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livfastdieyoung69 · 10 months

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I just got such a scrumptious idea😭

Jeff hardy x reader

Ok so reader is also a high flyer and has about the same amount of concern for themselves as jeff does for himself and they suffer a really bad injury in a 3 way tag team that's with every gender probably with Stephanie, stone cold and hhh and the injury gets taken advantage of and jeff just goes feral

-ANTITHESIS OF BEFORE

(part 3 to No Promises, Simply Threats (p.1) and Little Devil (p.2), can be read alone, might be a lil confusing)

After the constant drama the rest of the week, another match was due on Heat. This time, Lita had been taken out of the match, and substituted for Y/N for obvious dramatic effect reasons. For the first time in what seemed like a while, maybe even the first time ever, wwf fans were actually watching Heat, and it was simply for their match.

5 minutes, a staff member yelled from outside the teams locker room with a knock, catching only Matts attention. Jeff was cutting up a shirt from the merch table into whatever he pleased with no worries in the world, while Y/N paced the room stuck in though, worrying enough for the entire building.

“Five minutes, guys. Guys?” Matt repeated again, finally gaining Jeff's attention. Matt called for Y/N but received no show of hearing him until Jeff gave their bicep a tap. Matt repeated their remaining time once more and let Y/N go back to their pacing before Jeff interrupted them again.

“What’s goin’ on up there, hm?” He asked softly, pulling them in closer by their elbow.

“You know how I get, just nervous.” The reply was quick, a hand coming to rub at their lips hoping to find some sort of relief from the stress. Jeff pulled their hand away from the almost self-deprecating act considering how rough their hand was moving and threaded his own through it.

“Y/N, you’re never like this before a match, not ever this much. I can’t help you if you don’t let me, baby.” Embarrassed under this loving gaze and sweet words, they turned to gaze away from him and knowing their limits, Jeff let them.

“I just- it’s…I..everyones here for us. Everyones waiting for this match, we’re the main event of the night. You guys already made it all the way, I-I haven’t. This is my way in, and if I fuck this up, its over for me, everything I’ve been working for will be over if this doesn’t go perfect.” Y/N spoke fast, clearly still riddled with anxiety though what they spoke was true.

They had been working for the company for quite some time, but not as much as the Hardys or Lita and this whole situation against such huge people in the business truly was what was going to make them a superstar in the industry, not the weak storylines against other newer wrestlers or older ones fading out.

Jeff’s other hand moved to grasp at their elbow in an attempt to grab their attention and put their eyes back onto him, which was successful.

“I know this is big. But you always do great, always. The second you get out there all of that worry goes away, and I know it does, I see it happen every time- and you are perfect. The ring is where you’re supposed to be, and it's where you feel the best. No matter if the people like you or not, don’t let them take that away from you. Please, sweetheart.” His words brought clear solace, the weight on their shoulders drops along with a breath of air leaving their newly working lungs. Noticing they were still struggling Jeff brought them into his arms, Y/N’s nose nudging into his neck, eyes closing in comfort.

“C’mere, for a sec. Breathe, baby.” His hands moved to bring theirs to his side and after, he brought his own to rub up and down their back. A knock rang on the door, this time no words spoken, leaving them with the assumption that it was time. Y/N let out one last breath before leaving Jeff’s arms. Feet bouncing and hands wringing with suspence, the group made their way to the gorilla, and much like last time the others were already out. The arena was loud but louder when their music hit. Louder than when Triple H’s team had, louder as they danced around the ramp and sprayed water out of their mouth. And just had Jeff had predicted, Y/N was put back in the adrenaline rushed environment they thrive off of. The bell rung.

Matt and Stone Cold started first, still a little bit of anger left from the last time they were in the ring- or out, I guess- together. Stone Cold had a bit of an upper hand, but eventually with a tag to Jeff and a poetry in motion they were able to get control, but now Jeff was in. Stone Cold was quick to get a tag when the chance presented itself, slapping whoever was near him which happened to be Stephanie. The young girl gave a sly grin to the man on the floor and went to send a kick to him until Y/N reached through the ropes and slapped at Jeff’s chest quickly making their way into the ring. Stephanie’s smile quickly disappeared and she turned around, tagging her husband even quicker. The Hardy’s quickly shoved their hands through the ropes but Y/N refused to tag them in.

The atmosphere was tense as both superstars glared each other down as they circled the ring, the crowd eerily quiet as they waited in anticipation. The superstars locked arms, Triple H managing to get them under one of his arms before Y/N sent an elbow to his side, bringing them back into their earlier position. Hunter moved forward first again, bringing a punch to Y/N’s stomach causing them to stumble back and putting them into the perfect position to deliver a kick to the chin and letting them bring Hunter into a submission hold before he grabbed onto the rope, and jumped back up with the refs call. The cycle continued, until it didn’t.

Both moved forward, Y/N using their size in advantage compared to the huge man in front of them and slid between his legs quickly kicking at the back of his knees. The move didn’t seem to keep him down for long, but it unfortunately left Y/N on the mat. Noticing the disadvantage, Y/N scurried to make their way up but were too late- Triple H had grabbed their ankle and was twisting it, hard. Secluded in the middle of the ring, listening to the Hardy’s yell at the ref to do something while they tried not to scream at the pain. They tried to move closer to the rope, but it seemed they would never get there with the speed they were moving.

Crack

Y/N let out a yell of agony, their elbows giving out under them but still refused to tap out as black quickly invaded their vision. The bell rang as their unconsciousness quite obviously invaded them, the multiple refs that had made their way out finally pulling Triple H off of Y/N and letting the Hardy’s away from their corner as the EMT’s made their way to the ring.

Regaining consciousness rapidly from the EMT’s touches, Y/N was quick to call out for Jeff, using the last of their adrenaline left to push onto their elbows much to the EMT’s dislikement. They continued to call for Jeff but only his brother came to comfort them, softly pushing them to lay back down.

“Don’t worry about Jeff, N/N. He’s beating the shit out of Hunter so just lay down so we can get you out of here, alright?” Matt practically had to shout his words over the boisterous arena causing Y/N to finally give up on their mission in finding Jeff a grunt leaving their lips at the uncomfortable touches to their probably broken ankle.

One of the technicians tried to tell Y/N what was going on but were unable to keep their attention and instead told Matt as they hauled Y/N out of the ring, Matt refusing to leave their side and helping the other EMT by helping them limp up the ramp before Jeff noticed they were leaving and quickly took their other shoulder from the EMT.

Finally making their way over to where the other doctors were- specifically the ones that toured with WWF, not just the ones that they hired along the way for a day- Y/N sat down in one chair and placed their injured foot on another. Jeff stood next to them, breath heavy from his beating to Triple H finished simply seconds ago while Matt went to find Lita knowing she was definitely worrying somewhere and unable to find them in her panic.

“That didn’t go so good did it?” Y/N spoke with as much fake humor as they could find left in them, trying to bring down the awkwardness of the room. Jeff’s calming hand was quick to leave their shoulder and moved to the side of their head, bringing their face into the side of his lower stomach.

“Well, not for your ankle or that asshole, but from the way they were reactin’ the crowd loved you baby. They loved you.” A sigh of relief, truly more of a sob, left Y/N’s mouth, their nose shoving further into Jeff's hip at the realization, that finally, they had made it.

They had made it, and hadn’t even realized it all thanks to Hunter. Jeff’s hand, though knuckles seeped with blood, his or not, he truly couldn’t tell, still laid gently against the side of their head, his own breath becoming tight at the thought of such a moment being taken away from Y/N.

“We’re gonna get you all taken care of, and then I’m gonna go beat the hell out of that son of a bitch some more.” Jeff’s words were heated with an anger he had obviously been holding.

“I don’t have any objections. S’long as you make sure it's on camera I gotta see that.” Y/N’s words were still muffled into him, a hand that had long since rested on his other hip moving to push him closer, pressing a quick kiss into his stomach, his laughter making it much harder. But his laughter soon left as he remembered just what they were talking about.

“I promise, no matter how much it takes from me, how bad I get hurt, doesn’t matter, I’m gonna make him hurt, a lot more than how much he made you hurt.”

“Well who’s the devil now, hm?”

I kind of hate this but whatever this took me way too long, and its barely even what the request was I’m sorry 😭😭 I didn’t even read this back over I’m so done with it

Sorry for the Heat dis i luv it but apparently no one else did, i really wish they would bring it back I desperately need another form of wwe I’m so bored the rest of the week

#liv writes;*!#I’m sick of capitalizing #jeff hardy #wwe #wwe smackdown #jeff hardy x reader #wwf #matt hardy #wwe heat #wwf heat #wwe raw #raw is war #Friday night smackdown

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alltheselights · 1 year

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Yeah, this is not a normal break for a young person to get from daily life. The smoking and drinking and just being bird-boned to start with will have factored in. And I do think he’s surrounded by enablers who just keep cheering his lifestyle choices. I’m not a pearl-clutcher by any means, but the chain smoking and the drinking for a guy whose parents both had serious cancer before they hit 50 is worrisome. People who just drink casually don’t talk about it like Louis does. Getting drunk before his album launch performance rather than after is not great. Nor is associating getting wasted with celebrating. He’s 30. You can see on his face that it’s taking a toll. He does not have a healthy glow. And often has puffy eyes and sallow skin. I’m not judging him. He’s got a daily struggle with the closet he’s burdened with, he’s had serious traumas while feeling he has to temper his own emotions to look out for his family…all that emotional baggage adds up. I doubt he’s ever allowed himself to fully grieve. Glass half full!!! Seems more like he’s self medicating with drink to avoid it all. And not a single person around him who’ll speak the truth. Or who seem to even have empathy for him. Does he have any relationships where he’s the receiver rather than the giver?

To preface my response, I think some of what you said is a little extreme and I don’t think it’s the place of anyone to decide that someone else is abusing alcohol because alcohol abuse looks different on everyone and I know that firsthand because it’s touched my life directly. I’ve said this to people in the past when I’ve gotten worried anons and I think it’s important to recognize.

That being said, I do agree that Louis’ overall lack of care for himself is very concerning and something that shouldn’t be laughed about or celebrated. Just before he tweeted, I was watching this interview where he is asked how he takes care of himself on tour and he explicitly said “I don’t” and then said that he’ll do that when he’s older. Louis, honey, you already are older. Yes, 30 is still young, but there’s a reason why people hit like age 25 and start realizing that their hangovers hit harder and their knees are starting to crack. Your body is aging and needs to be treated better and needs more recovery time. This is true of everyone, but especially someone with such a demanding career.

He’s a grown man and fans have no control over his behavior, but I do wish that he’d make an effort to quit smoking (not only for his singing voice, but for his fucking LIFE) and I wish that he’d at least be more responsible with the drinking in terms of keeping it to a drink or two before and during shows and not always going straight out to the club after a performance. He admitted to being hungover numerous times on tour and you can tell that he’s often exhausted. I want him to be able to have fun and I have absolutely no issue with him enjoying himself, having a beer to take the edge off before a show, or going out. However, there are limits that every person has to put on themselves to make sure that they’re prioritizing their health and in Louis’ case, his career.

I also think the enablers around him are a huge issue. We may not know them, but we can see with our own eyes that they participate in all of these behaviors alongside Louis. They drink and they smoke with him constantly. It’s bizarre to me that Matt Vines, as a manager, has never once said, “hey, Louis, maybe don’t smoke half a pack of cigarettes during an interview.” It’s bizarre to me that Helene isn’t saying every time she sees him, “hey, you're really going to struggle to sing well through full setlists on tour and run around stage when you’re smoking so heavily.” It’s bizarre to me that nobody said to him last night, “hey, let’s save the vodkas for after the performance.”

Again, Louis is an adult! But there are people around him who work with him who could provide some guidance and encourage him to take care of himself, and instead, they seem to be fully embracing his lifestyle themselves and glorifying it.

Fans also don’t help. There will be people angry that I posted this ask. I will lose followers. If you even whisper that maybe a full-time singer with a family history of cancer shouldn’t smoke a pack of cigarettes a day, people accuse you of “babying” a grown man. The entire fandom romanticizes Louis’ smoking and talks about how sexy he is while he’s blackening his lungs. Any constructive criticism or genuine concern is treated with defensiveness and anger.

Louis has said himself that he doesn’t go therapy, which I think he needs, just as so many other people do. He said in an interview just days ago that he shouldn’t smoke or drink so much but the job is hard and he needs his “vices.” Everyone has vices, but they’re not all so harmful. Louis is doing permanent damage to his body with the smoking, and possibly with the drinking as well. He’s now gotten injured twice in six months, and last night, while we don’t know what happened, it’s safe to assume that he was still intoxicated. And at times, no matter how much I adore him, I also recognize that he’s doing damage to his career and reputation by not reining himself in, especially when he has performances or interviews where he should be focusing on making a good impression and singing as incredibly as he possibly can.

Louis deserves to be happy and have fun. I just wish he found some balance between that and taking care of himself. And I desperately wish somebody, anybody around him gave enough of a shit to help ensure that too.

#sry 4 the typos #asks

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saikolikes · 1 year

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The brooding angry ugly vent of a self-demanding fic writer

Hello dear spam-bot infested website,

giving how you’re supposed to be a blog-like thing and don’t have a very annoying 280 characters limit and no one truly follows me here, I’m choosing you to listen to this very silly vent of mine as I have literally no one else I feel I can talk to.

Given how you may never know with the internet, I still feel compelled to add that everything I am about to write is strictly personal experience, it’s how I feel, it’s something I need to take off my chest, definitely something I should talk about with my therapist but I don’t have enough money to see them more often than I already do and there definitely are more important matters to discuss in therapy right now in my life. So. Tumblr it is.

I am not looking for sympathy. I am not looking for validation. I just need to vent.

Today I read a fanfic so good it made me angry and sad and pretty envious. This is what all this is about. It’s not the first time it happens. (In the case the author ends up reading this as we might be mutuals on here: you’re a wonderful person and a very skilled author, this is not about you, it’s about me, I just need to air my thoughts).

Why? Because I thought: “oh Lord I will never be this good, I will never write something so deeply visceral, emotional, well-thought and well-worded.” Again, not the first time it happens. It’s something I’m very familiar with and that has been sticking with me for a major part of my life now. It’s a really ugly feeling that instantly murders any motivation I have to do the things I love. Not just kills, but murders. (Ah-ah)

Often times when I read (it happens pretty much just with written works and fanworks especially, maybe because I perceive them as closer to my experience than anything else) something that’s just so good and by chance it happens to deal with themes, characters or moods I also write about or have written about—bang. I get all worked up, a sad sack of feelings and envy. And I know envy says more about the person feeling it than it does about the target, I know that envy should be a signal of what we’re unhappy about. I know all that and so far it hasn’t helped.

I already know or suspect the source of everything, it’s just that I don’t exactly know what to do to fix it. It’s been for very long now that I haven’t been satisfied with what I write and how I write it, and I simply don’t know how to get better. I don’t even know exactly what should be improved to be honest. There’s just a lot of me not knowing things, which I hate, and me not having a single soul I feel I can share my doubts with, which I also hate. Just a very icky combination of two factors that tend to destabilise me in other areas of my life. It just hits differently when it’s coming from something you love so deeply.

“Oh but you should write for yourself and enjoy yourself.” I beg to differ. This is something I’ve always disagreed with a lot. I don’t do this to get praises, even if they’re always appreciated. I do this because I want to tell a story, because I have something to say, and I want to share it with the public. I wouldn’t go out of my way to publish fic if I was satisfied with just writing them—they would be sitting in my hard disk if that were the case. As a lot of them do, by the way. I know the difference between a story I write solely and purely for myself and a story I write because I want to publish that. They’re different. They feel different. They are born differently. This is how I function.

Praise or the lack of it truly isn’t the problem, although I recognise it can amplify everything in the way lack of feedback can do. Publishing a story is a form of communication. Communication is an act that has two directions, it needs a receiver to happen and a feedback from the receiver to confirm they got and understood the message and sometimes fic writing feels like screaming at the void but this isn’t what I’m talking about. It’s a part of my harrowing on the matter but not the prime source of it.

I already know that I am the source of the problem. Even if I already improved a lot compared to when I first came back to fic writing, when I used to really obsess over stats and engagement and all that. That stuff affects me a lot less now and I can enjoy writing and sharing something that doesn’t get popular and simply go with the flow and be contempt with it. As long as I am satisfied with it. That’s the big catch.

The problem is that I’m a perfectionist and when I see something that’s done exactly the way I aim for in my works and pushes buttons I also wish to push… I short-circuit. Ugliness takes over. I can’t help looking at my present and past works and feel they lack everything I try to convey with them. I feel that they’re not compelling to read. That they’re boring. Unoriginal. Standard. Nothing special. Not emotional as I intend them to be and sometimes, I go as far as feeling that style and vocabulary (which I also struggle a lot with) aren’t the problem but that the ideas and concepts are the problem, that I won’t ever be able to come up with something that truly has a stranglehold on people and these thoughts poison not only old works but especially current ones that I still have to finish. Further adding to the fact that I tend to seriously lose motivation over time the longer something is in progress.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect to be good”, “it doesn’t matter if it’s not properly original, as long as you’re having fun”, “you can always get better.”

I know. It doesn’t help. I’m doing it for the fun but I’m also doing it because I have something to say and I care a lot less about people enjoying it or praising me than I do about my own personal standards because I’m a goddamned perfectionist. I am the one that needs to be satisfied about what I write first and foremost. But I keep finding myself at ground zero every damned time, with a shitload of very ugly feelings towards myself and no idea how to make them go away or improve in what I love to be at least a little more satisfied. But, well. I am already aware that it’s a personal problem more than an objective problem, this is everything this big stupid rant was about.

I don’t know if I feel better but I sure feel a little less like exploding. Gonna blast some sad as fuck music and let everything flow.

Thank you for reading if you’ve come this far.

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gavinsmg24 · 1 year

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I’m going to skim respond bcuz there was a lot but really it’s just me responding but I may not hit every thing. Anyways! I read everything and I’ll try to respond as I scroll thru what you said. Mainly to start. Yoh talked about what happened recently. Where you cleaned bong and he got upset even tho you did it bcuz you were waiting. How can everything be a problem. Lkke you said. All he had to do if he truly wanted your company was find you and say join me babe. But instead he’s like. You should’ve already been here? Like what’s uo his ass. I dont get treating people short and rude all the time. It’s exactly what you don’t deserve. Hmph. Like your right someone saying something shouldn’t affect your whole day. But when your already a depressed person and your partner is giving you little care or thought then it makes sense how you feel! Maybe you should be less sensitive? But no he needs to be like 2x more thoughtful about emotions. I mean! Whether he thinks it’s dumb or not he’s your partner. Either adapt or work with it. Don’t just get mad or cause problems for no reason. He makes it seem like you cause problems. But really he’s causing problems but it’s not problems to him bcuz it’s not affecting him it affects you. So when you (as a healthy relationship should be) try to talk to him and he’s like. This shouldn’t be a problem that’s fucked!

