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gottawriteanegoortwo · 4 months

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Mayor Attorney - The Risk of Truth

With plans to rise to higher positions in life - you wanting to prove yourself as a lawyer and Damien expressing interest in local politics - there are some things that are considered more dangerous than they would be to the average person. The biggest risk was that of following your heart.

Luckily, you have a friend who has been through something similar with your crush’s sister.

But will that be enough for you to risk the friendship you have with the one you love?

Word Count: 1,887

"You know, you really have to do something about it."

There was a finger firmly poking your arm, which you tried to ignore as best as you could. You had made the mistake of sitting beside Mark, you had to suffer the consequences. Getting up and walking away would bring him as much satisfaction as you snapping a denial. You had to give him no response at all. Then, hopefully, he would get tired and leave you alone.

"I'm serious. You and Damien have been dancing circles around one another. One of you needs to stop before you both regret it. What's the point of life if you don't grab it by the horns and enjoy it?"

You didn't respond. Not just because you were trying to give Mark no reaction, but also because you didn't have a good answer beyond feeling unworthy. You looked out to where Damien was. William had grabbed both twins and dragged them toward the baby grand piano so they could try playing one of their old duets. When they had refused, William had insisted on performing instead. Damien was in a flurry trying to urge William to not hammer the keys with his hands, but the trained eye could see amusement.

It was a nice change. The world of politics and the world of law were not nice places to be in. You had to keep your guard up at all times, you explained, and Damien moreso. He had plans for his future. He wanted to be the Mayor. He had to play every note correctly to give himself the best chance possible.

That included you needing to keep your distance.

"Keep your distance?" Mark repeated quietly, and you slapped your hands to your mouth and you realised you had accidentally murmured that final thought out loud. "He's not some being to be put up on a pedestal, and you know that better than most. If you ask me, keeping your distance is the wrong choice. What have you got to lose?"

You didn't answer, instead throwing him a bewildered look. You had so much to lose! Not just your plans for your professional life, but a large portion of your personal life would be gone in a puff of smoke, never to be seen again!

"I'm serious. You've been through thick and thin together! He's not going to drop contact with you because of this."

Like Mark had to worry about, you grumbled while crossing your arms. Mark was already married, and had that relationship long established before he reached stardom!

"I’m married to his sister, remember?" There was a cheeky grin from the Actor as he countered, "So if anyone knows what you're going through, it's me. And trust me, Celine is much scarier than Damien."

Despite your intention to sulk and ignore Mark, something about that sentence piqued your curiosity. You turned toward him and asked what he meant. Mark chuckled and rested one arm on the back of the couch. He knew he had caught your full attention. Now was his time to shine.

"Damien and Celine are remarkable. You know as well as I do that they could effortlessly change the world if they could overcome the obstacles before them. When I was a teen, I spent a full week trying to ask Celine out on a date. Every time, I was interrupted, but one of those times was by some guy in our year who also liked her." You leaned forward, engrossed in the story. Damien had told you that Celine had a charm that drew anyone to her side. You didn't believe it until now. "She turned him down flat. Not just that, she tore him to shreds for assuming she'd feel the same. I didn't think I'd ever see someone flee with their proverbial tail between their legs before that."

You shrunk in on yourself as Mark shared his memory, the supposed reality sinking in. With eyes on your fidgeting eyes, you asked why he would share that with you. It was only reinforcing that your feelings were wrong.

"Actually," Mark's voice calmly interrupted your growing panic, "I shared that with you to show the difference. Damien isn't like that. He lets people down gently, and he usually has to deal with people who see his handsome features and little more. Everything looks effortless, but he's got these quirks. I'm sure you've seen that before, right?"

You nodded. It looked so easy on Damien's part to politely reject a date with someone, but you could see how his posture tensed up. When he obtained the cane, the grip tightened on it just a little more. The smile was somewhat forced, but it passed under the radar of anyone who saw it.

"Exactly!" Mark quietly agreed, glancing over at the group by the piano to make sure neither of you were catching their attention. "I knew you'd see the clues as a lawyer. Actors are also masters of interpreting body language. And from what I've seen? He's the most relaxed around you. In fact, having you there undos any tension that has formed. The smiles he gives you are, frankly, unlike anything I've ever seen. It's like he wouldn't care if the whole world vanishes except for the two of you."

