, Lottie.” You couldn’t help yourself. You smiled. “I’ll help.”

Down the hall and into the ward, a dolorous assault slammed your senses. Injured men groaned out in chorus, and the scent of blood hung in the air like coppery vapor. Lottie ducked her head and led you over to the hospital physician—Dr. Moore—who was hovering over a badly wounded man. From what you could tell, he was a young infantry soldier, his coat removed and head wrapped in bandages. Blood smothered his face, dirt smattered his legs, and his right arm was stripped of clothing.

At least, you believed it was his arm. In its current state you couldn’t imagine it being of much use for any purpose other than occupying a dog’s mouth.

“Go on,” Lottie murmured, urging you forward. “I—I’ll be ill.”

Moore caught you both approaching and adjusted the spectacles over his nose. “Charlotte,” he said, testing with his fingers what some might call flesh, but you’d probably call meat. “Where were you? I need your assistance setting the bone.”

“Oh, I’m afraid I, um, I…”

He frowned. “He doesn’t have all day, Miss Goddard.”

She elbowed your ribs, and you hopped forward with a wince. “Actually,” you said, “I’ll assist in her stead, doctor.”

“Hm?” He looked up, squinted at you. “Poultice girl?”

You nodded, even though you'd introduced yourself multiple times. “My name is—”

“Fine, yes. Come now. Hold this for me. Just there above the wrist.”

As you stepped to assist, Lottie quickly backed away, turning pale beneath her freckles as she watched you support the bloodied, blue-mottled limb. “Oh, yes, thank you so much,” she said, turning away, “I’ll be right, ah, right down that way, so, not too far!”

“Hold on, Charlotte,” said Moore. “We still might need you.”

She whinged. You weren’t fully sure how she served in medicine when she halfway lived in fear of it.

Standing by Moore, you propped up the soldier’s wrist and elbow. He stiffened and groaned through his teeth, seeking out reassurance in your eyes. Why yours, you didn’t know—you had no words of wisdom to offer him and didn’t particularly care to think of any, especially when he was impeding the work with his wooden limbs. Lottie swept to his side and patted his other shoulder, keeping her focus on his face.

“It’s all right, sir, we’re going to take care of this quickly, I promise.”

He winced, nodding, and loosened in your grip. You glimpsed her for a moment, her gaze like a deep, warm embrace. This part came as naturally to her as yours did you.

It ached, how much she reminded you of Grace in that moment. The last line you’d read of Grace’s letter—I do not wish to be alone—pricked your heart like a needle. You did not wish for her to be alone, either. You did not wish to be here, in Charleston, spending time gathering scraps of information when you knew she waited as the tender, vulnerable center of your home.

Moore started to work, and you stood still, bracing the soldier’s arm as he wiped away the blood. Even if granted leave, however, you were uncertain if you wanted to return home. The threat of the British grew greater in South Carolina, and under the supposition that both Grace and you were Loyalists, you could maintain a semblance of safety. Especially with your father’s condition still unknown and Tavington still itching for the opportunity to wring all of your necks.

Behind you, the clicking of heels. “And this is our most esteemed physician, Dr. Henry Moore.” It was the matron of the hospital. “Dr. Moore?”

“A bit busy right now,” Dr. Moore said. The soldier groaned as Moore palpated the skin on his forearm, coaxing the severed halves of bone together beneath.

“Can you take a moment?” she asked, before walking toward the other end of the ward. She tossed over her shoulder, “Colonel Tavington wishes to speak with you.”

Your eyes widened. You turned, met Tavington’s gaze and flinched, jerking the soldier’s arm. He howled in pain, and you grumbled, grabbing a wad of unused bandages and stuffing them in his mouth. He whimpered into them. Dr. Moore sighed, manually readjusted your grip, and got back to work on his sabotaged bone setting.

Tavington, meanwhile, regarded you as you imagined he might regard a body climbing to its feet after he’d gutted it. His right hand flexed absently at his side. All you could do was stare at him completely normally and not at all like a bolt of excitement had zipped through you at the sight of him.

He cocked a brow, his focus flicking over you before he turned to Moore. “Dr. Moore—”

“Busy.”

“—the British legion requires your services immediately.”

“I’m sure you believe your needs to be of great importance, Colonel, but—”

“The field medic I’ve currently retained is indisposed.”

“—as you can see, Charleston keeps me preoccupied as is.”

“You should be prepared to depart as early as this evening.”

Moore paused with a sigh, and turned to face Tavington. “Colonel, I make no assumptions regarding the frequency with which you hear this word, but no.”

Tavington’s eyes fluttered as if the doctor had clapped in front of his nose. “Perhaps you believed me to be making a request, doctor,” he replied. “I was not.”