And it’s like gifts aren’t required but I’m sure you wouldn’t be saying that If he complimented or made time to hang out. Like. Since you moved with him. He should be trying to take you out with his friends or coworkers. Not really but like. For me. Even if the boys didn’t want to hang. I’d try to at least have us all do stuff every once and a while idk. Like it shouldn’t be that way but it’s real life sims! We like interaction and groups!

And yeah that’s what sucks. When people barely congratulate but always judge harshly when things are wrong. That is frustrating grr. I hope you find another job soon princess. Maybe one that’s from home again or a job that’s easily transferable? I just mean that for a worst. Case. If you ever wanted to go elseware that way you’d at least have a job. Anyways. That’s hypothetical and far away. I just want you to have your own cushions to fall back onto if you ever need to.

I just.. I hate how manipulative and toxic masculinity sounding he is.. Im sorry I know I shouldnt say but like. Barely talking to you or secluding self. Like. Alone time is one thing but like cmon! Live in same house interact! I know you do but just off of what you say. Like. Talk when you have nothing to say?! That’s small talk! To fill silence and he says he doesn’t have anything to say? Then shut uo and listen to your rambles! I’d listen to gibberish rather than silence tf. Grr I’m sorry getting riled trying not to.

Why does it matter where you watch stuff! Like if he wasn’t using office who cares! You say he eats fruit and watches YouTube alone. Why can’t you! If he’s not gonna make you smile fuck off! Rawr!

Princess this is the thing I’ve wanted you to always understand and I’m saying this bcuz you said “am I crazy” no! Your not. Everything you’ve written and shared. If any unbiased parted read this would feel the same (someone with our care and morals) like it’s almost your bday and he’s still treating you normal. Like no one’s needs a birth week but cmon. Like oooh babyyyy almost bday. Any things you wanna do? Plans? Maybe he’ll surprise you but idk. You could tell yourself it’s selfish to want gifts but it’s not. It doesn’t have to be a diamond ring. I’d get you those lil toys we used to get (not really but getting that over nothing or something with no thought is different than just getting something expensive. I wish I could go to the mall with you. Give you a price limit and spoil you for a day. Or ask for ideas and wrap them and wake you with breakfast n gifts

Like. Obviously we dated early and younger. And our living arrangements were all over the place. But I just can’t believe how much home work you do. Like. Old timey woman cooks n cleans and he still finds ways to get upset. Grr. If I came home and didn’t have to worry about cleaning I’d be so at peace. Like living with me n 2 bois! Always dishes and I’m doing them the most! (I use the most but still! They use stuff too!)

And back to the locked door and tasks. Like. Cmon. Your partners. No one should be. Punishing anyone. Your not dealing with kids. You talk out problems. Not yell or put down. Yelling happens. But this isn’t normal arguments. This is mind games and lack of care. Not really.. I should stop. I dont want to sway your mind. I’m just responding to what you say. I want you to know your thoughts are valid. Not crazy. Your smart and kind. But to get this to the end. Like what! He forgets his own tasks so it’s like oh you could’ve forgot that. Or if you forgot then he’d notice. Punk 😤 hypocrite. Narcissist, more. Rawr!

Anyways this responds to the longer cont. 1 n 2 next will be most recent. You’re strong and brave. I hope you can find a path that leads you to fun and relaxation soon

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unsprouted-seed · 2 years

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The part that’s the hardest is that it’s literally just all in my head. The positive and the negative, the logical and the insane. It’s ALL in my head and I can’t even tell it apart most of the time. It’s just chaos. Every time I do something to hurt myself I turn around and blame myself for it... or maybe some illogical part of me blames myself for it, or maybe my disorder blames me for it. And am I to blame? Can I make better choices, on my own, without support? I ... I genuinely, truly don’t know. What even IS support? I’m not sure I know what that feels like.

I’m SO close to giving up on the concept of recovery and it’s been mere days since I’ve been home. It feels like weeks, months, years. I’m so tired, so sore, so damaged. The hunger is killing me, and I genuinely can’t tell the difference between eating as a healthy activity and eating as self harm. I desperately want to eat, in part because I’m so fucking hungry, and in part because I’m so goddamn sore and aching that I have this idea that it’ll put the nail in the coffin for me and freak me out til I’m back into total restriction. But I’m not even at my cal limit for the day, is eating REALLY harmful? Or am I just freaking myself out over food, and already restricting? Should I eat, so that it helps me? Or should I avoid food to protect me? I literally cannot tell, and I have nobody around to help. It’s just me here and my options are all wrong just wrong wrong wrong wrong..

When I came home I genuinely thought I could go a month, two months, three without a problem. I thought I had this shit. I ... don’t know how I managed to sell that to myself. I’m as lost as ever.

Going to mum’s won’t help, I know, because they can’t help me. They can only hurt, bumbling around incompetently, bashing into my sensitivities, hitting my wounds without ever understanding how much pain they cause me just by being around them.

But staying away... I .. I feel like I’m dying. it’s not a new feeling, but I just keep getting sicker and sicker, and I KNOW I’m going to end up full restricting again, and I can barely keep down the food I’m eating already, and I KNOW my body’s already so weak... and I’m honestly... at a point where if I dropped dead in a week I’d be okay with it. I’m not afraid of it. I’m afraid of lingering. I’m afraid of being alive 2 months from now, with fewer options and fewer resources, at a decision point for a choice I desperately don’t want to make... I don’t mind dying, but I want to die painlessly. And when I look at my future... in any direction, whether it’s recovery or not, mum’s or not, all I see is just pain and fear and self hate.

If I lived in a place where you could just buy a gun I wouldn’t have this problem. Would’ve dealt with it years ago. But I’m a fucking coward and I’ve tried shit in the past so many times and just... nothing works and it just causes more pain.

I’m so fucking tired.

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islandpcosjourney · 2 years

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Day 27 – May ’22 challenge

4th June 2022

Gosh I almost forgot to write today’s blog post! I’ve been so busy doing not-very-much that I got wrapped up in all of that instead 😂

I woke up early with the dog pacing in the room, so had to let her out, but came back to bed as it was still sleepy time (within the 6hrs required to get an average temp reading from the OvuCore). I was super stiff from all the work I did with my muscles yesterday – clearly so good for me! It’s a great feeling to know I’d been using all of those muscles while having so much fun! Definitely want to go paddle-boarding again! Got invited out to do some more water activities this afternoon but I had to decline because essentially I don’t want to increase the pain I have already AND increase my time in the sun, further making me look like I’m turning into the beetroot juice I was drinking yesterday!

Today has been quiet time for me. Time to have space with my thoughts and deal with the aftermath of a busy, overwhelming day yesterday. While I didn’t feel overwhelmed at the time, it’s only when my mind replays everything that I realise how much I tackled, handled, AND enjoyed, while I reported a very positive day last night, handling my anxieties, letting go and getting swept up in the momentum of it all, it then hits me afterwards that I actually managed it! I don’t do proud, but I was pleased with myself that I’d been outgoing enough to try new things, go back to old things I used to enjoy and even taking compliments is something I find hard too. Processing all of that is then exhausting 😂 Living life is about knowing your limits isn’t it? Well I usually underestimate mine.

I can’t take compliments, even from Kevin so I find it very hard to accept them from others. Of course it’s nice to hear that I’m looking slim, that my skin is radiant, that I look healthy; somebody I haven’t seen an awful lot of lately barely recognised me – of course that’s nice to see because when the changes are happening slowly to ourselves, we don’t recognise the dramatic changes that losing 5 stone can look like. However, I never respond in the way I would like to. I just do a nervous smile, get all embarrassed and agree with an “aww thank you”. I mean, really it’s like somebody commenting “oh you’ve got your hair cut” – which is essentially only stating a fact but is a way for someone to start a conversation involving a nice compliment. Most people don’t comment on my physical changes and that just normalises it but when it is pointed out to me, it always surprises me 🥴 I’m not saying this to discourage anyone from mentioning it to me in future, I’m just trying to make sense of why I can’t seem to react properly to it when it is 🤦🏻‍♀️

Since this afternoon I’ve been suffering from occasional abdominal cramping on my right side. Quite bad sometimes it made me double over, so it was noticeable – enough to warrant lying down in bed. It could be a welcome sign of ovulation and being on CD16, it should be, but I am still getting to know my own body in each cycle, and it will take time to recognise the patterns and appreciate what they are so that I can recognise any changes.

I’ve been so up and down over the last 20yrs with it, no such thing as a pattern, so I really find it hard to know who I am CURRENTLY when I haven’t stayed consistent in my health, weight or even work routines. Being self-employed, that part will never be consistent, except that it involves music of some sort, but I’m so looking forward to being consistent with my health & weight ONE day – that’s the goal! Maybe then I could invest in a wet suit 🤷🏻‍♀️ It was never even a consideration before as I was always fluctuating weight-wise and was bad enough having to buy entire new sets of clothes when I changed sizing “yet again”. Now I’m overwhelmed with clothing options, and I love it! Having only ever had 5 days’ worth of outfits, for years and years, I’ve now gone 3 weeks without wearing a single item twice. I challenged myself to always go for something new each day. Being different, challenging myself to find new combinations. There’s something very invigorating in that.

My cat Priscilla, displaying how I’ve felt all day 😂😂😂😂

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quindolyn · 3 years

Text

Weeks Without || Poly!Marauders

Word Count: 7,427

A/N: Happy birthday @littlest-dark-age ! While this was not initially meant for you I loved it so much that I thought you might too and I poured a lot of effort into it, enough to show you how much I love you I hope. I think I like this piece! It felt good to write and I hope you all like it too.

Warnings: too long, that's probably the biggest one, angst, fluff, and smut. Slight dom/sub dynamics with dom Rem and Siri, sub Jamesie and maybe switch reader? Potentially just sub, I don't know I feel like any reader x James interaction I write, unless explicitly stated otherwise is at least a little bit dom reader because I project. Oral (female receiving), fingering, hand job, palming, little bit of humiliation. I tried not to include Daddy kink because I know not everyone's into it and I'm pretty sure if any of my stuff can have a daddy kink it does so I tried switching it up. Insecure reader

Masterlist

2k follower celebration

As you approached the end of your time at Hogwarts there was a certain fear that bubbled up inside of you. Like the rest of your peers you had worries about what waited for you outside of Hogwarts, where you were going to live, what you were going to do? How you were going to pay your bills and if the person, or in your case people, you were leaving with were going to stay by your side.

You were sure that everyone with a partner shared the same worries you did, that being if your relationship was going to survive outside of the sheltered walls inside which it formed. For you your worries were multiplied threefold. You didn’t just have one person you were worried would tire and leave you, you had three boys.

They were all undeniably beautiful, there were days you couldn’t fathom how people as beautiful as them had chosen someone like you.

Despite their constant praise, the way they gazed at you during class and in the halls, the hugs and kisses they gave you any chance they had you still weren’t convinced that you were enough for them.

You tried not to show it, tried not to show the boys you loved so dearly how your insecurities were eating away at you. You were eating less, sleeping less, and even though you spent all your time bent over a book in the library, eyes racing over the pages your studies were suffering too. The time you spent in the library wasn’t so much to actually study so much as it was to avoid your boys, even being around them had grown painful. Worried that every kiss they gave you might be getting you closer and closer to the last had you nauseous.

You knew it was ridiculous but you couldn’t help the feeling from gnawing away at you.

Your boys weren’t stupid, though James often acted as though he was, they noticed you pulling back from them. On the rare occasions they were able to get you with them for more than the duration of dinner it was like you were stopping yourself from enjoying being around them.

You’d catch yourself smiling too wide and drawback. To them it was like clouds blocking out the sun, though they’d swear they would’ve preferred the absence of the sun over yours.

There were only so many ways you could avoid them and when it came time for sleep there was no escaping the giant canopy bed in James’ headboy dorm that could easily fit all four of you. It was probably the easiest way for you to be around them, because after a long day of classes and extraneous studying you were out the minute your head hit the pillow. There was no time for them to prod you about your day, ask you where you’d been during your shared free period.

You speedily made your way through your evening routine before the rest of them got to the room and were climbing under the covers as they finally made their entrance.

Tonight you hadn’t been as lucky, as you barreled into the cozy dormitory, decorated in a frankly nauseating amount of scarlet and gold. You entered to find your three boyfriends were already waiting for you sprawled throughout the room.

James sat on the sofa to the left of the king bed, long legs sprawled out in front of him, they were so long that his feet stuck off the end. With his hands clasped behind his head acting as a pillow, he would’ve been the picture of leisure had it not been for the crease between his brows while he conversed with the two other boys in the room.

Sirius sat curled up in Remus’ lap, nestled together on the loveseat; there didn’t appear to be an inch of space between the two of them. Usually when they were found like this it was as though neither of them had a care in the world, too wrapped up in each other to notice anything else that went on around them. This time was different, Sirius held one of Remus’ hands in his, fiddling with it while he gazed off into the air, eyes focusing on nothing in particular.

It wasn’t tension clouding the room so much as it was worry. Worry about you, worry about your relationship, worry about what they might’ve said or done to hurt you.

As you stepped into the room all of their eyes shot to your figure, ultimately finding your face as they tried to tell what sorts of secrets you were hiding in that pretty head of yours.

“Hi poppet,” Remus spoke promptly, knowing that allowing the silence to stretch on would only serve to worsen the situation.

“You guys are here early.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw the furrow between James’ brows deepen at your response, you weren’t usually one to sidestep a greeting like that. Though in all fairness you hadn’t been acting much like your usual self lately.

“We’ve missed you puppy, feels like we never see you anymore,” It was Sirius who spoke, hands still fidgeting with Remus’ long fingers, finding the Marauders ring that he wore on his ring finger and sliding it up and down the appendage.

You answered with a noncommittal hum as you toed off your shoes, abandoning them by the door to the dorm before moving to the bed where you shrugged off the bag that had been weighing down on your shoulder all day.

Remus quietly eased Sirius off of his lap, helping him into James' open arms awaiting his arrival. Once the raven haired male was settled into the larger boy’s grasp, strong, muscled arms holding him close to his equally toned chest Remus made his way toward you where you sat, silently working on the buttons of your blouse.

“You want help with those, bunny?” Came the steady baritone of Remus’ voice as he stood a few feet before you, head cocked to the side while his hands were buried deep inside of his pockets.

“I’m fine Rem, I’ve got it,” The use of the nickname normally would’ve worked to lighten the worries that were swirling around in the boy’s head. This was counteracted by the despondency of your voice pulling each syllable downwards into mumbled murmur.

“I hate to say it but Siri’s right (Y/N), we don’t see you anymore and we’ve tried to ignore this weird behavior, thinking that it would pass but it hasn’t,” The lycan spoke as he made his way to the bed, sitting down on the mattress next to you but sure to leave a decent amount of space between the two of you, not wanting to spook you more than you had seemed to be.

You ignored his words, instead focusing your attention on unzipping your skirt, loosening the waistband allowed you to take a deep breath you’d been yearning for all day.

“Bunny, we just want to know what’s wrong, talk to us please.”

Lifting your eyes, lids heavy from the stress of the day, at Remus’ desperate plea you found the looming figures of your other two boys hovering over his shoulder. Fingers intertwined as both stormy grey irises and hazel ones gazed at you.

“Nothing’s the matter Remus, I’m just a little stressed out is all. It's nothing any of you have done.”

Technically that was true, it was nothing your boys had done directly that had caused you to pull back from them but still, a lie by omission.

“Bullshit.”

Each of your heads whipped to find the voice who had spoken, your eyes landing on Sirius’ form you found his sullen figure glowering, tucked into James’ side.

“Sirius come on,” Remus murmured, urging the boy to keep his mouth shut.

“No its such fucking bullshit, she’s been acting like this for weeks and I’m sick and fucking tired of her acting like a toddler.” The boy swivelled, redirecting his attention back towards you, “Stop it (Y/N)! Stop lying to us, stop pulling away, just fucking talk to us for fuck’s sake because I can’t fucking do this anymore.”

With each word the boy’s voice raised an octave and you watched James’ hold on Sirius’ shoulder tighten as though he could contain the flow of words that tumbled from his mouth.

It was all too much, the insecure thoughts that bounced around your head, the aches that had settled in your limbs from pushing yourself too hard on too little sleep, the distinct throbbing that resided behind your temples nearly every day by this time.

Then add on Sirius’ harsh words it was all too much.

“I can’t do this,” You mumbled, haphazardly redoing the buttons of the blouse that had been hanging off your shoulders before pulling your bag, abandoned just minutes ago, back onto your shoulder.

“(Y/N) where are you going?” The frustration in Remus’ voice was evident, he’d been so understanding and gentle the past few weeks but even he had his limits and he was not about to watch you walk away from them.

“My dorm.”

“Since when do you sleep in your dorm?” It was the first time you’d heard James’ voice since you entered the lavish dorm room. The hurt laced in each word was unmistakable, guilt at being the one to hurt the boy you loved so much served to twist the knife that was already planted firmly between your ribs.

For the first time in weeks you finally voiced the overwhelming thought that had been plaguing you, the thought that had caused you to pull away from them in the first place, “You’re better off without me.”

It seemed as though everything in the castle had stopped to listen on your conversation, you were almost certain you could make out the little figure of a portrait peeking its head into the gargantuan frame that hung on the furthest wall of the dormitory should Dumbledore need to call James out in the middle of the night to perform some headboy duty.

The room was so quiet as the boys, your boys, soaked in your words that you swore you could hear Slughorn all the way down in the dungeons, munching on the lavish pineapple that had been dropped off at his office a few hours earlier and that he had saved until now to indulge himself in.

“What do you mean poppet?” The crease between Remus’ brows matched the confusion so evident in his voice.

“I mean…” You trailed off as you felt tears well in your eyes, weighing down on your bottom lashes as they threatened to spill over. You couldn’t find it within yourself to meet any of their gazes, instead keeping your head downturned, eyes trained on your sock clad feet and you shifted your weight from foot to foot.

Before you could force yourself to look up you felt a strong, steady hand slip under your mandible, from the rough calloused nature of said hand you knew without a doubt that it belonged to James.

He slowly turned your visage upwards to meet his, heart crumbling as he took in your waterlogged optics, red and puffy, sunken in my large dark shadows that appeared to be frighteningly close to bruises.

“Why are you thinking that you’re not good enough for us angel?” He spoke, his voice cracking as he took in your heart wrenching appearance.

“Jamie,” You sobbed before throwing yourself into his chest, the barriers you’d erected between you and the rest of them crumbling as you saw the helpless look in James’ beautiful hazel eyes.

The fears and doubts that had haunted you for weeks were still there but you couldn’t find it within yourself anymore to listen to them when they told you to keep your space, to hide from the people you loved the most.

