#like i have such a lovely image of them in my head what if they ruin it

[its-avalon-08]

CONTROVERSIAL BUT - y/n leclerc and carlos sainz are dating. - she finds out about the ferrari announcement for 2025. - she flips out and is furious - argues with charles, both sob. - carlos's future (pls make it happy)

i love this with my whole heart. i did cry while writing this im sorry <3

please smile amore (cs55)

the champagne had barely dried on the podium before the news hit y/n like a rogue tire. her boyfriend, carlos, ecstatic from his surprise win, was pulling her into a victory hug when charles, had his face pale and eyes downcast. the phone started buzzing and ferrari's announcement about lewis hamilton moving into ferrari in 2025. y/n's eyes grew wide and carlos stiffened knowingly.

the room seemed to lose all sound. y/n froze, the echo of the murmurs words bouncing around her skull. carlos, oblivious, released her from the hug, a triumphant grin splitting his face. "y/n amore please breathe."

"i'm so sorry carlos, im so-," charles mumbled, avoiding y/n's gaze.

a low growl escaped y/n's throat. her vision narrowed, tuning out the congratulations and backslaps raining on carlos. "fuck off. no, fuck off. what the actual fuck does ferrari want? he fucking won char."

charles flinched. "it's not about that, y/n. it's..."

"it's about what?" y/n's voice rose, each word laced with a tremor that threatened to erupt. "is it about you needing another yes-man, charles? someone who won't challenge you?"

charles' head snapped up, hurt flickering in his blue eyes. "that's not fair. you know i respect carlos!"

"respect?" y/n's voice broke. tears welled up, blurring her vision. "respect doesn't put food on the table, charles! it doesn't secure a driver's future!"

"they have a plan, y/n!" charles pleaded, frustration creeping into his tone. "they..."

"their plan is a joke!" y/n screamed. "at carlos' expense!"

the room fell silent. everyone, mechanics, team personnel, even the bubbly podium girls stared at the leclerc siblings, their joyous celebration replaced by a chilling silence.

carlos, his face crumpling, finally stepped between them. "y/n, honey..."

"don't you 'honey' me, carlos!" y/n snapped, tears now streaming down her face. "this is your dream, your life! and they're throwing it away!"

"y/n, please..." charles choked out, his own voice cracking. "this isn't how this is supposed to go."

"how is it supposed to go, charles?" y/n's voice hitched on a sob. "tell me! how is it supposed to feel when they cast your teammate aside like yesterday's trash?"

charles flinched visibly. tears welled in his own eyes, mirroring y/n's. "i... i don't know."

silence descended again, heavier than before. the weight of their argument, of the broken dream, suffocated them both.

y/n, chest heaving with unshed sobs, turned and stormed out of the room. carlos, his own victory celebration forgotten, chased after her. charles stood frozen, a single tear tracing a path down his cheek. he felt utterly alone, despite being surrounded by people.

later that night, y/n sat on the edge of their hotel bed, staring out the window. carlos sat beside her, his arm draped around her shoulders, a silent comfort in the storm. y/n leaned into his touch, the warmth a small solace in the cold reality.

"i'm so sorry, princess," carlos murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "i never meant..."

"it's not your fault," y/n interrupted, wiping away a stray tear. "it's theirs. it's ferrari's."

they sat in silence for a while, the only sound the city lights humming outside. finally, y/n spoke, her voice quiet but determined. "we'll figure something out, carlos. we always do."

carlos squeezed her hand. "i know we will. but about charles..."

y/n sighed, the anger from before replaced by a dull ache. "i just... i don't know what to say to him."

"he's your brother, y/n," carlos said gently. "he probably feels awful."

y/n knew he was right. charles had never been good with emotions, especially his own. but the image of his tear-filled face haunted her.

the next morning, y/n found charles in the team lounge, hunched over a coffee, a defeated air clinging to him. she walked over and took a deep breath.

"can we talk?" she asked, her voice soft.

charles looked up, startled. his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. he nodded curtly.

y/n sat down across from him. "look," she started, "what i said last night... it was out of line," y/n finished, her voice choked with emotion. "i was angry, for you, for us. but it doesn't mean i don't understand your position."

charles stared into his coffee, his jaw clenched. "i just... i don't want to hurt you, y/n. or carlos."

"i know," y/n said, reaching across the table to place a hand on his. "we'll figure this out. together, like always."

a flicker of warmth appeared in charles' eyes. he squeezed her hand briefly before withdrawing it.

"speaking of figuring things out," a voice broke the tension. max verstappen, arms crossed, stood by the table, a hint of amusement dancing in his steely blue eyes.

y/n's head snapped up, surprised. max, known for his bluntness, rarely ventured into such emotional team territory.

"y/n and i were just having a chat," charles muttered, avoiding eye contact.

max's amusement widened into a smirk. "actually, charles, your teammate and i were just having a very interesting conversation." he looked at y/n, his smirk softening slightly. "let's just say your boyfriend might have a new home soon."

y/n's eyes widened. "what do you mean?"

max's eyes twinkled. "let's say red bull is always looking for exceptional talent," he said, glancing at carlos. "and sometimes, opportunities knock when you least expect them."

the following days were a whirlwind. news of carlos' potential move to red bull sent shockwaves through the paddock. initially, ferrari put up a fight, but when details of red bull's significant offer leaked, they conceded defeat.

the official announcement came a week later. a joint press conference displayed a jubilant carlos in red bull colours, flanked by christian horner and helmut marko. cameras flashed, reporters shouted questions, and a sense of bittersweet joy filled the air.

y/n, watching from a discreet corner, felt a knot loosen in her stomach. while she'd miss carlos being by charles' side on the track, the competitive fire back in his eyes was a sight to behold. he deserved this chance.

after the conference, y/n found charles by the team truck, staring out at the racetrack. he looked lost, a mix of relief and disappointment etched on his face.

"hey," y/n said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. charles turned, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he offered a small smile.

"how are you holding up?"

"surprisingly okay," charles admitted. "i'll miss carlos as a teammate, but it's a good move for him."

"it is," y/n agreed. "and who knows? maybe it'll spice things up a bit next season."

charles chuckled, the sound genuine and warm. "maybe." he looked at her, his eyes reflecting a newfound determination. "besides, with carlos at red bull, the competition just got more interesting."

y/n laughed, feeling the tension dissipate. it wouldn't be easy, but they'd adjust, navigate the new dynamic. one thing was certain: the leclerc siblings were a team, and they'd face the future, victories and defeats, together.

the press conference lights dimmed, the final question answered. carlos hopped off the stage, a wide grin splitting his face. he scanned the room, his eyes landing on y/n standing by the side door.

a wave of relief washed over him, erasing the nervous butterflies that had been fluttering all morning. he weaved through the crowd, his steps light and eager.

y/n's smile mirrored his when their eyes met. she pushed away from the wall and hurried towards him. the second they were close enough, carlos swept her into a hug, the familiar scent of her hair filling his senses.

"you did amazing, mi amor," y/n whispered, her voice muffled against his chest.

carlos chuckled, tightening his hold. "we did amazing," he corrected, nuzzling her cheek. "couldn't have done it without your support."

y/n pulled back slightly, a playful glint in her eyes. "oh, really? so all those motivational breakfasts and pep talks were for nothing?"

carlos feigned a gasp, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. "you wound me! how could you forget the pre-race good luck kisses?"

y/n giggled, leaning in to pepper his cheek with kisses. "alright, alright, you win. you're the best boyfriend a driver could ask for."

carlos beamed, his heart swelling with love. "and you're the best cheerleader a driver could ask for." he held her gaze for a moment, the seriousness in his eyes a stark contrast to his playful demeanor moments ago. "thank you, y/n. for everything."

y/n squeezed him tighter. "always, carlos. always."

[headkiss]

hellooo for the summer asks I was wondering about our boy Eddie and going to the beach with him and feeling insecure about our body, but ofc he’s a sweetie so he makes us feel better 🥹 just some hurt/comfort my love 🫶

thank u so so much for ur request baby!!! ily i hope this is okay <3 | 0.8k of fluff, tw for problems with body image

The sun beams harshly on your shoulders from your spot on the sand, a towel serving as the only cushion beneath you, eyes squinted behind your sunglasses.

In a rare instance, the group’s schedules have all lined up and given you the same day off, and immediately, that meant packing up Eddie’s van full to the brim with coolers and towels and more people than seats and driving to the beach.

The drive had been a blast, Steve and Eddie arguing steadily over what music to play, Robin egging them on even though she’d dance along to anything. Eddie’s hand had been a comforting weight on your thigh the entire ride.

Now, hours of sun and swims later, hair messy from the wind and water, cooler much emptier than it had been earlier, you’re watching the gang play volleyball (you say this loosely, because there’s no net nor is there an established court).

It’s fun, to be a part of a group of friends this way, to watch such an uncoordinated game where everyone is smiling and having fun despite there being competition involved.

You’re having fun, too, laughing every time Eddie trips or winks at you and says “this one’s for you” before hitting the ball in a random direction. Then, there’s the way Steve calls “mine!” every time the ball comes anywhere near his side of the ‘court,’ even when Robin was even closer, prompting them to start bickering.

So really, it should be all light and easy. A relaxing day at the beach with your favorite people. And it is, until it isn’t.

One second, you’d been smiling at the game, shifting your sunglasses off of your eyes and using them as some sort of headband instead. The next, your eyes were wandering around the beach and noticing everyone else.

Noticing the way the other people around looked. Girls brilliantly tanned in their triangle bikinis, denim shorts fitting them perfectly. Or the guys in their swim trunks and how carefree they look.

You can’t help but see everything they are that you aren’t. Or, that you don’t believe you are.

Things like this creep up on you in funny ways. Like a chill that just passes through, sudden and unavoidable. A simple thought snowballing into a hundred small ones shaped like arrows aiming towards yourself.

You shift to cross your arms over the soft of your exposed stomach, suddenly wishing you’d brought more than a tank top to cover up with.

Eddie snaps you out of your thoughts with a call of “you sure you don’t wanna join, sweetheart?”

You muster a halfhearted smile as you shake your head. “I’m okay.”

The two words are enough to tell Eddie that you aren’t exactly okay at the moment. Your smile not reaching your eyes the way it should, that line between your eyebrows worried the way it shouldn’t.

When you aren’t looking, he signals Argyle over to take his spot in the game and jogs over to you, sitting down next to you and nudging your shoulder with his. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Eds. You didn’t have to stop playing,” you say, though you can't deny that the warmth of his arm brushing yours feels nice.

“Hey, look at me,” he urges you gently, his knuckles catching your chin to nudge your face up to his. “It’s just me. You can say it.”

“It’s silly,” you shrug. Eddie pins you with a look that says ‘try me,’ and because he’s the sweet boyfriend he is and because you trust him and love him, you do. “I just- I looked around and just noticed all these people and the way they look and I’m not-”

“Sweetheart,” he stops you, his voice painfully soft. His brown eyes even more so, shining in the late afternoon sun. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m not just sayin’ that. I mean, you’ve seen the boners you give me, so…”

“Eddie,” you scrunch your nose and slap his chest lightly, though you’re fighting back a smile.

“I’m serious. Look at me compared to these people, babe. I look different, too. I’m not ripped or anything, and I’m pale as fuck. Like, ghost-level.”

You look at him, the frizzy curls framing his face and the curve of his cupid’s bow, to the tattoos dotting his skin and how his abs are just barely visible beneath the soft of his tummy. The way his cheeks and chest are a little pink from the sun. He’s perfect to you. For you.

“I think you’re pretty, Eds.”

“Well I think you’re fucking pretty, too, sweetheart. That’s my point,” his arm slings itself around your shoulders, tugging you into his side, uncaring of the heat or whether or not you’re sweaty. “Different doesn’t mean bad. It just means different. And I love you and your different, okay?”

You like the way he says it, like it’s a fact, like he’s never once thought otherwise. You like the way he trails his fingertips up and down your arm, too, like it’s an instinct.

And, well, when he dips down to kiss you all sweet and slow and sure, you think it’s the prettiest you’ve ever felt.

[amourane]

nightmares no more

pairing: yoon jeonghan x reader

genre: fluff, ceo au

w/c: 0.8k

summary: everyone wants yoon jeonghan and you were lucky enough to score him.

warnings: none

a/n: this right here is my man, love of my life, aaaaa i love him so much, also disclaimer this post used to be under my old url httphannie <3

It was already well past midnight and you were still sitting at your desk, paperwork laid out in front of you. To anyone it would look like an uncoordinated mess but you had everything in the right place. There were the legal documents that you were settling for the contract with another company and there were the marriage plans over there. Your bulletin board behind you was pinned with various arrays of dresses and contracts. 

You rubbed your eyes, tired from the work. If you went to sleep now you wouldn't have the preparations for tomorrow's meeting ready, not to mention you had to go see the venue for the wedding with Jeonghan. Your week had been busy and you hadn’t gotten a good night's sleep in what seemed like forever. 

Being the secretary of the CEO of the biggest company in the country and trying to balance planning your wedding was hard. You were constantly rushing everywhere; trying to get everything perfect. Not to mention the nightmares you had been getting. It was a big enough scandal when the press found out you were dating your boss but now they knew you were engaged to him. 

Yoon Jeonghan was one of the most sought out bachelors in the country and even when the both of you had announced your relationship, there were still some delusional girls who would try to hurt you. Every night you woke up in a cold sweat, the same image of not being able to breathe and hands grabbing you from every angle haunted your mind. That was partly the reason why you were still up working.

There was a knock on the door and Jeonghan popped his head around. “I thought I told you to take a break.” You rushed to him, embracing him tightly, inhaling his comforting scent. “I missed you too, my love.”

It was as if the barriers that were protecting you fell apart and you felt tears start rolling down your eyes. You couldn’t stop them from falling while you hiccuped continuously. Jeonghan hugged you tighter, running his fingers through your hair, untangling the kinks. 

“Why’re you crying? You're making your beautiful face look sad.” He pressed a kiss on your forehead as he stared at your glassy eyes. 

“I don’t know.” You sniffled. “It’s just that I’ve got the contracts to prepare and then we have the wedding, not to mention all the nightmares I’ve been having. I just feel like I can’t do anything, you’re the one handling all those people, Hannie.”

Your fiance frowned, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s not true. Who’s been handling all these business papers, even though I told them not to worry, and who’s been holding this wedding on their shoulders?” Jeonghan smiles. “There’s so much light in you that it blinds me sometimes. You’re a wonderful person and I love you, so it doesn’t matter what people think. Much less people who don’t even know you.”

“Why are you like this?” Your cheeks were still stained with tears but your lips were curled into a small smile.

