#happier by a fine frenzy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thegridgoddess · 10 months

Text

Prove It | Charles Leclerc Pt. 8

Pairings: Charles Leclerc x fem!wolff!driver oc

Summary: Charles has a new teammate, but just because she's pretty doesn't mean he's gonna make things easy for her.

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, angsty Charles, slow burn till it hits you in the face. Piningggg. George Russell best friend and ultimate mom energy, Lando Norris sibling energy, Pierre Gasly is the worst in this ngl, and Toto Wolff sucks here (not a good dad!). Also did I mention the angst? Remember that this is all purely fictional.

A/N: I have been waiting to write this chapter foreverrrr and I think it's my favorite one yet... Also, ended up throwing another pairing in there, but let me know what you guys think🤭

Word Count: 5.4k

_____________________________________________________________

He won.

Riley could have kissed him. The way he lit up, beaming, pumping a victorious fist in the air as he exited the car. The way it seemed, even time bent to his will, slowing to stop as she took him in. The champagne droplets fell around him like fresh summer rain, soaking his hair even more than the sweat of 78 laps in Monaco–his home race. The sight was too much for her. Charles finally did it. He won his home race, fulfilling a long-awaited dream of his, and Riley was placated with the fact she could be near him as a teammate, if nothing more.

Lando got lucky today, stealing her third-place spot only because the stewards got nitpicky, handing out five-second penalties like they were Oprah tossing out car keys. Still, she couldn’t be happier for Charles. She just wished she could show it better.

They still hadn’t talked things out after what went down in Miami, but all things considered, Riley wouldn’t even know what to say. Hey, about that drunk kiss… yes, I’m dating your best friend, but also, I know you’re in love with me? It didn’t sound like the start of a very promising conversation to her either.

Despite all that awkward tension in the air, he still hugged her as soon as he hopped out of the car. He didn’t hesitate to envelop her in a hug–albeit a sweaty and rushed one, yes, but a hug nonetheless. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her in deeply before he was instantly pulled in a hundred different directions by other Ferrari crew members. Needless to say, he didn’t hug any of them. He threw her a sheepish smile as he got dragged away in the frenzy.

It’s just the excitement, she told herself, nothing more. It was pointless to think about it anyway. She was with Pierre and blah blah blah, a million reasons why she shouldn’t be with Charles, why she shouldn’t act on the information she heard. Yes, it was his friend she was with, for starters, but also the fact that Charles hadn’t been the one to divulge his feelings to her. Until she hears the words coming from his mouth, they might as well not have been real at all. Love, what was he thinking? It was ridiculous to even conceive the notion, so if Charles was really in love with her, he would have to prove it.

She was lost in thought until a hand wound up on her shoulder, bringing her back into the moment. She assumed it might have been her boyfriend, but she turned around instead to find her best friend standing before her.

“That must have been rough,” he said, an apologetic smile on his lips.

“What? I’m fine,” she dismissed, but it was useless. George could see right through her on the best of days. This was no different.

“Sure you are,” he indulged her.

“I should probably talk to him about it at some point, I’m aware, but not now,” she sighed, her eyes following Charles on his victory tour around the paddock. “He deserves this moment without my melodrama to ruin it.” She nodded to herself, reassured she was doing the right thing by speaking her thoughts out loud.

“I could have been talking about your race, you know? You made this about Charles. I’m just saying.” He brought his hands up in a no-offense kind of way. “Either way, are you still coming to celebrate with us tonight?”

Riley let loose another sigh. “I can’t. I’m supposed to meet Pierre tonight.”

George rolled his eyes, ever against the Frenchman. “You can’t just ditch him this one time? Lando doesn’t just get a podium every day.”

“No, I can’t just ditch him this one time. I’ve already been blowing him off to be with you two since we landed here because you guys can’t mind your own business.” Then to add the icing on the cake, “You remember when you and Lando dabbled in breaking and entering?”

“Hey, it’s not ‘breaking’ if you gave me a spare key,” Lando says, materializing. “Just entering,” he says more thoughtfully as if this distinction matters.

“Yeah, in case of emergencies because you’re the only person I know in this stupid country,” Riley said tight-lipped, arms crossed.

“Oh well, that’s just completely false,” another voice chimed in behind Riley. His voice was silky smooth despite the amount of cheering and shouting he must have done. That adorable accent would always give him away. “You know me,” Charles said cheerfully. “And my country is not stupid,” he added.

It helped that everyone laughed. It meant that Riley didn’t actually have to come up with a serious response to that comment. At least not here. Not right now, in front of her closest friends and just about most of the online world–not that she wouldn’t put it past Lando to curate the rumors regardless of who was around.

She searched for a way out of the conversational group. She didn’t want to stand next to Charles and pretend they were fine when things were not in any way fine between them. She spotted salvation in the form of Pierre Gasly, her boyfriend. Perfect.

“Gotta go. Need to talk to Pierre about something,” she said while already speeding away. She turned over her shoulder and added a wink for good measure. Totally normal behavior from someone who was totally fine.

Pierre must have been deep in thought because he didn’t notice her coming until she stopped right in front of him. His surprise softened into a smile with her presence, and he greeted her with a deep kiss.

“They seem to be doing well,” Charles smiled wistfully. It was apparent that George and Lando didn’t share the same mindset as they were staring daggers at Pierre’s back. Charles was glad that Riley had people that really cared about her. He could live without Riley considering him one of them as long as she was happy. “But you both can let her know that she doesn’t need to worry about anything. I’ve thought about it, and I decided we should just let things go and go back to the way things used to be. We don’t even have to talk at all if that would make her more comfortable. I’d tell her myself, but I feel like she’ll just run away again.”

“What?!” Lando and George exclaim at the same time.

“You can’t do that!” Lando cried out. “What if she’s in l–”

George slapped a hand over Lando’s mouth before he could do any damage. Lando tried mumbling against George’s hand, but George had learned his lesson with Lando the last time he allowed him freedom of speech.

“What Lando means to say is, you can’t do that!” George realized his outburst and blanched at his unexpected response, feeling faintly embarrassed to have lashed out at Charles in the same way as Lando. Was he feeling alright? To Charles’ credit, he didn’t even react to George, that placated look still lingering on his face. George cleared his throat, trying to regain some dignity. “I mean, have you tried telling her how you feel? Because I think you should really try talking to her.”

“There’s no point. If she’s happy with Pierre, then I’m not going to stand in the way of that. Pierre told me they’re taking things seriously, so I won’t mess with that. And there’s nothing more to say about it besides that.” At that point, George felt a slimy wetness against his hand and dropped it instantly, forgetting why it was necessary to be held there in the first place. He made a sound of disgust and wiped his hand on his racing suit.

“But what about your feelings?” Lando asked fervently.

“It’s Riley’s feelings that matter, not mine,” Charles answered calmly.

“But how do you know she doesn’t feel the same if you don’t talk to her?” George continued, not caring that he was stooping to Lando’s level of meddling.

“If she felt the same way, she wouldn’t be with Pierre.” Charles sighed ruefully as if he fully resigned himself to the situation and the reality he was forced to come to. There was no other way.

Lando and George started a series of half sentences they couldn’t continue out of respect for Riley, but there was more each of them wanted to say about the matter. The fact of it was that it just wasn’t their place, and it couldn’t be helped.

“Ugh! Fine,” George finally said, dragging Lando away by the arm. “I still don’t understand why I chose to surround myself with children,” he muttered to himself.

“Because you care about us, for one,” Lando answered as if it was a question George was actually proposing.

“Don’t start with me,” he said. The look he gave Lando was enough to shut him up as they left Charles behind to more crowds of celebration. “If they’re gonna figure this thing out, it’s gonna happen regardless of what we think is best. You got that, Lando?”

George didn’t actually wait for a response to that. He knew the other boy well enough. But much to his surprise, Lando groaned in agreement.

Charles and Riley were just gonna have to work this thing out for themselves, if at all. No outside help, however well-meaning. The only question about it now was as to how Lando and George would fill the time.

_____________________________________________________________

Charles was on a high like never before. He was downright cheery despite his resolve to let Riley go. This win was special, and nothing could change that. If anything, the fact that he won today only strengthened his resolve. He was certainly on the right track, and this was a sign.

Not much else could bring him down, except possibly for Toto Wolff obstructing his path.

“Charles, I would like to speak with you,” he said without hesitation. The permanent smile on Charles’ face faltered as he thought about how this was Riley’s father, the man who abandoned and ignored her for years. He did not want to speak with the man any more than she did.

Toto caught his face falling and dropped his similarly. All pretenses of politeness fell away just the same. “Look, I don’t know what she’s told you, but it doesn’t matter–not in the face of your future,” he said with a finger pointed in the air.

“My future?” Charles repeated bewilderedly. Anyone could see them having this conversation here. The paddock wasn’t the most private place to be having this conversation. Toto had to be really assured of himself to be lacking all subtlety.

“Yes, the future you could have here at Mercedes if you keep this up. Nothing is final, of course, you know how these deals work. But I can say that Lewis will have to retire eventually, and it would be a shame not to have that seat filled by someone of your talent.”

Charles scoffed, taking Toto aback. “Talent? You wouldn’t know talent if it hit you over the head. And I know this because it did.” Charles shook his head in disbelief. “Riley is a talented driver. And an even better person at that, but you wouldn’t know about that, would you? You don’t have a shred of the kindness, humor, and ingenuity that she has, so why would I waste my time with you?” Charles didn’t wait for a response as he walked past Toto, checking him.

Somehow, that cheery attitude found him once again, and a smile returned to its rightful place on his face. He was looking forward to the rest of the day. Despite his win, he didn’t really want to do anything in celebration. He wouldn’t be going out anywhere with anyone–not that it had ever been his thing. Finally, he has some time to focus on himself and maybe begin to let go of his feelings for Riley. Because what was the point in celebrating if he couldn’t even do it with the person he wanted to the most?

It was just a little past 11 PM when he saw the headlines, and he jumped in his car well before his phone even had the chance to ring. So much for staying in tonight.

_____________________________________________________________

For once, Riley did not feel like going out. There was a first time for everything, but she didn’t think there would ever be a first time for this. Maybe it was because she didn’t actually win today and had no reason to be celebrating, or maybe it was because these stupid heels were already killing her. It felt like her foot was going to be stuck in that permanent arch if she didn’t take them off soon enough. And she was certain that if the black satin material of her dress kept riding up, she was going to kill someone.

The building itself was gorgeous, of course. Everyone knew that the Casino de Monte-Carlo was a sight to see, with its marble architecture and columns along every wall. The number of chandeliers lighting each room made Riley wonder how much the casino spent on electricity alone. Then again, the cost of the paintings probably wouldn’t pale in the face of that insane number. The space was filled with the gentle cacophony of games happening all around.

Riley wasn’t sure what she was meant to do here, but Pierre wanted to come so she would indulge him. They had actually been having a rather good time together as of late. Before today’s race, they had stupid conversations that made Riley laugh while Pierre rolled his eyes and just hung out like normal people would. It was simple between them, and that was nice—no headaches required.

She texted him of her arrival and waited for him to come find her.

People were mingling all around her, looking effortlessly classy in a way that made Riley feel out of place, even in her nicest black satin dress. Though she knew her friends weren’t there, she kept scanning the room, holding out hope for a friendly face.

She almost wished she already had a drink in her hands so that she would at least have something to do with them. She hated having to stand around awkwardly, fidgeting with her hands. Finally, she pulled out her phone to text George and Lando, but her messages sat there on delivered. This meant they were probably getting absolutely plastered somewhere. It almost concerned her since she didn’t know anyone else who could be with them to look after them, and George certainly wasn’t the reckless type to be partying without someone declared to stay sober. She hoped wherever they were, they were being safe but still having a good time–not like she was while waiting for her boyfriend to turn up.

She stared at the small screen, willing something to happen, anything at all. It had been almost ten minutes, and nothing. Originally, she and Pierre were supposed to arrive together, as they agreed earlier in the day, but he had changed his mind after the race, saying he’d rather wait for Riley at the casino. He didn’t give a reason for his change of mind, but Riley didn’t really mind. This way, she could get ready in peace without him hounding her to get going. And even still, the night was still young.

She almost started taking a turn around the room to find Pierre when a grating voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Well, if it isn’t Riley Wolff,” Lance Stroll drawled out, walking up to her with Esteban Ocon following closely behind. “Wouldn’t expect to see you here.”

She had avoided Stroll for so long in the hopes of distancing herself from any nepo-baby allegations, but it seemed it couldn’t be helped at this moment. He hadn’t taken kindly to being blown off regularly, and she always paid for it on the road with him. Despite this, she was glad to see people she recognized, albeit if they weren’t the friendliest. It’s not that she had anything against Ocon, but they hadn’t spoken much, and as far as she knew, Ocon had some rivalry going with her boyfriend. Needless to say, the universe couldn’t have picked worse people to walk up to her.

“Stroll,” she said in acknowledgment with a nod. “Ocon,” she turned to him as well. Ocon had the decency to nod back respectably so, but Stroll remained impassive with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. There was no point in picking anything with them, so she just let it go, moving to walk away.

“We were just talking to Pierre by the bar over there if you’re looking for him,” Stroll said innocently. It was unsettling, but Riley wouldn’t give him the time of day. She just had to find her boyfriend, and then everything would be fine.

“Thanks…” she said warily and stepped away from them toward the bar. She threw a look back over her shoulder only to see the boys were still watching her with something akin to fascination. She quickened her step.

It didn’t take her long to spot Pierre–only, he had a hand on another girl’s upper arm, and she held a blush on her cheeks and wonder in her eyes. He was unsteady on his feet, eyes half-lidded, clearly drunk. He reached up to the girl’s loose blonde ponytail and began playing with it nonchalantly.

“...love to see them sometime,” she heard Pierre say as she neared. The girl giggled and reached out to hand her phone to him in turn. Riley promptly stepped in between them, the phone falling to the ground with a clack as it was knocked out of the blonde girl’s hands. She scoffed at Riley’s intrusion, obviously unaware of who she was.

“What the fuck,” she said, dead staring Pierre’s cloudy green eyes.

“Riley!” Pierre said, failing to school his shock into excitement and stumbling over a bit. He latched onto her for support, but she shook him off. “You were supposed to text me when you got here.” As he patted the pockets of his suit, he noted the total absence of his phone. Explanation dawned on him in the form of a cackling Stroll, keeled over ten feet away with Ocon waving a phone in the air as if to say looking for this?

It gave Riley all the confirmation she needed as to what was going on right there. She should have known better.

He tried changing his tune. “Shit. Riley, I’m sorry–”

“Save it,” She spat out, suddenly not caring about what everyone else thought around her. “I’m leaving. Come find when you’re sober and ready to talk like an adult instead of getting trashed.”

He didn’t say anything to that. Riley just didn’t understand why? What made him act out this way? They were doing so well, she thought.

The blonde girl tapped her on the shoulder, and Riley almost bit her head off until she realized she was just trying to get to her phone, which was lodged directly under Riley’s heel. She felt a little bad–it wasn’t the girl’s fault Pierre made poor decisions, but the glare in the girl’s eyes quickly made her change her mind about that. Not innocent then, I suppose.

Riley lifted her foot off the girl’s phone and stormed away, rage fueling her senses. She was not five steps away when she heard Pierre say, “Don’t worry about it. She’s one to talk–but what can you expect from a spoiled girl with daddy issues.”

Riley had never turned around so fast in her life, nor had she ever clocked anyone square in the face. But this was exactly what she did as she whirled around and lined up her fist to meet Pierre’s nose. “Ah!” He cried out in pain, blood pouring from his now disfigured nose. Several shocked gasps were coming from the crowd around them. Multiple games came to a halt, and the murmuring started a half-second later.

Oh, and it felt good–for all of two seconds until her knuckles started hurting from the pain of colliding with Pierre’s bones and skull. This time, she couldn’t have walked away even if she wanted to, as two arms seized her on each side, forcibly pulling her away. Security.

Riley would be more embarrassed if it wasn’t for Pierre being dragged away as well; somehow, that made her feel better. All of the journalists, podcasters, and influencers were going to be having a field day with this one, to say the least.

_____________________________________________________________

Apparently, casinos had detainment rooms for this kind of thing, in the same way, that you might get held at a grocery store for shoplifting until the police arrive. Lucky for them, the management at the casino decided they didn’t want to get the police involved. Not only would it be bad press for them, but Riley and Pierre just so happened to be considered high-profile guests in a country where everyone was a multi-millionaire–so that meant something.

It also probably had to do with the fact that neither of them had done anything illegal to harm the casino, like cheating. So they were getting off easy. All they were asked to do was have somebody there to escort them, and they would be allowed to leave the premises–no press or cops involved.

Regrettably, Riley only had a short list of people to call, and none of them would pick up the damn phone. Just what the hell were George and Lando up to?

She was left with no choice but to leave Charles a voicemail and hope that he would see it sometime soon.