You shake your head, about to argue, when Mark leaned forward and placed a hand on your arm. "He feels the same way about you as you do him. I promise you that. I wouldn't lie about something like this. Ever since we were kids, Damien always seemed so lonely to me. The expectations that were always there meant he… well, I'm sure he's told you all that already. He trusts you so much. And if you know Damien as well as I do -"

Trust isn't something he shows frequently, you finished softly. Mark hummed in agreement. At that, Damien's head turned from the chaos of what was going on. You locked eyes, and you couldn't stop the hint of a smile tugging the corners of your lips. In return, his own expression softened into a warm smile that you had seen countless times before, but still made your heart fumble over itself.

Mark's hand moved from your arm, and it prompted you to glance at him. You barely acknowledged the nod before you rose to your feet and crossed the room to where the rest of the group were until you were beside Damien. Quietly, you asked if you could talk to him privately. Somehow, he knew from the look in your eyes that it wasn't something he should be worried about, and he agreed without hesitation. You could tell he had an idea on where to go, and so you opted to let him lead the way.

William, who had no context for why the pair suddenly left, began to rise from his piano stool, only to have both Mark and Celine put a hand each on his shoulder to hold him in place.

"What? Can't a man join the conversation?" William huffed.

"Not this time, I'm afraid. This a private matter," chuckled Mark.

"One we've been trying to set up for weeks," Celine added. When William gawked at the married couple, she tutted. "Honestly, Colonel. Did you not realise they're both in love with each other?"

"They are - oh." William slumped under the light pressure as the pieces began landing in place. "You know, now you say it, it does seem pretty obvious."

—

"Mark didn't say anything offensive, did he?" It was Damien's first question as soon as he stopped walking. He had led you outside toward the bandstand. This was the place he liked to go to when thinking. You immediately told him that nothing bad happened, and that you were simply overthinking.

"That doesn't sound good at all. Did Mark make it worse?" You shook your head. "Good. I'm always telling him to be nicer to you. He means well when he teases, but it's hard to properly gauge it when you don't know him well enough. I would have marched right back in there and given him a very stern talking to otherwise. Finger wagging and all."

The nerves were still firmly in place, but the mental image of Damien scolding Mark like a disappointed parent would a child made you snort. Judging by the way he grinned at you, making you laugh was the plan.

He was always doing that, wasn't he? No matter how bad things were, Damien was always there to help you through it. Then, when the roles were reversed, he never tried to lie and pretend everything was okay, like he would with others. You had always felt the friendship you two had ran deeper than normal, and how the bond you shared was strong.

Beating around the bush would do you both a disservice. You cut to the chase and asked if he was free on Tuesday.

"No. I have a job at my father's law firm." His face lit up with amusement as you scrambled to clarify after work on Tuesday. "Ahh. In that case, yes. Yes, I would be free. Has something happened?"

This was your last chance. You could back away and make it platonic. But would that be worth the struggle of carrying these feelings?

You took a slow breath and explained that everything was fine. You simply wanted a chance to go out and have a drink somewhere. Together. Just the two of you.

Damien raised an eyebrow, ready to give another smart comment, when he abruptly stopped. He blinked once, and then a second time. "On a date?"

This was it. The rejection you had feared. You saw the confusion on his face. Did it mask the betrayal he undoubtedly felt? Was he buying himself time to give the rejection he never expected? You weren't supposed to act out like this. You were supposed to be the close friend who would never -

"I'd love to."

Your distressed thoughts crashed into the wall of Damien's acceptance. Now it was your turn to blink owlishly. He… wanted to go. On a date? With you? And he wasn't angry?

Damien glanced aside, rubbing the back of his neck with a weak chuckle. "If I may be honest, I've been wanting to ask you that same question for some time now. I… Didn't want to ruin what we had but, you know, Life is Ours to Choose. You can't imagine how relieved I am to think you might feel the same."

You hastily agreed. You admitted your fear of losing him because you wanted to be selfish. Such a thought had Damien sigh. "I thought I told you that you needed to make more choices for yourself. I would have been proud of you, regardless of how I felt."

So it's a date?

"It's a date." He leaned forward just enough to place a feather-light kiss on your forehead. "But may we talk about this in the garden? The circus is watching us."