You pinched your lips between your teeth. Moore had stopped his work on the soldier’s arm entirely. Silent, you caught Lottie’s attention from the corner of your sight, and found her face flush with anxious warmth.

“Colonel,” Moore said, with even more exasperation than the previous time, “I am the only physician in Charleston—perhaps all of South Carolina—at present. I cannot abdicate my duties here to ride with cavalry all night.” He stared at Tavington, who did not move or even shift his expression, like Moore was a fussing baby. “But I can—all right. Listen.” Moore looked at Lottie, then back to Tavington. “Miss Goddard here will be able to serve your needs adequately, and she has the added benefit of having no additional responsibilities aside.”

Lottie tensed, her gaze darting between Moore and Tavington. “M-me, doctor?” With a nervous smile, she said, “Of course, it would be my honor, but… would it be possible for my friend here to join me?”

“Your friend?” said you, the doctor, and Tavington at the same time.

“Please,” Lottie whispered, looking at you. She turned to Dr. Moore. “She’ll be a great help to me.”

Moore sighed and grabbed two splints, lining them up along the man’s forearm. You didn’t blame Lottie for wanting you there. But this would mean you wouldn’t return home. It would mean more time Grace would spend alone. You pinched the splints together, and the soldier whined, muffled by the bandages. As he twisted his head, blood trickled down his cheek, right in Lottie’s line of sight. She choked, turning to try and cough away her clear growing nausea.

“If you insist, Charlotte,” Dr. Moore mumbled as he started the bandaging process.

Tavington, who was watching with winnowing patience, looked at you. “Unfortunately,” he said, “your friend’s freedom does not extend beyond the borders of Charleston.”

You frowned. “But my intelligence was valid.”

“Yes,” he said, “but it did not produce the promised results.”

“A dispatch rider was found and detained, was he not?”

Tavington’s brows raised fractionally. “What was not found was a certain Captain Michael—“

“I am not my father’s keeper,” you growled, shifting more to face him. The soldier whined again and you shot a leer at him. “Shall I next beseech the pagan gods to divine his location, Colonel?”

Lottie glanced at you wide-eyed, alarmed at the tone you were using with a colonel of the British army. “She’s overworked from all of the injured we need to treat,” she offered. “She doesn’t mean that, Colonel Tavington.”

“She does,” he said, still focused on you. He stepped forward, voice lowering. “Divine? No. Reveal—given the insight you possess—yes.”

You snorted. Moore grabbed another roll of bandages and started using it to constrict the soldier’s arm. “If you are still unable to locate my father after everything I’ve told you, I hardly—”

The man groaned in agony, and you realized you’d started tightening your grip as you spoke. You relaxed, and he groaned louder.

Tavington sighed. “Do shut up, Private.”

Your face scrunched, almost amused. The man settled, and you took a breath. “I hardly believe that’s an issue with which I need concern myself.”

“I would say your investment in your father’s life concerns you a great deal,” he replied.

“Alas, but I cannot serve as your prophet, though you flatter me with the notion.” You shrugged. “All of those men under your command, and no success. Perhaps there’s a deficiency somewhere you need to address.”

Lottie hissed your name under her breath. “Please don’t make this harder on me.” Then, turning to Tavington, big brown eyes pleading, said, “I beg of you, Colonel. She’s simply tired. I’ll vouch for her myself!”

“Do you want to take them or not, Colonel?” Moore was tying off the second round of bindings. “If not, I’ll ask you to kindly and politely depart the ward so I can continue getting work done. You may have noticed this, but we’ve a couple dozen of your men here who need my assistance.”

Tavington’s tongue rolled in his mouth, and his eyes met yours. There you found the curiosity you’d spied while in his office, familiar glimmers of interest as he studied you. You swallowed, holding his gaze, wondering what exactly was going through his mind, wondering if he could see your speeding pulse. His head tilted, his chest fell in an exhale.

“And you… You wish to come.”

That really was the question. Your participation in this war had already dumped guilt onto your back as you unceremoniously condemned strangers to suffer and die. The thought of going along with Lottie brought a new deluge of emotions, some of which you worried would war fiercer than the soldiers in the field.

A terrible guilt for abandoning Grace. An even more terrible sadness that you wouldn’t know when you next would see her. And perhaps the most terrible excitement at the thought of waking daily and sleeping nightly within the domain of the most despicable bastard you’d ever met.

Despite it all, you knew that if you kept up the Loyalist facade, Grace would remain safe at home. Your father was the one in danger. And if you were out in the country with his primary—and deadliest—pursuer, you had the highest chance of protecting them both.

All you had to do was stay alive.

“I do, Colonel,” you replied.

“Both of you,” he said, with some amount of dread.

That wasn’t a question, but Lottie nodded anyway. “She’ll be an asset to you, Colonel. A great asset. I promise!”