“Hey, it’s me. Um– I need a favor from you,” she cleared her throat, feeling uncomfortable begging Charles for help. “I’m in a bit of trouble right now, and well, you’re the only other person I trust in this country, as we established,” she chuckled awkwardly even though Charles wasn’t actually on the phone with her. “Anyway, if you could please come pick me up I would really appreciate that. Uh– just open Instagram or something, and you’ll know where to look.”

She left the message at that, not knowing what else to say.

“You have some nerve,” Pierre piped up from his side of the room. There was only one detainment room in the casino (Riley supposed it had something to do with fist fights being more uncommon amongst those who thought themselves classy), and this meant that security had handcuffed Riley to the bench on one side of the small room, and Pierre on the other. There was also a tiny camera in the corner surveilling them. “Calling my best friend to pick you up after you hit me.”

He was given a ziplock bag of ice for his wound, and he held it up with his free hand. Riley didn’t have the satisfaction of seeing him cry out in pain once again as he was taken elsewhere in the casino to have the bone reset. The blood was dry on the stubble above his lip, just as it was dry on her knuckles. She was also given ice for her wound, but it was awkward to apply with her good hand being cuffed, so she quickly gave up on it.

Riley clicked her tongue. “Well, my teammate can decide whether or not that punch was justified when he gets here. It was warranted,” she gave a hmph. What the fuck had gotten into Pierre? They were just fine before this.

Then again, now that she thought about it, he did try to shake her off rather quickly after she caught up with him after the race. She had assumed he was tired, but clearly, it was something more.

Pierre tilted his head all the way back in cacophonous laughter as if Riley had made the joke of the century. “He’s not coming, Riley,” an air of finality rang in the words. “Even if you two are screwing around behind my back–”

“Whoa- what the hell?!” Riley raised her eyebrows at him. She wanted to throw her arms up too, but the move wasn’t as effective with only one of her arms free.

“--he couldn’t come even if he wanted to,” Pierre finished.

“We’re not ‘screwing around behind your back.’ All right?” Riley clarified. For all she thought of Charles, she hadn’t made a move on him at all since she and Pierre decided to go steady. At the very least, she couldn’t be accused of that.

Pierre gave a little scoff and rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. He’s clearly into you. More than into you, even.”

“What does that matter? I chose you,” Riley made sure to emphasize that last word.

“But you didn’t. Not really,” he said more quietly. “I’ve seen the way you look at him and god–have you heard the way he talks about you?” There was pain in his voice. “You may have agreed to date me, Riley, but you never chose me. Let’s not pretend otherwise.”

Riley was stunned into silence as Pierre continued, “I liked you first, Riley. For the first time in my life, I was nervous around a girl, and I didn’t know what to do with you. How was I supposed to show you I wanted more without messing it all up? I’m not exactly known for being great at relationships.” His eyes were trained on the floor. “And when I was finally getting round to telling you everything, I realized it was pointless. Because he liked you. Why bother trying when I could see you were already inclined to pick him either way.”

“You don’t know that,” Riley shook her head incredulously. It was hard to describe how she was feeling at the moment. She was still mad at him, of course, but something about the severity of his voice at that moment made her turn in on herself.

“Except I do know that because it’s been this way forever. My whole life, Charles has taken everything I’ve done and done it better. I made it to F1 before him with a decent team, and I thought to myself, wow, I actually did something better than him for once. Only for Charles to come in the following year and just be so goddamned perfect as always that he gets a seat at a front-field team like it’s nothing.”

“So you have poor self-esteem issues when it comes to Charles,” Riley said, “that still doesn’t explain what you think happened between us or why you couldn’t just talk to me,” She gave a light shrug with her shoulder and wrapped one arm around herself in comfort.

“I tried to pretend like it didn’t matter to me, okay? Like I didn’t want you the way I did. I even lied to Charles about it, thinking that it would help me believe it, but it didn’t.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I wanted to surprise you that night in Miami and make things official in a special way. I was always going to come back for you. I didn’t imagine George would have left you and that you would end up inviting Charles back to your room.”

Riley sucked in a sharp breath at that. She had certainly been drinking that night, but she remembered the situation all too well. The way she wanted to just let everything go to hell if she could just have Charles for one night.

“I was coming back, and he didn’t even notice me on his way to the bar.” Did everyone see Charles that morning? Riley held back the question, but she almost began to wonder if she was the only one who didn’t understand Charles was in love with her then. All things considered, it was likely. “I could see his emotions written all over his face, and it pissed me off. Just for once, I wanted to have something of my own. Just for once, I wanted to be selfish. That’s when I decided to be selfish with you anyway, despite knowing how he felt about you and how you felt about him. It wasn’t enough in the end, of course. And before you say anything, Riley, it is so obvious that you’re in love with him. It was painful to see you two together today, and I had to pretend like you were still mine.”

Riley wanted to be shocked at the insinuation, but she couldn’t, not when this was what everyone was telling her. Her. Charles. Love. It just all fit together like a puzzle she didn’t know she was building. How could that be? It was just yesterday that Charles was her rude teammate who she couldn’t figure out. Now, she wanted him in a way that could only really be translated as a need.

That reminded her. “What did you mean when you said that Charles couldn’t come here even if he wanted to?”

Pierre gave a small grin, and she was sure it had to do with her lack of rebuttal against his claims. He was right, and he didn’t need to be told, but it was all the confirmation he needed.

“Charles is a Monegasque citizen,” he said plainly.

“Yes, I happen to be aware of that fact, thank you very much,” Riley replied snarkily, her patience growing thin with this tiresome turn of events.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he pulled a tight line with his lips. “He’s a Monegasque citizen; therefore, he cannot enter the casino. They’re not allowed to gamble.”

“What? That’s ridiculous,” she dismissed. The more she thought of the metal bench under her, the more uncomfortable it grew. She needed to leave. Her dress and heels were already enough of a discomfort.

“It’s true. It’s the law,” Pierre continued, sitting up straighter with not a hint of humor in his voice. He was serious. “Government didn’t want all its citizens to spend all their money here. They’re not just checking IDs for age at the door, Riley. They’re checking for proof of overseas residency.” He waved a hand pragmatically. “Charles would be arrested if he did find a way in, and it’s not as if every person in this country doesn’t know his face either–it’s his home, and he’s famous.”

“Shit.” She hung her head a bit. Charles was already a last resort for her. What was she gonna do without him? “And where are my friends?” She muttered to herself.

Pierre must have heard her because he said, “You mean George and Lando?” He pressed further when Riley gave a nod. “Well–” he stopped himself, chuckling a bit, “I always had the impression that Lando was gay. And George always did enjoy taking care of him too much. If I had to guess, they’re probably ahem together, right now, if you know what I mean.”

Riley's jaw dropped to the floor, only giving Pierre cause for further laughter. This couldn’t be true. There was no way she was so wrapped up in her own life that she could have missed her two best friends getting together or even remotely liking each other in that fashion.

But she had been rather focused on other things as of late… And all they ever talked about were her relationship issues… Wait, except that one time she was talking to Lando, and he mentioned that nothing happened with a girl he was talking with. But Lando should have already known that eating McDonald’s in a hotel room wasn’t a great date idea because it was something he did with Riley all the time as friends. Then it dawned on her. He was never trying in the first place! Oh my god, they are together!

Riley was lost deep in this thought when keys began to jangle outside the door. One of the security guards came through, but Riley was barely in this reality–astounded still by this revelation. She almost didn’t register the words coming out of the guard’s mouth.

“Riley Wolff, there’s someone here for you. You’re free to go.”

_____________________________________________________________

A/N: For those who are curious, this is actually a real law if you can believe it or not. Learning about it kind of inspired this whole fic, so I suggest looking it up if you want to know more :)

As always, let me know if you enjoyed it and would like to be added to the taglist for all future chapters! I really enjoy reading all your comments!!

Taglist: @leclercwifey @hihiroc511-blog @omnesmorimur3 @siovhanroy @charlesswife @chilifanacc @satanfinalgirl @nikolaisblog @91vhs @dr3lover @onlyonetifosi @chiliwhore @nataliambc @livster @celine-xox @mrsmaybank13 @peachiicherries @purplephantomwolf @leclerc13 @deepestkpoponanime @moonclaine

182 notes · View notes

noosayog · 11 months

Text

wc: 700

warnings/content: non-con? (sfw)

part 7. directory here.

A while ago, you and Atsumu had made plans to celebrate the end of finals week by taking a trip to a nearby town for the weekend. With the events from last night looming above you, that obviously isn’t happening so you pack your things and sneak out to make the earliest train to your hometown to escape potential confrontation.

There was a part of you that had hoped that Atsumu had camped outside your door the entire night to catch you and desperately apologize and beg you to stay. Shame burned at your cheeks when you scanned the entire hallway and found it empty and clear as it is any normal day.

With that, you speed off to the station before you can embarrass yourself any further.

–

The break at home is welcome. Not to say that you’re not still utterly heart-broken, but the reprieve from Atsumu is much needed, however short. You steel yourself for the inevitable encounter as you return to your apartment a week later, making sure to wipe any delusions of Atsumu waiting for you from your mind. Anticlimactically, you survive the short trek from your building entrance to your door in peace.

It’s much later, when you’re leaving for your first class of the semester that it finally happens. By now, you’ve had plenty of time to run all the possible scenarios and plan your respective responses. Predictably, he marches straight up to you when your eyes meet. You immediately move to avoid him but you must be equally predictable to him because he grabs hold of your wrist before you can put any more distance between you two.

“Where have you been,” he breathes.

Yep, you had thought through this scenario. This is manageable.

“Away from you,” you return evenly, trying to twist out of his grip.

He sucks in a breath at that, like you had just punched him in the gut. Not a bad idea.

“Baby-”

Pet names were scenario C of your imagination. Nothing you can’t handle.

“Don’t call me that,” you say, still trying to writhe away.

He tightens his hold and pulls you that much closer. This makes you stiffen up. You had thought of the physical contact route, but had no countermoves for his brute strength.

“Let go,” you seethe.

“Not until you let me apologize.”

“You can apologize all you want. I won’t accept anything, and nothing is going to change,” you recite your practiced lines.

Atsumu seems to be figuring out what is and isn’t working, and words aren’t, so he focuses his efforts on keeping his hands on you.

“What can I do, then?”

“Nothing,” you answer. “We were nothing anyway, so you don’t have to act like you owe me anything.”

You know you’re being cruel. But you just want to hurt him, make him feel what you felt.

It works because he clenches his teeth, jaw tightening.

“You know that’s not true.”

“Who cares if it isn’t? You clearly didn’t.”

He groans in frustration. “Why can’t you just- and why are you so-”

He’s talking in a frenzy, a mix of unfinished thoughts and voice raising in volume.

You’ve practiced a line that would end all this uncertainty. You’re late to class, you rationalize. This has to end so you can move on, you convince yourself.

Deep breath in.

“Miya,” you cut him off authoritatively. “There’s one thing you can do.”

His eyes widen; he thinks you’re throwing him a bone.

“Fuck off and stay away from me. I don’t want anything to do with you and nothing would make me happier than if I never saw you again.”

Shaky deep breath out. It’s fine, you’re fine, it doesn’t hurt. You’re imagining it. Your vision is blurring a little but you keep repeating it. It’s fine. You’re fine. It doesn’t hurt.

His grip on you releases, his hand dropping down at his side limply. It’s all going perfectly according to the scenarios you had run in your head. The tears in your eyes were not planned, but you’re fine. It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt.

The damage is done and you think you’re free to go, so you turn to make your way to class and leave him behind.

That’s when you’re yanked backwards, one arm winding all the way around your waist and another palm sliding under your chin. And suddenly, his lips are on yours.

390 notes · View notes

thenon-fictiondays · 7 months

Text

Hirano to Kagiura light novel translation Epilogue

Epilogue: Good things

Prev ||

I know, I know, I'm a day late. But we're finally here! We've reached the end of this way-longer-than-expected journey 🙌 thank you all so much for sticking with me this long, even as the official TL was released. It's been a blast 💖 I'll be drawing the name for the giveaway after this, so stay tuned!

Cleanup for the cultural festival goes by much quicker than the preparations had.

Breaking down everything they’d worked so hard to make was disappointing, but even the wistfulness of the demolition process was a part of the joy.

That, Kagiura thought, was probably what he’d say if he were a bit more sophisticated.

Since becoming a part of the executive committee, being that frenzied during the preparation period was unavoidable. For as much as he’d relied on Niibashi for the paperwork, he planned to work just as hard leading the cleanup efforts.

Thanks to that, his lower back is quite sore.

As a result, his arrival at the dorms is no later than usual.

He’s not sure when, but at some point the kinmokusei hedge had started blooming.

“Hey, welcome home.”

“I’m home. You’re back early, Hirano-san.”

The haunted house had been a large-scale production, so he would’ve thought cleanup would take a long time, but Hirano’s presence in the dorm suggests he slipped out early.

“Did you have something you needed to do?”

“Yeah.”

When he hands him something without saying another word, Kagiura blinks in surprise.

“Hm? Candy?”

“You didn’t get to be scared properly at the haunted house.”

Was that even a problem?

Kagiura had been troubled by not only knocking Hirano down, but by being seen like that by students from other schools. Whether he’d been scared or not wasn’t the issue.

But apparently Hirano had been worried about it.

“It was scary enough, though, that special effects makeup,” Kagiura remarks nonchalantly.

“That’s what got you scared, though. You totally missed out on the best parts of the haunted house. Well, you can have this as an apology. Your throat’s been giving you a hard time lately, right?”

“.....”

He’s always like this, he thinks.

He always meets me where I am with so much kindness.

“Wait, do you not like candy? No, you were eating some brown sugar candy the other day.”

“.....I like it.”

Slowly, Kagiura’s heart grows hot. He shouldn’t be feeling this warm over this, yet here he is.

The act of being considered by Hirano makes him happier than anything. Though, he does also like candy.

“Oh, good.”

“I like it!”

The meaning of this phrase, the true meaning, is too much to convey no matter how many times he says it.

“I got it the first time.”

Hirano’s side profile as he laughs, flustered, is stunning.

And words completely fail him.

They head to the dining hall a little earlier than usual. While Kagiura is eating his dinner, the chair next to Hirano’s is pulled back.

There aren’t that many people he’s gotten close with while living in the dorms. Their visitor is none other than dorm leader Hanzawa.

Usually, Kagiura’s part of the late crowd thanks to club practice, so it’s rare for them to cross paths.

“Where’s your roomie?”

Kagiura startles at Hirano’s nondescript statement.

I wonder if I get called the same way.

It sounds intimate, relaxed.

“He was so busy with the cultural festival that he’s crashed out. I couldn’t wake him up, so I just left him there.”

Traces of exhaustion also tinge Hanzawa’s voice, so it feels like Kagiura’s eavesdropping on a private conversation, and he almost wants to excuse himself.

Having finished his salad, he silently confronts his Chinese stir-fry. But before long, his chopsticks stop in mid-air.

There’s tons of peppers.

Hanzawa, always keen to subtleties, quickly takes notice.

“You’re not going to eat them?” He asks.

Simultaneously, Hirano says only “one piece.” How kind.

“...Okay, fine.”

He can manage just one piece, so he restrains his protesting stomach and somehow swallows down a pepper. Hirano’s eyes crinkle at the sight of his efforts.

“Good job.”

“I did my best. But, I can’t eat anymore…”

“What am I going to do with you?”

Hanzawa’s eyes widen at the intimate exchange. Have they forgotten he’s sitting right there?

The usually well-mannered Hirano reaches his chopsticks over the table to Kagiura’s plate, a gentle smile on his face.

After Hirano finishes eating the remaining peppers, and Kagiura expresses his gratitude with a “thank you, Hirano-san!”, Hanzawa finally pipes up.

“Nothing’s going on between you two, right?”

The tone of voice in which he asks Hirano this question is indescribably awkward.

“What’re you talking about? We’re just bros being bros. Right, Kagi-kun?”

“Bros…that’s one way to put it…”

With Hirano smiling at him so breezily, he can’t quite bring himself to nod along. His reaction ends up a little half-hearted.

“Am I wrong?” Hirano’s expression shows not a hint of foreboding, but Kagiura’s reaction raises some eyebrows. Hanzawa, who’d observed them both, whispers “Maybe so,” under his breath—but then he shakes his head as if to correct himself.

On the other hand, Kagiura says, “No, you’re not,” with a bashful smile.

He’d been called a friend, by Hirano. By the friend closest to his heart.

Joy gradually blossoms through him; when he speaks his words are from the very bottom of his heart. He’s probably grinning ear-to-ear.

“I’m really glad I met you, Hirano-san.”

*****

Prev ||

I'm emotional, is anyone else emotional? 😭

I'm really glad I decided to translate and post this novel.

One last time, thank you so much to my reading list members. You guys kept my spirits up and let me know people still valued what I was doing after the official TL was released and I appreciate you from the bottom of my heart @jeizet, @jujupanic, @massyworld, @umbreonwolfy, @acidsuzanne-blog, @neoday, @lary-the-lizard, @tsmginc 🥺💖

#hirano to kagiura #hirano and kagiura #hirano to kagiura ln #hirano to kagiura translation #kagihira #sasaki to miyano #harusono shou #kagiura akira #hirano taiga #hanzawa masato

60 notes · View notes

otiksimr · 2 years

Text

This is starting to become a MH blog and I couldn't be happier. Gore Magala was a real challenge to incorporate into WOF. I was really surprised to see just how much of Fatalis's original design was kept in this.