You didn't need to check behind you to realise what he meant. When you agreed, he carefully took your hand in his and led you down the steps. This was not a conversation privy to onlookers who may want to crash it with some dramatic celebration.

#writersofmark #who killed markiplier #mayor attorney #damien the mayor #wkm damien #selfshipping #actor mark #(Mark is a good wingman)#wkm celine #wkm the colonel #wkm era before the affair where everything is good #and it's before Damien begins to work on running for mayor #mutual pining

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meesherbeans · 3 months

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Broken Silence [OL1 MC/Derek Fanfic]

I've been slowly building up my headcanon for Lexi, the MC in my OL universe who ends up with Derek. (In my world, all three of the guys end up meeting their soulmates -- everyone ends up happy!) I finally finished her version of the confession scene from Derek's DLC. It's below the cut, and I hope everyone enjoys it!

If you'd like to read it on AO3, here is the link! https://archiveofourown.org/works/53983693/

It had been a long first day back in Prism Vista, and Lexi sighed as she sat on the bed in Derek’s guest bedroom. Seeing his family again was very nice, and she was looking forward to meeting up with her mom tomorrow, but she was already exhausted. It was a long journey to get here, and seeing Derek again in person had been more… intense than she’d anticipated.

She’d known for years, well over a decade, that she felt more than friendship for Derek. Even as a preteen, she found herself always wanting to spend time with him. Wanting to finally tell him how she felt. But… she always got too nervous. What if he didn’t feel the same way? For a while, she thought he did, but he never said anything. Derek was always the more outgoing and brave one, so if he still hadn’t said anything after all those years, clearly, he wasn’t into her the same way. And so she bottled all those feelings up; the only thing worse than her heart being broken was the idea that their friendship could be damaged.

Keeping those feelings contained was manageable while they were both at college; daily texts and the occasional phone call meant they stayed in touch, but she wasn’t confronted with that heavy sensation in her chest every day… not like in high school when she saw him daily. If she were feeling particularly sad or wistful, she could always tell him she was too busy with classes or work, then let herself get over it before continuing their friendship like nothing happened. It was safe, if incredibly lonely.

When he ran over at the bus station this morning, though, she instantly knew this trip would be the death of her long-guarded secret. She was so grateful that he never took her silence personally because she was practically in shock after seeing him again. How had he gotten so tall, so buff, and so handsome? It was really, really good that he wasn’t able to see her face when he hugged her because it was beet red.

“Hey Lexi, can I come in?” His deep voice echoed through the door, accompanied by a knock, jarring her out of reminiscing about the day.

She flinched and gasped, then realized he wasn’t in her brain, so he had no idea what she was thinking. “What? Oh. Sorry, yeah, c’mon in,” she mumbled. Yikes.

He strode into the room and sat down on the bed next to her, not seeming to think anything of their proximity. “So, everything looking good in here? Didn’t forget anything, did you?”

“Oh. Uh…” Grateful for the distraction, Lexi paused to go over a mental checklist, making doubly sure she didn’t need to pick anything up. From everything she could recall, she had thankfully managed to not completely embarrass herself. She chewed on her lower lip before finally shaking her head and looking up to smile at Derek. “I’ve got everything, but thanks.”

His bright grin flashed again and he nodded. “Good! I’m not going to lie; it’s surreal to finally have you right here. Feels like we’ve been talking forever, but it’s really happening. You’re with me again.”

The pure joy on his face twisted her stomach up into knots. Sitting next to him felt like sitting next to the sun, and she quietly stared at him, mind moving a million miles a second. He was the only person who’d ever made her feel this way. They were a team growing up, always looking out for the other. As she got lost in his green eyes, she admitted to herself that the years apart hadn’t diminished her love for him; if anything, she suddenly felt even more sure than ever before.

“Lexi?” Derek asked, his brow quirking and cheek sinking in as he bit it anxiously. She was probably worrying him.

Was it really time? Now, at the end of a long day, in his guest bedroom? Derek deserved the world, but Lexi knew that she couldn’t waste any more time. They could have lost years, depending on if he felt the same way, and that fear spurned her into action. She took a deep breath and tried to force the words out. Well, any words. “I – uh. Derek, can I… can I tell you something? That I wanted to talk about earlier. I… thought it’d be… better in person. Rather than… over the phone.”