You clung to James’ broad shoulders, standing on your tiptoes so that you could throw your arms around his neck. You felt the weight of your satchel once again slip from your shoulder accompanied by a soft thud against the hardwood floor as one of James’ arms wrapped around your waist, the other slipping under your bum, landing on your upper thighs to support your weight as he carried you over to the canopied bed.

James kept you safely in his lap, sitting down with Sirius and Remus on either side of the two of you.

Even if any of them wanted to pry you off of James there was no way you were leaving the warm solace of his hold, the solidity of his thighs underneath you, the strong planes of his back sprawled out underneath your palms.

There was a comfort in all of it that you hadn’t realized you missed so much, you felt a pang in your chest as you contemplated the boy’s reaction to your insecurities. Would they confirm them, and these past weeks, which could’ve been spent in the exact position you found yourself in now, soaking up the comfort they brought you, had been wasted?

Though you were perfectly content to sit there, snuggled into James’ chest the boys wanted answers, and though they tried their best this was the most like yourself you’d been in forever and they were desperate for answers to their questions before you slipped away from them again.

“I’m sorry I yelled Princess I’ve just been so worried about you,” Sirius murmured, his hand gently sliding up your thigh to rest under the hem of the plaid fabric.

All you could offer the boy was a nod as you turned your visage to meet his, wiping your nose with the back of your hand, “It’s okay Siri-”

“No it's not,” He refuted empathically, his hand moving from your thigh to cup your cheek, dragging his thumb across your cheek bone in soothing circles, “If anyone else spoke to you like that I’d hex them into oblivion. I’m sorry.”

He leaned down, tilting your face ever so slightly upwards to meet your lips. As usual his were unnaturally and enviously red, tasting of smoke and the strawberry candy he stole from the pockets of James’ robes.

His lips brushed gently against yours, it was the first kiss the two of you had shared in weeks that wasn’t a quick peck as you passed in the halls or as you rushed away from them after breakfast. Understandably, he was in no mood to rush it.

You melted into his touch as his grip on your cheek tightened, keeping you from pulling away as he deepened the kiss, kissing with a sort of passion foregin to the both of you. Different from what you were used to, lust filled kisses as he ground your hips into his. This was a sort of apology from the both of you, sorry to have shied away from this for so long and he sorry for blowing up at you.

He kept his lips melded to yours for as long as possible before finally pulling away to suck in a deep breath, replenishing his depleted lungs.

“Gotta tell us what’s going on in that pretty head of yours baby,” Came Remus’s voice from the other side of Jamesie’s broad shoulders, lulling your head off of the one it rested on to meet his sympathetic eyes.

You felt a familiar panic bubble up once again in your throat at the thought of voicing all your insecurities, scenario after scenario running through your head going through all the different ways the boys could react to your theories.

Suddenly you felt like an idiot and felt your cheeks burn as blood rushed to them, resisting the urge to bury your face back in James’ shoulder you swallowed, “W-What if,” You stopped for a moment, sniffing and going to wipe your nose on the back of your hand you were stopped when Remus’ large hand wrapped around your wrist.

Slender fingers slipped a silky hanky into your palm for you to wipe your nose on and you smiled as you glimpsed the initials “RJL” stitched sloppily into it. This was no doubt done by James when he was laid up with a Quidditch injury and had taken up stitching, amongst other things.

“Thanks Rem,” You murmured as you swiped the soft cloth underneath your nose before slipping it back into his hand, you felt your cheeks burn, embarrassed to be handing him back the used, and admittedly grosser material, but ever the gentleman he paid it no mind.

“Now what was it that you were saying (Y/N)?”

You braced yourself, clenching the covers into your fists as you forced the words that had been swirling around in your head out, coming to terms with that there was no more delaying the inevitable.

“Are we gonna stay together once we graduate?”

It was conflicting having finally spoken those words that had tormented you for countless days, hours upon hours of pain and anxiety causing you unspeakable turmoil. It felt as though it was all lifted from your shoulders, you’d spoken the words, put them out there and they were no longer your pain to bear alone.

At the same time, they didn’t just exist in your head anymore. They were real and the people who mattered most had just heard them, their impending response only served to make you grip the sheets even tighter.

“Where’s this coming from angel?” James asked, confusion tightening up his voice.

“I don’t know,” You whimpered, “I’ve just been thinking and you all are so fucking beautiful and perfect, how am I supposed to keep up with you when we leave here. I already don’t deserve any of you. It's already bad enough in here with all the girls and guys fawning over all of you but how am I supposed to fair when you have the entire world at your fingertips?”

As they soaked in the meaning behind your words James’ arms tightened around you to the point of bordering on discomfort but it was so reassuring to be held that close, to know that that was the reaction your words had on them that you couldn’t find it within yourself to complain, only to hold him even tighter.

“Darling,” Sirius’ sympathetic tone was enough to shatter your already fragile facade and before you knew it there were fat teardrops sliding along down your soft cheeks.

You could feel your tears dampening the material of James’ old t-shirt but couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“I-I don’t wanna lose you guys,” You sobbed, letting all the pent up emotion from the past weeks flow out, coming off of you in waves as the knot that had been residing in your chest slowly began to unravel. Each tender caress of your back and stroke of your hair assisted in its efforts until all that was left was your heart. Which, considering that it had been tangled up in barbed wire, thorns piercing your heart with every beat, was in surprisingly good condition, still intact and pumping along.

“You’re not gonna lose us (Y/N/N), ever,” James promised into your ear, his chapped lips brushing across the shell of your ear.

“You can’t promise that,” You protested, words muffled as you spoke into his shoulder, “There might be someone else who you guys love more than me, who’s prettier and smarter and can keep up with you all. M not good enough for any of you and what if one day you realize that?”

“Don’t talk like that princess,” Sirius’ grip was steely on your forearm as he used it to get your attention, “I’ve spent my entire life being told I wasn’t good enough and the truth is that we aren’t good enough for you. I know what it feels like to feel like the people in your life deserve better than you but there is no doing better than you, no one else on this earth holds a candle to you my beautiful girl.”

As you took in each of Sirius’ words letting them heal the puncture wounds on your heart from being wrapped in thorny vines Remus spoke, “We love you more than anything puppy, the day you walked into our lives was the best day of my life and I can’t think of a world where any of us live without you. Especially outside of Hogwarts, things are gonna be just as scary for us as they are for you poppet and I know I don’t wanna do it without you.”

It felt good to hear that the worries you’d been obsessing over were really all in your head, that they really did love you as much as you loved them, but there was still one boy you needed to hear the words from before you could completely relax.

“I’m going to marry one day (Y/N/N), I’m going to marry all of you and we’re going to be Misters and Missus Potter. Remmy’s right, I don’t wanna ever wake up and not have you right there next to me. Mum and Dad say I have to wait till we’re settled and we have jobs and a place to live before I can propose but it's gonna happen bunny, I just hope you don’t realize we’re a pile of daft idiots before then.”

As a lopsided goofy smile quirked his lips upward you felt a similar force mimicking the movement on your own, “Even if you all are daft idiots, m’never gonna find anyone like you guys. My pretty boys.”

“You hear that mates? We’re her pretty boys, if I didn’t know better I’d say (L/N) has a little crush on all of us.”

“Oh sod off Siri,” You let out a watery giggle, gently nudging the boy’s arm as you looked up at him through water logged lashes.

“Is that true puppy? You like us?” Even though he was usually the most mature of your boys Remus’ mischievous side never failed to shine when he called on it.

“No,” You refuted, “I’m actually rather fond of Severus now that you mention it.”

You’d pulled away from Jamesie’s chest to be able to look at each of them but with your words you were harshly tugged back into him.

“Not funny,” The sullen boy murmured into your ear, “Ours, not Snivellus’.”

“Shhh s’okay bubba I know you love me,” You soothed him, tangling your fingers in his hair like you knew he liked.

“I’m so sorry bunny we ever made you feel like Snape loved you more, I never want you to feel like we don’t love you.” He squeezed you, “How can we make it up to you?”

“I just got in my own head is all,” You explained, “I was telling the truth earlier when I said that it was nothing any of you had done, just shouldn’t spend all that time alone with my thoughts.”

Sirius’ elegant hand started rubbing up and down your back as you all sat there, soaking in each other’s presence after so many weeks of turmoil. Each time his hand slipped lower and lower down your back till he was groping your ass with the palm of his hand.

“Do you believe us poppet?” Remus asked, taking note of Sirius’ hand on your bum, “You believe that we’ll love you till the day we die?”

You nodded your head, face still buried into James’ neck, “I know you’re telling the truth Remmy, it's probably just going to take a little while for my brain to start really believing it, I spent so long worrying about it that mt stupid brain is’nt just gonna start listening to me.”

Remus nodded as he brushed a piece of hair from your face, it was the answer he’d been expecting.

“How about we show you how much we love you puppy?” Sirius asked from your other side, hand sliding from your ass to your thigh before slipping underneath the hem of your skirt.

“What do you mean Siri?” You cocked your head to the side in a rather obvious display of your confusion.

Wordlessly he stood up and slipped you from James’ lap moving to the foot of the bed where he laid you out on your back. Your blouse hung open off your shoulders revealing your lace clad breasts to the man as his eyes raked over your body, taking in every curve and line of your body.

Starting on the cushiony pillows of your lips, red and raw from gnawing away at them all the way down to the soft lines of your thighs he took his time appreciating every millimeter of you before dragging his eyes back up to the hem of your skirt.

One graceful hand slid to the waistband, already loosened he bent down to press a kiss where the material had rubbed your skin raw over the course of the day.

As your panty clad center was revealed to him Sirius swiftly dropped to his knees, his eyes quickly darting to Remus over your left shoulder for permission for what he was about to. It was granted to him with a soft nod.

“What are you doing Siri?” You pondered as he slid your legs apart from each other, sitting up on his knees as he began pressing sloppy kisses onto the insides of your thighs.

Instead of getting an answer Remus spoke, his words directed to the boy between your legs as though his words would have no consequence on you, “You can mark her Sirius, let everyone know that she’s our pretty girl.”

His words sent a zap of excitement up your back as you remembered how good it felt to be their pretty girl. Something you hadn’t felt like in weeks.

You bucked your hips as Sirius’ lips ghosted over your pussy still hidden to him behind the lacy material that matched your bra, “I’m showing you how much I love you puppy,'' He responded to your earlier posed question, “Now come on, lift your hips f’me,'' He murmured as he slipped the panties along with your school shirt from your hips revealing your pussy to his hungry gaze. Sirius carefully pulled the garments from your legs before dropping them to the floor next to where he knelt.

Inching closer and closer to your cunt as he worked his way up your thighs leaving a trail of kisses in his wake he made sure to sink his teeth into the flesh at certain points, just hard enough that if he sucked he was sure to leave behind mouse shaped bruises. The thought of being marked by him caused a ripple of arousal to go straight to your core.

Once he was satisfied with the marks he’d left on your thighs the raven haired boy moved quickly, nosing your folds apart to breathe in your scent, even with the minimal stimulation you’d had you were already soaking, though Sirius often seemed to do that to you.

“Fuck,” You swore as his nose bumped your clit and you reached out to grab onto the bedding but found James’ hand instead, wrapping your hand around his middle and index finger as you scrunched your eyes closed.

“Pretty baby,” James cooed as he leaned down to smear a kiss across your brow, furrowed from pleasure, “Siri making you feel good?”

You nodded fervently as the aforementioned boy licked a broad stripe from your quivering, sopping entrance to your clit, lifting up the hood to suck gently as James often sucked on your tits. You smiled thinking that you might fall asleep that way tonight because you knew nothing made the boy quite as happy as both falling asleep and waking up with your tit in his mouth.

“Use your words puppy,” Remus’ voice sounded from your otherside and you whipped your head to face him wondering when he’d moved over there, “Wanna hear that pretty voice of yours.”

“Yes Remmy, feels so so good,” Your words hitched as Sirius slipped a finger inside of you, continuing to suck on your clit as he did so.

As you spoke your eyes wandered downwards and you were met with a familiar bulge having formed in Remus’ trousers. The werewolf’s gaze followed yours and smiled as his eyes landed on his crotch.

Your head quickly pivoted to the otherside finding a matching bulge in James’ trousers. A pang of guilt hit your heart as you hadn’t even thought about either of their pleasure, being too overwhelmed by your own as Sirius had thrown your legs over his shoulders allowing him to pull himself closer to your dripping, aching cunt.

Somehow your hand had found its way to Remus’ cock as you mindlessly palmed at his bulge as though that and that alone would work to help it escape from its zippered cage and into your awaiting hand.

“Can I have your cock Rem, please?” You begged looking up at him with wide eyes, fingers fumbling as they finally stumbled across the zipper.

“Course you can bunny,such a good girl asking me for m’cock so nicely, let me get it out for you.”

Remus expertly lifted his hips as he unzipped his zipper, sliding his trousers and boxers down to his mid thigh allowing his cock to spring free.

As his cock was revealed to you Sirius added a second finger into your pussy, curling it at just the right spot to hit the sensitive spot inside of you each and every time he thrusted his fingers. As he pushed the second finger inside of you you felt the distinct chill of metal, you gasped at the unique, though certainly not unwelcome sensation.

Glancing downwards you saw that the hand belonging to the arm that was pinning your hips to the mattress did not bear the signature Marauders ring they all wore proudly on their ring finger. Having his marauders ring thrusted in and out of you made you clench around his long, slender fingers, the extra stretch provided by the jewelry was impossibly hot.

The combination of seeing Remus’ cock, standing proud and tall as his tip, bright red, leaked pre cum onto his shaft and the extra stretch of not only another finger inside of you, but a ring, had you squeezing your legs around Sirius’ head.

Flicking your gaze down towards him you were met with Sirius’ eyes already on you and he circled your clit with his tongue. Much to your chagrin he pulled his head away from your cunt, smoothing his palm up your stomach as he smiled at you with the most sincere look in his eyes, “You’re beautiful like this puppy, so perfect all laid out for us, making a mess all over my face.”

Looking at the bottom of his face you saw the mess he was talking about, his mouth and chin were glistening with your slick. Before you could reply Sirius was diving back into your pussy, scooping his arms under your thighs to lift your hips so that he had even more through access to your pretty cunt.

Any breath you would’ve used to respond was pulled from you as Sirius’ tongue began working magic on your cunt, tracing it painfully slowly before abruptly speeding up.

Remembering the gift that had been bestowed upon you you grappled for Remus’ cock, quickly wrapping your hand around it and beginning to pump up and down, loving nothing more than the way he throbbed beneath your touch.

“That’s a good girl, so good at playing with m’cock, there’s a good girl,”

“Like this?” Your wide eyes stared up at Remus as you twisted your wrist pulling a strangled gasp from him.

“Yes baby, just like that.”

You were mesmerized by his cock as you watched the head disappear before reappearing from your fist as you worked up and down his shaft, your hand working along the natural curve of his prick.

A whiny moan from your other side broke your concentration as you turned your head to investigate it, never halting your movements up and down Remus’ member.

Your eyes fell upon James’ whimpering form, shifting uncomfortably as his eyes flickered back and forth between your hand on Remus’ cock, Sirius’ head buried between your legs and your face, pleasure plastered over your every feature. God you looked beautiful when you were getting eaten out.

Finally you settled on the raging boner visible through James’ trousers, it looked almost painful the way it was straining against the restrictive fabric.

“Aww Jamesie m’sorry, been neglecting your cock,” You mewled, the hand not on Remus’ cock moving to palm James through his trousers.

“That’s okay bunny, m’good just watching you, fuck you’re gorgeous.”

You threw your head back as Sirius pinched at your clit, his tongue and fingers having swapped places as he circled your tight entrance which was clenching around nothing, but who could blame you?

You were in ecstasy.

There was a familiar fire burning in the pit of your belly, one that had begun simmering the second Sirius had looked you up and down once having laid you down on the bed.

A small whimper escaped you as you felt James’ strong calloused hand grope your clothed breast over the mesh and wire cage you kept them concealed in because fuck did that feel good.

You turned your visage to view Remus, he was painfully hard now and you made sure to keep groping James on the other side of you as you quickened your speed on Remus’ cock.

“Merlin puppy that feels so good, our good puppy. I love you so much my love, so much,” His praise came as he tangled his hands in your hair, using his hold on your to direct your face up to view his. He looked angelic, beads of sweat forming on his hairline with clouded over hazel eyes and the most beautiful lips you’d ever seen that released haggard groans and breaths.

A whine tumbled from your lips at the praise, Remus was always the gentler out of your doms, James barely counting as most of the time he was on his knees with you ready to obey his next command, but his praise seemed to be affecting you more than you were used to. Not that you were complaining though, on the contrary, you were living for it as it spurred you closer and closer to orgasm.

You squeezed Remus’ cock as Sirius nipped at your clit, the sensation walking the delicate line between pleasure and pain but jarring nonetheless. You’d be lying if you said that it didn’t send a rush of arousal to the fire now beginning to roar in your belly.

The feeling of James and Remus’ cocks in your hands was oddly erotic and as they worked to ground you as Sirius pulled you further and further into bliss the holdon them, feeling every vein and ridge and twitch turned you on more and more and had you bucking into Sirius’ mouth.

“I’m gonna cum!” You screamed as Sirius sped up his ministrations on your pussy, sucking your clit between his lips as he mercilessly pistoned his fingers in and out of you.

“M gonna cum too,” James admitted, sucking in a tight breath as he wriggled his hips, resisting the urge to buck up as you lackadaisically palmed at his still clothed crotch, never having the time to properly undress.

The thought of cumming with James pushed you right to the edge to the point where you could barely form words, but knowing you’d need permission before you were allowed to cum you sought out the one person who could grant you such. “Can I cum?” You pleaded, turning your head to face Remus, “Please Rem let me cum please!”

“You gonna cum too Jamesie?” The lycan’s eyes were trained on James’ face, eyes wide as he watched your hand slip up and down Remus’ curved length.

Upon receiving his answer, a yes delivered in rushed nods, Remus turned back to you, “Yes baby, go ahead and cum for us, make a mess all over Siri’s face. Gonna look so pretty when you cum undone, such a pretty girl.”

That final praise tipped you over the edge, sending you into a bliss filled oblivion as warmth seeped to every nook and cranny in your body. You felt your legs tense and spasm as you squeezed your thighs around Sirius’ head, bucking into his face to get as much stimulation as possible because there was no way for you to get enough.

You distantly registered a string of curses leaving your lips as euphoria washed through your body, taking with it any little doubts and worries that hadn’t parted with the boy’s earlier kind words.

As your orgasm passed and you blinked your eyes open you found a lightness in your chest you hadn’t felt in months. All the wounds from being wrapped up in thorns so long seemed to have healed on your heart, to see you tested it out, letting a singular thought about the boys drift through your consciousness. You were immediately reminded of Sirius’ head still in between your legs, lapping up the slick that had made a mess all over the insides of your thighs, James’ softening prick under one palm and Remus’ still rock hard one in the other.