Don't you just love making lore that isn't important in any way? Well I do. Feel free to add onto this, I'd love to read any ideas ya'll have.

For Gore Magala, my initial idea was a nightwing that was completely overrun by the Othermind, their entire body covered in the roots and leaves. It ended up looking like a mass of flesh that got stuck on their scales, which creepy yes, didn't feel very 'Gore Magala'-y. Which then led to the creation of the bottom two sketches.

For my second idea instead of being taken over by the Othermind, what if they were hosting a parasite instead? Well not complete parasites, more like a parasitic plant. Basically, back during the early days of the tribes there was an infamous plant that's basically just rabies but in plant form. Their seeds are typically either in the scales of a dragon, digging in between their scales or on the wing membranes. They are surprisingly fast growing, they begin by growing roots into the host's body to feed off of their nutrients, and then they start growing vines that sprawl all over the host. Afterwards they grow buds, purple in color which you can see in the sketch, after a week or so they bloom in a yellow color and produce spores. That's really all I had for them. There was no proper way to incorporate the frenzy virus so I did what I could.

Now Fatalis was far easier to work with. Though Fatalis in the MH world is un-natural even for an elder dragon, in any other media they're just a basic dragon. So, although it was a bit of a shock to see how their design would fit into the WOF world just fine without any need to change it. But while drawing them I had a particular idea of L O R E and now you have to see it.

Fatalis is basically a legend amongst all the tribes. Back during the scorching, they were seen as a hero that burned human settlements without remorse. Even before then they hated and attacked humans just because they killed dragons, the scorching just fueled that hate. They single handedly brought down human kingdoms, most notably Schrade. Some say that Fatalis is still alive, even after all these years, taking up residence in once was the castle of Schrade. Others dismiss them as a fairy tale and that they never existed in the first place.

That's all :)

#wings of fire #wof #monster hunter #Fatalis #Gore Magala #fanart #wof fanart #my art #man two posts in a row?#amazing.#nightwing #rainwing #hybrid

469 notes · View notes

gabessquishytum · 10 months

Note

I keep meaning to send this ask but always forget, anyways.

saw this post a million years ago: https://www.tumblr.com/potato-frenzy/696514052604788736/can-i-just-talk-about-how-jarring-seeing-gifs-of?source=share and I thought about Hob wanting to get some food in Dream because he's looking dangerously skinny. Just hollow cheeks, extremely pale skin, can see every muscle on his body though his skin, not to mention his spine! And ok, that's just how he looks, he's fine, it's not like Hob actually thinks that he's sick in the way humans are and he likes his goth Twink of a boyfriend just fine, really. There's no need to change anything about how he looks. But at the same time he just can't help feeling that maybe Dream looks like that because he's lacking *something*. Maybe it's not food what he needs, maybe Hob's already providing all the love Dream needs and he's actually a lot better than when he'd just been out of the fishbowl for 6 days and they met at the new in. But he's a simple man (not really) and he just needs visible proof that his boyfriend is getting better.

And maybe Dream picks up on this and he decides that he can look a bit less skinny if that would make Hob happier, he doesn't really have an opinion on the subject anyway it's not like he cares about that. But then Hob's so happy with the result (and so appreciative of it in bed) that Dream just keeps adding the metaphysical pounds until he looks like an actual average person and not like a shaved panther (God bless Tom Sturridge for that description)

I don't know, I just think that Hob would appreciate Dream filling out throughout their relationship like he's nursing him back to health, mental or physical, it doesn't matter. And also I like the idea of Dream with a cute little tummy sue me :p

—🌛

You honestly can’t know how obsessed i am with this!!! Relationship weight gain is probably my biggest kink of all (and y’all know I have many). Whether it’s physical or metaphysical, the idea of partners shaping each other’s bodies and growing soft because they’re safe and happy and in love… that’s maybe the hottest thing ever??

Dream looks Like That partly because that’s how people perceive him, but also because it’s a reflection of his inner self, just like the dreaming is. So when the dreaming is falling to pieces and literally crumbling, or being warped by the vortex, of course Dream’s human form is impacted in some way. He looks hungry and desperate because he is, in a way.

And Hob hates seeing his boyfriend in the aftermath of those events, looking so thin and deprived. To Hob, being all skin and bone like that conveys a lot of meaning - it means that Dream is hurting and afraid and unsafe, like Hob was when he was starving. He’s determined to put a bit of meat on Dream’s bones, whatever it takes.

Feeding him actual food doesn’t have the effect that it would on a human. Dream doesn’t actually have a digestive system… but when Hob cooks for him, or brings him a special drink from Starbucks, or shares a slice of cake? That has a big impact. That makes Dream feel loved and safe, and that love is the thing that adds a little padding to his half-starved form.

It takes years, maybe decades, but Hob’s intentions pay off. Dream looks relaxed and warm, he fills out his big billowing coat properly. He’s got a nice little belly hiding under his t-shirt, and Hob always grins when he gets to see it and give it a little squeeze. Dream looks hot as fuck with a bit of padding, but more importantly he looks safe. Loved.

#🌛 anon #the sandman #dreamling #cw weight #i also choose to believe in mutual dreamling weight gain. dream deserves a hob tummy to snuggle against

94 notes · View notes

slythering-snake-boys · 1 year

Text

It's Been Awhile Ch. 5

Characters: Sebastian Sallow x Reader/MC

Series Masterlist

Words: 4483

Warnings: fluff, some angst, Sebastian being jealous and kinda insecure but also clingy and in love, a bit of cursing, some spoilers for Sebastian's questline, a pleasant surprise (hopefully)

Taglist: @cloudroomblog

"Morning..." Sebastian greeted Ominis tiredly as he sat down on the other side of the table the next morning.

"Good morning, Sebastian. Slept well?" He asked with a hint of a smile and Sebastian only sighed before shaking his head, looking over the mouth-watering dishes piled on the table in thought.

"Not really. Had a nightmare... And Peeves laughing in it only made it worse." The freckled man sighed before starting to gather food onto his plate, deciding that he just needed to eat something to feel better. And maybe seeing you might help him, too. For sure.

"Sorry to hear that. Want to talk about it?" Ominis thought he might get to tease Sebastian, but hearing about the supposed nightmare made him change his mind. He'd heard from the girls that you and Sebastian had been standing rather close to one another the previous night, even holding hands on the stone staircase. But they had fled once they saw Peeves, who was coming straight towards them in his frenzied search for Leander.

"No, it's fine..." Sebastian replied after a bit of hesitation. How could he tell Ominis that he'd dreamt you decided to go with someone else to the dance and even kissed them? He didn't know who the guy was since he couldn't remember anything about him, except that he was taller than you and well-built. He remembered that his rival was holding onto your waist, wearing a high-class suit and whispering in your ear, making you smile and laugh. Sebastian had felt his heart tear apart as he had watched you, wanting to both punch the guy and also turn his back and leave. Peeves' laugh followed him as the poltergeist made fun of him for not being able to get you. He involuntarily shivered at the faint memory of it all.

"You sure?" The blond insisted for the last time. Sebastian hummed.

"I'm good. Thanks, Ominis." Sebastian had decided long before that he'd try his hardest to get you back. But in the end, he wanted you to be happy. And if you decided that you'd rather be happier with someone else...then he was willing to let you go. As painful as it would surely be. After all, why would someone as amazing as you want someone like him? Someone with blood on his hands? Someone who definitely had some sort of darkness harbouring inside?

The brunette heard familiar voices and looked up, just in time to see you arriving and making his day better just with your presence alone. His heart stuttered in his chest just like it did when you two were still students and he'd see you, no matter the time or place. Even after your relationship had ended - when you'd only smile briefly in his direction before continuing on your way as he did the same - he still felt his mood improving thanks to you. And it hurt him, knowing that his unwavering desire to save Anne and learn more about Dark Magic at the same time had driven you away.

Compared to then, you now smiled brightly and waved at him. Sebastian felt his cheeks redden and a wide smile broke out on his face as he waved back.

He breathed out in relief, feeling some of the tension plaguing him disappearing. It had only been a nightmare. This was reality. He was closer to having you back now. He could- no, he would do better this time. He wouldn't let you get away because of his actions ever again. He'd prove to you that he was worthy of you and your affections.

"Sebastian? Do you have a costume for tonight?" Sebastian looked at Ominis, swallowing his food. He'd almost forgotten where he was for a second.

"I do. Why?"

"Could you help me pick one today from Hogsmead? Or worst case scenario, Twilfitt and Tattings, in case we don't find one here? I didn't have the time nor reason to get a new one recently and by the time I arrived, it was already too late." Sebastian tilted his head in curiosity and confusion. He himself had bought a costume just for this. A part of him had hoped he'd meet you and maybe, just maybe, ask you to save at least one dance for him. And now, he was counting his lucky stars for his decision. With a shake of his head, his attention was back on Ominis.

"But wasn't the dance mentioned in the letter or something? Why not have one just in case?"

"I had decided I wouldn't be going with anyone or at all, so I didn't see why I'd get a suit for nothing." Ominis pushed his food around, his eyebrows furrowed. One of Sebastian's eyebrows raised in suspicion before his lips pulled up into a teasing grin.

"Then what changed?" The blond could almost feel the smirk in his friend's voice and his face gained a peachy hue.

"I decided to finally ask someone...and they accepted, surprisingly." The wolfish grin spread across Sebastian's lips stretched.

"And who, pray tell, might the lucky one be?" Ominis shook his head, stabbing his food with his fork.

"I can't tell you."

"Why not? Afraid I might try to steal them away?" Ominis made a face that Sebastian could only define as one of disgust before shaking his head.

"Ew. And no. I already know you're going with MC. Almost the entire school knows. Even the first-years know." It was Sebastian's turn to become red. Hearing nothing else from his friend, Ominis smirked. "Still, that doesn't mean there aren't some who might try to steal her away. After all, you haven't asked her to be yours, so she's still single in pretty much everyone else's eyes, whether you're going to the dance together or not. So I'd be careful of a few of the guys here." Sebastian's hold on his fork tightened and he looked up at Ominis with a half glare. He hated when Ominis was being like this - he seemed almost cruel as he reminded him of this. In his defence, he had tried to get you to be his again, but he'd almost always been interrupted. Sebastian thought himself lucky for being able to even kiss you the previous night.

"I hate it when you turn my teasing against me..." Ominis grinned, back to eating happily.

"I know. That's why I do it. So, anyway, will you come and help me?" Sebastian looked at you, seeing you animatedly talking about something with Poppy, Natty and Garreth. He'd wanted to spend the day with you, but he couldn't let Ominis go by himself. Not when they were back on friendly terms again. He had missed his best friend.

"Sure."

"Great."

The rest of the day was spent in Hogsmeade, at Gladrags Wizardwear and Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. With Sebastian looking and Ominis trying dozens of dress robes and costumes, both men decided on one made out of dark blue, almost black velvet, and a white dress shirt that had a cravat decorated with a sparkling, precious red gem. Ominis insisted on the colour, much to Sebastian's confusion, but he decided not to question him.

The blond tried it for a bit, walking around to get the feel of it as his cane thumped against the wooden floor. But both men thought it looked good on him and Ominis felt good wearing it, so he ended up buying it. They were both relieved to not have to travel to Diagon Alley as they exited the shop. Sebastian was itching to go back to the castle and be around you for as long as possible before the dance that night.

"Well, we still have some time left until tonight. Shall we go to Honeydukes, then the Three Broomsticks?" Sebastian agreed and they both went to the two locations, feeling like little boys again. They felt good talking so freely as if they were back to the time before Sebastian decided to go down his chosen dark path.

"So...are we friends again?" Sebastian finally asked, wanting to know for sure if he had his best friend back or not. Ominis smiled as he looked down towards his mug. They'd already scarfed down two boxes of Chocolate Frogs and a few Sugar Quills, along with at least three mugs of Butterbeer each. Sebastian's teeth already hurt from all the sweets and he would never understand how Ominis could eat so many sweets without any issue.

"If you promise you're not attempting to involve yourself even more with the Dark Arts anymore, then yes."

"I'm not, I swear." He was silent for a couple of seconds. "MC said the same thing... Did you two talk about this beforehand?"

"I figured as much. And no, not really. We were both really worried for you though. And we knew you regretted what you'd done. Still... I told MC to give you space. Until we all went through everything that happened and healed as much as possible." He had had more than enough space to reflect on his words and actions. Hopefully, you and Ominis had both healed enough to forgive him. Maybe there was a slim chance that Anne might forgive him as well one day. At least write him once in a while, just so he could rest, knowing she was in good hands and still alive. Sebastian stared at Ominis, licking his lips nervously.

"Before this... Did you know she'd break up with me?" You had told him that no one but you and him knew. But Sebastian was aware of how much Ominis knew and found out. Probably faster than most of your mutual friends who still didn't know too much about what the three - four if he counted Anne as well - of you had been through during your fifth-year.

"No." Ominis shook his head. "I only found out from Imelda. She told me that she found MC crying in the girls' restroom the day you two broke up and told her you two had broken up." Sebastian ruminated over the blond's words and thought of that day.

He'd left you behind and didn't even look back, going to the library to look for books about the relic he'd found with you to drown out the dark thoughts about his life at that time. He felt the regret coursing through his veins at the thought of how much he'd hurt not only you, but Ominis as well. Anne had been affected just as much, if not more, especially being his twin sister. He didn't blame any of you for distancing yourselves from him.

"Are you alright, Sebastian?" Ominis asked, concern evident in his voice while his eyebrows pinched in the middle. It had been too quiet for too long, especially when it came from someone like Sebastian.

"Yeah, fine... Just thinking." The brunette replied quietly before taking a sip of his Butterbeer. He was tempted to order some Firewhiskey. But drinking his sorrows away had never had much of an appeal to him. He'd seen plenty of men doing the same and couldn't help but be bothered by the idea of ending up like that. He just...had to keep his head held high and continue trying his best to make amends for the pain he'd inflicted in his youth. Plus, it would be uncalled for, especially since he'd be dancing with you in a matter of hours. Sebastian wanted all his senses to be there in the moment, savouring the feel of you in his arms.

By the time the two arrived back at Hogwarts, it was time to start getting ready for the dance.

Sebastian's suit was simple, but classy, showing off the way his towering frame had changed into the attractive man he now was. He checked himself in the mirror, arranging his cravat that also had a precious gemstone of your favourite colour pinned to it. He styled his hair as best as he could before staring at himself in the mirror. He looked good and he knew it. He'd been working out plenty, wanting to feel and look strong - be someone people could look up to and know they could trust, even with their lives. But would it be good enough for someone like you? After all, people like you and Ominis were in another league altogether: Ominis because of his Slytherin heritage and money, and you thanks to your Ancient Magic.

"Sebastian, how do I look? Is something out of place? I feel like there's something out of place. Oh, Merlin... Does my hair look good?" He turned towards Ominis, admiring how posh his friend looked. However, the blond also looked like he was ready to up and run from his nerves. Or maybe suddenly combust. His cheeks were a bit too red. It all made Sebastian infinitely more curious about the blind man's date.

"Let me see..." He came closer, inspecting his clothes and his hair, but there was nothing. "You look good, there's nothing wrong. You look fine."

"That's a relief. I...want to look good for my date." Sebastian smiled fondly at his best friend, watching how uncharacteristically nervous he appeared. His date must've been someone very important to him. Ominis was a good guy and he deserved the best, especially when it came to people. The brunette hoped his best friend's date was a decent person who'd treasure him, even if it was just for the night.

"I'm sure whoever they are, they'll love the way you look and even compliment you." Ominis twisted his cane nervously as he looked at the ground.

"I hope so..." Sebastian clapped his back, almost pushing his blind friend forward from the force of it. His friend only glared at him somewhat playfully. Now that was more like the Ominis he knew, he thought with a wide, teasing grin.

"Sorry, don't know my own strength sometimes." Ominis continued glaring at him and Sebastian only chuckled, squeezing his friend's shoulder. "Seriously though, stop worrying. Everything's going to be fine. Now, let's go."

"Eager, are we?" The blond man smirked, obviously pleased with teasing his best friend and knowing the tables had turned.

"Shut up..." Sebastian deadpanned, making Ominis chuckle as they both left together. They reached the Entrance Hall, already seeing different couples, arm in arm, entering the Great Hall with wide smiles on their faces. They sat back to allow them through, waiting for their dates close to the main staircase.

"Sebastian, stop fidgeting so much. I can almost hear your suit starting to wrinkle." Ominis hissed quietly, making the brunette glance at him before breathing in and out.

"I'm nervous." Ominis sighed and smiled fondly, squeezing his best friend's arm reassuringly. The only other time he remembered hearing and feeling Sebastian acting like this was right before he had asked you out. The blond almost strangled his best friend from how much he was pacing and questiong himself and whether he should confess to you or not. He smiled at the memory.