Wow. Great, articulate start there, Lexi.

When she began to talk, regardless of how nervously, Derek’s brow smoothed out, and a gentle smile graced his lips. Apparently, he didn’t mind how poorly she spoke, so long as she was talking to him. He was so wonderful. “Of course. You know you can always tell me anything. We’re a team,” he firmly reminded her.

There was no turning back now. Every time she tried to deflect or change the topic in the past, he had always known and wanted to get her to tell him what was actually bothering her. It was likely he’d do the same again if she faltered. Lexi hesitated and gazed at him, trying to will the words out. This shouldn’t be that hard! Just say it! Say it! I love you! I really love you! I always have!

Fear crept up the nape of her neck, mingling with the anxiousness and excitement swirling in her head. If he didn’t react well to this, she’d be ruining that team. Her lips parted, but no sound came out, and she started to falter. Just as she was about to lower her eyes and try to come up with a good excuse, she felt his hand on her shoulder. Was he comforting her? That was the last straw.

Lexi summoned all the courage left in her and lifted her hand, cupping his cheek. If she couldn’t get the words out, this would have to do. There’s no way it wouldn’t get her point across. She slowly tilted her head up and steadily pulled him down, pressing her lips against his.

Time seemed to stop, and she waited for a moment, marveling at how right this felt. Just as she was worried he would push her away, she felt him tentatively kiss her back, soft and unsure. The excitement tingled down her spine, and Lexi had to pull away after a few moments, overwhelmed by the sensation.

Her green eyes slowly slid open to look at him again, desperate for any sign. She did it. She kissed him. She kissed Derek. The fingers that still gently rested on his cheek were shaking, but she couldn’t stop it; adrenaline and pure fear were coursing through her veins, and she could barely force the words from her frozen lips. “…I… I love you,” she whispered, voice breaking at the end. “I always… have.”

It felt like an eternity as she sat there, trembling and hanging on for his response, whatever it would be. She was patient, though; after waiting for years, another few moments felt like nothing.

Derek stared at her with wide eyes, seemingly blindsided by her confession. His eyes pulled themselves from her gaze and glanced down as he stared at the floor, thinking silently. The way his brow twisted brought tears to her eyes. He looked upset, not happy. This was a mistake! She froze, dread slowly flooding her body from head to toe. Oh, no.

Stiff fingers slowly curled into a delicate fist, and Lexi withdrew to hold it against her mouth, unable to process how utterly crushed she felt. She was wrong. Their team, she ruined it. He trusted her more than anyone, and she just did… that. Her head dipped, trying to tuck away her face in her hoodie like a turtle in an attempt to hide her expression.

“…I really messed this up. I’m not good enough.” Rare self-loathing crept into Derek’s voice as he softly began to mutter to himself. “I have never been, I…”

Something caught his attention mid-sentence, but Lexi was too mortified to look. She’d done enough damage. Her fist loosened slightly and lifted to try and cover her eyes before he could see that the tears had silently begun.

His hand gently clasped her upper arm and slid up to hold her shoulder. “Wait, you’re crying? No, forget I said that… Lexi, forget I said anything!” The anger in his voice melted as he begged her to ignore what had just happened.

Lexi weakly wiped the tears from her eyes and sniffed before she was able to make herself glance back up at Derek. The panic was still there on his face, but he looked more… scared than upset at this point. Oh no, what if he thought she was worried and wanted to comfort her? This wasn’t about her… she’d already ruined everything, so the last thing he should be worried about was soothing her! She held his gaze, insecure and gutted.

“No, I…” Derek’s free hand rose to roughly scratch through his spiky hair a few times, burning off some of his irritated energy. He sighed and quietly pleaded with her, his voice barely more than a rough whisper. “Wait. No, not again. I can’t. I… can we try that again?”

Was he giving her a chance to take it back? Maybe it wasn’t too late for forgiveness; she felt a fraction of the burden on her shoulders lighten, and she nodded as she bit her lower lip. Anything to try and fix things.

He reached to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye with his thumb, giving her a tight, nervous smile. “Thanks. Did you… wanna go first, or should I start?”