All those worries you had let occupy your thoughts for months seemed stupid and trivial as you remembered just how much your boys loved you.

“Well would you look at that,” You were pulled from your thoughts by Remus’ voice, following his gaze to James who sat resting on his hands, panting, with an unmistakable stain fresh on the front of his trousers.

“Did Prongs cum in his pants?” Sirius simpered, also huffing, though for completely different reasons as he lifted his head from your cunt, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The seemingly normal sight sent a shiver up your spine but you quickly shook the thought away.

You nodded your head as your eyes caught on the stain on the front of his trousers but no one seemed to notice.

James’ cheeks were burning bright red as Remus came up behind him, brushing the hair out of his face as he leaned down to press a kiss to the crown of James’ head.

Remus helped the submissive boy to his feet, all the while murmuring quiet praises you couldn’t hear from where you laid until one was spoken loudly enough for your ears, “Come on bubba lets get those boxers off,” The sandy haired boy prompted, “Show (Y/N/N) how pretty you think she is, she made you cum in your pants, I don’t think any of us have ever done that before have we?”

James shook his head as Remus quickly undid the zipper on the other boy’s trousers. The taller boy kneeled to help him step out of his trousers and boxers, leaving him naked from the waist down.

It was an undeniably hot sight, James’ half hard cock resting against his toned thigh, both covered in his cum from his untimely release.

Your eyes were pulled up to Remus as he let out an appreciative hum as he inspected the ruined boxers in his hand.

He slipped onto the bed next to you, “Come on puppy sit up f’me,” Opening his arm for you to settle into his side.

“And you Jamesie,” He prompted, patting his thigh for the boy to sit on. As James settled onto the hard plane of muscle Remus’ still throbbing erection poked into his back, the leaking head smearing precum along the boy’s toned back.

Sirius settled in behind all three of you, peering over your shoulder at the soiled boxers, one hand resting on your shoulder and the other on Remus’. You melted under his touch and snuggled ever closer into Remus’ side, turning your head to press a kiss to the back of Sirius’ hand.

“Y’made Jamesie cum without even taking him out of his pants puppy, can you believe that? That’s how fucking sexy we all think you are, made him cum without even directly touching his cock princess.”

“S’like you’ve got super powers,” James interjected, his eyes trained on you, “Your hand angel, its magic.”

You chuckled at his choice of words, whether or not you were intentional you doubted but it made them all the more cute.

“It’s so pretty,” You murmured, running your index finger through the sticky mess before bringing it up to your lips, sucking it completely clean as you couldn’t get enough of James’ perfect taste. “You taste really good Jamesie.”

The boy at the center of your current conversation turned, hiding his head in the crook of Remus’ neck mumbling a “thank you” into the delicate scarred skin.

“Don’t need to be shy,” Sirius crooned, out of character with the gentleness in his tone, as he combed his fingers through James’ dark tresses, “It’s fucking unbelievable how hot it is.”

You smiled at the delicate interaction between the two boys as James looked up at Sirius with wide eyes and puckered his lips, silently demanding a kiss. It was a demand Sirius was all too ready to obey as he dipped down, sealing James’ lips with his.

As he pulled away he caught you staring at him with want etched all over your face, “Don’t worry puppy,” He simpered, moving to cup your face in his hand, “You can get a kissie too.”

His tongue brushed against the seal of your slips as he deepened the kiss before abruptly pulling away, not wanting to get himself any more wound up than he already was.

“My beautiful girl,” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he smiled down at you.

“You two need to get cleaned up,” Remus spoke as you and Sirius gazed at each other, “You, especially Jamesie, made quite the mess of yourself.”

James whined at the subtle comment but aside from that made no other objection.

You on the other hand had other, more pressing worries.

“But what about you, Remmy? You’re still hard and Siri hasn’t even been touched yet, need to get you two off,” Your words came out frantic at the prospect of leaving two of the men you loved so much unsatisfied but Remus was quick to quell your worries with a soothing kiss to your hairline.

“Don’t worry poppet, Siri and I will take care of each other while Jamesie runs a bath for the two of you, yeah? We’ll be right in to join you, have a feeling neither of us are going to last all that long.”

You were reluctant to agree after how amazing you’d been made to feel by your boys since you’d arrived at the dorm and the thought of leaving two of them to take care of each other was frustrating, your frustration did not outweigh the pleasure a warm bubble bath promised and in the end you crumbled.

“Fine.”

“Good girl,” Remus extolled as James slipped from his lap and stood before you, arms open and ready to engulf your significantly smaller figure.

You all but leapt into his embrace, loving the way his strong arms could so easily support you.

“Come on angel,” He cooed down at you, “S’bath time.”

Remus and Sirius waited until the two of you had entered the adjoining bathroom before leaping to their feet, their hands quickly finding the other’s chest desperate to pull another close.

James kicked the door closed behind him but not with enough force to fully close the door, the room beyond it was still visible through a small crack.

Through the crack in the door you were able to see Remus and Sirius and even over the roar of the running water James had started that was slowly filling the ginormous bathtub that sat at the center of the room you could make out the words that fell from their lips.

“You’re gorgeous mon chéri,” Sirius muttered against Remus’ shoulder as he tugged on Remus’ cock, the two boys had made quick time and Sirius’ aching member was already in Remus’ palm.

“Just as beautiful as both of our babies.”

“Impossible.”

“Shut up and cum for Godric’s sake,” The smaller man whined, “I want a bath.”

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @amourtentiaa @kittykylax @superbturtlemakerathlete @oliviashea05 @pinkandblueblurbs @dracofknmalfoy @itsmentalillness @zzzfour @greenlyblue @emmaev @temporaryissue @gubleryum @advictedtohim @marauderswhore07 @st0nesnglitter @wholebigboxofyikes @priii @miraclesoflove @thatvenusbabe @shadesofvelma @drachoesimp @ashlovesthemarauders @artemis1orion @skaratjung @ava-brooke-blog1 @fairyprettygirly @ohwowimlonley @padfootswife @4kweasley @roonilwazlibswhore @swearingsolemnly @teenwolfbitches28 @lilypad-55449 @jamespotterslover @lilytheally @mo-jean @lolooo22 @adrianscumslut @jeannelupinblack @wh0reforthemarauders @myalupinblack @ashesandstars @daisyyy2516 @siriusmydeer @remugoodgirl @itzstacie @planet-wolfstar @steveharringtonswhore @saintlike78 @i-love-scott-mccall @thatdummymarie @cedricisnotdead @pretty-pop-princess-hs

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embrassemoi · 3 years

Text

je te laisserai des mots

Regulus Arcturus Black managed to die twice within the span of five hours.

MASTERPOST | NAVIGATION | AO3 | Inspired by THIS!

PAIRING: Regulus Black x Fem!Reader

CONTENT: Angst, death, canon typical violence, panic attacks, TW: implied self harm - not explicit

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

Was it possible to drown on dry land?

It was a phrase that echoed through the depths of Regulus’ mind often these days. A deep regret latched itself onto every waking moment, piling onto his consciousness for years that caused a dull ache to explode agonizingly slow in his chest.

Love, or in this case, heartbreak, was the root of Regulus’ drowning — his suffocation that collapsed his oxygen-deprived mind, burning like hot molten lava in his throat; filling his lungs with an invisible weight that sunk him further into the depths of a sea. It managed to crash through the windows of his room in a deserted 12 Grimmauld Place.

His vision blurred, eyes skittering away from her as her voice, similar to sound waves, travelled fast, rippling from all directions like raindrops hitting the surface of a pond.

A storm. A warning. Gentle until it’s not.

It clawed, bit and tore his heart while Regulus reached up to shakily adjust the tie wrapped around his neck. Despite it being loosely worn, it choked him, feeling too restrictive as deep panic immersed into his bones. He couldn’t breathe.

“...I’m sorry,” he forced out flatly, attempting to keep his face straight with a steel mask. Despite his wide knowledge of French and English, thousands of words died on his tongue.

“Did you… did you kill someone today?” She stammered, voice so pained, instilled with fear that it made him flinch. “Did you watch someone die?!”

He shook his head. “No —”

“Then tell me why you want to break up? We were fine yesterday!”

Because I need you safe, Regulus screams internally.

“Maybe we can work this out,” she pleaded, her hand grabbing his arm. “W-we can — if it’s Voldemort we can figure something, anything, out. If we run away — we can leave and —”

Regulus’ brows furrowed, pulling into a tight line.

She always had to make it so hard.

“I don’t love you anymore.” A lie.

Lie.

A fucking lie.

The look on her face made it all the much harder. He could’ve wept then, even starting to feel himself tremble; sharp stabbing sensations shredded the skin of his chest, cutting deep into his heart.

“You don’t mean that,” she scoffed, voice incredulous.

“I do,” he snapped, adding to the wounds. “I never have. You’ve been nothing more than a distraction. A toy.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m devoting myself to the Dark Lord. You’ve never been part of my plan.”

Lie. Lie. Lie.

“Regulus please just listen —” “He needs me.”

“You’re nothing more than his puppet!”

“You don’t understand.”

“No! You don’t understand! I need you more than he does!”

“Are you daft?” Regulus forces his voice to drop to a venomous tone, but a waver gives him away and he can only pray that with the overwhelming tears spilling across her cheeks and harsh wind whipping outside, that she doesn’t notice. “I don’t want you here. I don’t love you. I’m done. I’ve chosen my side.”

He kept his gaze low, focusing on his shoes.

He’s already taken too much but he’s reached his limit: he will not drag her down any more than he already has. The least he can do is protect the person he loves most. Even if it was from himself.

Inner voices screeched in his ear, tears flowing down his face as he cried silently.

He hears her footsteps, shoes coming into view and refuses to meet her pinning gaze while she shoves him, again and again. Her fist curls into balls, pounding on his chest to get any reaction; even shaking the sides of his arms for a response.

Stupidly, Regulus can’t help but lean forward, pulling her against his body. His faze nuzzles into the side of her neck, inhaling her faint perfume, listening to her sniffling, feeling her tremble from his touch.

But her usual warm embrace never felt so cold.

“Je t'aimerai jusqu'à mon dernier souffle,” he whispered, knowing she wouldn’t understand — only to hope foolishly that one day, far from then, she would.

It’s only when touching him must’ve grown to be revolting, had her fist uncurling, staggering back.

Any fight within her dissipated. Dead and gone and past.

Wordlessly, she slipped out her wand and with a swish, she apparated. Gone.

Regulus didn’t look up — couldn’t look up as he caught the death mark on his arm.

It mocked him, laughed at him, stripping him of any morals or love he had, marked permanently with hate and death.

Bile rushed to his throat, panic returning full force. His fingers grazed over the thick black lines until clawing at his arm till raw.

Off. He wanted it off.

Hours he cried, letting sobs wretch his body, throat burning until he had nothing left in him.

Heartbreak was grief that hit in waves. It was gruelling, stealing sleep and appetite alike. Fragments of metaphorical glass seemed to pierce his skin and shorten circuits in his mind. An emptiness swelled, vying through the echoes of lingering love.

A knock sounded at his door that made Regulus immediately quiet, wiping his puffy eyes. Kreacher came in, looking worse than he felt.

“He-llo,” Regulus sniffled. Through the blur, he observed the house-elf, who he thought, looked worse than what he felt. He hadn’t seen him in days since the Dark Lord had borrowed him.

“Master Black,” he croaked. With a few steps, he crashed to the floor. Regulus pushed himself up from his bed, rushing over to Kreacher, scooping him up.

“Kreacher?!” He yelled. “Kreacher! Merlin, what happened?”

“The Dark Lord has done something terrible to Kreacher.”

────── 〔☆〕──────

Call him dramatic, but if Regulus had a high probability of dying a noble death by destroying a Horcrux, he was going to have one last grand meal, listen to music he liked and wore clothes that were worthy of dying in.

He wore his finest suit as he scribbled on pieces of parchment, writing a letter.

With the crinkling of paper, he balled the letter, throwing it into the bin across the room already filled with a dozen other crumpeted sheets of parchment.

Starting a new letter, a fancy scrawl from black ink glided across the note. He re-read it several times, happy with the final result.

Two letters sat on his desk, one for the locket, the other for her.

“Is master Regulus sure he wants to go?” Kreacher asked. He’d spent the last three hours begging him not to go, to not be bloody fucking mental. But he didn’t listen. He couldn’t.

“I’m positive.”

“Is master ready to leave?”

Regulus looked around his room: realizing it was nothing more than a cage for his parents to imprison him in.

“No. Not really,” he whispered, “But take me there.”

Holding Kreacher’s outstretched hand, Regulus felt as if he was suddenly being squeezed through a thick rubber tube; pressing his chest down and unable to draw breath. However, the invisible restraints burst free and he was left standing upon a tall rock, water crashing and churning below.

The sky was blanketed by a thick sky full of stars as Kreacher let go. The smell of salt and sea breeze tossed through his hair as he followed Kreacher to a tall cliff. The journey was slippery and cold. Regulus was left with an icy feeling and waterlogged clothes that weighed him down as he tried to steady himself on the slippery rocks.

Before descending back into the ominous cave in the cliff, Regulus stared out to the sea, observing the way the water danced and crashed, how the mist gently sprayed onto his face.

“Mr. Black,” the elf squawked, “Kreacher miscalculated and has to apparate again. Please take Kreacher’s hand.”

If home was where the heart is, Regulus knew he’d never make it home.

Turning to Kreacher, smiling sadly, he spoke. “Kreacher, you have to promise me something.”

“Of course. Anything to serve the most ancient and noble house of Black.”

“There is a good chance I will die in there.”

Kreacher nodded hesitantly. “Let Kreacher take you home, master Regulus.”

“No,” he stated firmly, although there was a small smile on his face — appreciative that he cared. “And if I die, I need you to take the locket and destroy it. With or without me.”

“Kreacher will do everything to protect Mr. Black.”

“Do you also remember Y/N? I wrote her a letter. It’s on my desk. If I die, you need to deliver it to her, but do not let her get close to that locket. You have to promise me.”

The house-elf gulped, lids fell in a sad expression but nodded. “Kreacher promises to deliver a letter and destroy the Horcrux in the event that Mr. Black dies.”

“There is also a separate letter addressed to Voldemort. I need you to place it in a replica of the locket. You need to make one.”

With that, Regulus took his hand once more and was apparated behind the solid cave wall.

They found themselves smacked in the middle of the dingy cave on an island, surrounded by a boundless expanse of black water.

He went over the house-elf’s words, how magic wouldn’t be able to help to retrieve the necklace as he peered at the stone basin, filled with a glowing emerald liquid.

Conjuring a goblet from a rock by the basin, Regulus’ eyes caught hold of Kreacher’s who nodded gravely.

He listened to him once more, before scooping up the emerald liquid.

“You’ll do everything to make sure I keep drinking this, right?” He asked.

“You have Kreacher’s word.”

Without hesitation, Regulus drank goblet after goblet. Excruciating pain rippled through his body until Kreacher began to force the goblet to his lips the moment he fell to his knees.

Once finished, Kreacher grabbed the golden locket and placed it over his neck.

But Regulus was far too gone to think properly. He managed to roll onto his stomach, nearing the lake as he lowered his face and drank from the cool water.

“NO!” Screamed Kreacher.

But it was too late as multiple white hands gripped Regulus’ wrist and dragged him into the lake. Hundreds of white heads emerged from the dark water.

Inferi. He recognized them from Defence Against the Dark arts.

And he knew he was fucked.

With every ounce of strength he had left, he uttered hexes and spells, one after the other but to no avail.

“GO! KREACHER!” He screamed to the poor elf who was now surrounded by hundreds of Inferi. “LEAVE! DESTROY THE LOCKET! MAKE A COPY! DO AS YOU PROMISED!”

Kreacher had tears streaming down his face.

“GO!” Regulus’ head was being pushed underwater as he fought to swim. “NOW! D-DON’T FORGET THE LETTER!”

With a crack, Kreacher had gone. And one last gulp of air, Regulus was plunged underneath the water, thousands of hands wrapped around his ankles, feet and hands.

He knew his fate. From the moment Sirius had left, decided to save his own life, Regulus knew the painful implications of his own. He just didn’t think it would end like how it did.

Darkness webbed his vision, making every shimmering bit of light look like stars and jewels.

After about a minute is when Regulus inhaled water, sputtering, coughing and inhaling more and more. A burning sensation tore through his chest, water flooding his airway.

But strangely, as he knew he was about to die, a sense of calmness and tranquillity washed over him.

Drowning always seemed more peaceful than burning to death; a lullaby, being cradled by the soothing waves that roped him in further as he stopped struggling, letting the Inferi drag him further into the bottomless lake.

The anxiety slipped away, no pain, no fear. Peace.

Before his world washed away with perpetual darkness, Regulus closed his eyes, imagining her face one last time; holding desperately onto the last bit of love he had ever known in his life.

Maybe it was the childish part of him, but Regulus realized just how pathetic, how hilarious he was for thinking people, much less someone like himself, deserved a happy ending as some sort of sick reward for having a terrible life.

As the remaining part of his soul was drained with water, sucked from his lungs, all he could do was hope to crave and live and love in his next life. More than ever did in this one.

Regulus Arcturus Black managed to die twice within the span of five hours.

And he kept his word, he had loved her until his dying breath.

PART TWO — en dessous de ta porte (coming soon)

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serendipitous-magic · 3 years

Note

What is your writing advice for young people who want to write fanfiction and original stories in the near future?

If this is just Way Too Much, skip to the end (#16). My most important piece of advice is there. I also happen to think #5 is pretty good.

-_-_-_-

1) Literally just write. Write whatever you want, and do a lot of it.

_-_

2) You don’t have to post everything. In fact you don’t have to post anything. You can, don’t get me wrong, but it can be intimidating to sit down and think “I will now write something that other people will see and read and judge with their eyeballs.” Because that’s probably gonna lead to nerves and writer's block. Just write down the ideas that you have, the things you want to write, whatever’s in your brain that you want to explore and expand upon and make into something. And then if you want to, share it. Or don’t share it. I have plenty of half-baked ideas and documents and random story chapters and shit hidden away on my Google Drive that will never see the light of day, for a whole number of reasons. I wanted to write it but it wasn’t ~Spicy~ enough to warrant posting, or it’s only like an eighth of a good idea, or it’s like one scene with no story around it, or it’s just something incredibly self-indulgent I just wanted to write for my own enjoyment.

Point being, don’t write for other people. Don’t write so that other people can read it; write what you want, write for yourself, and then if you want to share it, do.

_-_

3) You can pretty much ignore any and all of these for fanfiction. In fact, you can ignore pretty much any rules or guidelines you want for fanfiction. Fanfic is a sandbox. You don’t have to be a “professional writer” to post fic. No one expects you to be Stephen King or Margaret Atwood. Fanfic is just for playing in a fandom and having fun. If you wanna write a 50 chapter slow burn with very little plot aside from the OTP slowly getting to know each other, and no real stakes or central conflict, I guarantee people would read that. Really, fanfiction is the Old West of writing: lawless, wild, unpredictable, and free.