"Don't be. MC is going to arrive any second now and I know she'll be overjoyed to see you."

"I sure hope so, mate... I sure hope- Oh, shit..." He cursed quietly as his eyes widened. There you were, wearing a dress that was made just for you. It had to be because you looked ethereal. Sebastian gulped when your eyes scanned the crowd before they landed on him, a beaming smile overtaking your lips. You waved and he subconsciously smiled widely, his heart beating at the speed of what felt like a hummingbird's wings.

"Is it MC?" He vaguely heard Ominis ask him, unable and unwilling to hear the teasing tone in his voice. He was entranced and rooted to his spot. Even if a throng of Hippogriffs would've come barelling through he probably wouldn't move or take his eyes off of you.

"Yeah..." He sounded breathless and Ominis smirked but felt truly happy for his friends. After all, you two deserved to be happy after the events you'd been through. Hopefully, you'd be happy together.

"She looks that good, huh? I've only ever known you to be this speechless when you singed our eyebrows off as we were learning Confringo and I asked you how it went." If he would've paid proper attention to the blond's words, Sebastian would've definitely laughed at the memory. But he was still staring at you, mouth agape and set into a speechless smile at how beautiful you were. Then, he did a double-take when he saw you turn and motion someone forward.

"Anne...?" Now Ominis seemed nervous as he straightened up at the sound of his best friend's sister's name. "W-What..." Words had never failed him the way they did then.

He watched you and Anne descend the stairs, arm in arm. His twin sister seemed nervous and a little unsure, her eyes going from her brother to Ominis. She was wearing a rich, beautiful green dress that made her stand out thanks to her pale skin which looked healthier than ever. As soon as you two were in front of them, Sebastian and Anne stared at one another in silence - one stunned, the other nervous and apprehensive.

"Anne..." He glanced at her, then at you, his face a mix of confusion, sadness, regret, happiness and shock. "MC? What's going on?"

"How about we go and sit somewhere where we can talk quietly? I'll explain everything." He barely nodded before you let go of Anne. You grabbed her brother's muscular arm, getting close to him as he watched Anne and Ominis do the same, both of them smiling and talking in hushed tones while blushing. All four of you entered the Great Hall and found a table in the corner where it was quiet enough to talk. Everyone else was already mingling, drinking punch or dancing, with a few sitting at various tables.

When you were all seated, silence fell upon you all. You breathed in before smiling, seeing both Anne and Ominis doing the same. Only Sebastian was left confused, looking from one to another.

"Okay then... Sebastian?" He looked at you, eyes wide and pleading for an explanation. His mind was in a state of confusion that almost had it reeling. "Anne is okay now. The curse has been removed." He looked at his sister again, noticing that it was true - she looked so much better now, almost as if she'd been reborn. She looked like her old self, though her hair had grown longer and she appeared to be full of life, her eyes sparkling.

"But...how?"

"MC..." Anne spoke, making his head snap towards her. He hadn't heard her voice in years. "She found a way using her Ancient Magic." Sebastian turned to regard you with wide eyes and parted lips.

"But, Isidora..." He knew how dangerous it was to use that sort of power on someone. The risk of removing not only the negative feelings but also all emotions was higher than he could've ever imagined. You had told him that much, even after he'd pestered you to ask the Keepers to teach you the necessary spell in order to help Anne. And following your fight with Ranrok, after which you spent almost an entire month at St. Mungo's because of your extensive injuries... He had wondered if it was even worth having so much power if it could cost you your life. He didn't want to lose you again.

"I've been researching what Isidora did, but with the Keepers' help and guidance. And I've developed a way to remove limited amounts of curses." Sebastian blinked, unable to properly comprehend what he was hearing. All of his emotions were running rampant, making his thoughts muddled.

"How do you mean?"

"Say, Anne was 100% cursed. I could only remove 20% at a time. Thing is, that curse would fester and grow back in time. So when I'd removed 20%, she was left with 80%. This 80% would then grow to 90% in those few months of rest for both of us. So, I'd remove that 20% once every few months until it was all gone. This way, none of us would get hurt or worse." He looked at you as if you were from another planet altogether.

"For how long have you been doing this?" He asked quietly.

"Um, it must've been..." You looked at Anne, not really sure how long it had been.

"Almost 4 years. She removed the curse once every 5 months." Anne responded, reaching across the table and squeezing your hand as you did the same, smiling at one another. Sebastian's mind was at its most extreme point. He couldn't believe that you'd done what he had been trying to do for years. You - smart, sweet, beautiful, amazing you!

"Now, I want you two to stay and talk things out. Come to Ominis and me when you're done, okay?" You looked at Sebastian with a tender smile before kissing his cheek. He blushed right away before he saw Anne squeezing Ominis' hand as he got up and you both left. The twins looked at one another nervously.

"Are they still talking?" Ominis asked you, nursing a glass of Firewhiskey. Since there were barely any students left and only the alumni and teachers were invited, you all were allowed to consume alcohol for the night. Responsibly and in moderation, of course.

"They're smiling. I think it might be our cue soon. You'll finally be able to dance with Anne." He smiled and blushed, obviously excited at the prospect.

"Honestly, thank you. When you told me about this years ago... I was sceptical and honestly scared that either or both of you might get hurt or even worse."

"Heh... Something did happen, actually..." You huffed in slight amusement and looked at the ground, remembering one of the last few times you went to Anne to remove a part of the curse. "I remember how excited we both were when there were only two more parts left to be taken out..." Only you and Anne knew about that incident.

"Hmm? What do you mean? What happened then? Oh, Merlin, please don't tell me..." Ominis' voice trailed off and his hazy blue eyes widened in panic, sensing something wrong about the way you were wording your confession. His heart was drumming quickly, praying nothing too bad had happened. Had you somehow gotten cursed as well? Were you alright? Had you been lying to him? Surely Anne would've told him if there was anything wrong with you, right? Merlin, he wished he could see right now.

"I'm okay now. But I was careless at that time." You sighed deeply, unaware of Sebastian and Anne coming over until they were within earshot. "I was extracting another part of Anne's curse... Something distracted me, I can't remember what... Something breaking or someone's voice... And the curse, it... It just...slipped from my wand and got inside me." Sebastian stopped, watching the back of your head before he turned to look at his sister in shock. She was looking at the ground, feeling guilty, despite it not being her fault.

"I went through exactly what Anne had for the next year or so. Because when those 5 months were up for her, only then was I finally able to take the rest of her curse out of her. Then I spent the next few months waiting until I could extract it from myself." All three of them were quiet, with Anne still feeling guilty, although you had reassured her it hadn't been her fault at all.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sebastian's disappointed and shocked voice made you look back, only to actually see him looking at you worriedly. You smiled at him sadly, not liking how worried he looked.

"I wanted to surprise you with Anne's recovery. She was the driving force behind my research, after all. I knew that there would be risks and I fully accepted them. No need to worry, though. I completely took the curse out of both of us. And it's safely stored so no one will ever suffer because of it. It was a nasty thing, really. But it's gone now." He said nothing, feeling a multitude of emotions trying to come up to the surface. The brunette wanted to hug you, chastise you, kiss you, ask you if you were alright, thank you... But he didn't. He didn't know what to do first. How could he encompass all those emotions and actions into one thing?

"MC... I think you broke him." Anne pretended to whisper, making you, Ominis and herself laugh. She had to try and lighten up the mood somehow. She didn't expect Sebastian to find out about your incident so suddenly. But she knew that he'd worry anyway. After all, it was clear her twin was still deeply in love with you.

"I didn't mean to! Honestly!" You looked up at Sebastian, smiling reassuringly at him. "I'm sorry, Sebastian. I didn't mean to worry you. I just didn't think you'd want to talk with me after everything and... I wasn't sure it would even work as it was supposed to. I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up for nothing." You shrugged and Sebastian had the sudden urge to pick you up and kiss you silly. But he refrained and even stepped back when Natty, Poppy and a few others and their dates came over. You all got to properly meet Robert and Samuel, who turned out to be great guys. And Imelda...

"You're married?!" She laughed in response to everyone's outburst, a dozen questions following up.

"Yup! For the past 6 months. This is Alexey, from Durmstrang. He's a Dark Arts teacher there." The man in question smiled as he held Imelda by her waist. She looked up at him, feeling smug about being with someone who she obviously thought was powerful and attentive enough to be by her side. "And I also teach martial magic and sometimes train the Quidditch team." He completed, Imelda looking up at him proudly. He looked equally as proud to be by her side, which made you smile. It was weird to see Imelda being in love. But it was cute.

Sebastian's arm was also around your middle, holding you against his side, though you knew he was holding himself back from actually clinging to you to show everyone you were with him. But the way his arm snaked around you, with his fingers barely digging into your side as he towered protectively over you, made you smile and glance at him. He was breathtakingly handsome, those freckles of his almost seeming to sparkle like faraway stars while a smile lit his face when he gazed down at you.

#bomi's stuff #iba series #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy x mc #hogwarts legacy x you #hogwarts legacy x reader

73 notes · View notes

his-saiko · 1 year

Text

It really wasn’t a good time for these past few days… Another argument ensued between you two and everything has been quiet none of you were messaging each other.

With a sigh, you prepared yourself for everything to end. You know it’ll hurt. You wish it doesn’t at all but what can you do? You didn’t want to admit it but you check on him the way you’d know how without disturbing him.

“He must be worried.” You tell yourself but it feels hard to accept that. Even if it was true. “I messed up.” That’s what you have at the back of your mind. You sighed again. Tears silently stream down your cheeks.

You can’t hold a grudge over the people you deeply care about but the feeling of injustice is still there so you end up hurting yourself more.

Your phone pinged. You hurried to hold it and clumsily do so. You were thinking of your friends messaging you but to your horror, you saw your boyfriend’s nickname in the notifications. He left a voice message.

“This is it. I guess…” You braced yourself. You played the message.

“Baby? You’re home, right? Hello? Why aren’t you answering?” He slurred. He’s drunk. “Ah shit. Didn’t I press call? Baby? Fuck.” He cursed. There was a few seconds of silence. “I’m sorry… Oh shit.” He chuckled. “I don’t think you wanted to hear that… This is a voice message, right? So you’ll definitely get this.”

Confusion plagued your mind. Your tears pool in your eyes and fall like rivers. “This s it.” You thought.

“I can’t be the person you wanted. Not like the ones you see in books and shows… I wish I could be… But I don’t have powers. I’m not an elf or an angel or a demon…”

You couldn’t keep yourself up.

“But fuck it. I’m gonna love you the way I can. Fuck those- fucking… fucking… Fuck men!” You heard shuffling from the voice message. “No, not me. Not fuck me. Wait. I want you to fuck me. Ah shit…”

You tried not to laugh but you realized something more important. What was he doing when he was saying all this. He’s drunk. Is he outside? You shot up and thought about him sitting somewhere but it’s cold already.

He laughed. “I’m trying to be selfless here… I want to let you go if that makes you happier… But… I don’t really want to… I want you… I love you…”

You stopped from your frenzy of preparing to go out.

“Fuck it. If me wanting you to stay makes me selfish, then I want to keep being selfish. But I promise… I’ll leave you alone if you need me to.”

You started to curse. “You stupid fucking idiot!” You remembered how you always become so excited when you’re watching this in dramas but now you’re in the receiving end, you understand now why the main characters act this way.

“I’m coming to you, Baby. Just wait for me…”

“Fuck waiting! I’m going!” You screamed as if he’d hear you. You wanted to punch him so much but most of all you wanted to jump into his arms.

You frantically looked around and saw him sitting on a park bench. You ran to him. “Baby! Are you okay?!”

He groaned. “I have a wife.” He lifted his head and looked at you. “Oh. That’s you.” He smiled.

Your cheeks heated up. You smacked his shoulder. “Why did you come here drunk?! This is far from your place!”

“I hate my place… I wanna be with you…” He sincerely said. “I can’t think straight without you…”

You dropped your shoulders. You helped him up and walked back to your house.

“I realized… I needed you just as much as you needed me. Actually, I need you more than I want to admit.”

You listened to him. You remembered all the arguments and can only think that you caused everything. You can’t help but feel like you’re only a burden to him. That you’ll always let him down. You wanted to say that but you’re scared. You think that these problems happen because of those. You brushed the thought off and opened the door to your house.

“Please, don’t be quiet…”

“Huh?”

“I know what you look like when you want to say something.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay…”

“It’s not. Please talk to me…”

“I’ll be fine… It’s okay.”

“Baby, please.” He kneeled and held onto you. “Talk to me… Don’t push me away…” He cried. You hugged him and he reciprocated by squeezing you in his arms. “I don’t want to lose you ever… Not even to you…”

You laughed. “That’s too mean…”

You helped him to the couch. You wanted to get a few more things for him but he held you there. No intention of letting go.

“I’m scared. Please stay…”

“I’m not gonna leave…”

“Still… Stay…”

“Okay.” You brushed his hair and kissed his head. “I love you.”

“I love you too…”

— OIKAWA, Atsumu, Kuroo, Bokuto, Tsukishima, Terushima

#haikyu #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyu fluff #haikyu x reader #haikyu x you #haikyu x y/n #haikyu x gender neutral reader #oikawa tooru #miya atsumu #kuroo testuro #bokuto kōtarō #tsukishima kei #terushima yuuji

203 notes · View notes

nanamis-aiko · 2 years

Text

It really wasn't a good time for these past few days... Another argument ensued between you two and everything has been quiet none of you were messaging each other.

With a sigh, you prepared yourself for everything to end. You know it'll hurt. You wish it doesn't at all but what can you do? You didn't want to admit it but you check on him the way you'd know how without disturbing him.

"He must be worried." You tell yourself but it feels hard to accept that. Even if it was true. "I messed up." That's what you have at the back of your mind. You sighed again. Tears silently stream down your cheeks.

You can't hold a grudge over the people you deeply care about but the feeling of injustice is still there so you end up hurting yourself more.

Your phone pinged. You hurried to hold it and clumsily do so. You were thinking of your friends messaging you but to your horror, you saw your boyfriend's nickname in the notifications. He left a voice message.

"This is it. I guess..." You braced yourself. You played the message.

"Baby? You're home, right? Hello? Why aren't you answering?" He slurred. He's drunk. "Ah shit. Didn't I press call? Baby? Fuck." He cursed. There was a few seconds of silence. "I'm sorry... Oh shit." He chuckled. "I don't think you wanted to hear that... This is a voice message, right? So you'll definitely get this."

Confusion plagued your mind. Your tears pool in your eyes and fall like rivers. "This s it." You thought.

"I can't be the person you wanted. Not like the ones you see in books and shows... I wish I could be... But I don't have powers. I'm not an elf or an angel or a demon..."

You couldn't keep yourself up.

"But fuck it. I'm gonna love you the way I can. Fuck those- fucking... fucking... Fuck men!" You heard shuffling from the voice message. "No not me. Not fuck me. Wait. I want you to fuck me. Ah shit..."

You tried not to laugh but you realized something more important. What was he doing when he was saying all this. He's drunk. Is he outside? You shot up and thought about him sitting somewhere but it's cold already.

He laughed. "I'm trying to be selfless here... I want to let you go if that makes you happier... But... I don't really want to... I want you... I love you..."

You stopped from your frenzy of preparing to go out.

"Fuck it. If me wanting you to stay makes me selfish, then I want to keep being selfish. But I promise... I'll leave you alone if you need me to."

You started to curse. "You stupid fucking idiot!" You remembered how you always become so excited when you're watching this in dramas but now you're in the receiving end, you understand now why the main characters act this way.

"I'm coming to you, Baby. Just wait for me..."

"Fuck waiting! I'm going!" You screamed as if he'd hear you. You wanted to punch him so much but most of all you wanted to jump into his arms.

You frantically looked around and saw him sitting on a park bench. You ran to him. "Baby! Are you okay?!"

He groaned. "I have a wife." He lifted his head and looked at you. "Oh. That's you." He smiled.

Your cheeks heated up. You smacked his shoulder. "Why did you come here drunk?! This is far from your place!"

"I hate my place... I wanna be with you..." He sincerely said. "I can't think straight without you..."

You dropped your shoulders. You helped him up and walked back to your house.

"I realized... I needed you just as much as you needed me. Actually, I need you more than I want to admit."

You listened to him. You remembered all the arguments and can only think that you caused everything. You can't help but feel like you're only a burden to him. That you'll always let him down. You wanted to say that but you're scared. You think that these problems happen because of those. You brushed the thought off and opened the door to your house.

"Please, don't be quiet..."

"Huh?"

"I know what you look like when you want to say something."

You shook your head. "It's okay..."

"It's not. Please talk to me..."

"I'll be fine... It's okay."

"Baby, please." He kneeled and held onto you. "Talk to me... Don't push me away..." He cried. You hugged him and he reciprocated by squeezing you in his arms. "I don't want to lose you ever... Not even to you..."

You laughed. "That's too mean..."

You helped him to the couch. You wanted to get a few more things for him but he held you there. No intention of letting go.