“I somehow doubt that very much,” he mumbled. “Very well.” He turned to Dr. Moore, who still couldn’t be bothered to look at him while he wiped off the remaining blood from the soldier’s hands and face. “Send them along to the barracks at once. They’ll need to be briefed and supplied before we depart.”

Moore nodded. “Right away, Colonel,” he muttered.

Tavington’s eyes found yours a final time. Whether there was want or warning within them, you couldn’t discern. He turned on his heel and left the ward.

Your shoulders sagged, weight dropping to the ground that you hadn’t known you’d been carrying. Lottie provided you an expression you would’ve described as contrite if there wasn’t so much relief hidden behind it.

“Thank you so much,” she whispered. She rubbed the soldier’s back as he stood and swayed, his arm properly stiff at his side. “Off you go, sir. Get yourself a bed.” Turning back to you, she frowned. “I’m not sure if I can put my appreciation into words, really. I know how badly you wished to return home.”

“Thank you, Dr. Moore,” you said as he stood and moved to the next man. As expected, he did not reply. You shook your head and shrugged to Lottie. “It’s better for me to be doing what I can to serve His Majesty.” You hoped that didn’t sound as contrived as it felt leaving your mouth.

She pursed her lips, waiting for when Moore was out of earshot to whisper, “You have a funny way of showing it, the way you speak to Colonel Tavington!” The horror of your conduct had pinkened her cheeks. “Were you trying to get yourself hanged?”

You frowned. “Of course not.”

“Well, be more careful, then!” She huffed, crossing her arms. “I won’t always be around to rescue you.” She shook her head and brushed her hands down her dress like that would shoo the gore from her person. “Or perhaps he just favors you.”

Your next breath lodged in your throat, and you coughed. “I’m sorry—” You coughed again, straightening. “He what?”

She laughed, nudging you gently. “Oh, you are funny. Imagine, Colonel Tavington favoring anyone,” she said through giggles. “If you’d seen your face…”

“Right,” you said, bizarrely disappointed.

With a sigh, Lottie adjusted her sleeves. “I’ll tell Mrs. Smith that we need to be departing. Oh!” She gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth in delight. “This means that I’ll be in the field with Ben!” With a smile, she skittered over to the matron as she attended an ailing woman.

You tried to grin, but strained your cheeks, deciding to settle into the seat where the soldier had been instead. If you were to be departing with Tavington’s legion tonight, you needed to finish Grace’s letter. You pulled it from your pocket.

I do not wish to be alone. Major Ferguson is to depart with his men two days hence and I must admit that I dread his absence. Already once he has made a most welcome visit to certify my welfare. I told him I was indeed well, but that I should like very much to know the condition of my dear Sister. Though I with most indocile nature demanded his intelligence on the matter, he remained to me gentle and courteous. He wishes it was in his power to oblige me but it is not. He suggested however that should I wish to write you, that he may deliver you my Letter when next he is called to Charlestown. A gallant and charitable offer indeed!

Despite Papa’s endless grievances of the British army I believe he construes them all unkindly. Perhaps every one he encountered was akin to that murderous devil we so unfortunately met. In that case I should understand his misgivings.

A sense of irritation grew in your chest. You decided you didn’t particularly care if this man Ferguson was in fact Jesus Christ himself rose from the dead. The fact he was busy using your sister’s naivety to his advantage made you want to crucify him despite it.

Murderous devil, perhaps, but at least Tavington…

You paused. You couldn’t think of anything he’d done that wasn’t, in fact, worse.

But enough of wars and men. Never have you and I been apart so long, nor our home so reminiscent of a cavern. How clamorous the sound of my pen in this silence, dear Sister. Pray write me when this letter finds you. Until then I shall look each day to the South road and hope to see you return. Do not fret that I am well. Mrs. Jones has called upon me to come for supper and company, she insists, whenever I feel the pangs of solitude too keenly. For this I am grateful.

Ever, ever I remain

Faithfully and Lovingly Your Sister, Grace

P.S. I am sorry for the words herein whose inking is damaged. Mr. Mouser trod upon this Letter and entreats me now with uproarious meows to attend him.

You smiled as you finished the letter. But your heart wilted. You weren’t sure when you would be coming up the south road, or when you’d be able to unburden Grace of solitude. You knew only that you were making the choices you felt were right to keep her safe. Just as you’d always done.

Dr. Moore had left some parchment out on the table with the medical supplies. You grabbed a few pages of it along with his pen. The letter wouldn’t be long, but you could at least let her know that she did not need to worry. That you wouldn’t be returning home, but you would promise to find her, to see her soon.

You dipped the nib in the ink. You started writing.

#william tavington #colonel william tavington #colonel tavington #the patriot #jason isaacs #playing soldier #oh it's so fun living in 1780 where you had to set bones with. splints.

23 notes · View notes