However, here are the rules you must follow:

-Separate your paragraphs. (I’m sure you know this already, but I’m gonna say it anyway just in case.) Do not post one big block of text. Make a paragraph break when someone new is talking, when the characters are in a new place, when a new event occurs that changes the scene, when a chunk of time has passed, and when there’s a major change in subject.

-I know it’s obvious, but... grammar, punctuation, and capitalization. They exist to make writing easy for readers to read, and more people will read your stuff if they don’t have to stop and try to figure out what you meant.

-Use tags and labels, as is possible with whatever site you’re using. Especially if you include possibly triggering content in your story. Again, I know it’s obvious, but it’s common courtesy. Bonus: tagging the themes and content of your story helps readers find it and read it :)

-If possible, limit the use of all-caps and exclamation marks / question marks. 99% of the time, one ! or one ? will do. If you overload the page with a lot of all-caps and long rows of exclamation marks or question marks, it hampers readability.

... That’s literally all I can think of. And, like I said, it’s all pretty basic stuff. You were probably rolling your eyes like, “Uh, yeah, Gwen, I know.” But that’s literally it. You can pretty much do whatever you want in fanfic.

That being said, here’s my advice for both fanfiction and original work...

_-_

4) A quick and dirty rule for coming up with a plot, starting a story, keeping up pacing, or maintaining tension: figure out what dreams, desires, and goals are nearest and dearest to your main character’s heart (see #16). Then set up the main conflict to be directly in opposition to that goal. It doesn’t have to be in a tangible way, though it could be. But, if your main character wants more than anything to reach the ships on the southern coast of your world and sail to a new life, make sure the main conflict immediately prevents them from doing that - in fact, make sure to send them north. If your main character just wants to keep their loved ones safe, kidnap the loved ones. If your main character just wants to date their best-friend-turned-crush, make sure they think they have no chance - or, make them cocky about it, and make sure it makes Person B determined not to ever like them. You get it. Figure out what your character most wants, and then keep them from having that. Boom - your conflict now ties in with your character's motivation. It's like instant yeast for plots.

_-_

5) If you’re anything like me, you want your first draft to be Good, despite all that advice about how the first draft doesn’t have to be good and it’s just to get words on the page, yadda yadda. And if you’re somewhat of a perfectionist (like myself), it’s easy to get stuck looking at a blank page because you don’t have The Perfect Words, and you want what you write to be Good the first time.

Here’s how I cheat that:

Instead of trying to write a Good First Draft from a blank page, hit the enter key a few times, skip a little down on the page, change your ink to red (or blue, or whatever - just something immediately identifiable as Not Black) and just thought vomit. Write whatever the hell you’re thinking, exactly as you think it. Don’t worry about it being readable, don’t worry about narrative flow for now, don’t worry about covering all the details, don’t worry about anything except either a) getting all the details of your idea out onto the page, whether that’s a lot or whether it’s just a sentence or two, or b) if you don’t have an idea yet, finding your way there.

Because this method is also very good for finding your way to ideas when you’re stuck in writer’s block.

Because of how human brains work, getting this stuff out onto the page - in all its messy, stream-of-consciousness glory - will likely spark more thoughts. As you write your original idea about the scene, it’ll likely spark more ideas. Creation begets creation. If you just start thought-vomiting your ideas onto the page, chances are you’ll think of more things as you go, and you’ll start filling out description or dialogue or tone or action or whatever, and pretty soon the scene starts writing itself.

Not sure where you’re going with the scene or which ideas you wanna use? Use a lot of ambivalent language in your “thought-vomit draft.” My pre-writing notes are chock-full of the words “maybe,” “perhaps,” and the phrases, “At some point...” and “...or something like that.” In this way, I don’t tie myself down to one idea; it’s just an idea, and I’m keeping it on the page in case I use it, but I might chuck it in the trash or change it or whatever.

And then, once your ideas for the scene (or story, or chapter, or whatever) are on the page, then go back to the top and start translating them into a “real” first draft. Use black ink, and start copy-pasting chunks of the thought-vomit up into the top part of the document and translating them into Draft 1. Separate out paragraphs where paragraph breaks should be. Add the correct punctuation and whatnot. Change “describe the lobby here - include potted plants, fancy carpet, blood stain, etc.” into an actual description of the lobby. Flesh it out, or condense, or whatever it needs. And if you’re still stuck, change back to red ink and ramble some more until you find a path that feels right, then plug that in. This keeps you from looking at a blank page, and it allows you to generate a kind of Draft 0.5, somewhere between a plan and a first draft.

You don’t have to use every idea. Like I said, jot down whatever comes to mind, put a “maybe” before or after it, and keep working. If the idea grabs you and you wanna keep expanding on it and exploring it, cool. If you just wanna jot it down so you don’t forget it and then move on, also cool. Red-ink draft / “thought-vomit draft” is your time to jump around in the timeline, add or finesse details at whatever point your brain moves to, etc. Don’t try to do it exactly in story order, because you will get tangential thoughts and ideas, and you will not remember to write them down five pages later when you finally get to taking notes on that scene. Trust me. On that note...

_-_

6) Write everything down the moment you think of it. Seriously.

“I’ll remember it when I get around to writing that scene in a couple days / weeks / months (/years).”

You won’t.

Write it down.

Phone, journal, google docs - hell, my family regularly laughs at me for grabbing a napkin during dinner and scribbling thoughts down alongside pasta sauce stains.

And then, once you have it written down somewhere...

_-_

7) Consolidate your writing ideas in one place.

Maybe this isn’t really your style, and that’s totally chill.

Buuuut, if you’re Type-A like me - or if you tend to be somewhat unorganized and you know you’ll lose track of your writing notes if they’re scattered across multiple notebooks, journals, napkins, phone notes, etc. - having one consolidated document of notes is a life saver. I keep mine on Google Docs so I can access it, add to it, and look through it for inspiration anywhere at any time. When I have one of those Shower Thoughts that I jot down on my phone or on a napkin during dinner, I set myself a reminder on my phone to type it up in my Story Ideas document later.

(Or, if the idea I had was for a story of mine that I’ve already started planning / drafting / whatever, I put it in the document for that story instead of the Big Random Story Ideas doc. You get it.)

_-_

8) Have other ways to collect and save writing ideas, besides just writing stuff down. If you like Pinterest, make pinterest boards of your characters or stories or settings or whatever. If you’re big into playlists, make a playlist for your character / setting / story / etc. Or both. Or something else. I’m not good at drawing, but maybe you are, and maybe you like to draw your ideas. Whatever form it takes, having another way to save ideas and think about your stories is invaluable.

_-_

9) Some writers can just start writing with no idea where the story is going, and they just kind of figure it out as they go. I envy those writers. And I do that sometimes for fanfiction, where the stakes are somewhat lower and the audience is reading more for scene-to-scene enjoyment (and to see their OTP kiss) than for a Driving And Compelling Narrative.

But here’s the thing: especially if you’re just kind of starting out, writing without some sort of plan is really, really hard, and will likely lead you into a slow, meandering narrative that will likely frustrate you.

Even if you think you’re someone that just can’t write with a plan (and again, I have the highest respect for pansters out there - I don’t know how you do it, you crazy bastards, but you keep doing you) - even if you think “I can’t work with plans, they’re too prescriptive, I just want to write and see what happens -”

Try at least making the most skeletal of plans.

Even if you have no clue what 90% of the story is, yet. That’s fine. But you need to have some idea of what you’re building to, even if that’s nothing more specific than a feeling, or a turning point for your character. Even if your entire plan for everything beyond Chapter 1 is, “At some point, Charlie needs to realize that Ed was lying to her.”

This is where those Draft 0.5 notes come in handy. Because, more than likely, working on your current scene that way will spark ideas for later scenes, which you can put down at the bottom of the document and save for when they become relevant. In my experience, the line between planning ahead and making a Draft 0.5 is exceptionally thin. One can quickly turn into the other.

If you’re really, really resistant to the idea of planning ahead, that’s okay. It’s not everybody’s style. But for the love of all that is holy, write down your ideas for future scenes, even if you’re a person that doesn’t like to plan and writes only in story order, because you will not remember that idea once you get to that scene.

_-_

10) You don’t have to write in order.

Here’s the thing: I’m a person that can only do my Draft 1 in story order (meaning, chronological order). I just have to be in that flow; I need to write in story order for me to best channel where the character is at from scene to scene, both narratively and emotionally.

But my Thought Vomit Draft is another thing entirely. By using the brain hack of putting my notes in red (or another color, it doesn’t matter) and going down to the bottom of the document / page and taking notes there, and then integrating them into whatever plan I have, and then translating them into Draft 1 once I get there in the story - by doing that, I can get my good ideas onto the page (and expound upon them and let my muse carry me and ride that momentum while I’m in the moment of inspiration) without writing out of order.

Maybe that’s just me. But if you’re a person who really prefers to write in story order, that could be hugely helpful to you. It is to me.

_-_

11) Emotion and motivation will do more for your story than technicalities of plot.

If your characters really care about something, and their journey through the (shaky or weak) plot is emotionally engaging, it will be a much more compelling story than a story with a “perfect” plot and unrelatable or unmotivated characters.

If your characters care about what they’re doing, and it means something to them, and their goals and actions are driven by dreams or fears or emotions that are integral to who they are, your audience will care too. If you have a perfectly crafted plot that hits all the right beats and has high stakes and fast pacing and drama - but your characters don’t connect with what’s happening in a way that’s deeply meaningful or emotional for them? You’re gonna have a hard time engaging readers.

When in doubt, prioritize character emotion and motivation over plot. Emotion is what drives story.

This power is highly exploitable. (Just look at pulp novels and shitty but entertaining movies.) You can even use it to glaze over plot holes or reinvigorate a limp narrative. Use it that way sparingly, though. It’s a band-aid, not a surgery.

_-_

12) Evil villains are hard to write - mostly because there are very few truly evil people in the world. (There are a few. Billionaires and several big name politicians come to mind.) But by and large, there aren’t that many evil people. There are plenty of bad people, but bad people have some good in them, somewhere in there. Trying to write an evil villain is hard, because they often turn very cartoony.

Here’s a tip: it’s much easier to write antagonists who aren’t evil. Even if they’re bad people. Of course, there’s no reason you can’t write a villain that’s just truly evil - a serial killer, or an abuser, or a billionaire, or someone who legit just wants to hurt people or blow up the earth or stay in control of an oppressed population, or whatever. But chances are, it’s gonna be really hard to make them feel real, and even harder to create a plot around them that doesn’t feel forced or contrived.

Instead, try writing an antagonist / villain whose motivations and goals directly clash with your protagonist’s - but not because they want to take over the world or see people suffer. Write an antagonist who’s chaotic good, but whose perception of the situation is completely opposite from your hero’s. Write an antagonist whose only desire is to save people, and who will do anything to achieve that goal - anything. Write an antagonist who believes in the letter of the law, and will hinder and oppose the hero’s methods even if they agree with the hero’s motivation. Write an antagonist who got in way over their head and did some things they regret, and now they don’t know how to get out, and they’re doing their best but whatever they set in motion is too powerful for them to stop now.

Write villains who are human. Write a killer who thought they were doing the right thing by taking their victim out of the equation, who vomits at the sight of the body and sobs over the grave they dig. Write a government leader who truly believes she’s doing what’s best for her people in the long-term, even if it might hurt them in the short term, and is willing to endure the hatred and belligerence of the masses if it means securing what she thinks is a better future for her people. Write a teenage bully that thinks they’re the one being picked on by the world, and they’re just fighting back, standing their ground. Write a scientist who will break any code of ethics and hurt anyone he needs to - in order to bring back his baby sister from the grave, because he promised her he’d protect her and he failed. Write an antagonist who is selfish and self-centered and capricious - because in order to survive they had to look out for Number One, and that habit ain’t about to break anytime soon.

Write villains who aren’t even villains. Write antagonists who oppose the hero because of moral differences. Write antagonists who are trying to do the right thing. Write antagonists who treat the heroes with kindness and dignity and respect and gentleness.

They don’t have to be good. They don’t have to be Misunderstood Sweethearts who “deserve” a redemption arc. They can be cruel and nasty and dismissive and callous and violent and etc. etc.

Just hesitate before you make them Evil-with-a-capital-E. Because evil is hard to write, and honestly, boring to read. Flawed human beings with goals and motivations that directly oppose the main characters’ are much easier to write and much more interesting to read.

Ask why. Why is your villain trying to take over the world? What does that even mean? Are they trying to create a Star-Trek-like post-capitalism utopia, but they know that won’t happen in a million lifetimes, so they’re trying to do it by force? Are they actually super in favor of human rights, but they got very impatient waiting for the world to do anything about poverty and war, so they decided to take it into their own hands? Are they determined to fix the world - no matter the cost? Are they terrified and overwhelmed, but committed to see it through to the end? Or - maybe they’re just doing it on a dare. Maybe they don’t really give a shit about world domination, they were just a mediocre rich white guy who decided to fuck around and find out, and now he’s kind of curious how far he can take this thing. And now he’s kind of an internationally-wanted criminal, so he’s kind of stuck living on his hidden private island in his multi-billion dollar secret base, strapping lasers to sharks’ heads for the hell of it. Gross, selfish, uncaring, and dangerous? For sure. Evil? Depends on your definition. See, now we’re getting somewhere.

_-_

13) It’s tempting to let the plot control the characters. It’s easy to drop your characters into a situation and see how they react. But here’s the thing: that doesn’t drive plot. In fact, it bogs down pacing. Instead, try to build you plot off of your characters’ actions and decisions. Let your character build their own situation. Not to say it should go they way they wanted it to go; in fact, usually, their grand plans should go to hell very quickly. But having the characters take action and make decisions, and letting the plot develop based on that, is much easier to make compelling than making a rigid series of events and then trying to herd your characters into them.

_-_

14) Having trouble justifying a character’s actions? Consider having them make the opposite decision, or having them approach the situation in a different way. For example: you need your character to go meet the bad guy, for plot reasons, even though there’s no way it’s not a trap. If the character goes, readers are gonna be groaning with their head in their hands, because c’mon man, that was really fucking stupid. But he’s gotta go, because the plot needs that. Two ways you might handle this: a) He knows it’s probably a trap. He decides not to go. The plot conspires to get him near the villain anyway. Or, b) He knows it’s a trap. But he needs to go, for (insert reasons here). So, he approaches it in an unexpected way. He brings backup, recruiting a side character we met earlier in the story. Or he arrives on the back of a dragon, because ain’t nobody gonna fuck with a dude on a dragon. Or he goes - early, and ambushes the villain. It may work, it may not. He may get himself kidnapped anyway. But it moves the plot along without having Stupid Hero Syndrome.

_-_

15) This is a legit piece of advice: if all of this sounds overwhelming, literally just ignore it and write what you want. For real. Writing should be fun, and every single writer operates differently. If you’re sitting here like “I’m getting stressed just reading this,” just flip me a good-natured bird and get on with your life. I promise I won’t take it personally. Same goes for literally any other writing advice you see. Lots of rules and guidelines can very quickly make anything thoroughly un-fun. Just write. If you’re passionate about it and you do it for long enough, you’ll start figuring out the tips and tricks on your own.

_-_

16) Here’s the best piece of advice I can give you: know your characters. More importantly, know what’s important to them. Build their personality and decisions off of that, and build your plot off of their decisions.

I see a lot of character building sheets that ask a shit-ton of questions like “What’s their most prized possession?” “Do they like their family?” “What’s their favorite food?”

And while these are good questions, my problem with this type of character building is that if you start there, with the little stuff, you’re building on nothing. IMO, to make a truly strong character (not strong like Inner Strength, strong like effective), you need a strong foundation.

Here are the things you must know about your character:

a) What are their greatest fears / deepest insecurities? And I don’t mean “wasps” or “heights.” I mean the deep shit. I mean fears like “living a meaningless life,” or “turning out just like their parents,” or “that no one will ever love them,” or “being powerless.” You may say, “But they’re really scared of wasps! They fall into a wasp nest when they were little and got stung so much they almost died!” Great! That’s a fantastic bit of backstory. They should absolutely be afraid of wasps, and that should absolutely be an impediment later in the story. But dig deeper. What about that event actually scarred them? Was it the helplessness? Stumbling around, swatting at the air, not being able to do a single thing to stop what was happening to them? Was it that they were alone, and no matter how loud they screamed, no one was coming? Was it the bodily horror of feeling themself turn into an inhuman creature as they swelled up from the stings, unable to move their fingers or face normally anymore?

And don’t forget insecurities, because those factor in, too. Are they deeply insecure about their identity? Do they believe, deep down, that they’re ugly? Did they grow up poor and they’ve always been really touchy about that? Why? Dig deep. Figure out what really, really bothers them.

b) What are their hopes and dreams? What do they truly want out of life? What do they consider the most valuable to their experience here in this thing called life? Is it the freedom to forge their own path and be independent? Is it the approval of their family or peers? Is it a home? Is it knowledge, or understanding? Spiritual fulfillment? Is it deeply important to them that they contribute to their community, or protect those they love? What do they need in order to feel truly and deeply fulfilled in life?

Figure out those two things (each one encompasses several things, btw, you don’t have to stop at just one for each), and then use that to inform how they behave and the types of decisions they make within the story.

It also informs character behavior and personality.

Let’s say we have a character who’s afraid of helplessness. They’re probably gonna be the person that always wants to do something, try something, no matter how hopeless the situation seems. They’d despise just sitting and waiting, probably, because it makes them feel powerless. They might even be the person that makes rash decisions and acts impulsively and puts themself in danger unnecessarily, because in their mind it’s better than being at the mercy of fate. This is one way you could use a character’s personality to inform their decisions, which in turn helps to inform plot.

Or, let’s say we have a character whose greatest fear is being left behind or forgotten. We may have a chatterbox on our hands. They might be obnoxious. They might love the spotlight, constantly vying for attention no matter the situation, because deep down they’re so afraid that they’d be forgotten otherwise. Or, it may go the opposite way. They may be so afraid of people leaving them that they’re terrified of bothering people. They don’t want to do anything that could annoy people, anything that might give people a reason to leave them. They might be exceedingly polite, quiet, accommodating. A push-over, really.

These are two nearly opposite types of personalities, both stemming from the same core fear/insecurity. You can go a lot of different ways with it. But if you build on that strong foundation, you’ll have a strong character, and a stronger plot.