“Like what?” Jeonghan gave you a cheeky grin, he blinked innocently up at you. “I’m just telling the truth. You stole my heart the moment I saw you.” He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest, before giving you a wink.

You giggled, pulling him in for a kiss. It was sweet when your lips touched, both of you had been so busy that it had been so long since you shared such an intimate moment. His lips were warm and you couldn’t help but feel at ease when he was with you. 

Jeonghan picked you up suddenly which made you squeal. He didn’t let you say anything, carrying you out of your office and into your shared bedroom. He threw you down on the bed, arms pinning you both sides. A second of silence ticks by. You stared lovingly at your fiance before tugging him down onto you.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Yoon Jeonghan?” 

“And what if I am, Y/n? Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for my charms already.” His tongue flicked over his bottom lip. You didn’t get to reply before a yawn escaped your mouth, your cheeks flushed and you diverted your eyes. 

Jeonghan grinned and he leant down so his forehead was touching yours. He let out a light laugh. “Sleep, my love. I’ll keep the nightmares away.” 

You knew you didn’t have a choice by the way he was looking at you, it was the same way he’d stare down his partners to get a good deal out of them. Reluctantly, you nodded, letting him tuck you in and kiss you goodnight.

“Take two weeks off, the company can survive without you 24/7.” Jeonghan placed a finger against your lips, knowing you were going to start protesting. “That isn’t a question, you’re far too stressed, just let me handle things.”

“But Hannie-”

“No.” He placed his hand on your cheek, the warmth spreading through his palm and across your face. “From now on, you’re not allowed in that office, you leave all the work to me. I’m the CEO for a reason Y/n. Promise?”

You sighed, knowing it was no use to try and protest. “Promise.” 

Jeonghan smiled, placing a kiss on your cheek. “Sleep well, my love.”

[r0-boat]

Yessssss I lOvE your headcanons about the 2 unreleased kings 😋 must be because I love dark headcanons.... (and that in Abbadon is something couldn't miss out 😈)

But can you do some moreeee? 🥺 Like about the headcanons about interactions between kings perhaps (seven kings---!!!!) Or maybe between kings and MC pls 😚 I kinda crave for some dark contents right now (cus when I first play WHB, I already expect this 👀)

Only if you're fine with this request, and jusst ignore it if you don't okie 😘

Oh my God interactions with the Kings hshshs

I mostly just have really stupid headcanons about those guys interacting but I got some dark ones

Dark!whb King headcanons

speculation for asmodeus and belphegor(I'm writing these two before they come out)

Cw: yandere, murder, drugging/drugs, death, cannibalism, sexual slavery mentions of being sold off, most of this shit is just talking about a black market shcsdgj. This shit is dark dead dove do not eat

Disclaimer: I do not condone anything I write This is purely for fantasy written by adults for adults only!

Links to little asks about people's questions

Question one about Satan's desires

Question two on Mammon

Satan

I don't think we talk about Satan's depression as much as we should have. What I feel like you would think himself as a wrathful monster unable to control his wrath, sometimes he would have depressive episodes where his personality is a completely 180. He's just as angry at himself as he is at everyone else.

The first time you've witnessed this depressive episode is when he accidentally struck you and made you bleed. His whole body starts shaking as he began to break down He tore apart his room and started crying and took weeks for him to calm down.

The reason why his subordinates are okay with him taking out his anger and physically hurting them is because if he doesn't have an outlet he'll take out it on himself.

Satan is dependent on you for his emotional needs. He loves you, and he needs you; please do not leave him.

Satan is definitely holding back a lot of his dark thoughts because he doesn't want to hurt you, and he doesn't know how much longer he can hold back these darker desires. Normally he tells you everything, but he doesn't want to scare you. He wants you to like him.

Leviathan

Leviathan is a budding yandere, He already stalks you. Trying to keep his obsessive thoughts underneath a layer of hatred. That hatred mixing into more obsession. Of course he wants you to love him, but he also wants to be hated by you just as much as he is loved because it gets him on your mind. And that's really all he wants. It doesn't matter if he makes you hate him. As long as you're thinking about him he is okay with that.

Because of his abuse as a child from angels I would not doubt he wouldn't know how to normally show affection.

He has killed another devil for you. And he will gladly do it again. He sends the heads of lower rank devils that you dare show a smile too under the name "You're admirer" isn't he so romantic.

Leviathan only tolerates the kings being around you because chilling one of them or they're subordinates would start a war. So to have you he must use sneakier tactics.

Beelzebub

He has a fantasy where he roofies you at a bar and takes you home with him. Whenever you go to the bathroom thinking that Your drink is safe with him, He stares blankly into the glass, thoughts swirling with mental images of your nice loopy giggly self being laid on his bed.

Angels taste like chicken, humans taste like beef, demons taste like pork. Humans so far is his favorite. Humanoid meat especially humans are delicacy and highly illegal in the Tartaros black market. A delicacy He has been recently craving.

If he ever dies he wants his last meal to be you after he fucks you of course.

Levi gives the bodies of the devils he has killed too Beel to eat.

Beel definitely does drugs He's mostly immune now... He hates that Adderall doesn't affect him the same as the others.

Mammon

Tartaros is home to the rich and the very powerful. They hold grandiose special parties where the wealthy gather. Of course Mammon attends these parties. These demons see you as a pretty little exotic pet unknowing that Mammon is the pet and you are the master. And these same demons frequently talk about how they would buy you at any price, talking about your body as if you are a piece of meat and a prize to be bought and sold. Sadly you are not for sale.

As the demon of greed flaunting is his specialty And he has definitely thought about telling you up and all his gold and jewels to bring you to one of these parties to show you off. As a message saying 'This is something you cannot have.

Mammon knows of the Tartaros Black market and he turns a blind eye, but he will gladly do something if you tell him to. Or if belphie gets off his ass and strong arms him.

Giving him a little more because getting asked for it: Mammon doesn't do shit about the black market because He owns part of it and he practically created it. This man runs his kingdom like a mafia and he is a mob boss. Shady dealings to other kingdoms smuggling goods anything for More money and greater goods.

Lucifer

Has purchased a human corpse from the same black market for scientific purposes he swears up and down.

He slowly corrupting himself He beats himself up over it but at the same time he kind of likes it.

"hey can I cut you open and look at your organs? No? Oh okay..."

Lucifer because of his past as an angel suddenly gets urges to kill you. They have gone down over time since his transformation as a devil but he really shouldn't be getting this hard over thoughts of putting his hands around your neck.

Makes aphrodisiacs as a paid commission for asmodeus. And asks you to test the drugs.

If you ever die he wants to keep your beautiful eyes.

Your blood is a beautiful drug like sweet wine. He's obsessed with the taste

Belphegor

Belphegor and his superpower of a kingdom are the only reason why the Kings actually give a damn about their laws. Nifleheim is a strong powerhouse and a great enemy to those who don't want to make one of them.

However, Belphegor isn't all justice and the law and order in fact far from that. He is the law whatever he wants he can bypass it and everyone will turn a blind eye. If you were ever sold by Mammon to the highest bidder Belphegor would be your buyer.

Grand spectacles of public executions are very popular thing in Nifleheim(Belphie Danganronpa fan)

The real horror is that belphie invest in cryptocurrency and has an NFT/j

Belphie is also completely dependent on you and he will make you stay any way necessary.

Belphie only hasn't cracked down on the others harder as he should is because he doesn't give a fuck what happens in other kingdoms if it is in his own.

Belphie thinks Asmodeus is a disgusting freak. Leviathan is an amateur to him. Satan and belphie would get along pretty well I think they would be FPS partners.

Asmodeus

All of hell's most heinous devils come here because the laws are so lax. You're wondering why this kingdom hasn't fall to complete anarchy... Apparently getting you addicted on sex and then withholding it as a punishment is surprisingly very effective.

Asmodeus would love to have you but hasn't invite you yet because... Well if your kingdom is filled with half trained rabid dogs and you throw a nice fine steak inside.... Yeahhh.

Asmodeus is actually a pretty nice dude, He's very calm, polite and chivalrous. Which makes you wonder how much of that is a mask. Something you'll never know.

Asmodeus has a harem I think that goes without saying. And he talks greatly about adding you to that harem and how you would be his favorite~

It's no secret that I think humans are a very sexualized being in hell. Asmodeus is one of the demons with a huge human kink. Humans in his eyes are still primal animals which is part of their biggest appeal to him.

Asmodeus thinks belphie has a stick up his ass and he needs to loosen the fuck up

[angel-kyo]

Pay it no mind

Part XIX

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV, Part XV, Part XVI, Part XVII, Part XVIII

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

“So that’s what the old man wanted,” Satoru said as he took the lollipop out of his mouth and held it before his eyes. “Did you accept?”

Gojo had been hanging out with you in the teacher’s room when you were called for a meeting with principal Yaga and principal Gakuganji, who had come to visit the Tokyo school.

You shook your head in silence.

“He said I should think about it and give him my response before he leaves in two days.” You leaned against the wall just as Satoru was doing.

He had an amused smile on his face. “What is it now? He gets bored he goes talent hunting for Kyoto?”

You and Satoru had both been teaching at the Tokyo school for little over a year, and during that time, Yaga had told you once or twice that you could teach at Kyoto if you wanted to, they were sort of understaffed there as of lately and it would be a good opportunity, and you had always refused him, but when the offer came from Gakuganji himself, why had you not said anything immediately?

“So, are you going to think about it?" Satoru’s voice interrupted your thoughts, just as the image of him would always interrupt them whenever you had thought of leaving, of taking a different path.

In your early twenties, there were still many paths you could take, but you knew the same did not hold true for Satoru. You could be offered a position in Kyoto or assigned anywhere else, but Satoru could never leave Tokyo for the long-term, he was needed there more than anywhere.

“Do you think I should?” you asked him.

As much as Satoru wanted to say he would support any decision you made, he did not really like the idea of you moving to a different city. Even if Kyoto was not awfully far away, it would still probably mean that he would not see you as much, so what he said instead was:

“If you feel like you can’t handle the curses nor the students here, yeah, sure, think about it.”

He was smirking mockingly, and you knew he was just joking, but the side gaze he was giving you seemed to indicate he did not want you to think about it.

“It’s you the one I can’t handle here. Good luck to the one who has to keep you in check when I leave.” You nudged him.

“If it worries you that much, you should stay,” Satoru said and put the lollipop back in his mouth. His tone was as playful as before, and his words sounded lighthearted.

You two bantered a little more before both of you had to go to back to your students, but before you parted, he said:

“You love this city, and the students love you, and I... " For a second, you thought he was going to say he loved you too, but what he said was "I think you should stay here too.”

And so you did.

Had Satoru ever felt bad about telling you to stay? He had sometimes doubted he should have done it.

Had he been happy when you had stayed by his side while you bid farewell to Gakuganji two days later? Very.

***

When you opened your eyes, it took you a second to remember why the bed felt different. It was not your bed but Satoru’s, and the form next to you was the owner of the bed himself.

After coming back in, you had gone to sleep. Satoru believed that, since his bed was big enough to fit both of you with some room in between, you could just share it, but there had been two factors you had not considered : 1) Satoru was a clingy sleeper, and even if he had laid down on the other side of the bed, it would not take him long to roll into your side and put an arm around you, and 2) how flustered you would be when he did it.

It was a habit, and you had never considered it more than that before. Even when you were younger, Satoru would just lay down next to you, usually leaving some room between the two as to not purposefully touch you, but when he was asleep, he always ended up pressed to you.

Maybe he unconsciously searches for warmth when he sleeps.

Some time ago, the last time you had slept in Satoru’s room because he had been intoxicated and ended in a similar situation, you had been trying to get over him. Now you could not help but wonder if this could be what life would be like for you two if you were together. Would you spend more time at his place or at yours? Would you sleep together every night? Would he kiss you goodnight and snuggle next to you instead of awkwardly getting under the sheets on the opposite side of the bed as he had done today?

Would we be happy together?

You turned on your side to take a better look of Satoru with the little light that filtered from outside, but the movement seemed to awake him.

“What is it?” his voice was soft and if he noticed the way his arm was wrapped around you, he did not show any intention of removing it. “Can’t sleep?”

You shook your head. “I was just wondering if we would be happy.”

He smiled lazily and blinked slowly as if his eyes wanted to go back to sleep. “We have been happy, haven’t we?”

We have, you thought. And didn’t someone said once that if something works, you should not try to fix it?

You looked at him, his eyes that held the skies in them, his sharp features that could look so soft when he was relaxed like this, his lips that had touched yours a few times and had felt as soft as they looked.

“I know, but don’t you think things will change if we…?” you stopped talking realizing Satoru had closed his eyes again, likely giving up against the need for sleep.

But when you moved lightly under his arm, you heard him murmur “We will be happier, I know it.”

And maybe it was the way he was holding onto you or how comfortable it felt, but you believed him.

***

“Are you alone?” Shoko’s voice came soundly and clearly from Satoru’s phone, and he directed a quick glance at you to see if you had heard it.

Why would she ask him that?

You appeared to understand his look as a cue to leave him alone in his living room and Shoko took his silence as an indication that he was indeed not alone, so she continued.

“Are you with [name]?”

Satoru finally spoke. “They just left the room. Were you trying to reach them?”

Shoko seemed to hesitate for a second. “No… I just wanted to check if they were taking missions tonight. If they are with you, it should be fine.”

“What do you mean?” Satoru thought it odd that Shoko called for that. Why had she not called you instead?

“Gojo, I think there is something you need to know about.”

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

Note: Huh... Realizing now that I'm not consistent when it comes to parts' length. Anyways...

Thank you for reading!

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz @luciledreamz @avidreadee123 @moonmalice @ratscandaler @sadmonke @allie-jay @username23345 @spin-garden @ashehateaccount @kayzens @blehtotheblehtothebleh @stellasloth @bloopsstuff @cheesemachine44 @tetsuski

[frenchkisstheabyss]

⛧𝙽𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙱𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝙺𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝙸𝙸𝙸⛧

⛧ Pairing: poly!slasher!minsung x chubby!fem!reader

⛧ Genre: slasher au/horror/fluff/angst

⛧ Summary: It's been two weeks since that fateful night your crushes revealed their killer hobby to you. You promise yourself you'll never look back but your ties to each other can't be severed so easily. Especially not when your own gruesome urges begin to creep in and an unexpected visitor gives you the perfect opportunity to set them free. Do you have it in you to resist or are you destined to return to them?

⛧ Word Count: 2.1k-ish

⛧ Warnings: horror elements, masturbation (f w/ vibrator), blood, violence (none between you 3 though. you psychos love each other too much), someone breaks into reader's house w/ short fight scene after, erotic homicidal urges, dead bodies, strong language, you become a killer bby girl, suggestive convos, everyone gets kinda sentimental, & that's all.