“Uh… I don’t know,” she admitted in a whisper, plagued with doubts. She had no idea what he was planning on ‘trying’ again, and she was terrified that she’d mess it up.

“It’s okay, I’m here this time.” Derek’s fingers gently pressed into her arm as he tried to give her a comforting squeeze. “We’re on the same side here. It’s okay.”

We’re on the same side here. Lexi slowly blinked and stared up at Derek, unable to stop the hope from welling up in her chest. Did that mean he… also…? Her lips twitched, but she managed to school her expression down to a faint smile even as her brow quirked into a faint frown. Was this actually happening?

He silently nodded, and his lips softened into an encouraging, painfully affectionate smile.

Maybe… she didn’t make a mistake before. She lifted a hand again to cup his cheek, then paused to gauge his reaction to the move. When he leaned into her touch with a tender look in his eyes, Lexi took a deep breath before she pulled him back down to her once again. Slowly. She gave him every opportunity to stop her, but he clearly wasn’t interested in doing that; their lips met again, this time with both parties quite aware of what was happening.

For over fifteen years, neither of them had ever gathered the courage to confess, and this kiss was equally unhurried. Their long-repressed feelings finally bubbled to the surface; Derek’s arms smoothly circled Lexi to pull her close as her fingers dug into his hoodie, needing some kind of anchor. The feel and taste of their lips as they slowly explored each other was intoxicating – nothing had ever felt so right to either of them for their entire lives.

Eventually, the need for fresh air won out. Derek reluctantly pulled back and stared down at her, his confession breathless and utterly sincere. “I love you, Lexi. I really do. You’re amazing.” He continued to hold her flush against him, a hand sliding to tuck her hair behind an ear.

“I… love you, too,” Lexi whispered, lightheaded with relief and glee. Her eyes slowly blurred as more tears involuntarily formed, but this time, she was content to let them come. They were happy tears, a welcome change from the usual. She smiled widely to let Derek know that it wasn’t a problem, and she let out one broken note of a chuckle. Was it really real this time?

He pulled her down and into his chest, which let her bury her face in his hoodie. “Damn, I wasn’t prepared for this,” he murmured through a wide smile. She could feel his voice rumbling in his chest as she slowly wiped her tears on the fabric with a shake of her head.

“Me, either… but… you’ve always been good enough.” Lexi leaned back enough to peek up at Derek, filled with worry about what had happened in the middle of it all. “Why would you say that? I… you’re the best person I know.”

Derek’s lips pursed as he lightly frowned. He mulled over his words for a while and shifted to pull her under his arm, securely holding her against his side. “I… why wouldn’t I be?”

She silently gazed at him, brow furrowed. That was an unkind and stupid question for him to ask her, of all people. Why would she ever think he wasn’t good enough? She just risked a panic attack to finally tell him that she loved him!

When it was clear she wasn’t going to give him an answer, much less agree with him, Derek sighed. His eyes narrowed before he averted his gaze. “I’m not entirely dense. I knew that I was important to you, and that meant a lot to me. But… that’s not the same as being in love with me. I told myself that story enough times so that I could get through the day. I guess I was in denial.” He ducked to rest his cheek on the crown of her head and murmured, “I didn’t want to hope, to mess up what we already had.”

Lexi hesitated, not entirely willing to admonish him for something she had also done for years. Up until this morning, she was patently convinced there was no way he felt the same, and so she should suffer in silence. “I… can’t blame you for that. So did I,” she meekly admitted.

A squeeze accompanied his gentle chuckle. “We’re a pair, huh?”

Butterflies filled her stomach at his simple line, tickled at how different it already felt to be referred to as a pair, and she smiled softly. “Yeah. But… you know that’s why I turned down that deal when we were kids, right?”

Derek blinked and pulled away enough to glance back down at her, confusion written all over his face.

“You don’t remember the deal?” Lexi felt a small wave of disappointment at the idea that he would have forgotten the cute little conversation they had that one summer.

He nodded quickly, and she had to stifle a smile at the urgency he put into the motion. “Yeah, I definitely do. But… why did you?”

She could feel her cheeks warming up, and Lexi shyly directed her gaze at his shoulder instead of his eyes. “Well, um. It’s because I didn’t want to be a backup. I… wanted you to actually want to be with me when we were adults,” she confessed in a murmur.