Likewise, the structure of your story can and should inform the design of these character traits. If you need your characters to team up near the end, it may be impactful if you give your main character a deep fear of commitment, an insecurity about being unwanted or left behind, and make them highly value independence and freedom. That could make their team-up for the final battle very meaningful. Conversely, you can use your character’s deepest fears and desires to help design the plot. Is your character deeply insecure about voicing their opinions or taking a stand, because of trauma they faced in the past? Make them face that. Build that into the climactic third act. Give them the big inspirational speech where they stand up and talk about what they believe to be important, what they think the group should do. And then design that character arc to run through the story, giving you more handholds and stepping stones, more pieces of foundation on which to design the plot.

In this way, character should inform story as much as story informs character. It’s a feedback loop.

Bonus: if you build your character and your plot off of each other in this way, it automatically starts to build in the foundations of that emotional investment I mentioned earlier. If your character’s decisions are based on what they most want and do not want in life, you basically have your character motivation and stakes pre-built.

Note: you need to know these things about your villain, too.

-_-_-

I’m genuinely sorry about the length of this, lmao. But you did ask.

Best of luck!

Edit: I forgot an important one:

17) Start when the scene starts and end when the scene ends.

What do I mean by that?

If your notes say “Danny asks Nicole out after school and majorly flubs it,” start the scene when Danny approaches Nicole after school. Better yet, cold-open the scene on “I was wondering if, you know, you’d wanna. You know. Hang out some time?”

Don’t start that morning when Danny goes to school, unless you’re gonna cover the school day in like one or two sentences. Don’t spend whole paragraphs going through the school day, unless it’s to cover other plot points first (in which case apply these same guidelines there), or if the paragraphs are there for a specific reason, like to illustrate how stressed he is and how it seems like every little thing is going wrong. Even then, trim the fat as much as possible. Expounding and describing everything Moment-to-moment is for the meat of the scenes, not the leading-up-to and coming-away-from.

Here’s my rule of thumb: study how and when movies cut from scene to scene. Movies have exceptionally strict, limited time for storytelling; they’re excellent examples of starting a scene when the plot point starts and ending when it’s over. If you can’t picture a movie showing everything you showed, start the scene later and end it earlier.

#asks #anon #writing advice #writing tips #writing #fanfic writing #fanfiction #character creation #plot development #character development #my advice #original writing

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sandbees · 3 years

Text

Yuu and the House of Mouse; The...Great Seven?

It’s been three weeks since Yuu has worked at the House of Mouse.

Headmaster Crowley decided that going would be a great experience! He graciously gave you permission to work there! (Just don’t forget to do your homework and get a good rest after; he doesn’t want you to be lagging behind your classes after all!)

At the House of Mouse, you eventually learned the ins and outs; and you’ve gained everyone’s attention. They like you a lot! You have this, “If I talk to you about my problems you’ll listen kindly and either give me advice or continue to let me vent out my feelings” vibe.

Being a (sort of) therapist must have helped, huh?

You yourself have a few favorite guests that you can always look forward to seeing;

Tiana and Naveen: You hit it off when you first met. Something about their dynamic and allowing you to vent about back at Twisted Wonderland gave you good vibes about them. They’re polite guests, and they have given you advice on how to improve your work. Tiana has (once) invited you to work for them if you wanted to work at another job, but you tell them that you have school. They’re immediately concerned, because someone going to school working at a job with very demanding and colorful characters? You assure them that you’ve manage to balance school and work, however they seem less than convinced. Though nothing big changed, they occasionally remind you to take breaks and to have fun watching the cartoons on screen when you’re not busy waiting tables. (They also give you candy from their time! Butterfingers, anyone?)

Hades: He’s a frequent guest at the House of Mouse. You had lent an ear to his complaints, and then again, and then again, and soon enough you’re his personal therapist. You’re the go-to waiter whenever Hades shows up; much to the delight of the staff (The penguin waiters are...a little scared of Hades). It’s surprising how little he seems to reflect Ignihyde. He’s like a shut in extrovert. However, when you tell Hades this, he becomes very interested in your world. He’ll let you ramble about what you know about Twisted Wonderland, and he’s going to make smug comments about it. After that encounter, Hades starts conversations with you that isn’t just complaining about his siblings. In fact, he’s one of your pep talkers when you’re feeling stressed or down.

The Darling Siblings: If you don’t recognize them, they’re the siblings from Peter Pan! (Wendy, John, and Michael) When you first met them, they acted very polite. And they gave “children, protect them” vibes. As you continue to work, you discover that the children had a more playful side to them. You could easily joke with them and in exchange Wendy would tell you stories or John and Michael would tell you about their recent adventures.

Scrooge McDuck: Donald introduced him to you, actually. He mentioned, “Since you sound like you’ve been on a lot of adventures, I think you might like to share stories.” How right he was. Scrooge’s stories were captivating and enchanting, you’d always be on the edge of your seat hearing them. Whenever he swung by and you were on break, you two would be swapping stories of your lives. He was most interested in your first day story; about the magical chandelier specifically. You always look forward to a new story he would have.

Of course there were others, but the ones listed above were the people you loved seeing.

Today was a typical night in the House of Mouse, though everyone seemed...a little agitated?

You ask Mickey, and he explains that there was a reservation for a villain get together...and last time, it went poorly.

You offer to serve them as a waiter, since you’re sure that you can handle it.

“Are you sure?” “I’ve dealt with worse characters...I think. By the way, can I get the list of who’s going?”

You find out Hades was the one who reserved it (oh thank goodness, someone you’re already familiar with. And he likes you)

He’s also bringing - “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” “The Queen of Hearts, Scar, Ursula, Jafar, The Evil Queen, and Maleficent.” “I-“

Imagine your shock when you find out Hades is bringing all of the Great Seven. You’ve already met Maleficent, but someone like the Queen of Hearts, or the Beautiful Queen??? You’re ready to walk to your doom right now.

When the doors open, you go about your night as usual, though your on edge as you anxiously wait for the Great Seven to arrive. This would be the first time you would be interacting with most of them.

When they arrive, you greet them and take them to their table, doing normal procedure.

However, things go south when Hades asks Yuu to come and have a chat with them when they go on break.

“yeAH suuurrreee-“ “Great! They have a lot of questions and I think they’d like to hear what you have to say!”

Yuu is making high pitch dying screams when she gets to the kitchen.

“Oohhhh my god, they want to talk to me. What if I mess up? What if they dislike me and then try to kill me? Oh no oh no-“

Yuu is trying not to scream in excitement and stress as Mickey excuses her to talk with the Great Seven.

The meeting? It goes well.

When they ask about their world, Yuu describes their time at NRC, and how the villains were praised as good people, and were known as the “Great Seven”.

They were very intrigued about this, and would always puff up when Yuu praised them. They also ask questions about Yuu as well!

What? They’re villains, but they’re not rude.

They listen to your tales, and are sympathetic to the idiots that you surround yourself with. They get it, they are also surrounded by idiotic, self centered heroes who think they’re in the right- (projecting much?)

The Queen of Hearts is a lot more than you expected; she’s strict, but she also has good humor (as long as you don’t mock her). When you ask what kind of tarts she likes, she responded with “Any kind of tart, however jam filled tarts are one of my favorites.”. You wonder if she’d like the tarts Trey would make.

Scar...isn’t talkative, though he seems very pleased when you talk about what NRC thinks of him. He’s actually kinder to you - you’ve heard stories from Goofy and the penguins waiters that Scar is hard to please.

Ursula is what you would call a sweet talker. Kind of like Hades, but you can tell that she wants something. You indulge her, answering any questions about your world. She seems particularly interested in the rivalry between NCR and RSA, however.

Jafar wants to know everything about Scarabia. From it’s current standing to it’s history. You try your best to explain as much as you know about the dorm; but you mention that your information is limited since it wasn’t your dorm. He’s satisfied with what you give, but Jafar tells you that next time, he’d like to know more. You better go study up on Scarabia now :) (Or ask Kalim or Jamil about Scarabia)

The Beautiful (Evil?) Queen acts smug, and she seems relaxed around your presence. Maybe it’s because you told her that she’s known as the Beautiful Queen? She wants to know who is housed in her dorm, and like Jafar, she wants to know everything about Pomfiore. When she heard about the VDC, she asks multiple questions about it. (“When the VDC comes around, maybe I shall grace everyone with my presence...hmm, or should I help NRC’s team? I mean, they would represent me, of course.”

I’ve actually mentioned that you have met Hades and Maleficent in this ask

Hades and Maleficent consider you as friends (maybe not close friends, but friends nonetheless)

The rest of the Great Seven also have positive opinions on you; and they try their best to live up to your expectations! They can’t have you turn your back on them after you openly praise them!

You’re dragged away from your job - instead you focus on entertaining the Great Seven! (Which was fine, Pete was at it again by trying to drive out the guests; you kept the Great Seven in so they could still run the show!)

As the night went on, you felt yourself getting less and less nervous about being with the Great Seven. You had loads of fun!

Of course the show ended sooner than you liked; and it was closing time.

“It was really wonderful to meet you! Maybe we’ll see each other again when the House of Mouse opens again?”

“Why would we wait for nighttime? I have a magic portal to travel to Twisted Wonderland whenever we’d like.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Turns out Maleficent had an easier way to travel to Twisted Wonderland; but she gave you a sparkling gem. She told you that when she gave everyone (The Great Seven) a way to travel to Twisted Wonderland, they’d surely visit you. With the gem, it will sparkle and shine a certain color when they do.

The color? Well, of course it would be the dorm colors! It would be easier that way, would it not?

So, in the near future, the Great Seven would be able to visit you.

What do you think? You’re not against the idea; but the idea of one of them showing up during class is going to be a nightmare.

Oh well, future you will worry about that.

You thank Maleficent and go about returning to your world.

Before you get to the mirror, Mickey stops you.

“Hey, I just wanted to thank you for making sure the villains stay, it was a lifesaver and you saved our show.” “No...problem?” “Haha, our club would’ve been toast if they left! Thank you again!” “...Your welcome?”

And then you departed from the House of Mouse, immediately crashing onto your bed. Lazily, you take a glance at your mirror, wondering when you’ll see the Great Seven.

Then you promptly fall asleep.

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tendousthoughts · 3 years

Text

HQ Boys Thinking Their S/O Left Them Pt. 3

Character(s) included: Oikawa & Kyoutani

Requested by: @chibiiichann

Warning(s): Cursing, Mention of bullying [Oikawa], Mention of flinching [Kyoutani], Hints towards readers tough past [Kyoutani]

Song of the day: Trees II by McCfferty

A/N: First off thanks for 200- I know I said it a lot but I’m just so glad! Next, many of you haven’t seen but I have updated a few things. One of the biggest being my name I go by. At the moment I’m trying out Xic. I also noted my pronouns and stuff. Which you can all find on my announcements post. Now back to some more ‘important’ things [though this is important, this is not why you came here!]. Sorry about the long wait for part three! Please read through the warnings again to make sure everything is okay. Thank you for everything. Bye!

Where to find all the parts!

Where to find all my content!

Tag(s): @chibiiichann & @corporeal-terrestrial

Oikawa

He was at it again. Working late nights and shit. You were happy for him. You were. Of course you were. He was back doing what he loved. He was back playing volleyball. With that happiness also came fear and worry. You knew how he was. Everyone who ever met him, knew how he was. He over worked himself. He always did and scared you. No matter how hard he tried not to. He pushed himself past his limits. Even after the doctor already told him, if he didn’t ease up on the practice, his knee would get even worse. But he was Oikawa Tōru. Determined and intelligent.

It was ten thirty and he already missed your date. Which you expected to happen, but it still kind of hurt. You tried calling for the fifth time that night, but you were met with the same thing. After a few rings it went to voicemail.

“Hey! You’ve reached the voicemail of Oikawa Tōru, thank you for calling! At the moment I’m busy but I promise after I’m done I’ll call you back. If you want, leave me a message and I’ll get back to you. Byeee!”

You waited all night for him to come home around twelve thirty. He looked tired. Extremely tired and to be honest that pissed you off more. Not only did he not respond but he over worked himself again, and when he woke up the next night sore, you were the one who would have to take care of him.

Instead of bringing it up you waited for the morning. Not wanting to have this conversation while he was tired. It would feel like you were talking to yourself, and he wouldn’t understand. So you went to bed with him and by the morning he was already up before you.

You went to the kitchen to find him shuffling through your medication bin. “Are you sore?” You ask, looking at him.

“I’ll be fine, I just need breakfast and some medicine,” he muttered. He couldn’t have cared less. At least that’s what it looked like. He didn’t even spare you a glance.

“Maybe you should listen. You know, lay off volleyball practice for a day or something. Try to lesson the hours and stuff..” You looked back at him for his reaction.

“Can’t. If I ease up I’ll never be able to catch up.” He finally looked to you now, finding the medicine.

“I mean I think you will be fine. It is taking over your whole life and stuff so I just don’t want it to be a bigger issue. Like you know.. with your knees and stuff.” Your eyes are pinned on him.

“I told you not to worry about my knee, and it’s not taking up my life okay? It has and will always be my life. It’s the only thing I’m good at. So no, I'm not going to take a break.” He snapped at you. Which caught you off guard.

“It is… It is taking up your life,” you replied which made his face change.

“You don’t understand how it is like me. You don’t! I understand you don’t have anything you're good at and shit. But you have to understand that I actually have goals in life okay? You have to understand that my fucking life won’t revolve around you and how you feel when I do something. It won’t and never will. You and I are together because I feel like having you around. Because you know what, volleyball is the only thing that distracts me from leaving. Volleyball is the only thing I can do to escape you!” He screamed.

It takes a few seconds for the weight of his words to sink into your skin. But here’s the thing. You knew what you were up against when you started dating him. He just lit a fuse in you. A spark that made an explosion of feelings hit you. When it did you couldn’t control your words. “After all that practice I wondered why you never made it to nationals. I mean seriously. You need a distraction from me, right? Your always doing it, and get you can’t even fucking get to nationals. Not only that but I can see why your last girlfriend left you. You're a dick. You can’t remember a fucking date. A fucking date we have been planning for weeks. Oh wait, let me correct that, a date I’ve been planning for weeks. Not only that but I took my fucking time to work around your schedule. For you not to even send a message.” You spat out. You looked down at him, “I wonder sometimes if everyone was right. You and me. Never belonged. I’m just a distraction from such a ‘handsome’ and ‘kind’ person.”

He looked hurt at first, but then again he started it and intended to finish it. “I can see why your whole family doesn’t talk to you. You always think you're the best or something. Maybe I remembered the date. Have you ever thought of that? Maybe I didn’t wanna hangout with you. Maybe I didn’t want to hear you nagging me every fucking second. You know what? I can see why people fucking hate you. Bully you and shit. Your such a fucking selfish freak.”

“What..?” You looked at him. You told him you were bullied, because you thought of him as your safe space. You thought of him as the only person who understood you. You felt safe when he was around you. You felt understood. To use that against you. To say you deserved it. To say you deserved to get hurt. To get shamed. To get everything that happened to you… it was your fault?

“What are you too dumb to understand?” He laughed at you. Hatred and venom spilling from his lips. “Awe.. look at the baby. You should be grateful I didn't break up with you. You should be thankful because I’m the only reason you're even someone.”

Tears filled your eyes. “God fucking damn it.” You muttered softly. You weren’t going to allow him to take you down. You were stronger then he would ever understand. “You really think anyone wants to hang out with you..? Do you fucking think anyone find you a good person..? Your just a fucking pretty face, okay? Your nothing compared to anyone else on your team. You might not realize it but to be honest sometimes I do want to be set free. Set free from this shitty relationship okay? That’s the truth. Sometimes I get sick of having to take care of you. When your fucking sore before you over works your self again. I am the only one trying to keep you okay. I’m the only one who actually thinks about the long run. No matter how hard you practice in the end you won’t even be able to walk. Let alone play volleyball and shit. You know what sometimes I get sick of being the only fucking one trying to keep us together.”

“Then maybe you should give up okay. Maybe we should finally go our separate ways. I mean after all, you're too easy.” He was hurt. He just blurted out whatever he thought would hurt you the most. Which fucking worked. Before you had said anything more he had left the room, leaving you stunned.

It took a moment but before you knew it you were out of the house, crying and walking the farthest away from your shared house as you could. “Fuck..” you whisper. Did he really not want to be with you..? You should have known. This relationship wasn’t a relationship. You barely talked. You felt alone. So fucking alone.

It took an hour for him to fully cool down. When he walked out of the room he was expecting you to be waiting for him. He was expecting everything to be okay. When he was met with the emptiness. The emptiness of you being actually gone. He was met with the realization that his words were taken just how he thought he wanted them to be.

You on the other hand we’re at the park blasting music in your ears. Forcing the thoughts to be pushed deep down. Forcing you to forget everything. Everything that hurts you. Maybe it would be best if you guys did go your separate ways..? You knew this wasn’t good for your mental health. But fuck that. This was the only thing that made you feel grounded. Made you feel okay. When he wasn’t with you or practicing he was out with friends, drinking and partying. You couldn’t continue to live like this. So maybe it would be best to let go. To give up on everything and everything you loved… your everything was him. You always argued and at this point you felt sick. Thinking about it just broke you. You had no more tears to cry, with your tear stained cheeks you decided to go back. To your home. It was over. Everything you had built up was coming crashing down.

On his side he was freaking out. He knew he was in the wrong. He knew there was no excuse for what he did to you, but what could he say? You were gone already. It took a bit for him to get to the nerve to call you. To his surprise he heard the sound of your ringing phone. So you left it. Maybe you were going to come back. Maybe you will and then everything will be okay again. Maybe everything would be perfect. It was a small chance but that's all he could hold on to.

When you walked in it was quiet, but there were soft whimpers and cries coming from your shared room. Gently you knocked on the door and waited for a response. You were surprised when you immediately heard a stumble and then were met with a hug. Your shoulder almost immediately feels wet to the touch. “Ba.. Oikawa..?” You muttered.

“Please don’t call me that.. please..” He muttered softly. His face buried deep into your clothes.

You kinda ignored his response. “I came back to get my stuff. I took into consideration what you said and I realized that you don’t deserve to be distracted by me all the time..” You whispered softly. “So like you said earlier.. I think it is best if we stop seeing each other.. entirely because I don’t know if I could let you go otherwise..”

His arms tightened around you, “C..can we please talk about it first.. please..” his nightmare was coming true, and maybe it was dumb but he didn’t realize how much he needed you.

“There’s nothing to talk about.. I don’t understand why you want to make it harder on me. I gave you what you wanted okay..? You can practice your heart out and hangout with your friends and stuff okay? You can finally find someone who will fit all your needs. You and I both know that I will never be what you want. So maybe it would be best if we just let go..”

“No… please no.. that’s not what I want.. I want to make it up to you and be there for you and I want to make you happy and I want everything to be perfect. I know I messed up okay? I don’t deserve you and I don’t know what came over me today because you're everything I’ve ever wanted. I know I don’t deserve it and there’s no excuse for what I said or did… I know I should let you find someone better but I love you. I love you so fucking much. I know I’ve been lacking and I want to make up for it. I want to be someone you want to be around again.. I love you so fucking much okay? I should have been there. I shouldn’t have said the things I did. I know I don’t deserve a second chance but please.. just one more.. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He didn’t want to let go of everything.