⛧ A/N: I'm such a spooky girl at my core (it's where my writing roots are) so it's been fun writing this dark comedy/romance and I love you forever if you're joining this quite odd ride with me.

Also thank youuu @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 and @lxsunshine for asking to be tagged! I've never really had a tag list but if anyone else wants to be, totally let me know! 🖤

💀 <<< Rewind to Tape 1 <<< 💀

Somewhere along the way your wires got crossed. You could blame it on Han and Minho for what they did but that’d be unfair wouldn’t it? What they uncovered in you—the same darkness lurking within themselves—has alway been here and it refuses to be buried again. But you try.

It’s been a long 15 minutes soaking in this bath with one leg draped over the side of the tub and your waterproof vibrator buzzing away beneath the lilac bubbles. Music plays in your headphones, ambient tunes meant to melt the tension from your body. Squeezing your eyes shut you try—you really try—to chase off intrusive visions of two sickeningly handsome psychopaths. You don’t want to remember what you saw that night but the picture’s so clear in your head that it might as well be playing out in front of you all over again.

For the few seconds that you manage to shake the thought, your vibrator feels useless. It hums against your walls with all the enjoyment of a leg that’s fallen asleep. But when the image snaps back into frame—them standing there in nearly nothing, blood dripping down their bodies—it feels heavenly. The pleasure travels through you in pulses, spreading further out the longer you indulge in your memories.

This isn’t right. You have to stop. You know you do. So do it. You can’t. Lie to yourself all you want but this is what you need. Water splashes onto the floor as your leg slips into the tub, moans dancing freely from your lips. Your heart thumps like a techno beat, battling the light music in your headphones for dominance.

The pressure in your lower belly overtakes you, dangerously close to erupting. Crashing into your high, your eyes fall open and you’re met with a face you haven’t seen in months. You open your mouth to scream but a hand is already around your throat, dragging you out of the bathtub. 

“Where’s my brother?” the man shouts, the dim lighting in the bathroom only partially concealing a face twisted with rage.

You claw at his hands, nails slicing through his skin like razors. He grunts, gripping his bloody hand, and tosses you across the floor. A framed picture crashes to the floor as you hit the wall with a thud, your ears ringing at the impact. Turning to lunge at you again, he trips on the soaking wet bath mat and falls at your feet. You latch onto the toilet, struggling to pull yourself up when you’re still covered in bubbles.

“I know you know something! So tell me!” he demands, catching you by the ankle. He uses all of his strength to drag you down but you’re too slippery to hold onto.

“I don’t know where your fucking brother is!” you scream, grabbing onto the toilet tank. Tucking your fingers under the lip of the heavy lid, you pull at it as hard as you can. 

“You’re lying! Either tell me what happened or I’ll make you, you fucking bi—”

Ding! You swing around and crack him in the head with the porcelain lid. He stares up, not particularly at you, his gaze empty. Everything goes dark for him, blood gushing down his head, and he’s down. High off of adrenaline, you toss on your robe and run for the phone at the end of the hall. Hands shaking, tears running down your cheeks, you pick it up to call the cops. But something stops you.

Instinct takes over and your fingers are already dialing the new number. You wipe the tears from your cheeks and find yourself fixated on the bloody skin under your nails. The line rings so many times that you almost think no one will answer.

“My baby!” Han cheers on the other end of the call, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. “I missed you.”

 There’s some shuffling followed by Minho’s voice, “We missed you!” 

You flick the skin from under your nails, smiling to yourself. “Hi boys,” you sniffle, knowing there’s no turning back, “I missed you too. You wouldn’t happen to be, uh, busy tonight would you?”

Minho feels like an old man who can’t get his dick up. It might actually be easier if he were. At least then there’d be a pill to fix what he’s going through. Ever since you walked out that door both he and Han have had the worst dry spell they’ve ever experienced. The only dry spell they’ve ever experienced. The last body they touched was your ex’s. They threw it, every last piece of it, somewhere no one would ever find him and left it at that. It just wasn’t fun anymore.

Detectives call what they’re going through a “cooling off” period. It’s the time between murders when a serial killer returns to their normal lives, biding their time until they can kill again. Poking his spoon around in a bowl of soggy cereal, a pouty Minho doubts that’ll happen any time soon. “I hate this!” he whines, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

Han pushes his legs away, flopping down beside him on the couch, “Get your feet off my coffee table.”

“Meh meh meh meh meh meh meh” Minho mocks, deflating when it hits him that he can hardly enjoy picking on Han anymore.

Han scooches closer to Minho, offering him a shoulder to lay his head on. Minho takes it, feeling Han’s sadness without having to see the heartbroken look on his face. No matter how much he teases him, Han’s his best friend. They’re brothers. They understand each other like no one else can and he knows how badly Han hoped you would too.

“You wanna go to the medical history museum tomorrow?” Minho asks, calling upon all of his cuteness to make Han happy.

Han doesn’t answer but exhales a “Hmm…” that signals he might be interested. 

Minho bats his eyelashes, laying it on heavy, “Come on, they have the world’s largest collection of human skulls. You know you love good head. I mean, no, wait, that didn’t…shit.” Han hangs his head, laughing so hard it makes him wheeze. “Why would you say that? Just why?”

Minho sits up, elbowing him in the side, “Fuck you. I was trying to cheer you up.”

Han throws his arms around Minho, hugging him tightly, “Stop sulking! I’ll go! Who needs a girl when you have the world’s largest collection of human skulls, ya know?”

Minho narrows his eyes, resisting the urge to fight against the hug just this once. Deep down inside, really deep, he loves it. “Exactly” he huffs, “Women are a distraction anyway. We’re better off without her.” 

Ring! Ring! Ring! The sound of the phone sucks all of the air from the room and their stomachs collectively sink. In record time they’re halfway across the room, pushing each other out of the way to check the caller ID. Your name flashes on it and Han snatches it up just as Minho’s fingers graze the buttons. 

Han answers the phone, almost too excited to contain himself, “My baby!” Minho folds his arms, quietly judging Han for being such a dork about this.

“I missed you” Han says, lower this time, his back turned to Minho.

What happened to not needing you? What happened to being better off without you? Oh, fuck it.

Minho steals the phone, blushing so hard his ears turn red, “We missed you.”

A minimum of six traffic laws were broken when the boys realized something had happened to you. Of course you couldn’t tell them the incriminating details over the phone. Luckily, hearing you cry was more than enough for them to stop everything and speed across the city to check on you. They really only cared about seeing you again but the presence of a possibly dead body doesn’t hurt.

In your second stroke of luck tonight, if you can call it that, you’re positive no one knows he’s here. There’s nothing on him to track him by. He came only with the tools he used to break in and a taser he no doubt intended to use on you. And there won’t be any fuss from your downstairs neighbor. She hasn’t been able to hear since 1982. All that’s left is the matter of what to do with him. 

Gathered in your bathroom, the three of you stand over the body carefully watching for signs of life. Han and Minho glance at each other behind your back. They’re both wondering the same thing but don’t know how to ask. They play a quick game of rock, paper, scissors. Han’s rock and he hates that for himself. Minho’s paper and he’s never been happier. Minho mouths, “Loser” and Han flips him off. 

“Baby” Han says sweetly, holding your hand, “Were you and this guy, like…”

You stare at him, happy to be holding his hand but genuinely confused, “Were we?” Reading the room, you pick up on what they mean. “No, no, no! Never! This…” you say, kicking the motionless body, “Is my ex’s shithead brother. He broke in cause he wants to know where his brother is.”

Minho shrugs, pulling the belt to your bathrobe out, “Let’s make sure they’re reunited then shall we?” He wraps the belt around each hand a few times until there’s tension in the fabric and just enough room to fit a human neck. Minho sits down on the floor, positioning the man’s head in his lap. He’s ready to tighten the belt around his neck but there’s something bugging him. “Do you guys hear that?”

You all listen closely, picking up on a nearly inaudible buzzing. Han follows the sound over to the bathtub where the bubbles have long dissolved and spots the source immediately. He rolls his sleeves up and reaches into the water, pulling out your vibrator.

“Oh my god. Give it here!” you shriek, taking it and switching it off. You toss it in the cabinet under the sink, unable to handle how much they’re obviously loving this. “So, did you come at least?” Minho asks, relaxing his hold on the belt. 

“I’m not answering that.” 

Han’s studied you enough to tell when you’re lying. “She did! Did you think about us when you did it?” 

Minho giggles, far too pleased with himself, “She did.” 

“Go to hell!” you snap, getting on your knees beside Minho. You take the belt from him, winding it around your hands the same way that he did. “Show me.”

Your boldness throws them off—this is far from what they were expecting—but they don’t hesitate to guide you. Han joins you on the other side, showing you how to hold the belt properly. Minho checks the pulse before propping the body up for you. It’s weak but it’s there. It feels natural to be doing this together, like the space between them was always meant to be one you’d inhabit.

“Thanks for coming, you guys” you say, seconds from strangling a man, “Most guys won’t even buy me flowers and you risked the electric chair for me. That’s way sweet”

“You’re worth risking the electric chair for” Han coos, kissing you on the cheek.

Minho nods in agreement, kissing you on the other cheek, “Cutie.”

Your cheeks are so warm and you can’t stop yourself from smiling. You’re basically glowing at the love being poured into you. It’s perfect enough that you regret running away from it to begin with but that won’t happen this time.

“Aah!” the man croaks, shooting back into consciousness. He tries to sit up but you use the belt to hold him down, squeezing it as hard as you can around his neck. You lock your legs around him, something they didn’t need to instruct you to do, and hang on until he goes limp. They look at you like they’re terrified of you, afraid to make any sudden movements in case you’re in the mood to come for them too. 

Han takes him by the wrist, checking his pulse, “He’s…dead. Holy shit. You killed a guy.” 

“I killed a guy?” 

“You did! Good girl” Minho applauds, breaking out into a happy dance.

You and Han join him, dancing to totally different songs in your head but celebrating together nonetheless. Han gets up from the floor, dusting himself off, “Now you’ve just gotta chop him up. Got any food in your fridge? I’m hungry.” He wanders off to the kitchen, leaving you and Minho alone in the bathroom.

Minho gets up too, kissing you on the top of the head. “I could use a midnight snack too” he yawns following Han’s lead, “Be careful with the radial artery, love. It bleeds like a bitch.” 

Pushing the body off of you, you hop up to chase after them. “Wait! You’re ditching me for snacks? I don’t have the tools for this. And what the fuck is a radial artery?” 

[phoward89]

Jealous!Coryo x Reader, Odair!Ancestor x Reader.

Series Masterlist

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. That man is a walking blood red flag waving heavily in the wind! engagement (not reader), smut, infidelity, love triangle, manipulation, stalking?, gaslighting, fluff, Head Gamemaker!Coryo, District 4 Cruise Ship Heir!Odair OC. Dark!Coriolanus, Jealous!Coriolanus, Dom!Coriolanus

Chapter 6:

It's been too long since you've been to the spa. You forgot how relaxing it is. And maybe what makes it even better is that Coriolanus is paying for it. That you can have all the treatments your little heart desires and he's footing the bill.

“It's good to see you here again. What happen, did Coriolanus and you get into a lovers spat and he cut off your spa allowance?” The esthetician asked, applying a much needed cleansing jelly mask to your face as you laid down on the comfortable bed like table.

“He's not my lover, Adara. He's actually my boss now, plus he's engaged to Livia Cardew.” You pointed out to your beloved skin goddess, the best esthetician in Capitol City.

“Oh please.” The violet and blonde streaked young lady loudly cackled. “Nobody believes that shame for a lousy minute.”

“What? But they look-” You start to say only for Adara to cut you off with, “Coriolanus looks absolutely miserable next to her in pictures. He seriously looks like he's going to strangle her.” Shaking her head and applying more of the thick vitalizing goop on your face, she adds, “And that blonde shrew might look sweet and smiley next to him but she bad mouths him every chance she gets. Some things she's said has even gone viral on Pan-Tok, Pan-Tube, and Pan-X. She even shit talked him while a bit tipsy on her friend's Pangram Live stream.”

“I didn't know this. Why didn't I know this?”

“Probably since the aspiring Senator Snow doesn't have social media and you only have a Panbook- that you haven't been on in like over a month.”

“Fuck! So she's dragging his name in the mud via social media?!”

“Yes.” Adara confirms while finishing applying your facial mask treatment. “And practically all of Panem hates her.” She informed you while putting cucumbers on your eyes for a finishing touch.

Sitting down in the stool next to your bed Adara, who was a friend of sorts to you, says, “Livia’s worse than her older brother and Livinius is always getting into shenanigans with the two Capitol losers: Odysseus Odair, the pretty boy that drinks too much, and Hector Heavensbee, the stoned cousin of Hilarious Heavensbee.”

“Wait, what? How do you know this?”

“Social media, duh.” The blonde-violet girl rolled her eyes at you, even if you couldn't see them since your eyes are closed with little cucumbers on them. “Girl, you're too young not to be on social media.” Adara seriously told you. “Listen up, after we're done with your mask we’ll do your manicure then your pedicure. And after that you're signing up for all the social media accounts.”

“Yes, I think it's overdue for me to have more social media then Panbook.” You told her, a calculating smile hinting your lips.

Oh you're going to be creating social media accounts, but solely for the purpose of finding out what damage Livia Cardew's doing to Coriolanus’ image. Once you find out, you'll have to tell him and then come up with a plan to address it.

You're hairstylist, Fabian, was currently with another client so you're scrolling on your phone; looking at all the crazy shit that Livia Cardew's been posting on Pangram, while sitting in the lobby of the high end salon. Oh God, she's such a stick up bitch. Such a shrew. She seriously posted a picture of a bubble tea while complaining that they're wasn't enough bubbles in the tea.

Oh hell…

The receptionist was sitting at the front desk, flipping thru a rag mag whenever she gasped. Whatever she saw must be shocking.

Flipping the magazine in half, she held it up to you and said in a scandalous tone, “That farce of a political pony show going on between your Coriolanus and Livia.Cardew’s going to ruin his reputation.” Waving the magazine in the are, she told you, “Look, paparazzi’s got some pictures of her drunk and stumbling on the sidewalk. The accompanying article says the picture were taken while she was ranting to her socialite friends about how her fiance’s a freak in bed that scoffs at her purity ring, asked if he could stick it up her ass to keep her virginity intact, and she even said that Coriolanus has a thing for dirty district women; chased that former singing victor all those years ago just to screw around with her before his fall semester of University.”

“What?!” You loudly exclaimed, jumping out of you seat and rushing over to the reception desk to grab that trash gossip magazine from Xandra. “Oh Andraste’s tit, let me see that!” You curse, snatching up the magazine that's freely offered to you.