"I'm scared. Please stay..."

"I'm not gonna leave..."

"Still... Stay..."

"Okay." You brushed his hair and kissed his head. "I love you."

"I love you too..."

— OIKAWA, Atsumu, Kuroo, Bokuto, Tsukishima, Terushima

#hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #miya atsumu x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #terushima yuuji

232 notes · View notes

thatsalrightprettymama · 2 years

Text

Should've Known You'd Bring Me Heartache

A/N: @smbonilla2002 I finally finished it, but here's your fic request! I hope you enjoy and it's the angst you wanted. This is pure angst, no fluff, no comfort, just hurt 😂. I can't believe that people actually like my little fanfic stories, especially enough to request something lol. I can't believe the response I got on ALADATPO, and I'm also realizing that due to using lyrics from songs I listen to while writing, or the song the fics about, I'm making Fall Out Boy length titles lol 😂🤣. I got the title of this fic from the song "Almost Lover" by A Fine Frenzy I really hope you all enjoy this fic as well. Constructive criticism is always welcomed, and while it's not proofread I did slightly edit it using Word's editor setting lol. I apologize for any mistakes.

Warning: Angst, cussing?

Word Count:3.1K

In the tightest red dress, you owned you walked into Club Handy with one simple mission, you were going to drown your heartache or drink till you blacked out; you didn’t care which one happened first. As your heels stalked onto the main floor you shoot BB a smile, waving when he nods in your direction. You quickly make a B- Line to the bar, smiling at the familiar bartender Sammy. “Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in! I ain’t seen you in a minute doll, how’ve you been?” He asks with a smile as you pull a stool out to sit on. “I’ve been better, and I’m sure I’ve been worse.” You answer lightly keeping your smile, refusing to think anything other than your personal mission. “I’ve missed you Sammy, but I’ve missed your old-fashions a bit more.” You quip with a smile as he chortles and nods. “Alright then missy, I’ll get ya one served up. “He tells you as he grabs a glass, you smile and watch him make your drink before sliding it to you.

Taking it, you sweetly thank him before turning around to watch the crowd as you start on your first drink. You sip down your drink, ignoring the burn as you watch the sea of people dance and twirl. It’s not long before you finish that drink and turn to ask Sammy for another one. By the time you finish your third drink you decided that you’re gonna add having fun to your mission. Catching the eye of a tall blonde, brown-eyed boy, you decided to go over and ask for a dance. He looked the total opposite of Elvis, and when you started to dance with him you realized he was the opposite of Elvis in a lot of things besides just looks. He didn’t have much rhythm, stepping on your toes a few times as you two danced. His attempt at smooth lines sounding cheesy, but he was a bit cute, and you wanted fun. After a few songs you drag him to the bar as you two get some more drinks.

You teasingly flirt with the young man as you two take a pause to drink before he drags you back onto the dancefloor when you finish your drink. After a bit though, you drunkenly get bored of him and also a bit tired of having your dogs stepped on, you shake him in the crowd and go back for another drink. Unaware that from his corner B.B.’s been keeping an eye on you the whole night. Biting his lip he watches you at the bar, wandering how drunk you planned on getting that night. He glances at the clock and decides if he doesn’t see chill out soon, he was gonna call EP. He was terrified that you were gonna find yourself trouble getting this drunk alone. You smile gratefully at Sammy as he hands you your drink, turning to watch the crowd again as you drink. Sipping you fully enjoy your buzz as the alcohol makes you feel happier than you had in weeks, warm and flushed. With a dopey smile you watch the crowd as you quickly finish your drink, raising you glass to signal another you sway to the music as you resume watching the crowd.

As you sway to the beat you catch the eye of another guy. You basically begin a routine as the night drags. You’ll find a guy to keep your drunken attention span for a few dances, and then go back to the bar for another drink and to search for the new one. You continue it for a few more hours, consuming more drinks as you let the alcohol start to take every care away, and let’s warm fuzzy buzz take over your mind. Though still unknown to you B.B. watches from his corner, the worry in his gut get worse as the clock ticks by. B.B. had seen you cut loose in Club Handy before, but never like this. This wasn’t you; he couldn’t help but think as you twirled around with guy after guy, and down drink after drink. Though his gut drops as he sees the man you were dancing with a few moments ago follow you to the bar and grab your shoulder. In that instant he decides the night’s went on long enough for you, he needs to call EP. As he excuses himself from the table, he stalks across Club Handy toward the phone he knew Mama Thornton had in the back.

You’re waiting for your next drink when you feel a hand grab your shoulder, “You think you can just tease me without giving me anything.” The angry drunken man tells you as you turn, easily lighting your anger in your drunken state. “I think I can have fun and not owe you or any man a damn thing.” You bite at the man, getting Sammy’s attention from his spot down the bar. “Listen you little tease, I bought you a drink, I danced with your drunk ass, and I deserve something for my trouble,” He sleazily tells you, his nostrils flaring with his temper. Your drunkenly wonder why you danced with a man so ugly before you tell him hotly, “You ain’t special. You’re just another jack to play with. Obviously a dull one if I ain’t takin’ ya home.” You watch as a snarl flashes upon his face as he spits out. “You little teasin’ whore!” In your drunken state, you raise your hand and slap the man across the face without thinking.

As the man raises his arm, Sammy seemingly comes out of nowhere saving you as he grabs the guy from behind. Drawing more attention to your confrontation as he tells him, “No one talks to Lil Birdie like that, or tries to touch her. You’re night at Club Handy’s over.” The man tries to get out of his hold as Sammy leads him out of the club. As your chest hammers, and you feel yourself get hot from the alcohol and attention, you hear Sammy tell him, “Stop, fightin’ or you’ll be banned. Leave.” You jump out of your skin when you feel another hand on your shoulder. Turning your head, your gut drops when you see B.B., one of Elvis’s best friends. “Lil Birdie, I think you need to follow me in the back room and have some water.” He tells you firmly, and while his words might sound like he’s suggesting it, but his tone is commanding it. Biting your lip, you allow the familiar man led you to Mama Thornton’s office.

Drunkenly following him, you try your best to ignore the stares as you start to realize how much of a full you’ve made of yourself. Thankfully it’s not long before you two reach the door of the back office, it’s thickly quiet as B.B. leads you into the room. Hanging your head, you wobbly go to the couch and sit as he pours you a glass of water. “Thank you.” You smally tell him as he hands you the glass, missing the sad look in the man’s eyes as he looks at you. “Lil Birdie, what the hell was all that?” B.B. softly asks, breaking the silence after you’ve taken a few sips of water. “I ain’t ever seen you like that.” He comments as you bite your lip, alcohol in your system allowing your emotions to easily build up. “Me makin’ a fool outta myself.” You answer dejectedly, still refusing to meet his gaze as he secretly keeps you in the office for the ride, he’s called you.

“Little birdie, I know all that was more than just being a drunken fool.” He tells you as he sits in the chair in front of you, your emotions bubbling more under your skin as you sit there. “I just wanted one-night B.B., one night where I was Lil Birdie again. That I was myself again and having fun. “You thickly answer as you stare at your water, feeling your throat tighten. “I wanted one night where I wasn’t thinking about my heart ache, one night where I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself, or wondering why I’m not enough.” You drunkenly admit, opening up to him as you felt your eyes begin to sting. You take another sip of water as you lean back into the couch. “You know what the fucked-up part is?” You ask him rhetorically as you lean your head back against the back of the couch. “That no matter how many men I danced with, eventually I’d start thinking about how despite it being what I wanted when I approached em’, that they weren’t Elvis.” You tell him as you stare up at the ceiling, unable to stop the tears welling up in your eyes as B.B. watched the scene with a kicked gut, while he was right to call someone for you, maybe he shouldn’t have called EP.

“Oh Birdie. I’m sorry your hurtin’ like this, but you can’t fix it by getting drunk and starting bar fights.” He tells you softly, attempting to lighten the mood slightly with his joke as he gets up to sit beside you. “All that’s gonna do is lead to more trouble and pain.” He tells you wisely as lift your head up, and seeing the friendly caring eyes of B.B. “I know, I know B.B. but I’m just so tired of feeling this hurt.” You brokenly admit as your mascara smears from your tears. “It’s been four months B.B. and I still feel the same since the moment he ripped my heart out of me.” You confess as you lean your head against his shoulder, looking for any type of comfort. “I just don’t know what to do B.B., I can’t seem to move on from him.” You brokenly admit as he wraps a comforting arm around you, unknown to you that Elvis had just arrived outside the club, confused and worried over B.B.’s call still.

“I can’t escape him either, he haunts me everywhere.” You continue to tearfully admit as your mascara runs down your face. “He’s everywhere B.B.! I can’t listen to the radio, watch tv, or hell even walk downtown without seeing or hearing him!” You tearfully exclaim as he continues to try to comfort you, hoping you let it all out before EP gets here. Though a part of him wants EP to see this, while he was Elvis’s friend first, he grew to care for you like a little sister as he got to know you, and he didn’t like seeing you so hurt. As Elvis walks into the club, He waves at Sammy and quickly makes his way to the familiar office room when he sees Sammy throw his head toward that direction. “It’s hard to forget Elvis Presley when the whole world’s obsessed over his poison.” He hears you thickly say, the alcohol making your words start to slur some. As Elvis turns the corner, he feels his chest squeeze at the sight of you against B.B. with red eyes and smeared make-up.

While you were too into your feelings, and the alcohol dulling your senses some, you don’t hear Elvis’s steps. Unaware of the man at the doorway you continue to cry to B.B. , “Cause one thing this pain’s made me realize B.B. Is that he is poison. A slow one, but still deadly. “You start your drunken and heartbroken monologue, still unaware of Elvis at the door watching and listening to your every word. “He consumes you completely. He seeps into your mind, body, and soul with his sweet words and his false hopes. He makes you feel like you’re his only one, and you believe it. He makes you feel that all those songs were right about love, and he makes you believe love is true. He makes you believe that you are beautiful, and you believe that lie too. The whole time you’re getting caught up in him, he’s rotting you from the inside out with all those pretty lies. “You cry to B.B. as he squeezes you closer to him as the sobs start to break free.

The whole time at the doorway Elvis felt his heart fall to pieces hearing your words and hearing the pure pain in your voice. Ironically, he never wanted to hurt you, but while you deserved the world, he could now give you with his career shooting off, you deserved to have someone there and not keeping you waiting; or at least that’s what he thought. Watching you shove your smeared face into B.B.’s shoulder and hearing your sobs, maybe his Mama was right, and he was a damned fool for letting you go. Though he's pulled out of his thoughts as he watched you lift your head up and finally see him. His heart feels like shattered glass when he sees your red pain-filled eyes glance at him, before drunken anger flashes through them.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You spit as you wipe your eyes, the sight of him not only hurting you more but also pissing you off in your drunken state. You pull yourself out of B.B.’s arms and slide to the corner of the couch as you shoot him a hurt and angry look while asking, “Did you call him? What you thought it’d be entertaining to get me to talk about how broken I am, just to break me more?” Your words eating away at both men as you hug yourself. “I thought you were being MY friend.” You spit at B.B. as he bites his lip and dips his head. “Lil birdie, I- “B.B. goes to say before you angrily interrupt him. “No, you let me cry my pain out to you, knowing that the cause of it was coming.” You spit as more hurt bubbles with your anger.

“Listen Y/N, don’t be mad at B.B., he was being your friend when he- “Elvis softly tries to tell you, trying to ignore the painful sting digging into his chest from the scene. “No! You don’t get to take up for him! You don’t get to come in and play hero like your Captain Fucking Marvel boy, when you’re the reason I’m like this!” You drunkenly yell at Elvis as you get up, tears sliding from your eyes again as the emotional storm buzzes through your veins with the alcohol. Stumbling you get up off the couch, as you look at Elvis with a fire in your eyes. All your pain from the last three months squeezing your chest and lighting an anger in you as you finally see the man you’ve cried yourself to sleep over for the past four months stand in your view. “If I knew you were just sickly-sweet poison instead of the sweet honey you presented yourself as, I would’ve never fucking said yes to going to that carnival. “You spit at him, your words hitting him like razors as he sees the pain behind the anger in your eyes.

“I would have never said yes, I would never feel the hole in my chest, and I would never made the biggest regret in my life. Loving you.” You continue to spit at Elvis as he stands, biting his plump lip as you shatter his heart more. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you were supposed to have moved onto some other Jack that could be there and give you everything you deserve, he wasn’t supposed to see you and feel his bones ache with regret and guilt. His blue eyes watch as you stumble closer to him, and a small part of him thinks even with red puffy eyes and smeared mascara you still looked beautiful. “I don’t care if B.B. called you to get me, but I sure as hell ain’t leaving with you. “You angrily tell him as you stand in front of him at the door. Willing yourself not to think about how beautiful his eyes looked, or how nice his arms would feel around you instead of at his side. “Y/N, it’s drunk and it’s late. Just let me take you home, and you never have to see me again.” Elvis tells you after swallowing a lump, his deep voice thick with emotion as he stares at you, seeing the mess he’s made.

Despite your anger and hurt a small voice tells you that they’re right just go and end this horrible night and go back to the pity party that’s become your life again tomorrow. You ignore the voice and shake your head. “No, you don’t get to waltz in and out of my life like it’s easy just cause you’re Elvis Presley.” You spit at him as you look into his blue sad eyes. “I don’t care how late it is, or how drunk I am. I’m not getting in a car with you.” You tell him angrily as you try to push past him, biting your lip when you feel his large hand gently grasp your shoulder. His hand leaving a burning ache on your skin before you shrug it off you. “Don’t touch me.” You spit as his hand falls from your shoulder as you stare at the wall, refusing to turn back as the night finally starts to take its toll and wear you down. “I’ll find a taxi or walk home, either way I’m not getting in that car with you Elvis, and I mean it.” You spit as you try to hold onto your anger instead of letting your pain bubble over like it wants to. “I hate you Elvis Presley, and I wish I never met you.” You angerly spit the lie out to the man behind you before you start to drunkenly stalk across the floor and toward the exit, not looking back and missing the crushed look that appears on Elvis’s face as he watches you walk away. As your words crush what was left of his heart, he watches you leave as tears blur his vision before you slip out of the doors. “What did I do B.B.? “Elvis brokenly asks as he watches the doors you just slipped out of, your words ringing in his head as B.B. quietly walks up behind him and comfortably pats his friend’s shoulder. “You broke two hearts it seems, and clipped Little Birdie’s wings.” B.B. tells him softly as he stares at the doors with him while you drunkenly walk the sidewalks home, hugging yourself as tears smear the mascara more down your face.

#elvis 2022 #austin elvis fic #elvis fic req #elvis fic #elvis angst #austin butler elvis

77 notes · View notes

barilleon · 10 months

Text

The Boy Who Cried Wolf

I got diagnosed with a few things this week, so I decided to revisit my least favorite fable.

Content warning for some violent language and a metaphorical description of intrusive thoughts.

There once was a village that lived on the edge of the forest. For the most part, the village and the forest stayed separate: the people did not go into the forest, and the animals did not go into the village. But once in a while, a wolf would chance an encounter and sneak off in the dead of night with a prize hen or piglet. And that’s how the people knew there were wolves in the forest.

In the village there was a little boy who, like all the other little boys, was taught the danger of wolves—their sharp teeth, ferocious growl, their powerful paws. Killing Machines. “When you see a wolf,” the little boy’s parents said to him, “you run, and you call for help.”

One day the little boy was playing outside in the view of the forest. The sun was out, and a light breeze tousled his hair and rustled the tree branches. He heard this and looked to the forest. There, he saw wolves.

They were in front of him, with their bared fangs, flattened knife-shaped ears, and wild eyes. They growled low, and he saw them leap upon something. He heard the blood-curdling scream, the frenzied yips. He saw fangs sink into supple skin, eyes leering at him. He felt blood, the tear of flesh, but his body was fine.

The little boy then remembered himself. What do you do when you see wolves? You run.

“WOLVES!” the boy called, tripping over his feet towards the town square. “Help me! I see wolves!”

The village woke with a start. The people emerged from their homes, reaching for weapons or the nearest sharp object. They ran to protect the boy.

“Where?” they asked. “Where are they, boy? We’ll get them.”

The boy couldn't give an answer. Though he saw them, they were not here. Not where others could see.

He gestured wildly, tried to explain, but no one understood. They lowered their weapons in disappointment. There would be no wolf hunt today. But something had to be done about the boy.

“You are scaring him,” somebody said to the boy’s parents. “Filling his head with stories of wolves. No wonder he had a fright. Probably saw a shadow in the forest and ran.”

“Do not worry son,” his parents soothed. “There are no wolves here.”

“I know,” said the little boy. But even then he could see them, their red eyes piercing him as he clung tight to his mother's leg.

The next day, the boy was out playing and it happened again. There were the wolves, and in front of them they tore into flesh, drained blood, gouged eyes. The boy shut his own eyes, touched them to make sure they were still there. His eyes were fine, but even closed he could see the wolves. He screamed.