“I’m sorry too.. you didn’t deserve it. I’m sorry for everything and that’s why I want to let you go. To find someone who will not hurt you like I hurt you.. You and I both know that I can't resist it. I don’t know why you do this to me.. pull me back.. you have one more chance… Please don’t make me regret it. I really love you but this.. this isn’t going to work if we do what we are doing now okay? We will just tear each other more and more apart..” you whispered gently, kissing his head. Your arms finally meet his back as you hold him. “I’m sorry.. but I’ve got you now baby. I love you so fucking much..”

Kyoutani

Kyoutani was the type of person most people would never understand. Not because they were “difficult” or anything.. they just never took the time too. Well other than you. You were different. You understood his outburst and such. But at the same time you were human. There was only so much you could take. There was only so much you would take.

When he came into the locker room you were already waiting for him. He had been thrown out of the game for fighting with a few people. You knew he was frustrated. You could hear the crowd from a mile away shouting to kick him off. It was harsh. Even for ‘mad dog’ which he hated to be called. He hated to be tied to an animal.. and always being an angry reck. Anybody would. But of course nobody understood other than you. When he sat on the bench you immediately rushed over.

“Baby.. I’m sorry.. You didn’t deserve that.. just ignore them, please. I know it’s hard but their not important okay..?” You we’re just trying to comfort him. But there were times when Kyoutani couldn’t control himself. Like any other person when they get looked down at every fucking moment of their lives. When they are ridiculed and laughed at all the time. When they are nothing more than an angry person.. Sometimes there is nothing more to do than be the person everyone so desperately makes you out to be.

“Not important? Not important! I just got fucking kicked from the game because of them chanting to kick me. They didn’t even fucking have the decency to call me by my name. So don’t tell me it’s okay and that their opinion on me doesn’t matter. Because quite frankly their opinion is the only one that matters it seems.” He lashed out.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just that.. it wasn’t entirely their fault. You were arguing with the other team members.” You muttered. It wasn’t meant to do any harm, just for him to keep in mind.

“Are you serious right now.? Nobody else got kicked. Nobody. If they can’t handle a little trash talking, maybe they shouldn’t play a sport. I mean seriously there’s no need for them to tell the referees to kick me.” He started raising his voice when he spoke.

“I know it’s just that.. maybe you should try and not trash talk you know?” You whispered softly, retreating a bit.

“What?” He looked annoyed. “God ducking damn it. How can you be so cute but so fucking annoying. I mean seriously how can someone with such a face be so fucking dumb and so annoying?” His hands were balled into fist

“I..I don’t understand, can you tell me why you act so sweet..? Then so cold the next moment..? You don’t mean it right..? Please say you don’t mean it.” You were worried you loved him but god it was hard. It was hard to respond when your friends asked about your relationship. It was hard when they flaunted their perfect relationship and then asked about yours. Its was so fucking hard.

“Do you think I would say it otherwise..?” He looked at you. He laughed at you as he saw your pitiful expression. God it was almost sickening how much he saw that expression. That expression that nobody else had ever shown him. The one of worry but at the same time already knowing it was coming. He loved it. He loved everything about you. But most of the time you pissed him off. This relationship wasn’t healthy. But for god sake you already started counseling. But fuck this was a bad idea.

Silence. Nothing could come out. You wanted to scream. You wanted to forget this. You wanted it to stop. Everything to stop.

“Answer me.” He punched the wall next to you. Fear spreading all over your face. Fuck. Fuck. Not here. Please no. He gripped your warm face making it so cold in seconds. Forcing you to look at him he laughed at your crying face. But when you didn’t stop for a minute he immediately backed away. He fucked up. He knew he fucked up. “Wait I’m sorry baby..” he muttered.

“Please stop. Please. I won’t do it again.” Flashbacks we’re pulling you way too far out. You were drowning. No one was around to save you. He was laughing as you begged to be saved, pushing you deeper into your own pool of your own thoughts. You were so cold. The next second you were able to move back to the surface.

Realization hit as he stepped back. “I..I am sorry..” he muttered softly as he left the room without another word leaving his mouth. Words were banging on his lips but he knew if he spilled them out everything out it would just hurt you ten times more.

You got up five minutes later, finally pulled back to reality and decided to get up. Grabbing your stuff you walked back into the stadium. Waving a small wave to the rest of his team before exiting. Confusion was read all over as they saw your tear stained face. To be honest, all that was running through your mind was that you didn’t want Kyoutani to break up with you. You didn’t want to be alone, again. You didn’t want to be just another one of his ex’s. So for the better of both of you it would be best to leave him be. To let him cool off.. for him to feel better.

He was freaking out. He fucked up. You. You were his everything, not only that but you were more than just that. You were like a fucking rainbow at the end of a rainy day. You were his partner in crime. You made him feel normal, you made him feel safe, and loved. He couldn’t believe he just put that all in danger. He just put everything on the line because of some stupid game. He hit the wall hard, “fuck me. I’m sorry y/n..” he muttered as he sank to the floor and balled up. Tears burning through his eyes. He did the one thing he promised you that he would protect you from. You became the one thing he was always scared of becoming. He loved you so much, he love you so fucking much.

You left and got into your car. Sinking into your seat you locked the doors, and hit the steering wheel. Taking a deep breath salty tears rolled down your already stained face. Placing the key in and turning it the car started. Next thing you knew you had left wherever you could go. You loved him. So fucking much. But it was hard to be okay when he acted so fucking rough with you. It was hard to stay calm and not imagine your past relationship in this one. You tried. You really did but god it was hard to feel okay, feel okay about everything happening around you. It was too much. So fucking much. It made your head hurt.

When the game ended Kyoutani was still freaking out, now moved back into the lockers. He didn’t know what he was expecting but he knew he hoped you would still be there. God damn it. He fucked up. You had left. You were gone. Tears brimming his eyes as he teammates walked in. Now mentioning it to his teammates their faces seemed to change. More salty fucking tears left his eyes, as he heard about what type of pain you looked like you were in.

You headed back to your shared place. Unsure where else to go. You weren’t close with your family anymore. You had no friends. You had no work buddies. You had nobody but Kyoutani and in turn, now you were left alone with the thought of everything being gone. Ripped right out of your hands as you're forced to watch your whole world come crumbling down on you. You placed your stuff down on the side and laid on the bed. It smelled just like safety. Just like Kyoutani. You just wanted to be held. You just wanted everything to be perfect, again. To be okay at least. You needed him more than anything.

After a night out he finally made it back to your shared place. He didn’t want to be back without you, but you weren’t answering and he didn’t know what else to do. When he walked into the apartment he slowly walked into your shared room. There he saw you. Laying in bed cuddled up in the blankets. Slowly and carefully he walked up. Not wanting to cause you any more hurt. He missed you. Even for a few hours he had felt like he hadn’t seen you in years. But maybe that was because he thought that’s what might have happened. Maybe he thought you had left for good. Maybe he thought he would never have the chance to apologize. Never have the chance to hold you again. When he reached the bed he noticed that you were awake. “Hey y/n..” he muttered softly. The silence was killing him. “I’m so sorry. I know I fucked up. I promised to make you feel safe and protected around me. I made a promise to keep you safe and protected. I broke both of those. I fucked up. I know I did. I lashed out again. I did exactly what everyone says I do. I just get so fucking heated for no reason and I know I shouldn’t and I know I should just relax. But I feel like if I do the worlds would burn though my throat and then it would just explode.. and I know it’s stupid and I know I end up hurting you more. I know that there is no good reason to do that. But I just.. I don’t know. You're the only one that makes me feel normal okay..? I know it’s not fair. I know it’s not. You just make me feel like whenever I’m with you that I’m floating. I just want everything to be okay again. I want everything to be back to normal. I know I should give you space but I missed you so much. I don’t want you to leave, please don’t leave..” he was crying again. He barely had any tears left to cry. He wanted to hold you but he knew it was a stupid idea. “I’m sorry for being so selfish.. but please..”

You never really heard him or saw him crack. But fuck. It hurts you so much. To see him beg for you to stay with him. What were you supposed to do..? Leave him now? That was never even the plan. You didn’t have a plan to be honest. You sat up biting your lip before you gently held him. “Hey baby it will be okay.. calm down I’ve got you.. I’m not going anywhere now. I promise you I’m not going anywhere.” You muttered softly. He melted into your touch. He knew he didn’t deserve it but he felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Shush… I’ve got you.. take a deep breath..” you mumbled softly kissing his head as he took deep breaths. Soon enough he was relaxed in your arms again. “You know and I know that I love you so much. But there’s a line between where I can take it and I can’t. I understand you get frustrated but I don’t deserve to be treated like that. I don’t deserve to be scared of being hit.. and I know we both know that. I try to be understanding but you need to try to be too okay..? I love you so much.. more than you might believe but Kyoutani I can’t handle being in a relationship with you if you're constantly annoyed or angry with me. I think we deserve to be happy.. and if that means needing to take a break then we would have to okay? You need to work on communicating. I know it can be hard.. but please..” you whispered. Tears flowing down your soft skin again. It was getting a lot. So it would be best if you told him… you needed him to understand.

He gently shook his head. He understood. He knew he was in the wrong. He knew he was lucky for you to be holding him.. for him to even still be in a relationship with you let alone it be still a romantic one. He loved you and he knew you didn’t deserve anything that he put you through. In the end all that mattered was you in his eyes. He was going to change.. he was. “I promise.. thank you y/n..” he whispered softly. Gently he wrapped his arms around you. “I love you so much..” he muttered. Everything would be okay.. he knew it was going to be now. All that mattered was that you were safe. That you were happy.. that you were in his arms again.

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pars-ley · 3 years

Text

Try again

Pairing: Hoseok x Female reader

Summary: When your job lands you at one of the most famous Fashion shows in Paris, the last thing you expect is to run into an ex - the current most sought after model in the industry.

Genre: Exes to lovers / Smut / Fluff

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Model Hoseok / Dior Hoseok / Unprotected sex (you know the dealio, wrap it when you tap it) / Ever so slight exhibitionism / Nipple play /

Word Count: 2.3k

Beta: @birbdae thank you for looking over it twice because I’m so extra (sorry) and thank you for all your help.

Notes: This is for my secret santa project with @thebtswritersclub for @yutasgalaxy really hope you enjoy! And I also used my square “Jung Hoseok” from my summer bingo card for the @bangtanwritingbingo event.

Taglist: @mwitsmejk @vantxx95

The lights go dim and excitement blossoms like spring in your stomach as your eyes remain trained on the runway. Phone at the ready to take notes for this month's fashion article you are in charge of.

The first model comes out and cameras flash wildly, illuminating the outfit. You scribble away rapidly recounting everything to write up later.

Dior's highly anticipated fashion show, one you had been eagerly counting down the days till. Flying out to Paris was the perfect opportunity for you to mark one destination off your travel list and you have not been disappointed at all. From the architecture to the food, you are undeniably impressed and living one of your ultimate dreams.

It's time for the most awaited outfit yet, everyone was on the edge of their seat poised. You look over at your photographer, he's in position and eager, looking ready to spring.

The lighting and music changes and out walks the model all in black. That's all the detail you notice as your heart stutters and stomach flips as your eyes shift rapidly to his face.

Jung Hoseok. How did you not know he would be here?

The cameras flash even more wildly, every photographer wanting to get the best pic of the most sought after model on this runway. Your hand however hovers over your phone, unable to scribble away like you were previously, too distracted by his general presence.

Swallowing the panic you feel rising into your throat you glance at your photographer, his eyes are already on you, pity creasing his brow but a message in his eyes that says "Focus on your job and get it together."

You take a deep breath and compose yourself, making notes on the outfit and nothing more. As soon as your eyes hit the harness stretched across his broad chest however, your legs squeeze together tightly, as not only do previous nights of passion flicker behind your eyelids but the temptation for one last night with him is almost too great to bear.

As you watch him strut down the runway, face impassive and professional, your heart pulls in a thousand directions. Memories of the few years spent together cloud your mind, taking you to another lifetime when he was yours and you were his - before fame, before everything.

You pinch the bridge of your nose hard, willing yourself to focus as you type wildly away on your phone, trying to stay focused.

The show ends a short while after your blast from the past's appearance and all you can think of is getting as far away from him as fast as you can. Before all your hard work of burying your feelings in an attempt to get over him is ruined by your self restraint.

As you head for the exit, a hand lightly grabs your arm. Turning you see a pretty young woman, a badge around her neck and a kind smile on her face, handing you an envelope.

"It's from Hoseok. He asked if I could make sure you get it." She said next to your ear so you could hear over the chatter of the other attendees.

You nod and mechanically take it. She's off through the crowd before you even get a chance to say thank you.

You head to the exit in a daze, clutching the envelope like it holds the answers to life's questions. As soon as you're out in the cool evening air you take yourself off around the corner of the building away from the scattering crowds. Your fingers fumble as you frantically rip at the envelope and open the piece of paper inside, instantly recognising his elegant hand.

Many love letters he would write to you with poetic words scrawled across the page, each sentence a meaningful lyric coming alive as your eyes danced across them with a barrier of tears waiting to fall. Those words tucked away in a box hidden deep in your wardrobe for those moments you wish to relive how he once felt about you.

You read and re-read the note, double checking the words are correct.

"I saw you as you came in, I always had the ability to find you in a crowded room and apparently that hasn't changed.

I can't believe you're here. Please. Please, meet me at Guy Savoy at 7 o'clock tonight. I would love to see you and speak to you properly. I will book a table under my name. I really hope you show, you have no idea how much I've missed you."

That last line did things to your insides you weren't expecting. Your chest felt full and ready to burst open, love bleeding out of a fresh cut. Maybe you should just go back to your hotel and order room service, or go out for dinner with your photographer seeing as you were both here alone.

But you knew, even as you thought it, you knew you couldn't. You knew you had no intention of doing either.

Folding up the note and shoving it in your pocket and went in search of your colleague to tell him you wouldn't be travelling back to the hotel with him. He wished you luck, even if there was a hint of apprehension in his tone, you ignored it and took a cab to the restaurant.

Sitting there waiting, your nerves were at their peak. You had chewed the skin along your fingernails until they were sore and you had now resorted to folding your napkin to make different origami shapes. Just as you didn't think your heart could take anymore, you picked up your bag but as you were about to stand and run away, you saw him. Walking towards you, shades on and the most familiar beaming grin that had always made your stomach flip. You couldn't help the pull of your lips, mirroring the same smile he wore.

He breezed up to you and wrapped you in his muscular arms, like a whirlwind his scent intoxicated you and jumbled your mind even further.

"You are a serious sight for sore eyes." he whispers in your ear before pulling away and pushing in your chair as you sit down in a daze.

"You're around gorgeous models all day, I doubt that." you reply, attempting to hide your blush.

He removes his shades and places them on the table, before pushing his fingers roughly through his hair. "Believe me, it’s not as glamorous as people think.”

There’s an awkward silence that falls on your table, with sly, shy glances from you both.

“How’s it been? Your career I mean.” you blurt out, desperately trying to ease some tension.

He leans back in his chair and shrugs. “I can’t complain, at all. It’s going better than I could have dreamed.”

You nod, taking in how nonchalant he’s being. “I have to admit, I’ve been keeping track.”

“Of me?” he asks, shocked.

“Your career.”

“Really? I’m flattered.” his lips stretch into a toothy grin as a faint scarlet hue spreads across his cheeks.

“You should be very proud of yourself. You’ve accomplished so much, there’s no limit on how far you can go.” you find yourself saying all of this without meaning to.

He covers his face with his hands. “Ok, I appreciate this, really, coming from you this means so much, but I am more interested to hear about you.” he leans forward and places a hand on top of yours, the action causing your heart to soar. “What’s been happening with you? Are you still in the apartment?”

You nod as you take a sip of the champagne the waiter is pouring. “Yep, can’t bear to leave it, I love it there so much, a lot of memories too.” you add sneakily trying to gage his reaction.

His eyes soften. “Yes, we made a lot there.” his fingers entwine in yours, a movement far too comfortable for how long it’s been. "I miss it," he looks into your eyes so fiercely you're slightly taken aback. "I miss us."

Your heart inflates excitedly in your chest as butterflies swarm inside your stomach. But is this a good idea to rekindle an old flame, maybe there was a reason it was extinguished in the first place.

He senses your hesitation. "Are you with anyone?"

You shake your head. "No, I've dated but nothing serious. What about you?"

He laughs a bitter sound. "Same. I've not found anyone that could match up to you."

You hesitate again. "Hoseok…"

"Listen," he puts a hand up quietening you. "I know it was mostly me who instigated us breaking up in the first place but that is my biggest regret. I never should have let you go." he bites back the emotion in his words and swallows.

"But if you hadn't you wouldn't be where you are today." you add, squeezing his hand still clutching yours.

He makes a disgusted noise at the back of his throat. "I left my dream girl to follow my dreams and let me tell you, it wasn't worth it. If someone asked me to choose, it would be you. every. single. time."

He grabs your chair and slides it along closer to him. He reaches out to cup your face. "Please, let me come back."

His plea does not fall on deaf ears. Your heart knows the decision it's made but you can't form the words to speak. Your libido overtakes the moment and you grab him by the collar of his shirt and crush your lips against his. The taste of him is so familiar and yet new at the same time. Sweet like butter as your mouths melt together as one. His arm around your waist almost pulling you off your chair makes you break away and giggle. The heat in his eyes is almost overwhelming, all your thoughts are no longer in your head but in your groin. He looks so good staring at you like that, like you are the reason for living, how could you not give into him?

"Come back to my hotel?" you whisper urgently.

He nods, throws some cash down for your ordered drinks, takes your hand and pulls you out through the restaurant. You jog along to keep up with his long legged stride. He flags down a cab and you're into it and moving off swiftly while his hands find you again. They roam your body, finding their way under your shirt and to your nipples. He rolls them gently between his fingers as his lips attach themselves to your neck.

His hand glides slowly along your thigh, up your skirt and just when he's about to reach the most desired area the cab stops abruptly, letting you know you've arrived. You groan with frustration but jump out, pulling him into your hotel and leading him up to the room. Your heart pounding so loud in your ears you can't think of anything, nothing but the taste of his lips or the feel of his skin under your fingertips and god, did you want to feel more.

As soon as your door is unlocked you're on each other. Clothes can't come off fast enough and as they leave a messy path like a trail of breadcrumbs leading towards the bed.

"God, I have missed you." he says as he glances down at your body before pulling you flush against him.

There's no time for sly touches or exploring, you're both too desperate to feel each other.