As your eyes look at the damning pictures and read the article, the receptionist tells you, “That's one of the magazine's that get delivered all over Panem; even the Districts get it. Particularly the PK bases as I understand.”

“Shit…” You mutter under your breath. You feel both pissed and lightheaded at the sudden revelation of what Livia Cardew's actions mean for Coriolanus' Senate run.

Damnit…

And it was that moment that Fabian’s client left and the stylist with perfectly feathered hair came up to you. “Y/N, it's been too long.” The hairstylist greeted you with a kiss to the cheek, which you returned in kind. Leading you back to his work station, he asked, “It's been over a month since you've had your hair done. Did Coriolanus not like my work last time?”

“No, Fabian.” You shook your head. “We just got into a spat, so we weren't talking “ You explain, taking your place in the salon chair.

“I hope you worked everything out since he called to fit you in; is picking up the tab like always too.” Fabian told you while placing a colorful smock around you.

“We worked things out as best as we could considering I'm his new assistant now. I'm his new campaign manager too.”

“Oh that's wonderful. Now if only we could toss that horrible Livia into that toxic sludge river over in 8 then everything’ll be perfect.”

“Fabian, that's horrible.”

“Yes, but you know it's true. Now, what're we doing with your hair today? Blow out, keratin treatments?”

*I want an entire new look.” You told your hairstylist.

“Ooo, new look for a new era.” Fabian clapped happily.

“I want hair that says I'm a bad boss bitch.” You smirked.

“Oh, honey, I know exactly what you need. Just leave it to me.” Fabian told you before hurrying off to the supply room to grab some supplies to make your hair new and to die for.

Your hairstylist was going to give you new hair that'll be the envy of everyone in the Capitol. Your new hairstyle will even have Coriolanus down on his knees, begging you to take him back. Oh, Fabian knows that what he has planned cut and color wise for your hair’s going to drive Coriolanus up the wall with desire. That he's going to be going crazy when he sees you.

The hairstylist views it as his personal mission to make sure that his best client stays with the only man in the Capitol that encourages his girl to routinely get her hair done. Most men aren't so generous like that when it comes to expensive salon visits every handful of weeks.

After your getting your hair done, you went home and drowned yourself in endless social media posts across various platforms for Livia Cardew. It seems like some were worse then others, but none of them were any good for your best friend. As long as he's connected to her, well, his campaign's going to tank.

You saw that Festus and Persephone weren't following Livia on social media. The newlyweds, whose wedding Coriolanus dragged you a few months prior, seemed to have either never added her, stopped following her, or blocked her from their accounts. You also saw that the couple had started to follow you on the social media accounts that you created earlier in the day with Adara in the spa.

You’re done scrolling thru Livia Cardew's accounts and decide to call Coryo to tell him all about what you uncovered. After three rings he answers his phone with a professional, “Head Gamemaker Snow speaking, to whom am I speaking with?”, before he realizes it's you

“It's me, Y/N.” You tell him as you pop up on the phone’s video screen. “I thought you would've programmed my new number from my application into your phone.” You chuckle while sitting up straighter on your sofa.

“I didn't even notice it, I just hit accept hire after after looking over your education and work history.”

“Oh.” You simply nod.

Before you could even tell Coriolanus why you're calling, he gives you a dazzling smile paired with the compliment of, “I like what you've done with your hair. The new cut and color suits you, my darling rose.”

Fabian was right, the hairstyle and color he gave you was going to drive Coriolanus wild. How did he know, who knows? But right now Coryo's baby blues are flashing with interest and mirth; they're locked into your face- he's in absolute awe of your new hairstyle/color.

A lopsided grin appeared on the platinum blonde's lush lips as he suggests, “Why don't I take you out to dinner to celebrate hiring you as both the Head Assistant Gamemaker and my Campaign Manager?”

“Don't forget your PR Liaison as well, Aspiring Senator Snow.” You teased Coryo, who still hasn't styled his platinum curls yet. “Oh, I did some digging while waiting for my appointment at the salon and found out why your campaign’s tanking.”

“Well, what did you uncover, my darling?” Coriolanus asks, leaning back in his sitting chair. The one in his living room to be exact.

“The problem isn't you, but it's your fiance: Livia Cardew. Everyone hates her.”

“That doesn't surprise me; I hate the shrew too.” The imposing blonde man, who's been your best friend for nearly 2 decades, chuckled.

Shaking your head, you sadly sigh, “Well, I think she hates you more than you hate her considering she's posting a lot of hate about you.”

Coriolanus arched a perfectly shaped brow at your words, causing you to tell him the blunt truth of your discoveries. “She’s spewing shitty remarks here and there; not to mention ranting about you on her friend's Pangram Live.” You take a tiny breath, only to sigh and tell him the most damning information of all. “Oh and then there's a story and some pap pics in a very popular and well circulated rag mag that has her stumbling drunk and ranting to her friends about you wanting to stick it up her ass cause she's wearing a purity; how you have a sexual attraction to district girls too.”

“Fucking hell…” Coriolanus groans, raking his lake hands thru his platinum curls- a nervous habit of his. “That's very damning for my campaign.”

“Yes,” You nod in agreement, “it is.”

“Well, I've been wanting out of the engagement and I've found a way to end it without looking like the bag guy.” Coriolanus told you, his lips in a thin pressed line. “But I can't tell you until we're alone in my car, it's not something I want to talk about over the phone.”

A few hours later you find yourself alone in a sleek, black sedan with Coriolanus behind the driver's seat. Since it's early spring, he's in a light grey suit with a wine hued waistcoat. It pairs lovely and really makes both his platinum hair, whose curls he just lightly gelled to keep from being messy, and his cerulean eyes pop.

“You look beautiful, baby.” Coriolanus smiles, looking between you and the road, as he pulls out of the parking garage.

“Thank you, but flattery’ll get you nowhere. You already complimented me on my dress when you picked me up, no need to do it again.”

“And only you, my darling rose, has the audacity to get your feathers ruffles over receiving multiple compliments from your lover.”

“My lover?” You scoff sardonicly, rolling your perfectly made up eyes.

“Whether you want to admit it or not, it's what we are, Y/N.” Coriolanus tells you, his baritone a bit softer then usual, as his hand slides off the clutch and onto your thigh- a thigh that's covered by the peachy pink skirt of your dress. A dress that was designed for you by Tigris, that had small white roses randomly embroidered on it.

Pushing his large hand off of your thigh, you give him a leveling look and state in a solid tone, “I thought that we're childhood best friends, who had a situationship that got a bit messy, but decided to work together for your political dreams.”

“We're working on our political ambitions. Don't forget, I did promise to make you my First Lady.” The platinum man with looks rivaling that of the gods themselves had the balls to tell you, all the while taking your hand in his. With a smirk, he changed the subject by giving you his opinion on your manicure. “I quite prefer your nails long and red, baby. They look much better then the short French tips you were wearing during our month long absence from each other.”

Of course he prefers long red stiletto nails on you over the short square French tips. Man sure does love red. You're not even surprised about that.

You don't make a comment about him liking your nails, but you do comment on his little making you his First Lady remark. “Last time I checked, Head Gamemaker Snow, the First Lady's married to the President and you're engaged to Livia Cardew.” After the little reminder of his reality, you decided to twist the knife in his heart and hurt his ego (because he broke your heart) by adding in, “Oh, and right now I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth.”

Coriolanus’ Adam's apple felt thick and stuck in the hollow of his throat as a reaction to hearing your cruel words. He knows deep down in is black, head, shriveled up heart why you said that. That you're trying to hurt him because he broke your heart; his promise to you.

Except he's doing his best to right his wrong; to ensure that he keeps his promise to you.

Coriolanus’ Adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows down the thickness trapped in his throat. Looking between you and the road as he weaves in and out of traffic lanes, he reveals, “I'm going to get out of my arranged engagement by framing the Cardew's for bank fraud.”

“What?” You blurt out, finding his idea to be a bit brash. “Can’t you just call off the engagement because of irreconcilable differences?”

“No, baby,” Coriolanus shook his head, “I can't just break it off due to irreconcilable differences.” He quickly switched lanes again, cutting off a car and getting honked at. “Livia’s being a frigid shrew and dragging my name in the mud; how do you think me dropping her like a hot potato’ll make me look? Hmm, how would it look for my campaign?”

Turning your head to give him an incredulous look, you ask, “So, what, you're going to destroy the family that runs the Capitol United Bank to effortlessly break off an arranged engagement and to gain sympathy votes for your campaign?”

“Yes.” The icy eyes man smiles widely, like a maniac. “It's a flawless plan, Y/N. I trust that as my right hand woman and future First Lady that I have your complete support with this.”

Honestly, it might sound horrible, but you didn't give a shit about Livia Cardew or her family. If Coriolanus had to destroy the top banking family in the country to end his engagement and save his campaign then so be it.

“You just do whatever you have to do to and when it's done I'll make sure that you come out smelling like a rose in the media.” You told the man next to you as he pulled over, without using his blinkers, into the entrance of the restaurant he's taking you to.

The Capitol Grille.

“Good.” Coriolanus nods while getting into the line for valet parking. “Tomorrow we need to start switching our banking accounts to the Capitol One Bank.”

You've been to The Capitol Grille a few times with Coryo, so when the maitre d greets you both with a smile and ushers you to a cozy table for two, while making the other patrons in line ahead of you wait, you're not surprised.

Coriolanus, like always, orders a bottle of the best wine and some glasses of water for you two. He also orders the go to appetizer for when you dine out at The Capitol Grille: shrimp cocktail. He also orders the usual for you two as well: the chef's suggestion of the slices filet mignon topped onions and wild mushrooms with cream spinach and au gratin potatoes. Oh, and he ordered the infamous Capitol made cheesecake the restaurant’s known for.

You didn't mind him doing the ordering since you two always got the same thing every time he took you out to eat at The Capitol Grille. You'd be shocked if he didn't insist on ordering, truth be told.

The waiter delivered both your glasses of water, wine, and the large shrimp cocktail to share all on one tray. Once he finishes delivering the items and pouring the wine, he assured Coriolanus and you that your food would be out shortly and left.

Coriolanus is fixing you up a small plate of shrimp cocktail and engaging in small talk with you about your upcoming job as his right hand woman in the Citadel whenever Odysseus’ voice reaches your ear from nearby as he smiles disparagingly. “I see it didn't take you too long to move on, sweetheart. But I didn't think you'd be moving on with Satan, or is he who you've been cheating with.”

“Oh, Odysseus Odair, I wish I could say seeing you while out celebrating Y/N’s new job as my assistant is a pleasant surprise, but then I'd be lying and I make it my utmost priority not to lie to or around my childhood best friend.” Coriolanus said in a very cool, calm, and collective way that has just enough zing to bite.

“Your what?” The bronze haired man asked, his voice hitched up in shock.

“I told you that I attended the Academy, Odysseus. Maybe you should've believed me instead of insisting I wasn't on the same level as you and Coryo.” You told your neighbor and new ex while gesturing between him and your Coryo with your hand.

“He what?” Coriolanus blinked his eyes slowly, like an offended cat. It reminded you of a cat you had as a child. Looking at you, he said with so much disdain in his deep baritone, “That manwhore insulted you by insisting you weren't good enough to attend the Academy?”

“Coryo, let it go.” You told him in a whisper hiss while Odysseus’ sea-green eyes bounced between you and the platinum blonde man you're dining with very suspiciously.

“I will not let it go, darling. He insulted you.” Coriolanus whisper hissed back.

Well, looks like chivalry’s not dead at all.

“I have a business meeting I need to attend, Y/N, but I'll call you later so we can talk things out.” Odysseus told you before booking it away from your table (since he didn't want to be around Coriolanus) and towards the table his father Posieden Odair, Mr. Larimer (a wealthy politician and investor) and Mr. Hearst (a wealthy newspaper mogul) was sitting at; waiting for him.

“You better not answer your phone when he calls.” Coriolanus tells you while making himself a small plate of shrimp cocktail with jerky, aggravated movements.

Grabbing a piece of shrimp from your plate and dipping it into the red cocktail sauce, you tell him, “I’ll answer it if I want to, Coriolanus. My relationship’s none of your business.”

Tossing the serving spoon back into the middle of the extravagant crystal serving bowl, causing some of the red sauce to splash up. Coriolanus face skewed up as he watched you eat your piece of shrimp. Taking his and dipping it into the sauce, he darkly chuckled, “I see you're going to play little minx and punish me for my arrangement by having a fling with the sluttiest man in all of Capitol City.”

“What's good for the goose's good for the gander.” You simply smirk, causing the man sitting across from you to nearly choke on his shrimp.

And then, as he's coughing and trying not to die from shrimp going down the wrong windpipe, Odysseus loudly tells somebody at his table to ‘Shut the hell up!’ before storming away from the table, right past yours, and out of the restaurant.

Hmm…

You wonder what happened at his table.

Coriolanus Snow, ever the gentleman, used his pristine white cloth napkin to spit his piece of shrimp that nearly made him choke and die. Folding his napkin and placing it back on his lap, he seriously told you, “He's a spoiled brat; I hope you get seeing him to punish me out of your system real fast because I don't like sharing what's mine, Y/N.”

“Last time I checked I didn't belong to you.” You smugly retorted while eating another piece of your shrimp cocktail.

Coriolanus leaned in close, nearly crossing the table, and declared in a low, dark timbre, “You’ve always been mine, baby. And, as you know, I'm going to ruin a family just to make you my wife; First Lady.”

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @dcylight-fciry @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress @cherrybaird @blurpleuni-squid

[foursaints]

do u have any random thoughts about sirius/remus?? literally anything at all- any random blurb or thought just Anything. reading ur james thoughts and i wanted to ask because i feel like any ramblings/character specificities u have about them will scratch my brain rlly good

my thesis for them is that one quote about how soulmates will eventually find each other, because they have the same hiding place

like the longer i spend with them the more i realize that i see them as recluses. perhaps not literally speaking (r & s have their own ways of attracting friends) but they are the two most isolated characters in the story to me. they’re yoked with really specific (yet opposing) burdens that nobody else is ever going to understand. they want to permanently hide their faces from the world & they have both built that kind of barren refuge inside of themselves

many other characters have stories that are built around Love, and the presence (james, lily, andromeda) or absence (regulus, barty, tom) of it, but that isn’t r&s to me. they have the Least to do with love stories because their entire lives are already so wrapped up in resolving super individual questions of freedom & autonomy & the hurt they cause & the hurt they suffered… but that’s why their love story hits the hardest, for me? they’re the least suited for it and it happened anyway.

once again my remus is like…. a city unto himself, but all internal. polite & mild mannered but also impossible to sway. i think he has the biggest imagination of all of them and it’s what lets him remain so Untouched. he’s not a ~creative~ or anything (pretty uncreative, actually) but he’s a poor german werewolf who is living a Little inside his head specifically because his life sucks so bad. he’s a boy sleeping on a shitty mattress but stubbornly imaging himself sleeping on a better one, if that makes sense, and he’ll die before telling anyone that’s what he’s thinking about.

and then sirius is a prodigal girl-son who’s part dog and still operating somewhat like an ex-cult victim after leaving their family. but they’re so beautiful & terrible & spoiled & brave that nobody can See that. sirius doesn’t need a love story because they need their brother back. and remus has so much of his own baggage, and they are both such Monoliths of independence that it’s less like they’re committed to unraveling the threads of each other’s interiority and more like they’re two cars crashing into each other then scrambling to pick apart the wreckage, holding shattered parts up to the light to examine, one crash at a time. it’s crazy.

it’s like… they make the least sense for each other, but not JUST because they’re mismatched (which they are aesthetically, but not personality-wise). it’s because they’re the two people on earth who need romantic love the least and their lives would be MUCH less complicated without it, maybe even better. but they cannot escape each other. they will never escape each other!!! because!!! they have!! the same hiding places!!!!