“HELP!” he cried once more.

“What is it?” the people called out.

“Wolves—I see them! Please, help me!”

He pleaded so loudly that many members of the village did come out to find him—but not as many as the day before. They grabbed their torches and weapons and followed the sound of his screams to the edge of the village, where he was curled up in a ball with his hands over his eyes.

“There are no wolves here,” the people said. Some of them began to get very angry.

“I know,” said the boy. “But still I see them. I don’t know how to make them go away.”

The people did not know what to make of this. How could you see something that was not there? The boy must clearly be lying. Perhaps he was bored. Perhaps he wanted attention. There is no way he could be this scared. He had yet to even see a real wolf.

They left him there, still curled up and crying.

That night he could hear them howling. He cried and cried, but not even his parents came. They had said everything to be said already: you cannot live your life in fear of wolves. You must keep moving forward, and think of happier things. And so there in the dark, surrounded by them, the little boy willed himself to think of happier things, to chase the wolves away on his own. He exhausted himself doing so, and soon he passed out.

It was the same the next night, and the next. And the next. For years and years and years. Days and nights filled with the howling, the gnashing of teeth, the violent killing. But when he cried, no one came. No one believed him.

The little boy is now a young man. He has not spoken of wolves since he was a boy. But he still sees them, almost every night. It is hard to think of happier things when the wolves are right there. When they are in the room with you, even when you shut your eyes. When you can see them clearly even in the dark, feel their breath on the back of your neck.

But years of this have hardened the man. With cold eyes he picks up his spear, waves it about, and chases the wolves away himself. Then, exhausted, he lays down and goes to sleep, eyes and mind weary in a way that sleep cannot fix.

7 notes · View notes

talesofbirbal · 2 years

Text

Darshan

"Receive your redemption," intoned the chaplain Petrus to his kneeling King, Cyprian, lifting his frock and exposing his large, hungry, throbbing member. That frenzied ritual scarcely completed, King Cyprian stepped out onto the balcony of the palace, to give his afternoon darshan for his people, thousands of them, gathered below, scorching under the hot sun, heads craning upwards, desperate to catch a glimpse of him.

And what a sight he was. The "golden boy", they called him, when he ascended the throne at the age of 12, but now, at the age of 27, in the full bloom of manhood, he was quite something else. A mane of blonde hair; fine cheekbones and chiselled features; friendly and lively green eyes; and a muscular physique that was the envy of the realm's most renowned knights. The most handsome monarch who had ever ruled, the most beautiful man who had ever lived. Even more beautiful than his mother, Queen Consentia, who passed away 15 years ago.

Cyprian thought of his mother often. Those were such happier, more innocent times. Or at least that was how they had seemed then.

She had died, suddenly, in the midst of childbirth, leaving behind him, his half-brother, Aurelio, and his stepfather, Ludovicius, who became his regent. He regarded Ludovicius as his own father. Indeed, he loved him as his own father, believed he was his own father.

Then, in the months after the Queen's death, everything became more complicated.

Cyprian continues to wave to his people. At the front of the crowd, in their shaded enclosure, fanned by skeletal, half-naked punkawallahs, the greedy nobles in their ermine robes. Most of them strolled down to the square less than twenty minutes ago from their luxury mansions near the palace. He could not bear to look at them. He recognised them all by sight, and despised every one of them. Behind them, the middling classes, reasonably attired, probably come down for a day trip. Further back, the plebs of the city, scantily clad, thin-boned, hungry, dirty, ridden with fleas and disease. Kept away from the better classes by the city guards. Cyprian took in their scrawny, questioning faces.

It all began, after the Queen's death, with a conversation he had with his favourite playmate, Sergius, son of the powerful Lord Philoxenus.

"Ludovicius is not your real father, you know," said Sergius.

"What?"

"He is the father of your brother, Aurelio, but not the father of you. Everyone knows that. Didn't you know?"

Cyprian was much shocked by this suggestion, and confessed it to his governess, after she caught him crying. She then told Ludovicius, and there followed a painful conversation between stepfather and stepson. "I am sorry," Ludovicius said. "Your mother and I were planning to tell you the truth after the baby was born...but then...you know...so much happened, it was all too much..."

Cyprian's behaviour changed sharply after this. He became rebellious, resentful, distrustful of everyone around him. How could his family have kept all of this secret from him for so long? And why would his stepfather and his tutors not tell him more about his real father, or allow him to contact his paternal family?

"I am sorry, so sorry," Ludovicius had tried to explain. "Your father's family revolted against your mother, after your father died. They tried to seize the throne for themselves. They are all either executed, imprisoned, in exile or living in obscurity now."

Cyprian was having none of it, and his behaviour became angrier and more intolerable to everyone around him. Even some of his best-loved tutors, who had been around him since his earliest days, could no longer bear his company and left the royal employ.

One day, whilst hunting in the forest, Sergius turned to him, with a trembling voice and a shaky face.

"Cyprian, there is something you must know. Follow me; we will ride to a small cottage a short while away, where my father will tell you everything."

Cyprian loved Sergius like his own brother, but he had heard enough of court intrigues to be wary of the proposal. His tutors had warned him, many, many times, about the traps that others might set for him, or even be tricked against their will into setting for him.

"It's important," berated Sergius.

"I'm not sure about this," cautioned Cyprian. He had heard a few stories about Lord Philoxenus.

Sergius gripped Cyprian around the shoulders. "We have little time," he hissed. "The regent, your stepfather, no longer trusts you at all. He intends to have you murdered and to put his own son, Aurelio, on the throne in your place."

From that moment on, the trap was set. Only the previous night, Cyprian had had a fearfully bitter row with Ludovicius, where the worst things had been said on both sides.

Cyprian went over to the side of the devious Lord Philoxenus, who led a revolt against the Regent in his name, demanding the Regency be put to an end and Cyprian be declared King ruling in his own right.

Ludovicius did not put up a fight. At the time, Cyprian was told his stepfather had been a coward. Years later, he learned that in fact the strength of Ludovicius's forces assured him a fair chance of winning, but that the moment he was informed his own stepson had been placed at the front of the army opposing him, he had flung in the towel, unable to bear the prospect of being responsible for the death of the late Queen's son.

Ludovicius's execution followed. The young Cyprian was reluctant at first, but Lord Philoxenus and other powerful nobles around him incited his anger at his stepfather, and fuelled his fears - fears he now knew to be imaginary - that even from his dungeon cell, his stepfather was plotting his death.

His younger half-brother, Aurelio, was sent to a seminary school on a distant island, in preparation for becoming a monk. He died from illness only two years later.

King Cyprian withdrew from the balcony. His darshan for the day was finished.

Darshan was everything in this Kingdom. If the monarch appeared for darshan, the Kingdom was happy and all was settled. Cyprian remembered how his stepfather had been ill for a few days, just before the rebellion, and had missed his darshan. That had been interpreted as a fateful sign, and had given strength to the rebellion when it erupted. Ever since then, Cyprian's advisors had warned him never to miss the darshan, however ill he may feel, however sick he may appear. A missed darshan was now, more than ever, to be interpreted as an ominous portent.

Petrus, his personal chaplain, was waiting for him in the corridor leading off from the balcony, and together they strolled towards the King's private study. Petrus was not a member of the Royal Council and had no formal political power, but he was doubtless one of the King's closest confidants, which was surprising, because Petrus was seven years his junior, just 20 years old, and young monarchs usually chose older sages as sources of advice. Petrus, though, was wise beyond his years, and with his simple, charming ways, picked up from the monastery, was the antithesis of the swaggering arrogance that characterised almost all of the others at court. The young monk arrived at the Palace a year ago, as part of a deputation from a far-away monastery, to deliver a report to the King on how local affairs, which at the time were full of intrigue, were developing. He had then fallen ill with a fever, and stayed behind after the other monks left. The King felt peculiarly drawn to the good-natured youngster, so fragile and doll-like, and spent time nursing him and getting to know him better. He learned Petrus had gone to the same monastery as his brother, Aurelio, and had become a close friend of his, their being the same age. This cemented the bond between Petrus and the King even further. Cyprian thought about his brother all the time. His sense of guilt was terrible. What must Aurelio have thought of me? How could I have done to him and his father what I did?

It was to this topic, yet again, that the conversation between Cyprian and Petrus turned now.

"You must not think he despised you," Petrus comforted. "The Abbot well knew what king of man Lord Philoxenus was and how he had tricked you and used you, who were only a boy at the time. Aurelio told me many times he forgave you, and wanted only that in time you should be able to put Philoxenus and his gang to justice."

"Well, I am further away from that than ever," grumbled Cyprian. And this was true. Lord Philoxenus, now the Chief Minister, and his cronies exercised a vice-like grip over the running of the Kingdom, dominating the Royal Council, deciding, in effect, almost all of the key appointments and running the Kingdom exclusively to the benefit of the greedy, powerful nobles and to the detriment of the impoverished masses.

"The suffering of the people grows every year. I've seen it with my own eyes."

"I feel so angry and so helpless," cried Cyprian. "I am a prisoner, not a real King at all. What is the point of me, other than to step outside onto the balcony once a day and look glamorous and handsome? The regime that rules in my name is corrupt and oppresses the poor to benefit the rich. I am made the poster boy for all of this. What can I do? I feel so helpless."

"I know, I know."

"Tell me, tell me, tell me...what can I possibly do?"

"Well, let us consider," said Petrus, slowly and quietly. "You cannot, at least for the moment, control the levers of government. That is in the hands of Philoxenus and the others. What you can control, perhaps, is the presentation of the government to people, in the form of your person. As you know, it is you, not Philoxenus, who appears at the darshan every day. It is from your appearances that the government derives its image, its legitimacy. Perhaps you could...perhaps you could subvert, in some way, the wholesome message the government wants the people to see?"

"You mean, send out some sort of secret code, telling the people their ministers are wicked and I'm just a figurehead, a prisoner of the nobles?"

Petrus laughed softly. "No, no, although the few who are wise enough know that already, of course. What I mean is, if you have to be the figurehead of this government, then show yourself as decadent as it is. Right now you are noble and youthful looking, muscular, handsome, like a warrior, just like your stunning official portrait which hangs in the palace entrance."

Cyprian giggled. "You mean, I should become a bloated, gluttonous drunk like Lord Sceparnio?"

They both laughed at the reference to Cyprian's old tutor.

"Well, consider this," said Petrus, "In three months' time, we will have the Day of Charity."

Ah yes, remembered Cyprian. The Day of Charity is when the King is ceremoniously weighed in front of the whole court, and the nobles have to donate the King's weight in gold to charity, to help the poor. Even Lord Philoxenus and his allies had not dared to eliminate this long tradition, for fear of the unrest it would provoke amongst the people.

"What a splendid idea!" exclaimed Cyprian. "If I increase my weight, those rich bastards will have to part with more of their gold, and there will be nothing they can do about it!"

"The poor of the land will be most grateful to you, Your Majesty," said Petrus.

I am 5'9" and at the last Day of Charity, I was 161lbs, considered Cyprian. I am the same now. Let us see how things will be, in seven months time, when it is the Day of Charity again.

"Eat," commanded Petrus, lain naked on his back on the couch, his cherubic, invincibly irresistible backside shining gloriously in the sun beaming through the overhead windows. Cyprian was driven crazy by the sight, lusting more and more for Petrus's virginity every day, but every advance he made was deflected. Petrus teased him and denied him remorselessly, mercilessly. Right now, though, the sacred hole was shielded, decorated, deliciously, with a large brown pork sausage, wedged sensuously, obscenely, between his firm tight buttocks.

"Eat," commanded Petrus again, adding "embrace your degradation" with a wink. Cyprian dove in, unable to resist that sexy ass any longer, and chewed at the sausage, hesitantly at first, then greedily and disgustingly as Petrus urged him on, telling him how good it is to let go of pride and dignity, and embrace the humility that can only come of being a shameless, greedy, butt-munching pig.

"You know I want to take you so bad," pleaded Cyprian.

"I know, Your Majesty," said Petrus, "but for now you may eat your sausages," he added, as he slipped another, even larger and longer sausage in between his crack.

Cyprian continued to munch greedily on the sausage, delighting in the humiliation and thrilled to be so close to the young monk's tenderest parts.

"I would do anything, anything," he rasped, sending a shudder down his young lover's spine as he licked his hole as deep as he could.

"Make sure you eat all the bits of sausage in there," said Petrus, pressing the sausage meat deeper into his luxurious crevices. "I want to make you the fattest King who ever lived. I want to see the faces of those nobles when they read the scale."

"So do I, so much," said Cyprian, as he reached over Petrus's back, and squeezed him, and kissed him, and they lost themselves in each other's beautiful forms, tumbling, whispering, whimpering, laughing, Petrus slipping chocolate after chocolate into Cyprian's mouth, fuelling an addiction he knew would be sure to add ever more pounds to the royal waistline. "I want this so much," cried Cyprian, as Petrus pressed his ass into his face, pressing the vertically pinioned sausage deeper into his throat. "Then eat," said Petrus, "savour the aroma, and eat and eat and eat".

Night after night, this routine and many ingenuous variations of it was repeated, and the lovemaking between King and chaplain became even more intimate, and more intense, although the cock-teasing chaplain, to the King's frustration, whilst flaunting and pouting his virgin cherry, would always at the last moment withhold it, leaving him ever more desperate and anxious to please.

After two months of snack grazing, binge eating and erotic stuffing sessions, the King had gained over 40lbs and tipped the 200lbs mark. He had never enjoyed such a sensual, titillating experience, noticing how his body became rounder and softer, and his clothes ever tighter.

"I wonder how much people are noticing?" asked Cyprian.

"I don't think so, you have such a muscular build underneath people think it is just muscle," said Petrus. "And even if they did notice, they wouldn't say anything. You're the King, Your Majesty".

"Yes, but it would be funny if they did notice, wouldn't it?" replied Cyprian. "I've got to admit, I would find it so hot".

Cyprian quietly asked some of his trusted courtiers, his "spies" as he called them, to prowl around the court and find out whether anyone was noticing or saying anything. They all came back to him with the same reply: "No, Your Majesty". A shame, thought Cyprian. But then again, they might be lying to me. The whole lot of them are flatterers.

"I know what I will do," he told Petrus. "I'm going to start wearing those tighter shirts for my daily darshans. The ones that really show off my gut."

Petrus giggled. "You wouldn't dare, Your Majesty."

But he did. And the crowds cheered just as loudly as before. And everybody told him how marvellously he looked, how he was the very incarnation of the perfection of manhood, how his mother would have been so proud, how any princess anywhere in the world would give her right arm to marry him.

"Surely they must be saying something?" Cyprian grilled one of his spies.

"No, Your Majesty," replied the spy. Nothing at all."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

I will try harder, vowed the King, and began cramming ever more food into his growing stomach at every spare opportunity, washed down with tankards and tankards of beer.

"Please, Petrus," Cyprian pleaded one night, as he pressed his cock into his sweet lover's buttocks. "Please let me do it tonight."

"Your Majesty knows the sacred value of self-denial and discipline," Petrus teased, pressing himself closer to his sovereign, "one day, when you are fatter than you or I could ever imagine, and you are hornier than you have ever been, even hornier than you are now, then, and only then, will you have your reward."

"But I want it now!"

"So do I," said Petrus, savoring the King's hairy fattening belly pressing into the small of his delicate back, "so much, so much it keeps me awake at night, but all in good time, my beloved. Trust me, if we wait, it will be better - so good the wait will be worth it over a thousand times."

The weight continued to pile on, and within what seemed like no time, the King was nearly 250lbs.

"Such a sexy porker," whispered Petrus, as Cyprian headed towards the balcony for his daily darshan. "Surely they can't fail to notice it now."

"Still nothing has been said, not even a word," sighed Cyprian. "How much must I gain before someone says something, acknowledges what I am achieving?"

Petrus ran his fingers down the King's shirt and twirled it around the outline of his bellybutton. "Get out there, big boy."

Later that day, General Stratipoccles, chief of the National Guard, approached the King for a private audience. "Your Majesty, " he said, "I am sorry to report that evidence has emerged of certain...seditious activity."

"And what would this be?"

"Well," said the General, sounding sheepish, "it is to do with a cartoonist".

"A cartoonist?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. You know, silly drawings, scrawlings..."

"I know what a cartoonist is," snapped Cyprian. "Why is my lunch being interrupted because of some damned cartoonist?" he asked, shovelling more dundee cake into his mouth.

"The cartoonist in question is drawing caricatures of Your Majesty," the General replied uncomfortably.

"Oh really?" chortled the King, scoffing his mouth with sliced cheeses. "Are they good?"

A pained expression manifested across the General's visage. "I think not, Your Majesty."

"What do they depict?"

The General blushed bright red.

"Well?"

"I prefer not to speak of it, Your Majesty, may that please your Majesty..."

The King swilled a small tankard of beer. "Then what do you expect me to do?"

"The death warrant, Your Majesty," said the General, presenting a short formal-looking document. "Sign this, and we have authority to round up the perpetrator and execute him".

"Execute him for a cartoon I've not even bothered to look at?"