Your bare, naked flesh moulds easily together as he enters you, both of your moans echo out across the room. The feeling euphoric as it's what you know and yet what you are no longer used to. He moves inside you with a persistent, desperate rhythm as his hips wind in the most perfect way, hitting that sensitive spot every time and making your toes curl in consequence.

He looks down at you, a soft, determined gaze and says breathlessly, "I love you."

His words are your undoing, as you remember the sweet nothings he used to whisper to you while you were making love before. You unravel around him, blinded by pleasure as your back arches underneath him. He's quick to follow you as you feel his warm seed spilling inside you and you watch his face twist in pleasure, his eyes never leaving yours. The moment, so intense, almost too intense you had to look away.

Both of you breathless and riding on your high, lay back on the bed staring up at the ceiling. A thousand thoughts race through your mind as you panic that you've just made a huge mistake. What if his words weren't genuine? What if he leaves...again? What will you do then? You'll have to start over, all your hard work of pushing him aside.

Almost as if he can sense your rising doubt, his fingers entwine with yours, as he turns onto his side to face you, gently twirling a strand of your hair between his digits.

He watches you closely as if searching your thoughts, your eyes so open and vulnerable - letting him right in, wanting him to silence your fears.

He strokes your face and kisses you so softly your lips melt right into him. You want this. You want him.

"Hey, I'm serious," he leans back, eyes burning into yours. "I want to come home to you. I want our life back, I want you, always."

Your panicking heart is soothed by his words and you relax and lean into his touch, your limbs softening against him.

"Please, can I have another chance?" he asks, so vulnerable and sincere any doubts are washed away in an instant.

"Let's give it a try." you reply.

He almost blinds you with his sunshine smile as he pulls you against him, his lips dancing happily with yours. And you lose yourself in him completely. You are his, utterly and completely.

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thewayshedreamed · 3 years

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Congrats on the 800 followers bby you deserve it! I have a good one for you. I slipped and fell in the shower and the only person who can help me is my enemy for nessian 👀👀👀

Well, Sim, it was you who BLEW my word count. I should have seen it coming, I guess 👀

Although, I will say you didn't do it alone. I also combined @maastrash 's prompt "Are you hurt? What happened?" and one from anon, "You're cute when you're all worried."

They all went together so well that I couldn't resist. And as a result, you got this 3k+ beast. RIP 800-word limit.

Anyway, I hope you like it, my love! Enjoy!

Nesta wasn't sure why she had agreed to go to the beach with Feyre, Rhysand, and his brothers. Gwyn had come through in her time of need and agreed to join them, but she'd quickly flipped her allegiances to spend more time on the beach with the others instead of retreating back to the house with Nesta. She had a suspicion it had something to do with a certain tall, dark, and broody man who hoarded his smiles from the public eye.

Unless the public eye belonged to Gwyneth Berdara.

After the long trek to their rented beach house, Nesta stopped at the edge of the dock to knock the sand from her shoes. There was a small shower outside the backdoor to rinse the saltwater and stubborn sand from her body, and Nesta hissed against the stark cold that rained down on her legs. A proper shower was the only thing that was going to combat the chill in her blood, and that realization was enough to solidify her decision to stay inside the rest of the afternoon with a romance novel.

Her towel was full of sand, so she hanged it over the porch railing and headed directly to the bathroom. It was best if she peeled her bikini off in the shower to avoid scattering any lingering sand all over her bedroom, so she moved swiftly into the small bathroom and cranked the water nearly to the warmest setting. The firm grip of her arms around her body did very little to combat the goosebumps on her skin, and she let out a near moan at the feel of the hot water.

She closed the shower door behind her and stood beneath the spray properly to rinse her hair. Her bikini made a loud slopping sound against the tile in the corner. Dealing with it was a task for someone with any motivation beyond warmth and cleanliness.

Nesta lathered her hair and combed a generous amount of conditioner through her strands to help with the detangling process. The wind had created a monster, adding another notch against the beach in her book.

While her conditioner did the Cauldron's work, she grabbed a wash cloth and body wash. As she moved back beneath the spray, her foot slipped over the suds near the drain, but Nesta righted herself with a firm hand against the tile wall. The excessive amount of conditioner wasn't helping matters.

She rinsed her hair and body all at once to get to her lounge clothes as soon as possible. Stepping out of the spray to hang her washcloth on the nearby rack to dry was near torture now that she was properly warmed, and Nesta wasted no time in stepping back into the water for one last hit before shutting it off.

That was her intention, anyway. What happened instead is that her traitorous feet were no match for the slick tile, and the backward steps were all it took to send her careening to the floor. She slapped at the wall to no avail, finding no ally in reach. What she did find was insult to injury when various toiletry bottles rained down on top of her.

She had stupidly tried to brace her fall with her other hand, sending a spark of pain from her palm to her shoulder. Her groan echoed off the walls and the shower showed no mercy as the water rained onto her chest, all over her face.

A booming voice made her eyes snap open, only to snap them shut against the sting of the water.

"Nes?"

Her delay had been too long. The bathroom door burst open, and through the frosted glass, she saw Cassian's imposing form assessing the situation.

"Nesta? Are you hurt? What happened?"

This could not be happening. Of all the fuckers to be in the house at one of her lowest points, it had to be Cassian. Gwyn would be hearing about this.

"Go away."

She cringed against how dejected she sounded. Turning her head and shielding her eyes with her uninjured arm, she found that he did no such thing.

"Cassian," she warned. "Get the fuck out of here. Now."

He propped a hip on the bathroom counter. Arrogant bastard. At least, from what she could tell, his chin was turned up toward the ceiling rather than his gaze being fixed on the frosted glass.

"Something tells me things aren't going well if you've yet to peel yourself off the floor."

Nesta rolled her eyes and turned her face toward the water once more. Maybe she could drown.

"Let me help."

"I thought I was pretty clear. I'm not accepting help from you."

A deep sigh sounded in the bathroom, but before she could snap, his rough voice followed.

"Fine. Don't accept my help. Rhys came with me to grab snacks for the others. I'll have him switch with me."

"No," she roared, cringing against the command in her voice and her lack of options.

Every time she tried to sit up, pain tore through various parts of her body. Her ass, the hip that had taken most of the impact, her shoulder. She needed help, and while she hated the idea of accepting it from Cassian, she would rot in hell before Rhysand helped her out of the shower. How had she found herself in a situation where her only chance at help was the man who spent the majority of his life being as big of a pain in her ass as possible?

His voice sounded again, but it carried away from her. "Rhys, head back without me." His brother's voice came next, but Nesta couldn't hear him over the patter of water in the shower. "Nah, I'm good. Just taking a break from the sun. I'll catch up."

With that, he shut the bathroom door behind him. At least Cassian had the good sense to lie to Rhys rather than recruit any additional attention to her compromising position.

"Alright, Sweetheart. I've got a towel ready. I'm going to open up and shut the water off."

Nesta's breath hitched at the rush of cool air, at the form that cast her in shadow almost entirely. She pulled her legs up and shielded her chest with her good arm, earning a throaty chuckle from her savior.

"I'm not looking. I'd rather when a woman wants me to see them naked."

Why her need to launch jabs at him overpowered her pain was lost on her. "Must have been a while, then."

"Saw a good set out on the beach, actually. She was feeling pretty generous after watching me and Az play volleyball, I guess."

Nesta scowled. That tingling sensation down her spine didn't feel secondary to her injuries at hearing the story.

"You're a pig," she grumbled, but she let Cassian drape the towel over her front and ease her into a sitting position.

"It felt rude not to look."

Her huff of a laugh was genuine. Damn him. He moved to wrap the towel tightly around her shoulders.

"Think you can stand up?"

Nesta grimaced against the soreness in her hip. "Yeah. In a couple of minutes."

Without a word, Cassian hoisted her into his arms with measured gentleness. Her cheek rested against his shoulder since she didn't have her arms free to prop her up, but she barely had the energy anyway.

He maneuvered them out of the tight bathroom and down the hall to her room, easing her onto the edge of her bed. She opened her mouth to say thanks, but he had already spurred into action.

"What did you want to wear?"

"I'll get it."

He shot her a glare. "Fine. I'll pick."

Nesta growled her frustration, but Cassian only ticked his eyebrows upward in challenge. She hadn't realized initially that he wore only his swim trunks, half of his black hair pulled back and out of his face. The sun added color to his already bronze skin and left a soft blush on his cheeks that accented his hazel eyes. And she, to the contrary, was a lump beneath a massive towel. One that had managed to injure herself during a simple shower, evidenced by the soaked strands of hair plastered to her face and shoulders.

"There's a large night shirt in my suitcase and some sleep shorts."

Cassian grabbed them before turning toward her, a hand gripping the back of his neck. "Anything... underneath?"

Nesta allowed a sardonic laugh. "Underwear are for people with the use of both their arms."

He cleared his throat and left the clothes next to her on the bed. With a final instruction to call for him if she needed anything, he was gone.

She assessed the clothing and picked the shirt up first. One of her arms was through a sleeve in no time, but the second one was another story entirely. With a defeated whimper she gave up, dropping her arms into her lap with a hiss.

"Cassian!"

No response. Maybe he didn't hear her; the house was rather large. Her voice was louder the second time.

"Cassian!"

A muffled thud sounded, followed by a quick, "Coming!"

He appeared at the threshold of her door, dripping with water and suds. A large towel was wrapped around his waist, his grip white-knuckled to keep it in place.

"Everything alright? Where's the fire?"

Nesta blinked at him. "You said to call you if I needed anything," she pointed out, running her eyes over his state in accusation.

Cassian let out a long, suffering sigh. "I meant it, but you said you had this part covered. I take a 3-minute shower, tops."

"Well, I don't have it covered."

There was more bite to her voice than she'd intended, but self-pity and shame were settling into her bones. She hugged the nightshirt tighter against her body to serve as some form of armor, but it wasn't nearly enough.

Cassian's shoulders sagged, but she barely noticed in favor of watching beads of water travel down his torso, over his strong calves, and make a small puddle on the floor below. "I'm sorry. I was full of sweat and sand. I thought you'd be more likely to take help if I was clean."

Something in her chest softened at his forethought, even more so since he was right.

"Go finish your shower," she relented, settling her hips deeper into the mattress. "I can wait until you're done. I just— I need some help with my clothes."

He was on the balls of his feet, ready to haul himself straight to the shower. The water beneath his feet made her breath hitch. The words left her before she could think better of them.

"Careful! Don't rush." He blinked as if seeing her for the first time, but his usual cocky grin eventually stretched across lips. "I can't help you if you fall, too. And I'm not keeping you company on the ground until the rest of them come back."

Cassian's smile grew. He offered her a wink before he replied, "You're cute when you're all worried."

Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Go."

He hurried off on balanced feet, whether that was on Nesta's orders or a natural grace, she wasn't sure. While she waited, she opted to set them up as best as possible to make the process quick and painless. Well, minimally painful, considering there was a layer of awkwardness that was going nowhere fast. That was without counting the actual physical pain she would no doubt endure.

With a pathetic swatting motion, she knocked her sleep shorts to the floor and began shuffling them around with her feet. She'd managed to slip one into the proper leg hole before she heard Cassian's rich laugh from the doorway.

"Stubborn woman," he mused, seemingly allowing a sliver of affection to slip through. Nesta knew better.

She scowled, turning her chin up to make sure he knew how unwelcome his teasing was. He laughed harder and dropped to his knees in front of her, adjusting the tee he’d pulled over his head on his way into the room.

"What do you want to put on first? You're half-committed to both."

"Let's go with the shirt. It's long enough to cover me while we work on the shorts." Cassian nodded, reaching toward the crumpled article of clothing in her lap. Nesta jerked back to establish some expectations before moving forward. "You're about to see me naked."

"Yeah, probably," he sighed, as if it was a burden to him, too. "I won't look more than necessary though."

"Okay, good. And this doesn't change anything, so don't start acting weird around me. We take this to the grave, too. We'll never hear the end of it otherwise."

Cassian bit the inside of his cheek, pursing his lips in a failed attempt to hide his amusement. "You have my word."

He gently peeled the shirt from her grasp, sliding each sleeve beyond the crooks of her elbows before pulling the opening over her head. Nesta hissed at the pinch of pain through her shoulder but bit her tongue.

"I know. I'm sorry." He pulled the fabric down her sides and over her back. The backs of his knuckles dragged across her soft skin, and she barely contained her shiver.

Clearing his throat, he looked to the floor where her shorts were still tangled around her feet. He got to work on straightening them and allowed her to slip her other foot into the proper place. He didn't dare look up at her through his next request.

"Think you could put your weight on the leg that's not as sore?"

Nesta swallowed and said, “Yeah, I think so.”

“Use my shoulders to brace your weight, too.”

Her hands trembled as she reached for him. He was solid beneath her, the muscles in his shoulders unyielding under her grip. She had to resist flexing her fingers more firmly in a test of their resilience.

Cassian eased her shorts upward, the roughness of his knuckles tracing the same blazing path as they had over her back. His gaze was fixed resolutely on the floor, yet he managed to release them at the proper moment. The soft pop of the elastic snapped her out of whatever trance she was under, but the echo remained in the feel of his warm hands easing her hips back down to the mattress.

"Maybe we should have someone take a look at you; make sure you're okay." His brows came together when he realized she was already shaking her head in refusal.

"I'll rest a bit, and I'll be fine. I may be sore tomorrow, but I'm good."

Without a word, Cassian braced one of his legs outward and scooped Nesta into his arms. It grated her nerves how easily he'd lifted them both into a standing position.

"What are you doing? You can't make me go to the doctor."

Cassian leaned back and shook his head, trying to get his rogue hair out of his face. "I'm not manhandling you to the doctor, Nes. Settle down." His bottom lip jutted out to try and blow the strands away while he walked. "I'm taking you to the couch and getting you ice."

Oh. Well, that hadn't been what she expected. The gesture was enough to have her mindlessly raise a hand to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. His eyes snapped to hers, his steps slowing to a stop in front of the couch. Their faces were close enough that she could run her nose along his if she wanted to, but she definitely didn't. Not even at the feel of his firm chest heaving against her.

They stayed that way, transfixed by the contact that was somehow more intimate than when he had draped clothes over her naked body. Their breathing settled into a rhythm together, and Nesta couldn't resist tracing the path of his sharp jaw. His slight stubble scraped against the pads of her fingers, all the way to his chin, where she grazed over his skin with her thumb. She snatched her hand away like he'd burned her.

Cassian's throat bobbed, and his fingers flexed against her ribs. His other hand did the same against her thigh, except his thumb traced a soft, idle path back and forth along the sensitive skin at the back. He made no moves to put her down.

Nesta knew she would regret the loss of his warmth immediately, but the line they flirted was thin. Not to mention, it was irresponsible to succumb to such a base urge considering, any other time, they would be poised to rip each others' heads off.

The shrieks of children at the neighboring beach house snapped their attention to something beyond the bubble they'd created for themselves. Cassian eased her to the couch and positioned pillows around her to keep as much pressure off of her aching joints as possible. He threw a blanket over her legs before heading to the nearby kitchen for ice.

Nesta watched his retreat with shameless appreciation. How had she never stopped to look at him through her current lens? Doing so may have been enough to make her more agreeable in nature. The thought made worry sink in her gut with what had transpired moments before, and she craved the oddly familiar banter they'd engaged in since he showed up to the scene of her demise.

"So," she called, eyes fixed on the intricately patterned throw pillow beneath her injured arm, "how much did you see?"

His voice was closer than she'd expected, but she managed not to startle. "Uh— I mean. I saw some things."

Nesta fixed her glare on him, and he gave her a sideways smile while he placed the ice strategically over her shoulder. She hissed against the cold, earning a look of apology.

"What things?"

He let out along breath. "A bit of everything, really. Not on purpose. " A slight blush turned the tips of his ears pink, but Nesta didn't comment on it. "Mostly, you know—" He gestured back and forth between his pecs. "—everything else was more... indirect, I guess."

Nesta groaned, allowing her forehead to fall to her good hand, cradling it in her palm. Cassian moved to the nearby armchair and took a sip of his bottled water.

"Don't be embarrassed, Sweetheart," he soothed, albeit mockingly. "They're not the worst ones I've seen today."

—

They had watched a movie in loaded silence until the others trudged up to the house near sunset. Nesta gave the cliff notes of how she'd wound up injured on the couch, making no mention of Cassian's help. The last thing they needed was an onslaught of questions from their nosy friends.

"I thought you were coming back out there. What happened to you?"

Cassian's brows drew together at Rhys' question. "Well, I saw Nesta laid up on the couch and offered to watch a movie with her. I lost track of time."

Rhysand eyed him skeptically, but no one questioned it. Cassian redirected everyone's attention to the matter of what they would cook as a group that night, but he was sure to give Nesta strict orders to stay planted on the couch. Overbearing prick.

With so many hands on deck, dinner was ready quickly. They all settled around the table, and Gwyn had made it a point to cushion Nesta's chair with pillows before letting her sit down. Her best friend must have sensed the verbal lashing that awaited her in the privacy of their shared room that night.

Laughter filled the space while they told stories from the day's events. Apparently, Azriel had rescued Gwyn from a feared creature of the deep while taking a dip in the water. He had hardly been able to stop laughing himself to tears long enough to complete the epic tale of how he defeated the bundle of seaweed that had threatened Gwyn's life so mercilessly. The latter hadn't found it quite so amusing, but Az offered her a broad smile in apology.

Nesta wasn't sure she had ever seen one quite so wide on his face, and holy gods. If she'd thought him to be beautiful before, she had been sorely mistaken.

As they usually did, Rhysand and Feyre settled close to each other as the other talked. Rhys was busy murmuring things into Feyre's ear that made her cheeks as red as Gwyn's sunburn, which earned a proper warning from Cassian to "stop being gross with his little sister". Nesta agreed with him enough to refrain from reminding him that he was in no way related to Feyre.

"Don't mind him, Darling," Rhys purred. "He's pouting because the only action he'll see during this trip will be self-directed."

Cassian nostrils flared in annoyance, and for whatever reason, Nesta found herself rising to his defense.

"I don't know," she sang, "I hear Cassian saw a pretty good set today."

A chorus of questions broke out, but he only had eyes for Nesta. The gleam in his eyes told her he knew she hadn't been referring to the ones flashed to him and Azriel after the beach volleyball game.

"I did," he agreed, sipping some of the amber liquid in his glass. "Perfect, actually."

The questions continued, and Azriel reluctantly began recounting the tale of he and Cassian's victory flashing. Nesta used her good arm to raise her wine to her lips, mouthing a subtle thank you over the glass for everything he'd done for her. The least she could do was preserve a bit of his dignity.

Cassian lifted his class in mock cheers and said everything he needed to with a single wink.

The pleasure was all mine.

#nessian #nessian au #acotar au #cassian x nesta #nessian hurt comfort #nessian tension #enemies prompt #800 followers celebration #twsd writes #twsd fics #perseusannabeth #sim tag

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