[temis-de-leon]

Day 11 - "You're safe/alive" kiss

Characters: Simeon x gn!MC

25 kisses challenge Masterlist

Main Masterlist

CW: MC is vomiting, but I'm not going into detail with that because it's fuckin nasty. MC is a people pleaser, kinda, established relationship

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Whoever saw him running down the street must've thought a tragedy had happened, but if he was being honest with himself, that could've very much been the truth.

He felt his heart beating its way up his throat and cold sweat covered his skin in a sticky blanket, no doubt a result of his speed and his fear. He didn't care about the people around him, laughing at his discomposure, the only thing on his mind was Solomon's urgent voice and the sounds of MC’s distress in the background during the phonecall.

Simeon prayed Luke wasn't there to witness the scene.

Purgatory Hall never felt so remote, so out of his reach. The image of their body twitching in pain filled the insides of his eyelids and no matter how hard he shook his head, the horrible display wouldn't disappear.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, he saw the familiar building and rushed inside. The sorcerer was waiting for him with a worried frown and Simeon wasted no time in grabbing his shoulder with more force than necessary and leaning over him with darkness surrounding his figure.

“What did you do?” he demanded, earning a surprised expression.

“I didn't know this could happen! I thought it came out perfectly fine!”

Solomon was being sincere, he knew, but that didn't stop his heart from shimmering in anger.

Not wanting to aggravate himself further or make his friend feel more guilty than he already was, Simeon left him behind and went straight to the bathroom.

He found them sitting on the floor, head completely hidden inside the toilet seat. The ceramic muffled their pained moans and their heaving, but they were audible enough for his stomach to churn in pity.

“Oh, my love” he sighed, rushing towards them and kneeling by their side. “How can I help you?”

MC tried to lift their head, tears in the corner of their eyes and some of them already running down their cheeks, but they couldn't say anything before gagging again and emptying whatever was left in their stomach.

Simeon pouted in frustration and guilt, not knowing what to do, before finally grabbing with gentleness whatever hair fell on their face and putting it out of the way.

A few minutes later, when MC couldn't do more than breath heavily and shed some tears, he traced the shape of their jaw and tried to get up.

“I'll bring you a glass of water, okay?”

But they wouldn't let him leave, desperately grabbing his forearm. They looked like they were afraid of turning away from the toilet and vomiting all over him, but Simeon wasn't even sure if there was anything to vomit at all.

So he stayed there, dragging his fingernails up and down their back, shushing in a comforting manner when it was due and holding their hair up.

“It didn't look bad” they explained in a choked sob “It almost looked normal”

MC cried, finally finding themselves stable enough to lay down on the tiles of the floor in search of cold. Simeon immediately got up and moisted a handtowel, smiling in relief when his partner closed their eyes in mild relaxation.

“I thought I'd be okay because it didn't have a flavor, but I was wrong. I was so so wrong”

Their bawling became too painful to hear, so he hugged their waist, lifting them up until they could rest their back against the wall, and pressed the washcloth a little firmer.

“You know you shouldn't eat his cooking, my love, why did you do it?”

“He looked so happy!”

MC continued crying, sobbing against his shoulder and grabbing his tunic in a fist, but it seemed their pain and their nausea finally subdued.

Smiling in pity, Simeon brought them closer and softly kissed their temple.

They'd be fine.

Solomon would not.

.

.

Taglist: @ourfinalisation  @owlisbuffering  @chizukimp4  @ravenredwine @darkflowerav  @beatlebeesstuff   @mehkers

[astarionancuntnin]

Die For You (Chapter 2)

summary: following your encounter in that dark alley, you're faced with your old love. will you have the strength to stand up to him?

rating: T

word count: 2.1k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader)

cw: kidnapping, reader is shackled for a while, starvation (both imposed by captor and self-imposed), manipulation.

a/n: a shorter chapter and no funny business this time around cause we gotta focus on the development of their relationship while reader is in captivity. also! look out for the additional a/n at the end of the chapter! im undecided on where i want to take this so i want all of your opinions !!

previous chapter

read on ao3

or keep reading down below~

I fell in love with someone

I don’t know

Anymore, anymore

Sometimes I wonder if you

Think of me

Anymore, anymore

-

You can't make much of what happened after he appeared. You were too shocked by the presence of your past lover to acknowledge whoever cast sleep on you, knocking you unconscious at your most vulnerable moment. Cowards. When you awaken, you’re shackled, hanging to a wall in a dark cell. You pull against the restraints to no avail; you were securely locked in.

Your struggling must’ve made too much noise, as not long afterwards, the door opens wide, revealing Astarion, alone. He was standing proud in lavish clothing, different from the ones you had seen him in at the party a few days ago, but just as proper. As much as these last few months had been awful to you, it seemed like they had been the best in his last 200 years of existence. He approaches you slowly, head held high and arms crossed in his back.

“How’s your head, my dear?”

Hearing his voice again for the first time in months triggers a wave of emotions within you. Hurt, hatred, longing… lust. You shake them away as best as you can before questioning him.

“Why did you bring me here, Astarion?”

“Why, I simply wanted to talk,” he says, his tone annoyingly playful.

“Was the kidnapping and shackles really necessary?” You slightly pull against them again to make your point; you can barely move in this condition.

“Can you blame me? Seeing how you ignored me so easily all night, and the fury in which you provoked my servants, I doubted you were going to follow me here willingly.”

You close your eyes and sigh, dropping your head, discouraged.

“Plus,” he adds, “I couldn’t take the chance to have you run out on me. I let you go once, it’s not a mistake I’ll be doing again.”

You chuckle, somehow finding a way to laugh at the situation as you raise your head back to meet his gaze. “I notice that your inability to move on wasn’t part of the many things that changed after your ascension.” 

He smiles back, amused by your wits. “I only kept the best parts, as you can see. Besides, I know you've been missing me just as much.”

“You're so full of yourself.”

“Am I? Were you not alone and miserable for all these months? Or did my spawns lie to me?”

“Wait… You’ve been spying on me?!” You exclaim in disbelief.

“Well, someone had to make sure you weren't off to get yourself killed in some stupid way.” 

You scoff, offended at this image he had of you. “I can handle my own, thank you.”

“And yet, my servants had no problems cornering you in a dark alley.” 

You open your mouth as you're about to answer back when you find yourself at a loss for words. He got you there, the prick. He notices your silence and sighs before commenting on your state.

“For someone who’s been wanting me ever since we parted, you keep playing hard to get, my dear.”

“Oh please, how am I ‘hard to get’? Hells, I was actively trying to forget about you, I never wanted to see you again. But no, you– you had to go after me.” The irony of the situation makes you laugh some more. “You have everything you’ve ever dreamed of and yet, you still couldn’t find someone new to replace me.”

He laughs lightly. “I’ve only ever wanted you, my treasure. And now,” he walks towards you with a languid pace, his hand reaching for your chin, lifting it to meet his gaze, “You're finally where you belong, where you should have always been in the first place.”

You snap your head out of his grasp. “Shackled at your feet?” You spit out.

He forcefully brings back your gaze on him, his nails grazing your cheeks, making you hiss. “By my side.” He looks at your bared teeth, smiling. “You will make a deadly consort, that I'm sure of.”

Your eyes widen as you understand the implication, and your voice rises as the fear starts to set in. “I’ll NEVER agree to this.” 

He tilts your head aside and leans in the crook of your exposed neck, his breath hot against your skin. “You don't have to. I can just take what's rightfully mine.” he whispers and that last word sends a chill down your spine.

You struggle in his grasp, trying to pull your neck away as you shout. “Don’t you DARE!”

He chuckles to himself. “Oh, don't you worry, I intend on making sure you deserve it before we get there.” He releases your face coldly but doesn’t move away from you. “But where are my manners? I almost forgot; I meant to invite you to eat.”

“I would rather starve,” you declare, leaning into that last word.

He sighs, seemingly growing tired of your attitude. “Fine, do as you wish,” he says, walking away from you. 

He leaves and you’re left on your own for Gods know how long. You spend those first hours trying to free yourself still and eventually give up when you start to feel the bruises on your wrists. You drift in and out of consciousness, fatigue affecting you more with every hour that passes. Without any source of light, it’s nearly impossible for you to tell how much time had gone by since the night you were captured. But, judging by the growling of your stomach, at least a full day had gone by, maybe even two. Your arms and legs were starting to give out on you as well, when the door before you opened to a spawn you didn't recognize. 

“Lord Ancunín invites you to dinner,” he says, composed.

“You can tell him to fuck off.” Your words don’t have the intended effect as they’re told with a shaky voice. In truth, you would kill for just a piece of bread right about now, but you would let yourself die before you complied to Astarion.

“I'm afraid that's not an option.”

Two more spawns appear behind him, and you instantly understand where this is going; this wasn't a request, it was an order. You're unshackled, although the spawns’ grips were so strong, you didn’t notice a difference, and were guided out of your cell. You reach an immense dining room, where Astarion has been waiting for you, a gold cup already to his lips. Knowing him, you suppose it’s either blood or fine wine, not that you care either way. You sink into the chair positioned at your end of the table, eyeing the food before you suspiciously. 

“Don't worry, I wouldn't dream of poisoning you. I only want what’s best for my dearest consort.”

You scoff, briefly eyeing Astarion who is sitting opposite of you before turning your attention to the contents between the two of you. You would lie to yourself if you said you weren't starving. The food laid out on the table looked delicious. The table was filled with different plates of food, each one looking better than the previous, making your stomach growl in appetite. You could practically drool all over the place, but you didn’t want to give Astarion the satisfaction of seeing you cave in. Not yet, not so soon. You wouldn’t let him get the best of you. 

Astarion quickly understands your intentions, with you staring right back at him, and he sighs, rolling his eyes.

“It wouldn’t be wise to let yourself starve, pet. You wouldn’t want to waste all this delicious food, would you? Don’t be shy, at least take a bite.”

You're tempted, but against your better judgement, you ignore the mouth-watering meal, crossing your arms in defiance. He rolls his eyes, matching your attitude.

“As you wish.”

He snaps his fingers and the two spawns that brought you here move towards you, reaching for your arms. You stand up abruptly, pulling away from them in a defensive stance. Astarion speaks up, and you can practically hear the smile in his voice.

“Come on now, my lovely assistants only want to bring you back to your cell for the night.”

“I know the way.”

“I insist.”

Your fatigue and hunger get the best of you; you simply don’t have the energy to fight. 

“Fine.”

“That’s my girl.”

You hate the effect he still has on you. He knows just what to say to get to you.

You shoot him a deadly glare and feel your breathing quickening as your heart races with anger and your nails dig through your palms. He smiles pretentiously at you, and you’re overcome with thoughts of jumping onto him and punching his stupid face, making him regret everything he’s done to you these last few days. If it wasn’t for the awful twist in your gut, you might have. You shut your eyes closed as you look away, frowning, before you start walking away and the two vampire spawns accompany you to your cell, where you let yourself slouch over the rock wall. At least, they didn't restrain you again.

Once again alone with your thoughts, your mind drifts to your companions. Specifically Shadowheart; would she still be waiting for you? Would she be looking for you? You wish you had a way to contact her, let her know you need help. Your thoughts are interrupted by a stabbing feeling in your gut, again. Maybe you should’ve taken a bite, just a small one, just to keep you going… No, this was a game to him, you needed to hold on. The pain is good, you try to convince yourself, it’s a reminder that I’m alive, mortal, and I’ll fight to keep it that way as long as I can. 

Another wretched tenday passes and you avoid the food still. Every day follows the same routine: you’re woken up, Astarion’s spawns bring you to the large dining room where you’ll refuse to eat anything, until he gets bored of your attitude and you’ll be brought back to your cell, three times a day. You sense how Astarion is getting annoyed at you, and it strengthens your resolve. However, you hate to admit it, but you’re becoming weaker and weaker. You spend most of the passing days asleep, unable to think straight through your hunger, and too exhausted to do anything else. 

Finally, you cave in.

As you're brought to the dining room for dinner, your gaze falls upon your favourite meal, presented before you. For the first time in days, your façade breaks down, you have eyes for nothing else other than the meal in front of you. Had this been given to you on the first day, you would’ve gladly turned it down, but you didn’t have that kind of resolve anymore. Astarion snaps you out of your reverie by mentioning the name of the plate, and you raise your eyes to meet his.

“You had asked me what my favourite meal was and I couldn’t remember.” His tone is gentle. “It had been so long that everything tasted like garbage. Even wine tasted like pure vinegar. It frustrated me. That’s when you told me about yours: Baldurian Mash. You described it in such great detail, I could almost taste it myself.” He pauses, and you look up to meet his gaze. “I wanted to give you what I couldn't have. A chance to remember.”

You can’t stop the tears from swelling up. You’re famished, completely drained, and mentally spent; this was the last straw. You grab the gold-plated utensil with a shaky hand and dig into the plate, shoving that first bite in your mouth. It’s even better than you remember it. You chew on that first bite longer than necessary, relishing the taste of the meal. It’s comforting, filling, it tastes like home; it’s everything you’ve wanted and more. You are so hungry that you end up ravishing the rest of it, barely taking the time to savour it properly past that first mouthful. Your belly growls, this time content with the food you finally gave it. After so many days resting on an empty stomach, you can't afford to eat anything else. You smile unconsciously as you lay back in your chair, satisfied with your meal, before getting up to leave, following the usual routine.

You stop in your tracks near the door and slightly turn around towards the ascendant, pausing before the words escape your lips.

“Thank you.”

As you walk away, you miss the devilish grin forming on his lips.

Everything was going perfectly according to his plan.