"Lord Philoxenus is recommending this, Your Majesty".

The King felt his blood boiling. "He does, does he? Well fuck Lord Philoxenus!" he roared

The General cowered and fell to his knees deferentially.

"Get up, get up," said the King hurriedly, recovering from his rage and reminding himself that the General, like himself, was in no position to challenge Lord Philoxenus about anything he was insistent enough about. "I am sorry, General Stratipoccles, I have been too hard on you, I know. You are only doing your best."

"It is I who would apologise to you, Your Majesty," said the General, tears in his eyes. "The Almighty knows how wrong it is that that man is treating you how he does, but you know how it is..."

"I know," said the King sadly. "We all know. Now about this cartoonist... please do tell me, how did he draw me?"

"Not as you are to be drawn, Your Majesty."

"Meaning?"

"Sedition."

"How precisely?"

"Well...?"

"Show me the bloody thing!" snapped the King, losing his temper once again.

The General reluctantly produced a piece of paper from his satchel and handed it over to the King. "This was confiscated earlier today," he said. "We believe this cartoonist is attending your darshans to draw obscene caricatures of you."

The King's eyes widened as he took in the drawing. It was him, on the balcony. He had been drawn in this pose so many times before, every day, but this was different. All the other ones did not dare depart from the perfect version of himself presented in the official portrait that hung in the palace entrance. This one was from a different artistic style altogether.

"My gosh!" he gasped, as he absorbed every detail. His bulbous belly was straining against the fabric of his shirt, his deep bellyhole lewdly exposed between the bottom two buttons; his hefty tits bulging suggestively under the shirt fabric; his chubby fat hands greedily clenching a massive handful of chocolate cake and chocolate smeared over his red, sensual lips. He had never seen anything like this before.

The King's cock stiffened. The man in this drawing was even fatter than he was now, and he longed to equal and exceed the girth of this behemoth in the drawing in front of him.

"I am sorry for this outrage," pleaded the General softly.

The King recovered his composure. "We will conduct a detailed intelligence operation. Recover as many of these drawings as possible and bring them to me immediately. Gather as much information as possible. But no arrests, not for now."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Each week that followed, the General, shiftily and uncomfortably, presented the King with more and more of these cartoon drawings, each more salacious than the one before. The belly, the tits, the ass, the double chin, everything, was becoming fatter and fatter. Only one thing was becoming smaller: the bulge in the King's crotch, depravedly outsized in the first drawings, but subtly dwindling in presence ever after. Eventually, in a drawing more obscene than any so far, the King's puny, shrunken member fell limply out of his burst fly, its tip almost touching the engorged belly pouring out of his button-shattered shirt.

"This really is too much, really too much," muttered the General. "Lord Philoxenus is again pressing me to make arrests. I cannot hold him off much longer, I am afraid."

"Not today," giggled Cyprian, slipping the drawing into his suitcase and partaking of another fruit scone flavoured with rich strawberry jam and luscious full fat cream. Lately he had been playing a little game with the cartoonist, appearing at his darshan with food stains on certain parts of his clothing, testing to see whether the artist would spot it. He did, and the stains would appear in grotesque proportions in the next day's drawings, much to his amusement. Then, over the last few days, he had appeared on the balcony exposing some under-belly beneath his tight doublet, and this too the artist caricatured with expert, sensuous cruelty.

"I must ask for all of the drawings back," said the General. "Our intelligence people want to examine them again, and Lord Philoxenus insists they must have them at once."

"Must I?"

"I am afraid so, Your Majesty."

The King scurried off to his bedchamber and returned with a pile of drawings, dozens of them. I hope none of the semen stains are too obvious, he thought.

"Yours," said the King, handing them over. "But I'm keeping this one," he added, pointing to the last, most outrageous one.

Nine days later, the General appeared again before the King, a hearty grin on his face. "We got the bastard, Your Majesty," he announced. "He's in the dungeon, being interrogated about his sponsors and accomplices."

"Not torture, I hope."

"I imagine they're onto the seventh toe nail by now."

"Then stop them, goddamned you," bellowed the King. "I told you I don't like that stuff."

"You know Lord Philoxenus's ways, Your Majesty..."

"Do you take orders from him or me?"

There was a pause, and they both looked at each other awkwardly, sadly, knowingly.

"Just this time, do this for me," said the King. "Halt the interrogation immediately. Take him to a comfortable cell. Tell them to look after him well."

"Yes, Your Majesty. I suppose I might just about get away with that."

With only three weeks left until the Day of Charity, the King was now 279lbs. "One final push now, big boy," said Petrus, stroking the royal belly lovingly. "I want you over 300lbs when they weigh you."

"You think I can make that in time?"

"With discipline and abstinence, Your Majesty."

"Discipline and abstinence?"

"Indeed, Your Majesty," said the mischievous monk, slipping a chastity device onto the royal member and fastening it tight. "No cumming now except when I say so, and that will only be when you've stuffed yourself so much you can hardly move."

"But Petrus!" complained the King. "You know how horny, I get, how I have....needs. Like when I get up in the morning..."

"Oh I know, I know very well," said Petrus, a devilish grin on his face. "But from now on, your orgasms are mine. Now get on all fours and eat your dinner."

The King crawled down on all fours, belly hanging down and ass pouting out, and ate like a pig from the trough on the floor.

"Such a sexy fat pig," whispered Petrus, in a voice he knew would always drive the King wild.

"It's not fair, I can't touch myself," moaned the King.

"I'll touch you here instead," said Petrus, kneeling down behind the King and inserting his finger skilfully between the royal buttocks, in and out, then plunging wildly in and out of the royal hole, finger fucking him until his moans could be heard all the way downstairs in the kitchen, where certain of the chefs had already guessed what was really going on between the cheeky ravishing little monk and the gluttony-and-lust-maddened King.

The next weeks saw Cyprian fall deeper under Petrus's spell, ravenous for the release which only his confessor could grant, and which only came after his belly was blown up outrageously, and he had humiliatingly and grovellingly submitted to his lover's every imaginatively smutty and perverted whim.

Finally the Day of Charity arrived, the Holy Scales set out in the middle of the palace courtyard, nobles, gentlemen and gentlewomen, and commoners alike gathered around anxiously to watch. The King, dressed in his finest and most colourful regalia, stepped out the Palace entrance, to mass applause, and made towards the Holy Scales.

"Three hundred and thirteen pounds!" announced the master of ceremonies.

A deep moan of shock echoed from the crowd.

Lord Philoxenus stood up. He had not condescended to meet the King for a year, having ruled the country mainly from his country estate in the west of the country, and had no idea of just how much weight he had gained. "Your Majesty," he said shyly, "I am sorry, but this is too much. We cannot supply this much in gold."

"My nobles will supply the required sum, in accordance with the sacred traditions of this land!" the King barked back. Everybody was shocked. An open confrontation between the King and his leading noble, the Chief Minister. In public.

"I speak for the other nobles," replied Lord Philoxenus firmly. The other nobles raised their hands in support. "Two hundred at the very most, Your Majesty, please graciously accept two hundred."

"Your Lordship knows the law of the land," protested the King. "The scale says three hundred and thirteen pounds, and three hundred and thirteen pounds you will pay, for the alleviation of the misery of the poor."

At this, the great mass of the crowd erupted in cheers for the King and insults and denunciations of Lord Philoxenus and the nobles.

"You have not heard the last of this," snarled Lord Philoxenus, turning his back on the King and marching off with the other nobles, the crowd booing him and them as they departed.

"He dares to turn his back to the King," growled General Stratipoccles quietly. "Let me arrest them, come what may."

"No, not now," responded the King.

"They mean no good."

And mean no good they did not. All through the day, a rebel army led by Lord Philoxenus and his nobles camped outside the capital, growing in size, planning the moment to seize the city and overthrow General Stratipoccles' small National Guard, which remained fiercely loyal to the palace. Several times the enemy army seemed confident enough to launch an attack, but each time called it off, hoping for a better moment. As the day went on, though, the ordinary people came out onto the streets, wielding their clumsy weapons, vowing to fight and die in defence of their King - a King, they saw, who cared more for them than the nobles ever did. By evening, the two sides were looking evenly-matched, and the city stood on tenterhooks, waiting to see which side would attack or withdraw first. Eventually, at twenty minutes to midnight, Lord Philoxenus threw in the towel, seeing his side was now outnumbered and outpowered. At first he had tried to negotiate his escape into exile, but the King refused, and in the end only unconditional surrender was accepted.

Lord Philoxenus and his allies thrown into the deepest, darkest dungeons, the King stood onto the balcony to thank his supporters, and tell the people that now the full power of the government was his, he would rule justly, and no longer allow the nobles to oppress the poor.

"And before this day is out, there is one more final item of business," he announced. "On the Day of Charity, it is customary for the King to issue pardons to those whom he thinks deserve it. I therefore have three pardons to issue. The first, to Lord Sergus, my close childhood friend."

The crowd gasped with shock. Sergius had followed his father, Lord Philoxenus, into the rebellion. Could he be trusted now?

"And the second is to the caricaturist, Piscatores."

"Piscatores?" whispered a voice in the crowd.

"The one that did those naughty pictures," said another voice.

"And the third, my stepfather Lord Ludovicius, wrongfully convicted of treason, and who I now pardon, with deep personal remorse for my role in his execution and the events that led to it."

Scarcely a pin-drop could have been heard.

Returning to his private chambers in victory, the King scooped up Petrus exultantly in his arms like a puppy, and swung him round and round in a dance.

"I've won, I've won, I've won!"

"So you have, Your Majesty."

"This calls for a celebration."

"It does."

"Please, Petrus, you know I want this so much, please, please, please..."

Petrus cheekily slid out of the King's arm, crawled onto the soft sofa, dropped his trousers and wiggled his backside around, parting his buttocks, exposing his hole and driving the King to new heights of lust.

"Unlock me! Unlock me now, you runty little bastard!"

"Watch and suffer," smirked Petrus, peering between his legs at the King's panting face, great round belly and locked-up privy parts.

"I deserve this so much," the King whined. "You know I do, you sadistic, pious little shit!"

"Learn the spiritual lessons of self-restraint and chastity," teased Petrus, dancing his ass around even more bawdily.

By the end of that long night, after much tormenting and much wine had been drunk, Petrus finally deigned to release his sovereign from his lock. Like a man possessed, the King mounted the young monk, and attempted to penetrate, but found, to his great indignity, that his member was now too swallowed up in fat to be able to penetrate very much. Petrus taunted him mockingly, urging him on to show him what he could do, giggling and tittering at how little he could.

"Bend over, Your Majesty," he said at last. "There is another position we could try."

And they did. And it was good.

"I think you should call up that artist," said Petrus, pulling his cock out of the fat royal ass and smirking at the sight of his wet hot cum dripping out of it and running down the thick flabby royal thighs.

"Yes," said Cyprian, walking towards the shower, "I really think we should".

The next afternoon, since it was not until the next afternoon that they woke up, the King summoned the artist, Piscatores, to his presence chamber.

"Piscatores, Your Majesty," announced the herald, and in walked a tall, skinny beanpole of a young man, dressed in rags and evidently covered in thick dark brown hair, on his body, face and head.

"What is this urchin?" muttered one of the assembled courtiers.

"I have been eager to meet you," said the King.

Piscatores fell to his knees. "I am most grateful to you, Your Majesty, for granting I, most undeserved wretch, my freedom. Most grateful, Your Majesty."

"I see you must have been studying me very closely at my darshans."

The King and Piscatores exchanged a brief looks, then the Piscatores' eyes fell downwards in terror, and he crawled onto the floor in self-abnegation.

"Do you have anywhere to go once you are released?" asked the King.

"I am an orphan, no family, no home."

The King eyed the young man up and down, noting how much of a tramp he looked.

"You are...of the streets, may I say?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Some courtiers began to titter and roll their eyes.

"You clearly have some artistic talent. Have you ever had any career from this, anything you could receive payment for?

"I made a little from the...the...errr...you know, the cartoons, but not much."

There was a long pause.

"I have decided," announced the King, "to appoint you a painter of the Royal Court. You shall begin work on a new official royal portrait tomorrow morning."

The courtiers all groaned.

"After all," said the King, pointing to the current official portrait on the opposite side of the wall, "I have changed a little since the last one was done."

The gentle humour in the King's voice relaxed Piscatores, and they exchanged glances, and smiled, and each left the audience with the sentiment of having shared an intimate secret with the other.

When Piscatores was presented to the King the next morning, he looked a completely different man. The palace staff, after recovering from the horror of his appointment, had scrubbed him up, trimmed his hair, shaved off his beard and attired him in respectable clothes.

"You picked a tramp and got a gentleman!" Petrus whispered in the King's ear.

"He's rather dishy, don't you think?" whispered back the King.

"Oh, behave!" hissed back Petrus, with a nudge.

As Piscatores approached the throne, everybody else left, including Petrus. The painting of a royal portrait was by custom a private matter strictly between monarch and painter.

"We meet again, Sire," said Piscatores shyly.

The King stepped from the throne and embraced Piscatores warmly. "I admire your abilities, your vision, you know," he said. "You wouldn't believe how much your drawings wound up our security people. I couldn't help laughing!"

"I ask again that you please forgive my...my...impudence, Your Majesty."

The King laughed. "Not at all, not at all. Now, how would you like to proceed?"

"Your Grace must forgive me, but I am not a normal painter, a proper painter. I know I can draw, but I can only do it my way, and if I don't do it my way, it never works. I can't explain it, Your Majesty. Forgive me, Your Eminence. I don't know if I can do this...this great honour you have bestowed on me."

Piscatores began to tremble and cry.

"Nonsense, nonsense, dear boy!" exclaimed the King. You are a brilliant artist, better than any of our others. I love your cartoons, the caricatures, the way they...the way they bring everything to life and exaggerate all of the features, but in a way that makes them more real, more vivid than they would be in a photograph, say."

"But those were cartoons, Your Highness, and this is meant to be a portrait, isn't it?"

"Well, yes..."

"And that is so much harder for me, that more formal style, you know, sire."

"You can do this, Piscatores, I know you can."

"I've only done a portrait once before."

"Then do my portrait the way you did that portrait."

"But I can't possibly, Your Excellency."

"Why on earth not?"

"It got me in trouble last time, Majesty, so much trouble."

"What?"

Piscatores then burst into tears again, and the King put his arm around him and cuddled him, and at long last, cajoled him into explaining how he drew his last portrait and why it got him into trouble.

"It was Lady Floronia, Highness, Lord Tertius's daughter."

"And."

"I drew her with my special paints. I could only draw a portrait with my special paints, Your Honour, that's the only way I know."

The King laughed gently. "You can paint me with your special paints then, you silly boy!"

"And when I am painting a portrait, I can only paint it in a certain order. No other order. I have to get it exactly right."

"Then go ahead! I am placing no restrictions on you. I would not dream of cramping your artistic style."

Piscatores then explained, to the King's great amusement, that his "certain order" meant painting the subject in stages. First, completely naked. Then, with the next layer of clothes, like socks, underwear and vest. After that, the next level of clothes, like the shirt, and then the level after that, like the ermine robe, and so on.

"No wonder Lord Tertius was not amused when he discovered how you were painting her daughter!" the King chortled.

"He did not...he did not understand, Your Majesty. He thought things of me...that were not true, Sire."

The King laughed again. "I'm sure you are right. But luckily for you, I do understand, so let's get started."

Two months later the King had ballooned further to 348lbs, and it was time for the Summer Ball at the palace, held, as ever, on what was traditionally the hottest day of the year. Nobles from across the land, and dignitaries from every other land poured into the banqueting hall, to partake in the great feast, to be followed by dances and then outdoor festivities. In pride of place, hung on the wall, behind the King's place at the table, Piscatores' masterpiece beamed out in bold resplendent hues at the guests. A fat King, in luxuriant colours and voluptuous curves, such as had never been drawn before, and was the marvel of the artistic world, gawped at with fascination by every onlooker. Ever since the painting was given its first public outing, it had started a new craze among the young male courtiers, who all wanted to ape their King, get as fat as him, or at least look as fat as him, with the aid of padding their courtly costumes.

The King's indulgence at the banqueting table was legendary, and on this state occasion, he did not fail to disappoint, wolfing down every dish that came near him and drinking so much gassy beer he was periodically disabled by fits of burping and farting. Fortunately for him, his beloved Petrus sat next to him, always ready to shuffle up the next dish, or massage the royal belly to aid its stately digestion.

"Open the windows," roared the King," sweating copiously, stroking his brow and rubbing his belly.

The windows were flung open, but still the heat was so hot.

"Punkawallahs!" ordered one of the royal aides, and a crew of skinny, scantily-clad punkawallahs appeared, lifting their fans up and down, trying to cool the sweltering guests.

General Stratipoccles, seated opposite the King, bore a shocked expression on his face, his jaw dropping lower and lower. He was looking at the portrait.

"What is wrong, General?" asked the King.

"The portrait, Your Majesty...."

"The portrait?"

"Is melting, Your Majesty."

"Melting?"