-

Familiar faces that look like you

They tend to

Mess with my head just like it's deja vu

It's always

Right when I think I’m getting over you

That it feels

Like I have salt inside an open wound

A/N²: POLL TIME

i already have another chapter written which wont be affected by this poll. BUT for the chapters that will follow, i need a direction since its going to change how i approach the writing (dialogues and important actions are going to be different based on the outcome)

i do have an idea for each option, i just need to know whats the vibe cause i cant decide myself (bisexual moment)

[byima]

a sort of mother's day drabble for our otp and for sally jackson, best g-ma in the world. set right after this drabble.

.

.

“Hey ma,” Percy announced their return. “Hi,” he lowered his voice, when he took in the scene in their apartment.

Sally was on the couch, Charlie asleep on the cushion next to her.

“Hi hun– Hi sweetheart,” Sally addressed Annabeth, who was bent over in the hall behind him, unbuckling her sandals. “How was it?”

“It was nice.” Percy tossed his keys onto the dining table. “Went to Olive Garden and had their, uh, soup salad thing.”

“The lunch special,” Annabeth explained.

“Yeah. We brought you some soup, the one with gnocchi.”

“You can put it in the fridge for me, thank you.” She sang the last bit as Percy headed into the kitchen to follow instructions.

“Hi,” Sally said for the third time, when Annabeth sat close to her side.

“Thanks for doing this today.” Annabeth crossed her arms over her chest, nudging Sally’s body with her own.

The older woman smiled at her, narrowing her eyes before patting Annabeth lightly on the thigh. “No need to thank me. The gnocchi does the trick.”

“I know, I just…” she chewed her lower lip, then laid her hand over Sally’s. “Hold on, I want to show you something.”

She reached for her bag, which she had tossed by the arm of the couch, softly calling Percy over as she pulled it into her lap.

He was behind them, arms braced against the back of the sofa, by the time she’d located the manilla folder in the clutter of her purse.

Sally had already gone still when she saw the folder, then started crying when Annabeth slid the contents free, one black and white photo after the next.

She covered her crying eyes and leaned into her. Annabeth wrapped both arms around her mother-in-law, returning Percy’s grinning, slightly teary look over Sally’s hunched form.

“I can’t breathe, oh my god,” Sally moaned. “I’m going to pass out.”

“Breathe, ma,” he rubbed her back comfortingly. “We need you alive for this.”

Sally ignored him. “I thought something was going on, I mean, I just knew something was going on, but I didn’t think it would be another baby, so soon.” She sat up.

“So soon?” Sally turned, directing the question at Percy like the timing was his fault alone.

He flushed, even though he knew better. “Um–”

“I’m only eight weeks,” Annabeth clarified. 

Sally laid a hand over her heart

“We just found out–I couldn’t keep it from you,” she explained, hardly knowing what she was saying. “It's a bit of a shock for us too.”

Sally looked at Percy again, but this time he laughed.

“I don’t know why you keep looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” She tried to play innocent. “Com’mere.” She held him by the shirt, bringing him down to her level for a tight hug. “I’m so happy for you guys. I love you. I love all the grandchildren you give me.”

“You know you’re the best ma/g-ma in the world.”

“Two little babies,” she crooned.

Charlie started stirring in all the commotion–light sleeper that she was–making fussy noises until her dad rounded the couch and picked her up.

“How are you feeling?” Sally had the ultrasound photos in her hands and was going through them one by one. She brushed her thumb over one image, the developing fetus curled like a lima bean.

Annabeth watched Percy with Charlie, who had decided nap time was over. She clung moodily to her dad, cheek on his shoulder, two fingers in her mouth.

“Really good, health-wise," she answered, eyes lingering on the father-daughter pair taking laps around the living room. "I’m taking things day by day.”

"That's the best thing you can do. Soak up these moments before they're all grown up." Sally followed Annabeth's gaze. "Saving the world and having their own babies."

Annabeth lowered her voice before she mentioned, "He freaked out at the transvaginal ultrasound."

Percy looked at them snorting together and groaned. "The sonographer pulled out a fucking... baton, no warning."

Sally waved him off with a laugh. "Did you cry–you know, when you heard the heartbeat?"

"Like a baby." He grinned at his wife, bouncing Charlie lightly as her eyelids began to flutter closed.

Annabeth nodded to confirm this. "I was worse though. I couldn't even ask her any questions, I was such a bawling mess."

After a long back and forth about sexes and maternity jeans and the probability of colic twice in a row, Sally eventually stood, moved by the hunger that comes with good company. She handed Annabeth her leftover breadsticks before heating her soup.

In the kitchen she leaned against the stove, watching the little family as she waited for the microwave.

Annabeth had tucked her legs up underneath her on the couch. Charlie was still fighting sleep, despite her dad's cajoling. Percy had settled into the space by Annabeth, nodding when she offered him a bite of her food.

She fed him too much at once. He angled his head away to avoid deep-throating the breadstick. She stared, fighting a grin, and he stared back, jaw working hard to chew the mouthful. He shook his head, eyes narrowing at her mischief. Hers crinkled with her smile. Then she leaned over, careful of the baby, and gently kissed him.

[tossawary]

So, the Jackson "The Hobbit" movies get rid of the dwarves having musical instruments, rather adding a very atmospheric humming to the "Over the Misty Mountains" song. And I like this adaptational choice just fine, I think it sounds good, and because the question of "What happens to the instruments? Are they taking clarinets and a harp and etc. on the quest?! Are the musical instruments magical?" has bugged me for years. And I do think this choice suits the general *waves hand vaguely* more "serious / grim / lower high fantasy" aesthetic cultivated by the previous Jackson "Lord of the Rings" films.

But I do like the mental image of the Company being a very literal band going on a quest, because I think it's funny and delightful and unique. If I was doing an animated movie in particular, I would not like be rid of the musical instruments during that scene. The vibe is very magical. Very whimsical. And whimsy does not have to be wholly separate from very serious subject matters! I think it would be very cool if the dwarves had more casually magical tools generally, which would do some easy additional worldbuilding for the level of craftsmanship in this world, and could fit in perfectly well alongside hidden doors and invisibility rings and mithril shirts and glowing swords and jewelry that never comes accidentally undone.

If someone did a version where all the dwarves are carrying musical instruments throughout most of the quest in this way and the creator really leaned into the music generally and audio-visual relationship in film specifically, I would absolutely watch it. That sounds amazing. It wouldn't necessarily have to be a musical or an opera as well, though that would also be extremely cool. (Personally, I would even also watch a "Fantasia" version of "The Hobbit" FOR SURE. I am an artsy dork like that. Though it might not be my first choice in my ideal creative project.)

I think you could could do some great, whimsical scenes with the dwarves singing at various points on the road, the musical instruments breaking at certain emotional points, the dwarves trying to do little musical spells at various points, and so on. A lot of this stuff could even just be other members of the Company fussing around with these things in the background (trying to play a musical spell to light a fire) while Bilbo has a foreground conversation with Thorin or Gandalf or something. I LOVE in animated (and live) movies when you can see supporting characters bickering or getting into hijinks in the background of a scene. (Also, this world was sung into being in a way, wasn't it? Why not have more magical music?)

(OHHH, the way that Smaug could be done in a more audio- and music-focused version of "The Hobbit" would be SO COOL.)

Alternatively, generally, I've also imagined that there are other dwarves with wagons nearby to take the musical instruments away again (let's say the instruments are not magical in any way and taking them along would therefore largely just be impractical), and that the night at Bilbo's house was actually also a RITUAL meal/meeting for the members of a long journey. You're going on a quest? You seclude yourself with your company, eat, drink, talk, plan, and sing a little to bond as an exclusive group the night before heading off together. Normally, this would have been done back at their own home or something, but they had to get their burglar first.

I think this would be a cool way to slip in characters like Dis and Gimli even just in the background, as family members come to see everyone off, seen fixing Kili's hair or hugging Gloin as the Company prepares to leave Hobbiton that last morning. Thorin and Balin could be exchanging a couple quick lines about how Bilbo hasn't shown up yet, and in the background, we could see Dis hugging Fili (the true purpose of a well-done adaptation of "The Hobbit" is to break my fucking heart) and Gloin's wife drawing off with a wagon full of musical instruments while young Gimli waves tearfully! You wouldn't even have to have them say anything to slip them in!

Just... I'm listening to the Andy Serkis audiobook of "The Hobbit" right now and I want to see some gloriously artsy visual adaptations of this world.

[strawberries-and-summer-days]

WE'RE... WHAT?? ‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅

| percy jackson x popstar au

| au masterlist ☽

summary:

warnings: swearing and i think thats just about it!

a/n: part two of the series is out! im procrastinating the shit out of all my other requests so im not ignoring any of you btw!! lets all collectively ignore the fact that gracie like a post that has a lyric from her song (also damn im really just smashing out these fics)

"y/n has officially flitted off to boston!" clarisse announces suddenly from chris's lap.

"huh?" grover's head snaps up. "what do you mean?"

"y/n l/n, she's come to boston for her concerts," clarisse says showing her phone screen.

"you have got to be shitting me," chris says. "this is going to end terribly. seriously? here? boston? percy's gonna shit himself."

"oh really why would you think that?" clarisse drawls. "it's not like they don't like each other, they're like besties!"

"and y'know to make things worse y/n's setlist has been posted for months so we legit could've avoided her," chris sighs.

"yeah well, next time you see percy and he comes home grumbling about a business meeting in boston you deal with it then," grover argues.

"okay all of you shut it, percy's coming inside with luke so shhh," clarisse snaps.

"shh about what?" luke asks settling down on the couch next to grover.

"you'll never believe who's in boston!" grover sing songs. it doesn't take luke very long to work out who and his eyes widen in realisation

"no."

"yes."

"well shit."

"yep."

"we're in for a show."

☾. ⋅

percyjackson

liked by underovergrover, chris.rodriguez, lukecastellan, clarisse.la.rue, the.annabethchase and 1, 402, 385 others

percyjackson hello boston! one non-reschedulable meeting later and here we are...

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underovergrover i expect full compensation for making those pizzas WHICH YOU TOOK CREDIT FOR

percyjackson YOU DID NOT! I MADE HALF OF THOSE - MINE WERE BETTER

clarisse.la.rue no they weren't

percyjackson 🖕🏼

user1 ugh im in love

user2 omggg he's in boston!! so is y/n l/n!! are they following each other around?

user3 PLS I WOULD DIE MAKE THIS A THING

user4 i wonder if he's going to a concert here?? 😏

user5 does anyone else find it weird how his entire friend group follows him around?? no just me? they're just a huge freak show

user6 booooo we dont like haters here

user7 y/n l/n and percy neeeeed to happen rnnnn

user8 YES YES YES

lukecastellan im so ready to be done with this shit and go home

theannabethchase aww is someone feeling homesick?

lukecastellan yes obviously

user8 i. love. him.

☾. ⋅

"see i told you this would happen!" grover screeches, running away from percy who is threatening to castrate him if he doesn't get his phone back.

"i don't care! just give me the damn thing back!"

percy had groaned for two straight minutes when he found out that y/n was in boston this weekend - he had also face planted onto the couch and used some extremely obscene words.

"if it helps at least you'll be leaving on sunday," chris had offered in the midst of his crisis. it didn't help.

so now when grover trips over a fallen pillow - which may or may not be from percy's tantrum but we don't talk about that - and percy wrenches the phone from him a loud - and might grover add overtly girly - scream.

"WHAT THE FUCK? NO! NO NO NO NO!"

his screen is on the article grover had opened with really poorly photoshopped images of percy and y/n walking together. every gossip site/blog has swarmed the photos and circulated them sending the internet into a spiral.

"im fucking done with this grover," percy groans flopping onto the couch. "its a good thing we're leaving tomorrow - we'll be back in new york thats a huge ass city i wont see y/n there again and i can just go into hibernation, let all the rumours die down and be done with this whole shit show."

if only right....

☾. ⋅

☾. ⋅

yn.official

liked by sabrinacarpenter, lia.mandel, gracieabrams and 932, 841 others

yn.official feel like maybe i might go to boston! you were the best audience and im honoured to have performed for you these past two nights! heading home now to rest and recharge for the final shows in new york

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lia.mandel yayy you're finally coming home i missed you 🥺

yn.official bitch please its been like a week

lia.mandel and every second of it has been torture

user1 MOTHERRRR

user2 i think i nearly fainted when she came up on stage i was so happy i coulda died right then-

user3 the lyric makes me so happyyy

user4 ikrr y/n is like the queen of lyrics and the way she sneakily adds them into her posts 🤭

user5 WERE YOU WITH PERCY JACKSON THIS WEEKEND?? 🤨 I NEED TO KNOW

user6 y/n and percy are my dream celebrity ship

user7 they'd be the biggest power couple in history

user8 can you hard launch with percy plss?? i dont care if its fake i just need content to feed my delusions!

☾. ⋅

lia's soft snores fill the plane aggravating the hell out of you. usually you'd find the way she curled up in a ball underneath a blanket and snored quietly to be adorable. but since you're tired, just finished performing a concert and there's a problem with the jet, its grating on your nerves.

you had also been scrolling on twitter, instagram and pinterest, curled up underneath a matching blanket urging something to catch your attention while whatever work was being done on the plane happened.

unfortunately for you the thing that did catch your attention was the dozens of very clearly photoshopped pictures of you and percy walking together on a quiet street in boston.

no way in hell thats real. for one; ew and two; percy was only here for the weekend you were here for the week and you would've had no time to go out in between concerts.

eventually you doze off not realising you're in the air until you're ears pop waking you up to lia grinning mischievously.

"what asshole?"

"you're adorable when you wake up, you know that right?"

"yes i know."

"seriously the cutest human on the planet."

"what do you want lia?"

"a gossip podcast has picked up the subject of you and percy jackson. and the host is saying shit about you."

your eyes widen for a moment. "oh my god what? wow its almost as if i don't care!" ypu give lia a blank look. "this happens every three months lia, i do something and people either love it or hate it. thats the way it goes."

"yeah but this is PERCY JACKSON Y/N! he's gorgeousness personified."

"ugh can i go back to sleep? you can fangirl to me tomorrow when im in bed and pretending to listen."

"im offended." she leans over to place a kiss on your head. "but sleep tight babes, we land in like forty minutes."

shutting your eyes again you drift back to sleep.

only when you wake up do you realise you dreamed of percy...

TAGLIST‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ [if you're name is white it mean i couldn't tag you] @lauptimist, @itzmeme, @mariaaaaaahhhh, @paankhaleyaar, @maybxlle, @lara20aral, @cxp1d, @user-3113s-blog, @pleasingregulus, @avihashearts4lix, @inlovewithmorales, @brokecollegebitch, [if you want to be added just let me know!]

[dokries]

april shower

pairing: wen junhui x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff

word count: 795

warnings: mentions of food near the end, classic kiss in the rain (gone wrong)

author note: this is another repost haha i find it funny that i never posted it in april actually; the first time was the last day of december, and now it’s may already! lots of love <3

masterlist

running ahead of him, you stop under the only street lamp on the street to jun’s apartment that isn’t lit up. as you turn around, your mouth stretches at the edges at the sight of him coming closer and his childlike smile, even as his dark dress shirt—which he had on because you had gone to a fancy restaurant for dinner—was turning a colour similar to how the midnight sky looked in winter thanks to the rain shower that had started as soon as you left the restaurant.

it was april, and the two of you should’ve expected it to rain, but the forecast earlier had said there was a low chance, so you decided to not take an umbrella (oh, how you were regretting your decision now).

“are you cold? i know i gave you my blazer but…” jun’s voice shakes you from your thoughts, hesitation clear in his tone.

with the mentioned fleece-lined garment perched on your shoulders, you shake your head. “i’m fine moonjun! your blazer is very warm.”

“this night feels so…magical, doesn’t it, moon pie?” you ask, moving closer to him. at that moment, to jun, your eyes look even brighter than the night view of the city he saw every night from on the 7th floor (which is saying a lot, considering the light pollution in his area).

“every day is magical with you,” he responds, winking jokingly, though you know he means his words.

sticking your tongue out, you venture out closer to the middle of the road, disregarding all the warnings you had been told by your parents when you were younger. “you know how in most of the movies we watched last week, there was a scene where they kissed in the rain?” you mention offhandedly, reminiscing on the rom-com marathon you had with jun on the comfy loveseat in his living room.

“yes, my love?” jun says, walking fast to catch up with you before you go too far; though there were no cars to be seen this late, he still didn’t want to risk you getting hurt.

turning back to look at him, you snake your arms around his neck, jun’s arms automatically finding their way in a comfortable position around your waist. you give him a lopsided smile before speaking lowly, “we should have our own rom-com moment, shouldn’t we?”

seeing the confused look on your boyfriend’s face, you giggle. “close your eyes, jun!”

once he follows your instructions—not without grumbling about how you never tell him what you’re going to do under his breath, eliciting an eye roll from you—you make sure his eyes are completely closed, and he’s not pulling some sneaky trick on you. once you’re satisfied, you cup his face with your hands, tracing over the small moles all over his face, before placing a prompt peck on his left cheek and taking a step away from his warm arms.

his eyes remain closed for a few seconds, a crease in between his eyebrows forming as time passes before he opens them to see you facing him with a wide, mischievous grin. he lets out a huff of disappointment before rolling his eyes. “come on, that’s not what you’re supposed to do after all that hype!” he whines, grabbing your arm and clinging to your side.

you stare down at him—he’s made himself look smaller so you pity him more, and it works. he looks like a poor stray cat, and the fact that his hair is wet and sticking together strengthens that image in your head.

“aw…my poor meow meow, do you want another kissy kissy?” you tease, faking a pout before giggling at jun’s deadpan expression as he pulls himself away from you.

“…okay, fine.” he starts, looking away from you with a pout. “be that way, and you’re the one who’s gonna have to make hot chocolate once we get to my apartment!” he finishes with a huff—missing the way your eyes turn into hearts at his cuteness.

“well…if you say so. race you home, junnie!” you yell at him before running off, sending your flabbergasted cat-like boyfriend a teasing look: your tongue out and one eye closed, like the emoji he uses ironically all the time. turning back to the goal of the apartment building, you swear you can hear the sound of him running after you—or maybe that’s just the result of the rain picking back up again, dousing both you and jun in water as you run.

sure, you’ll both be shivering once you get to the elevator and grin at each other when you realize you’re dripping water onto the green carpet of the entrance, but when else would you get to enjoy an april shower with the love of your life?

[wings-of-ink]

a sort of goofy ask incoming: let’s say MC has bangs and has asked RO for a slight trim. (“come on, it’s just a slight trim!”) to make this make sense, MC has hurt their hand, so they can’t do it themself this time. this could turn into a cute scene, right? well, what if RO’s hand slipped/trembled too much or they just purely miscalculated, and cut MC’s bangs just way too short? (i’m talking a good few inches, mwahaha) how would they break the news to MC? would they try to salvage it? let’s also say this happens after they’ve grown closer to each other, so MC wouldn’t be mad at them, though RO might not think that in the moment.

LOL, oh my word. I love the idea of MC having to fight untold horrors to break their curse while sporting horrible bangs. Cue epic image of a demon descending upon them and MC is just like:

Oswin:  He is so out of his depth that he doesn’t see a problem, mostly, but he knows that MC doesn’t usually have their hair like this. He thinks they look fine, it should be fine….He knows he’s messed up the moment MC’s eyes go wide at the sight. Okay, maybe it’s not fine. “I’m sorry, MC, I don’t think that’s quite what you wanted. But I like you - it - I like it, it’s you. So…I’m sorry…”

Zahn:  Giggles burst through before they can censor them and slap a hand over their mouth. “I am so sorry, I just really messed this up. I can fix it though…” After more cutting, they make it worse… “Um, still not quite done…” They try some weird paste and cut a little more…it is so much worse now. “Please don’t hate me.” …….”How about scarves or headbands?”

Duri:  Takes a step back and looks at MC, tiling their head to one side and then another before practically turning on their head to look at them upside down. SHIT. They are about to combust, MC is going to hate them after this… “So, how do you feel about being a trendsetter?” Duri smiles.

Rune:  They stop. “I told you not to trust me with this.” They appear very distressed. “I feel like I just ruined your beautiful hair….I didn’t even know hair could do this…” Rune knows someone that can fix this and drags MC to the nearest professional, paying any amount to make it better, and not taking no for an answer.

???: Cups MC’s face and squishes their cheeks in so their lips pucker, he is fighting so hard to not laugh. “Remember, you asked me for this.” He is not sorry.

Thank you for the ask and the laugh, Anon! ^_^

[nebbyy]

I have a request, if youre taking them.

Baldwin's wife sneaks into the battle in 1177 with sixteen year old Baldwin, his reaction and what not. make it your own, just thought this would be cool

King Baldwin x reader - My archangel

A/N: I absolutely LOVE this idea! I've never thought of a scenario like this before, so thank you so so much for the suggestion<3

Sorry if this took so long btw, I haven't been active lately because of school and work😔😔

As always, painting is "The Crown of Love" by John Everett Millais (it's so funny to me for no reason, it just makes me think of how Baldwin would be physically dragging you out of danger).

Summary: During the most importante battle of his life so far, the last person king Baldwin expected to see on the battlefield was his newlywed wife

Warning: war, but it's more of a background thing, mentions of injuries and a hint at misogynism

Word count: 5433

It had been decided. Jerusalem's knights and soldiers would be riding towards Saladin's army at dawn, led by their king, King Baldwin IV of Anjou. Your Baldwin.

The mere idea that tomorrow your husband would find himself fighting face to face against the most fearsome of his enemies terrified you, especially knowing that you could do nothing to protect him. He had expressly said he did not want you or his sisters anywhere near the battlefield, it was too risky. You should have waited for his return, for him to be victorious astride his steed, now lying lifeless on a black bed.

You closed your eyes, begging your mind to spare you from the projection of that macabre image in your head. But you could do nothing against these emotions, which were tearing at your mind and spirit. You could not remain still and impassive, obedient and elegant as you always were as a young princess, then as a wife and now as a queen.

No, that image of you had to slumber, if only for a while. You did not have your kingdom on your mind at that moment, only Baldwin and the overwhelming desire to be close to him.

You cursed your nature for making you a woman, for not having had the opportunity to learn the art of arms and war. You cursed your long robes that prevented you from any daring movement, and your limbs because even if they were able to move freely they would not have the strength to even wield a sword.

As Baldwin fell asleep in your arms, exhausted by the fatigue that this imminent battle was costing him, and you held him close to your heart as if to compel him eternally into your embrace, you weaved a plan in your mind. A plan not to leave him alone at dawn, to stay as close to him as possible.

Because even if it was the day God would claim your husband's soul, at least you wanted to be near him as he took his last breath.

How selfish you were, not even death would have been left for him. But then again, poets have been saying it for centuries, love is the gravest form of madness.

You woke up in an empty bed, the spectre of a kiss floating on your bare shoulder where Baldwin's lips had rested a few moments before, when he had to arouse himself to lead his army into battle. And despair pervaded you almost immediately, when when you woke up still no idea had come to your mind to stay by his side, after you had hoped that sleep would grant you a solution to your problem.

Unable to hold back tears of frustration and despair, you summoned your favourite handmaiden, your nurse, old to almost retirement but cunning as a mischievous child. You wept on her welcoming lap, clutching the fabric of her robe in your fists.

"Oh Agnes, how unfair is my fate as a woman. I am asked to stand by my husband's side all my life and yet I am denied a place beside him in these dark times. And they tear him from my arms and leave me here, alone and helpless, these monstrous Saracens!" She looked at you with sympathetic eyes, stroking the long hair that fell from your shoulders, which resembled the waves of the sea as they shook slightly from your sobs. "What can I do, Agnes? You who always have a quick tongue to give solutions to my every worry, tell me what I can do, before his horse and troops are too far away to be seen."

She, like a mother consoling a child who has injured himself while playing, took your face with one hand, inviting you to turn your gaze towards her. As she wiped the tears that streaked your cheeks with her thumb, she spoke softly to you, although her tone had a hint of her typical mischief in it: "My lady, weeping over your fate does not suit you. Instead, I propose you run. Make haste to the armoury, there you are sure to find armour left behind by some lord. Do you follow me? Well, you will simply have to put on the armour, carrying a pair of your husband's breeches underneath. And keep your helmet tightly closed, so that it cannot be seen that beneath the armour there is not a brutish knight, but a beautiful queen.

Go out of the palace through the servants' passages, and buy the horse of the first man you find. Not yours, in the royal stable they would notice his absence. And then all that remains is for you to ride, ride as fast as you can, to reach the Christian encampments as soon as possible, which by then will have been set up. Remain aloof, and reveal yourself to your husband only. And do so at night, in his tent, where no unwanted eyes can see your unexpected encounter. Is it all clear, my lady?"

You merely nodded frantically with eyes wide in wonder and relief. You practically leapt into the air, quick to grab the first slip you could find and a pair of cheap shoes that you could ruin with all your impending travels. You were about to leave the room, but stopped for a moment at the threshold, before turning back to Agnes to hold her tightly in a warm embrace.

"What would I do without you, my dear. You are even better than a guardian angel, I wouldn't be surprised if one day you left some white feathers behind!" The woman squeezed you affectionately before pushing you away playfully, urging you to get out and go and do whatever she directed. "It is the job of a nurse, to solve a child's problems in the same way as a mother. But hurry now or the battle will be over before you have even found a helmet!"

You laughed lightly as you wiped the dried tears from your cheeks, wasting no more time in rushing to get what was necessary to implement your plan. You rushed in front of the crate containing Baldwin's clothes, tossing robes and shirts in the air until you found breeches fit for a ride. You hastily donned them, then dashed down the long corridors of the palace.

Once in the armoury, you began to spin like a wheel, desperately searching with your eyes for any armour. You weren't picky, anything would have been more than enough: you'd have been fine with just a breastplate, chain mail, simple shoulder straps,… But most of all, you needed a helmet. And that you found almost immediately in your mad search. It was crudely moulded and already bore a few dents on the sides, but you paid no attention to it, it was enough to conceal your identity.

You also found a breastplate, and that was all you needed. You considered taking a sword with you too, but quickly changed your mind: it might be foolish to most, but you hoped that if an enemy found you unarmed, his honour would prevent him from challenging you to a fight.

And then, your focus on your sword quickly faded as you remembered that you still had no horse to reach the battlefield. Running awkwardly, like a child ambitiously trying on his father's far too large armour, you stepped back into the corridors, this time frantically searching with your eyes for a servant to follow towards the back exit.

It must have been a hilarious scene from an outside observer, a burly swineherd looking perplexed over his shoulder as a half-armed knight los eguiva like a tin puppet through the narrow corridors. But the scene was short-lived, for after a couple of turns you finally reached the palace exit, and emerged into the crowded streets of the city.

I had to move my helmet slightly above my eyes to better see the road around you, scanning the area for any horse. You could only see two camels, a few cows, a hen with her small flock of chicks, but no horse in sight. But just when you were about to give up hope, a mysterious force swept over you.

More than mysterious force, you were almost overwhelmed by a horse held on the bridle by a dirty, smelly man. "Out of the way, kid!" Looking at the man with wide eyes, taking good care to make sure your helmet covered your features well, you strained to speak in the most naturally deep voice you could muster, attempting to fool the yokel into mistaking you for a mere boy.

"Sir how much… how much are you asking for your horse?" He laughed, opening his mouth wide and exposing his few remaining teeth, yellow and frayed, and looked at you with a look of paucity and mockery, "You're going off to war without even a horse? The Saracens will impale you like a spit, son. Not that the battle would do you any good either way, with the child king we have, they will all be wiped out. before they even reach those bloody Arabs!”

You clenched your jaw so tightly that you thought your teeth might blow out from the pressure, so hard were you trying to suppress your anger at that disrespectful commoner. Breathing slowly, trying to calm your nerves, you spoke in stiff, icy words, "30 shillings. And you leave me the saddle" The man's eyes widened, incredulous at how much a young man was willing to pay for his old, shabby horse. But he wasn't complaining at all; in fact, better for him if the thirst for war drove the youth of today to such lengths. If only he had known that it was not the bloodlust of a daring young man that was before him, but instead the affectionate madness of a desperate wife.

He did not even answer, stretched out his open hand in front of him where a moment later a bag full of coins fell. He opened it for good measure, making sure the hefty sum was true. When he was satisfied, he slowly handed you the bridle, dazed by the small fortune he was holding.

You hoisted yourself awkwardly onto the horse, and it was not a quick operation as it seemed almost impossible for you not to fall off the horse, so much was the armor restricting your every move and weighing you down. After a few minutes of tribulation, you finally steadied yourself in the saddle and with a firm gesture of your leg, spurred the steed, which galloped off in an instant.

At a gallop, the city didn't seem nearly so big. Nor did the streets seem so crowded, perhaps because the people spread out like the sea in front of Moses as you passed, trying to escape the unpleasant fate of being swept away by the running horse and its mysterious rider. You felt as if you were sailing through the waves of the sea, with people's heads bobbing up and down, a current of movement pushing you closer and closer to the city gates. No one paid much attention to you as you crossed the threshold into the kingdom of heaven, most just thought you were a careless rider who had fallen behind, perhaps this was your first battle. Whatever your problem was, it was not about the wall guards. And so your figure disappeared from the sight of the remaining citizens in the city, vanishing into the vastness of the endless desert.