"And...and..."

"And what?"

"And revealing, Your Majesty."

"Revealing?"

"And unclothing...and...oh my God..."

The King turned around to see the portrait for himself, and saw, with horror, that the paint was melting, layer by layer, that all the guests on the other side of the table were transfixed on it, and that within a few minutes the version of himself in the portrait might be raw stark naked.

#gainer fiction #gainer stories #gainer story #gay gainer #male weight gain

56 notes · View notes

specialagentartemis · 2 years

Note

sally grissom challenge playlist

Cannot believe how few songs I know about time travel!!! (If you have any recs I’m all ears)

Time - Pink Floyd

Sets the mood.

Eureka! - The PDX Broadsides

Science!!!

‘39 - Queen

It’s about relativistic space travel, not exactly about time travel or your best friend being locked away in a black box floating in time forever, but it’s vibes

Happier - A Fine Frenzy

Which of Sally’s friendships is this about? You decide :’‘‘)

Stop This Train - John Mayer

Sally is going thru it

The Last Three Minutes - John Callaghan

Sally and Petra make their choice.

Bonus: a more upbeat ending, a hope for the new timeline:

Make This Timeline Brighter - Astrisoni

#Ars Paradoxica #I love and relate to and am sad about Sally Grissom with all my heart #fanmix #Is there like. Consistency? A coherent sound? no #this is just a collection of songs with a Sally Grissom Vibe #perpetual ladies night 2k22

14 notes · View notes

remornia · 10 months

Text

10 songs

Tagged by @late-to-the-fandom Thank you!!! This is really fun!

I always feel weird about tagging people so if you see this, feel free to do it yourself!

Rules: Put a wip/character/etc playlist on shuffle and list the first 10 songs that come up. Describe how they relate to your WIPs or worldbuilding.

All of these will be coming from my Thu/Uinen playlist

1. Is It True by Mabel Ye

I imagine this from Thu's perspective when Uinen is getting really deep into all the Revendreth shit and seemingly growing apart as a result. Thu doesn't know what to think, and can't decide if they want to keep putting effort into what seems like a failing relationship (spoiler alert: They do)

"I just wanna cry and I just wanna be happy that now I'm finally free"

2. Desert Song by My Chemical Romance

Oh man. This song just makes me think of Uinen at their worst, imprisoned in Castle Nathria. Completely hopeless and believing that this is how it all ends. Becoming Denathrius' consort and mingling with the Venthyr elite while still undeniably being a captive. And then after it all comes crashing down, being found by Thu, helpless, humiliated and completely alone.

"Did you come to stare or wash away the blood?"

3. The Ghost of You by My Chemical Romance

When Uinen disappears, Thu assumes them to be dead. What follows is a complete mental breakdown. Remembering that this is the second time they had failed to save their loved ones from themselves.

"If I died we'd be together"

4. Poison & Wine by the Civil Wars

Just a perfect song about a fractured relationship. One person closes themselves off because they don't know any better, while the other only wants their love. And yet, knowing that they can't be apart; despite their flaws they are destined for each other.

"I don't have a choice, but I'd still choose you"

5. Best Friend by Laufey

This is just such a cute song and the first positive one that I'm gonna write about LMAO. I imagine it from Uinen's POV. It's just about 2 idiots in love, with some snarky comments included. I'd say this is more indicative of their relationship post-Shadowlands. They've both gone through so much bullshit together and now they're just ready to hang out and vibe

"I have never tolerated someone for so long"

6. Romantic by Mannequin Pussy

This one is interesting, because I really think it could be from either of their POVs, though I typically assign it to Thu. Definitely during the Shadowlands Bullshit though. Thu is hopelessly holding onto this semblance of a relationship while watching Uinen slowly drift further and further away, and further into depravity. Leading Thu's mental state to just go spiralling down. I also think that the quieter verses vs. the desperate, screaming choruses are representative of their tendency to ignore their negative feelings and try to focus on what few positives there are, until their negative feelings are literally impossible to keep down any longer

"You would sleep with me, if you could do it comfortably. You're so sweet"

7. Westbound Sign by Green Day

To me, this is about Uinen leaving Suramar for the first time after the dome falls, and going on their first adventures into Azeroth with Thu! She's nervous but excited, and experiencing a wider world she never knew existed. And of course, leaving the city that has continually ostracized her, despite it being the only thing she's ever known.

"Is it salvation, or an escape from discontent?"

8. Happier by A Fine Frenzy

What do I even need to say about this song? It's just perfect. Uinen in Revendreth trying to slowly push Thu away, believing that they deserve more than someone as broken as himself. And despite Thu's protests, succeeding in doing so. The song is from Thu's POV as they watch Uinen grow colder and more distant.

"What a transformation to behold. But I don't like this new, I want the old."

9. The Horror of Our Love by Ludo

I typically assign this to Uinen's POV. It's just a song about a nasty codependent relationship, with the narrator believing themself to be significantly more depraved than the subject. Uinen has quite a fixation on the morbid, and believes themself to be sick ans basically A Twisted Fucking Cycle Path. And they think Thu is the exact opposite; pure, innocent, and their love to be akin to a predator hunting its prey. In reality, Thu is not pure or innocent like Uinen thinks, but it's this image of them that she has in her mind. I also took the title for the playlist, The Awful Edges, from this song.

"The awful edges of where you end and I begin"

10. Grand Hotel by Regina Spektor

My autistic ass has managed to make this entire song a metaphor about the Illidari/The Black Temple, so it's basically just Thu narrating their experiences there wrapped in layers of euphemism. It touches on the disdain for demon hunters that is held by the larger elven society, and the found family dynamic within the Illidari themselves. I honestly could write an entire post about this song alone so I'll leave it at that to spare you all

"That's where old devils danced and kissed and made their blood pacts in the ancient myths"

#oc: thu #oc: uinen #thank you for tagging me #even though i rarely write fanfic i am Constantly worldbuilding about these 2 freaks in my head #Spotify #i should have a tag judt for their combined shit #into the thuinenverse

2 notes · View notes

sigery · 2 years

Text

Fic ideas

Will I ever get around to writing anything? Maybe? Will I finish it? Less likely.

Mer AUs

You are working at an aquarium or lab or something with mer Sun and Moon. Life isn’t bad for them but you know they would be happier in the ocean again. There isn’t much you can do other than make sure they continue to be well taken care of. Then you get a new intern, Eli Clips and the boys take to him rather quickly, particularly Moon who hates most humans. You suspect your intern isn’t who he says but he might be key in releasing the boys back to freedom.

Kids Aren’t Snacks- Moon disposed of the bodies and The White Rabbit’s crew stayed out of his territory. A snack for him and safety for Sun. This worked fine till they threw a kid who had seen too much overboard.

Pissed off a coworker who feeds you to the "man eating" mers... but one, Moon only ate someone's limb and that was after they kept invading his space. two, they threw you in Sun's tank (which is connected to Moon's tank, but finders keepers or something). May include Sun thinking it's a test because he might get to be in a petting zoo event (and teeth gummies so no one gets nibbled by sharkish teeth)

Show Mer boys get Y/N as a (snack) treat, they keep them as a bud instead because Y/N is too cute for actual eating. Only nice noms

Nomad!Glitch and Lunar- Lunar was an orphaned scavenger; Glitch took reluctant pity on them (he grew up an orphan till his late teens), leaving them leftovers, letting them sleep near him (cuddle the shivering bae), etc. Eventually Glitch lashed out (doesn't feel he's safe/reliable), nearly injuring Lunar who fled. Glitch regretted it immediately but didn’t follow... till a few hours later when he heard Lunar crying for help. Glitch tore the attacker's arm off and nommed Lunar. Ends up 'adopting' him because Lunar won't stay with Eclipse so he is mostly nomadic like Glitch {} Glitch killed a frenzied shark mer that tried to eat Lunar... found teeny baby Blood Moon in their pouch after they died. Lunar is officially a preteen, Mostly self-sufficient (fast and sneaky scavenger) except for when he can't outrun a bigger predator. Up in the air if Glitch adopts BM or give them to Eclipse because he can't raise a baby normally, let alone as a nomad

Research/zoo/whatever. Reader is put with Eclipse since he is the calmest and most level headed of the mers, plus he doesn't have a tankmate. Sun and Moon are tankmates, Glitch and Lunar are tankmates (Lunar is still relatively new and an anxious baby)

Animatronic(?) AUs

Abandoned pizza plex, they think we are a child that needs protecting

Apocalypse; boys protect you from harsh elements and possible creatures

Zombie Apocalypse (1); You are abandoned by someone important to you, "Survival of the fittest" or something. Glitch finds you, thinks you are a cute morsel, noms you, ends up finding the person that abandoned you and breaks their leg... survival of the fittest, but they aren't too fit now. (The others probably have a camp of people they are taking care of where Glitch presumably take you to)

Powerful (Mafia maybe) boys save you from abusive s/o

Brother Location daycare; Picture this; mega pizza plex burns down, Sun is mostly okay so they send him (& you, his handler) to another location. Moon seems virus free, but he is still under review. So Sun is partnered up with the location's current naptime attendant, Lunar (soft pastel smaller Moon basically). You are curious about what happened to the previous daycare attendant before Sun, there is no recorded info on him and no one will tell you anything. Eventually you end up in the basement and find who you were looking for… Management couldn’t decommission him, so they locked him down in the basement. He is infected with a dangerous virus and has ‘upgraded’ himself with extra limbs and quite a bit of height. The question remains whether he sees you as friend, foe, or food? {} Now including Glitch's kid; Blood Moon (BM or Scarlet) because he was lonely

Other 'Fantasy' AUs

Dragon!Sun was supposed to kidnap a royal… we aren’t a royal but he took us anyway

Dragon!Sun kills a group of knights, adopts squire!reader because we are 'innocent'. We are a treasure now.

Reader’s village is in danger, so they sacrifice Reader to their main god Eclipse in hopes they will be saved. Reader arrives at the temple/shrine/whatever to learn Eclipse is already doing that and the sacrifice wasn’t really necessary… regardless of who is there, Reader will end up adopted and/or Nom’d… how the initial meeting goes does depend on who was there. (Sun wants to keep them till Eclipse comes back at least so they don’t get in trouble with the village, Moon basically says “no take backs”, and Glitch is ecstatic at tiny and tasty friend)

Writing the apology chapter to Glitch in the Mythical Creature Research and Retreat storyline

Literally anything for the Nesting Doll SCP, but particularly interactions with Mango's Colossal SCP boys

“I can’t let you buy that creature if you won’t hire Y/N, not in good conscience. It’s far too wild for a random keeper.” your boss told them. (Whatever this is supposed to be)

'Magical Familiar' AU featuring Reader!Rat, Dog!Sun, Cat!Moon, Owl!Eclipse, Raccoon!Glitch. We were a domestic rat that was abandoned. Moon saves us from eating rat poisoned food.

Yeti!Sun saves you from freezing to death (avalanche? lost hiker? etc?)

Pirate!Glitch and fairy!Reader

Reader is a prey animal (Rabbit? Mouse? Small bird?). They are bought and then set loose along with some other prey to be hunted down by the owner’s actual pets; a range of predators. They struggle to avoid predators, using their smaller size to their advantage. Eventually though they are cornered by Glitch. He eats them and they cry and squirm, terrified of a slow death by digestion. A while later, Glitch throws them up in his ‘room’. There they meet Sun, a similar species to Glitch. Unlike Glitch, Sun’s tail is almost fully missing. Sun can walk, but without his tail, he can’t run or jump very well. Glitch won't abandon Sun, so he is kind of stuck there (possibly implied Glitch/Sun, but it's a cover up to keep Sun safe since Glitch is aggressive enough to claim full 'ownership' to Sun)

"I have an obsession with harpies I think" AUS

Pouch Passenger: Naga!Moon gets kidnapped to reptile research facility with Harpy!Sun in his "naptime belly". After malpractice and a lot of human death; we, an avian specialist get hired. Sun takes a liking to us. Eclipse, the boys' older brother is eventually shows up at another research facility and there will be (hopefully) wholesome stuff there with a bit of angst

Baby-Harpy!Glitch (possible same verse as Pouch Passenger): I decided reader couldn't be taking care of Glitch and have their job with Sun at the same time. So now reader's coworker (reader 2) will have Glitch instead. Glitch is artificially created by their previous job, possibly because harpies are endangered. None had survived till Glitch, however he was still messed up. The company still tried to work with him (shock collar? general abuse?), but ultimately decided it was impossible so they were going to terminate him. Reader 2 thought it was unethical so they fought the company for ‘ownership’ of him. Reader 1 helped them, which is how they ended up jobless. So reader 2 will get custody of Glitch (who will grow up an entitled ass because reader 2 babied him due to traumatizing beginning) and there is still the possibly that little Glitch will get to visit Sun and Moon (he will get one of those child leash backpacks when he wants to walk… though he prefers to be held by reader 2)… well this is what I’m planning but who knows if I will get to it

Baby-Naga!Glitch (possible same verse as Pouch Passenger) As much as I like my baby-harpy!Glitch, the idea of baby-naga!Glitch is creeping up on me. Like the lab that took Eclipse happens to find an egg and the baby has 4 arms like Eclipse so obviously it would be his. Other than the additional arms, Glitch looks nothing like Eclipse, but the arms! Eclipse is confused like I don’t have a kid? The last mate I thought about tried to eat Sun and that wasn’t happening. Seriously, couldn’t be my kid. Then he proceeds to watch Glitch accidentally tangle himself up in his own tail and is like “On second thought, I want him. Give me the baby, hopefully he is less of a little shit than Moon” (oh how wrong Eclipse is).

Harpy Family- Adult!Eclipse, Teenage!Glitch, Baby!Sun & Moon: Eclipse leaving teenage Glitch to watch baby Sun and Moon at home to do something important. Glitch is upset because he can't leave them alone, predators or something. So Glitch put them in his pouch and leaves anyway. Eclipse comes back and panics because everyone is missing. When he gets back Glitch of course argues there wasn't a rule against leaving and he did take care of the boys. Eclipse is not amused. {} Teenage-Harpy!Glitch: so when do they start eating solid food? / Eclipse: They already do, why do you ask- turns around Why is there a human here? / Glitch: I'm being a good brother and feeding them / Eclipse: The food needs to be smaller than them to start! / Us: trapped between the sleeping boys who are barely smaller than us I'm all for cuddling, but I would prefer not to be eaten actually

"Might as well make a section for Nagas" AUs

We own Naga!Eclipse, Naga!Moon, and Naga!Sun already. We adopt Naga!Glitch who was about to get euthanized because he is uncooperative and dangerous. Glitch lost an arm (down to 3) and an eye (down to 1) from his previous 'family' which is why he is so untrusting.

Me giving Glitch a super dark and angsty backstory, then a codependent people pleaser Lunar that almost starves himself to death when he got separated from Glitch for his 'safety'. Hopefully will end up with us. Eclipse probably was in a 'dog fighting' ring before he was adopted by us. This might be combined with the above in some manner. Glitch and Lunar are huge angst messes... I can possibly get them a more comfortable setting, but they won't ever be okay okay.

Something about lab or zoo setting, Moon is constantly muzzled for bad behavior... something something plot

Similar to Pouch Passenger but Sun is a naga too

Lunar based AUs

Glitch got kidnapped by a research facility when he was young. He eventually meets Lunar and ends up escaping with the young hybrid to take home to his brothers. They are a rabbit that Lunar decided was for cuddling not eating... might include Moon and Glitch fighting since Moon joined the 'clan' later so he doesn't know Glitch. Probably vague physical rehab because Lunar has a broken leg (from his abusive mother), which was the push that Glitch needed to actually leave. {} Creature!Glitch: *coughs up bunny!reader* Food / Creature!Lunar: Fluffy! *cuddling reader* / Glitch: no no no, that’s for eating / Lunar: *burying his face in reader’s fur, muffled* so soft / Glitch: *pulls reader away from Lunar* Do you need me to kill it for you? / Lunar: *horrified, starts to cry* no, no, no! / Glitch: *panicking now* wait, no. don’t- *shoves reader back into Lunar’s arms* Lunar: *takes reader back and snuggles them closer, turning over to face away from Glitch* / Reader: *shocked to still be alive* / {Later once things calm down} / Glitch: So what do you need them for? / Lunar: To cuddle / Glitch: *pouts* I cuddle with you / Lunar: Not enough! / Glitch: I can’t hunt and cuddle you / Lunar: Yes *pats reader’s head* cuddle friend / Reader: *content to snuggle because Lunar is also soft, knowing Glitch is an apex predator so we are safe from being consumed*

Reader is sacrificed to God!Eclipse. He doesn't really have a use for them. Lunar asks to have them. Eclipse is wary at first because humans are small and fragile and would need extensive time and effort to take care of. Lunar can be forgetful and easily distracted so having a living creature that depends on him is a very iffy situation. Lunar is insistent that he will take good care of reader and will love them lots

Foster Parent!Reader & Child!Lunar with his guardian angel demon, Glitch.

#my writing #well my writing ideas

4 notes · View notes