You did not know quite how long you rode, how many hours it took you before you began to locate even the slightest trace of the passage of the army of Jerusalem. At first it was only small details, marks left on the ground, mainly trinkets possibly dropped to the soldiers during the ride. Then the signs of their passage became more prominent, when around a small oasis you even found a few abandoned spears, probably forgotten back by some careless soldier.

And you stopped there for only a moment, as thirst would have prevented you from going any further. As you drank from the body of water, your mind travelled in thought to your husband; who knows if he too drank from this spring? And if so, how long has it been? Will he be far from here? What would he say when he saw you retracing the passage he and his troops were tracing? At that last thought a shiver ran down your spine, most likely he would not be very happy to know you were so close to danger. You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the image of the look that Baudouin would give you if he saw you at that moment, alone, barely armed in the vast and merciless desert, with no escort to protect you…

You only hoped that the surprise and joy of seeing you at such a tragic moment might cloud his mind from any concern he might have for you. In the meantime you had quenched your thirst enough. Regaining the reins of your horse, and after a series of ministrations to remount the saddle, you resumed your ride towards the battle with the unknown outcome.

As you rode with the wind blowing in your face, with nothing to entertain or distract you, your mind could not but return again to Baldwin. You could not help it, for fear for his fate had been tearing at your soul for days without respite, ever since it was announced that a battle would take place.

Baldwin was too young for all this. He was barely of marriageable age, he could barely reign without a regent at his side, he was hardly considered more than a child, many nobles even refused to call him an adult! And then there was his illness, which although not yet crippling, had already begun to expand its deadly effect on his body, numbing his nerves and making it impossible for him to wield his right hand properly. It was really unfair, that a man in his condition should lead an army to what everyone considered certain death.

Death at the hands of the Saracens, who were rumoured to be as many as ten times the number of the army of Jerusalem. A sob escaped from your mouth, followed by a faint stream of tears that ran down your cheeks, but they were short-lived on your face, the dry desert wind dried them in no time.

Only an instant seemed to pass, time to bring a hand to his face to wipe away the dried saline tears. Yet when your gaze focused again on the landscape in front, you saw a few hundred metres away a series of white tents, a few faint rows of smoke rising in the air, a massive cross set with precious gems, leaning against a rough wooden construction. It was the camp of the Jerusalem army.

Getting off your horse, you advanced hesitantly through the camp. Looking around, you noticed the stunned gazes of soldiers and horsemen watching you, some intrigued by your unkempt armor, some confused by your clumsy way of moving. But although the attention of their gazes made you stop breathing, fearing that you had been discovered, but fortunately it was short-lived, all the men were too tired from the exertions of the journey to investigate even this oddity. Taking you for an inexperienced little boy, they looked away from you and proceeded to drag their aching limbs back to their respective tents.

But although no one gave you more than the attention you give any stranger on the street, your heart would not stop beating furiously in its cage. You quivered at the mere thought of seeing your husband again, who although he had recently separated from you, already felt as if you had not seen him for an eternity. And your soul screamed at the idea that this might be the last time you would see him alive, and urged your legs to move faster. From hesitant strides, your gait grew brisk, impatient, and faster and faster until you burst into a frantic run through the expanse of white tents.

You scanned one, two, ten, a hundred, so many that by now they seemed to you an endless bundle of the same white cloth. But although your hope gave no sign of existing from your mission, your legs were beginning to give out under the constant strain you had subjected your body to for endless hours. You had no choice but to stop to catch your breath, resting your hands on your trembling thighs as you gasped for breath. And it was in that very instant, while you neither heard nor saw anything but the roar of your heart echoing in your ears and the rough ground flattened by the heavy footsteps of the soldiers, dark because of the blurred evening light, that you heard it. That voice.

"We will discuss this tomorrow, now I need the rest" "Certainly, my lord." The dialogue was followed by a knight of high lineage who came out of the tent in front of which you had pulled up to rest. He did not even dignify you with a glance, and you could not care less, for it was not him you were interested in. He was the first man to speak who had captured your complete attention, making the whole world fade away around you. It was a jovial voice, full of life despite obvious tiredness. It was a boy's voice. It was Baldwin's voice.

You sidled up to the curtain of the tent and, before opening your mouth, breathed slowly, tending not only to ease your nerves but also to modulate your voice to make it more masculine, deeper. The deception was to be revealed only when you were alone in the tent, away from prying eyes.

"My king, I know you are now bereft of strength, but grant me a brief interview with your majesty." You could visualize him rolling his eyes, puffing silently and running his good hand over his eyes, as he was always wont to do when any courtier demanded his attention while he was already lying in your arms. And as whenever this familiar event took place, similarly Baldwin made an effort in this case to stand up and mutter a reply, unaware that the subject behind the cloth was not just any boy, but his beloved wife. "I'm afraid I'm in no condition for a meeting at the moment. We will discuss whatever you need tomorrow." Panic grew in you hearing him so indisposed. After all, you should have expected it; he had more to think about than granting an interview to an anonymous soldier. In an instant, however, you changed your strategy, if you couldn't convince him you would have to bait him, "Please, sir, give me a few minutes! I bring with me a great surprise, a gift that I know will fill your heart with joy and restore your energy!"

He paused, as if weighing his options. At least that was what you thought, but in truth Baldwin was wondering if he was going crazy. If he had only dreamed, due to exhaustion and fatigue, that the voice speaking to him from outside the tent was not any young man's, but a disguise meant to hide the angelic melodic voice of his beloved wife. Were it really her, Baldwin would not have wasted a moment in throwing open the door for her, taking her into his arms and carrying her to his momentary abode, where her presence alone could be savored by him.

But he knew it could not be possible: you, his beloved wife whose image constantly pervaded his mind, were thousands and thousands of feet away, safe within the walls of your palace, as you had promised him. It was just not possible that you were the one hiding outside the tent, his hopes were just a cruel game of his mind. But by now his attention had been caught by the stranger so eager to talk to the king, to give him this phantom gift. Perhaps there would have been cause for concern, for thought of possible deception or assault by an enemy spy, but Baldwin did not give the thought more than a second's attention, before sighing softly and turning away, gazing back at the white fabrics of the tent. "Very well, come forward then. I hope this surprise you tell me about is really that formidable."

You came close to slinging yourself into the tent, throwing yourself into Baldwin's arms in an instant, and never letting go. But you still couldn't do it; it was too risky. You merely placed a hand on the side of the fabric that closed the curtain, pulling it to go through and letting it fall back behind you. And there you stood, facing Baldwin, clad in that armor far too large for your size, your heart pounding wildly from both the fatigue of the journey and the excitement. And he slowly, with a phlegm as elegant as the waters of a stream, turned to reveal the identity of his mysterious visitor, and you had already freed your face from the tortuous confines of the helmet you had worn for endless hours.

His eyes widened, wide as never before. Perhaps for the first time in his life, Baldwin could say he was truly, truly surprised. A thousand emotions passed from his face, from astonishment, to joy, to anger, and then to sadness, and then to astonishment again. For a moment he seemed about to open his mouth, but he stopped, opting instead to run to you, putting his arms around you, holding you tight and lifting you off the ground so tight was his grip. "My affection, how can you be so foolish! This is no place for you, so far from home, close to the enemy… You promised me you would stay safe, let me go, let me protect you! How could you do something so rash, you who are always so wise? Alone through the desert, what if the enemy had met you before I got here? What would I have done if your lifeless body, tortured by the Saracens, had been brought to me?"

His voice was exhausted, worn out by weariness and emotion that blocked his throat and threatened to make hot tears fall from his white cheeks. His words were harsh and stern, but devoid of any reproach: it was his fear speaking, his fear of seeing you the next day among the stacked bodies of war victims. And as he spoke he held your arms, shook you lightly, and in the process interrupted himself to place chaste kisses on your face, as if through the touch of his lips he was trying to convince himself that you were really there, standing before him. That it was not a mere illusion, a game of his mind.

Gently, with a touch as light as the morning wind, your hands went up his chest to his beautiful face, which you lovingly cupped. "I swore before God that I would not abandon my place at your side until the breath leaves my body. I have enjoyed with you wealth, pomp, and good fortune. But what you have granted me to witness is only half of the aspects of a nuptial union. Poverty, sickness, and the misery of war are the woes that touch every human being, and which two spouses are expected to face together. So now, my king, I beseech you, do not deny me a place at your side as you fight for the honor and freedom of the Holy Land, do not deny me a duty that has been mine since you and I were joined in eternity. It is unjust what you have subjected me to, to have to watch you ride away from me, toward the worst of dangers! And how could you think I would let you go just like that, without opening my mouth? Now we are even, I have retraced the path you yourself have traced, as bereft of safety as you were bereft of my presence. And now together we face this mortal danger, which, however, will never hold a candle to the pain that distance from you brings me!"

Baldwin's eyes softened, though they had a melancholy note in them. He inhaled with shuddering breath, and his grip became softer on your body, his hands descended from his arm to your waist, always holding you as close as physically possible.

"I was always told that silence honors women. This does not suit you, for depriving you of speech robs you of the royalty that makes you my queen. I ask your forgiveness, my angel, for leaving you alone in such a dark time. But try to understand my choice, how self-centered would I have been to ask you to come with me, in the midst of the greatest danger? It was simply too much for me, my beloved, the burden on my heart, begging me to do all that was permissible to keep you safe, even if that necessitated keeping you away from me. You are too far away now for me to send you back to the palace with an escort, and my heart could not bear to part with you for even another hour. You will stay here, ruling your people as you should. But please do not do me the wrong of setting foot on that bloody battlefield tomorrow. If even God decides that tomorrow my hour has come, and I fall lifeless on the bloody ground, do not move a step, do not show any sign of weakness. Don't follow me into the afterlife, don't even think about it: I know full well that I will never have the honor of lying eternally by your side, I am not worthy of it, so don't jeopardize your precious life in the name of an eternity by my side."

You did not respond, and silence fell. Squeezing together for another moment, you broke away shortly thereafter only to move to the bed set up in his tent, not as luxurious as his usual palace bed but certainly far more comfortable than the hay bunks in which soldiers elsewhere rested. Clinging to each other, you remained silent for a few moments. Or maybe it was hours, neither of you knew. Nor did you care, knowing how much time had passed, how much more separated you from the inescapable fate that awaited you the next day. Silent tears streaked your faces, sobs and sighs filled the air of the room. Then, you took courage to open your mouth, your voice soft and melancholy, weakened by weeping. "How unfair is our fate, affection. How bitter is my soul, knowing that tomorrow I must witness such a slaughter, an open-air slaughterhouse in which you yourself may become yet another victim."

As your first response you heard a snort from your husband, who squeezed you tighter for a moment, as if to secure you beside him, engulf you in his body. His lips pressed against your temple, placing a gentle kiss there, and they remained resting there even as he began to speak, "I know, I know my angel. I too wish things were simpler, that I could retire from this world, go and live with you, away from all this chaos, all this violence. You don't know how much I would have liked to abdicate, to leave the throne to Sybilla and her husband. They would have been good rulers, if only dear William had not passed away so soon. And so we have only to live like this, my beloved. To live perpetrated by the duties and horrors that mankind is capable of, all in the name of God's affection," a pause, a look that said a thousand silent words, and then resumed, "in the name of my affection for you… Tomorrow it will be an honor for me to fight, for like the valiant Lancelot, who fought to his last breath in the name of beautiful Guinevere. I do not care if my life will be endangered, if I return wounded and maimed more than leprosy is already reducing me. No, I don't care, because at the end of the day, whether my heart still beats or not, I know that I will return to lie in your arms.

And that makes up for all the injustices I will have to face." The last words were whispered, softened by a deep affection that numbed the senses and made everything as graceful as the clouds in the sky.

More tears streamed down your rosy cheeks, but you tried to conceal them by hiding your face in the crease of Baldwin's neck. The tone grew sterner for a moment as he resumed speaking, intimating you to listen with a grip on your shoulder. "Just promise me that, in case the battle goes badly, and I am dead and defeated and my whole army with me, promise me that you will escape, as far away as you can. Find shelter at the dwellings of those who have abstained from this conflict, find asylum in churches and in any sacred place you can find. Do whatever you can in order to protect your life. Protect what has always been dearest to me, your life."

"I will, I promise." You would have liked to retort, or much less say what he wanted to hear without really thinking it. But deception did not suit you, not toward Baldwin at least. And the mere thought that that might be his last will, which made you want to throw yourself to the ground and cry every tear you had in your body, also made it impossible for you to disobey that simple request, which after all was the request that you care for your own body and soul.

Whether Baldwin had taken your word for it or not, you were not sure, it was hard to say. It didn't matter, both of you were too tired to linger talking any longer, contrary to your usual routine of endless discussions on all kinds of topics. He whispered something to you in his native tongue, and although the language was vaguely unfamiliar to you and fatigue clouded your mind, you could still discern a sweet "I love you" among the words he spoke.

The next day your awakening was similar to the day Baldwin left Jerusalem: alone in bed, the place where your husband lay still warm. Outside the men were shouting orders and the horses were pawing in irritation at the din. In the distance you could hear the cries of the Saracens approaching, and the horns of war echoing in the air. You tried to peep your head out of the tent, but a guard surprised you right in front of the entrance. "My lady, his majesty has ordered that you do not leave the tent until the battle is over." The tone was authoritative and gentle at the same time, but his spear was stretched across the opening of the tent, an admonition far more direct than his words. You obeyed, as you had promised Baldwin that same evening, and without protest you retreated back inside the small temporary dwelling.

And so you stood there, alone and unaware of what was unfolding beyond the white tent. The last sound you were able to discern was your beloved's voice inciting his men to battle, before the din of war produced such a cacophony that it was impossible to understand a single sentence spoken. They rode for a few hundred meters until they reached the place where the battle would take place. They rode so far that the din they caused as they passed became muffled, barely audible. And perhaps it was for the best, for the distance muffled the atrocious sounds of war, of slaughter.

And so you waited there, within the four fabric walls, white as snow, that you feared at every moment might be stained with blood, friend or foe. You waited for the outcome of the battle, dumb with fear, with tension. You awaited Baldwin's return, dead or alive, victorious or defeated. And you did so by standing there, closer to him than was possible, exhausted and restless at the same time.

A/N: Yallll this was LONGGGG. i really really like how this turned out, and i hope you do too! I'm really sorry for how long it took me to write this piece, but I promise the following ones will take much much less🙏🙏🙏 Anyway, now I gotta go start working on those, feel free to leave a comment or feedback about this fic<3<3