His hand suddenly slid under her face, and he tilted her chin up with a thumb and index finger. “Well… I know that both little Derek and Lexi would be happy to know that it ended up working out. Eventually. Thanks to you.” He gave her that winning, sunny grin before assertively pulling her close and offering her another, warmer kiss.

Lexi twisted her arms up and over his shoulders, her hands linking behind his neck as she let herself get swept away by his touch. They still had a lot of things to discuss, but those could wait until tomorrow. For tonight, they had earned this respite.

#our life #our life beginnings & always #olba #olba mc #derek suarez #fanfic #olba derek #olba fanfic #our life derek #our life fanfic #i love these two mutually pining fools

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moonshine-nightlight · 2 years

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Finally Woken: Part Seven

Working for the family business of traveling trade caravans, means you‘ve always accepted having to put up with a lot from your family, especially your dad. He finally goes to far when he tries to sell your prized possessions to make up for his own business failings. You’re proud of yourself for making a stand, but he’s not wrong when he says you don’t have any real connections outside the family–but he’s not completely right either.

Your closest friend happens to live in the city you’re stopped at so you decide to see if you can stay at his place until you can figure out what you’re going to. You’ve never come by the city this early, but he’s probably fully woken up from the naga’s traditional bout of hibernation by now, right?

Fantasy, friends to lovers, naga, male monster x female reader, M/F, Part 7 of 8

Story Status: Complete

AO3: Finally Woken Chapter 7

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] Part Seven [Part Eight - NSFW]

When you get home from a day that at least ended early, if rather disappointingly, you realize one thing right away: Heshi’s already awake.

Not only is he awake, he’s moving around and talking to someone. You can hear his voice from the foyer. Last night he’d said he was gonna see if he could wake up early enough for a full sunning on the roof to provide the final jolt out of hibernation—and the weather had certainly cooperated.

Instead of being excited he seems to be fully out of hibernation, tension shoots up your spine. The air in the apartment doesn’t feel fearful or angry, but it does feel feverish in some way, almost anticipatory. There’s a panic in his voice and movements, like he’s pacing, which makes it impossible for you not to feel nervous.

You can’t make out any of the words he’s saying, but you decide to drop your bag in the hall just in case you suddenly have your hands full with worried naga again. Some instinct of yours seems to be urging caution and it's any easy enough thing to do to appease it. Hesitantly, you walk over to the archway and peer further inside.

You spot Heshi in the kitchen but you notice right away that there’s no one else here. He seems to be talking to himself, gesturing emphatically along with his own words, but speaking fast enough you still can’t really follow what has him so agitated. Because he definitely is, agitated that is.

His hair is completely undone, flowing around his face and down his back in wild tendrils, all semblance of a braid long gone. He’s moving back and forth, changing height depending on how much of his tail he’s putting into the motion—something he rarely does as he likes to keep to a steady height. The difference is down to the way the bulk of his tail stays where it is, the tip flicking in time with his pacing. He’s also not wearing a shirt, which you knew he didn’t wear when he sunbathed, but is still rather unusual since he’s inside now.

You tell yourself your focus on his chest is just to see if he’s shivering—which he doesn’t appear to be. In fact, you blink in surprise: he almost looks flushed. The skirt he has on is loose and comfortable, but also hastily thrown on. Combined with the way his claws are unsheathed—a sure sign he’s expecting a threat–it’s more than enough to unsettle you further. Despite all this agitation, he still hasn’t even noticed your presence yet. You doubt it will take long though and you don’t want to scare him, especially not in this state.

You take a deep breath and step forward. “Heshi?”

His head whips around with lightning speed, pupils slit thin before blowing wide when he identifies who made the sound. He gasps out your name, looking at you with such shock that you instinctively freeze. He starts toward you before stopping himself, placing his hands on one of the tall kitchen tables as if to hold himself with it between you and him, despite him being several feet away on the other side of the room as it is.

“Uh, Heshi…?”

He seems to notice your confusion and visibly straightens, clearly trying to coach his rather wild facial expressions back to normal. It might have worked better if you hadn’t, you know, literally watched him do so.

“Hey,” his voice is breathy, but less desperate or shocked than when he had called your name. He clears his throat before continuing in an alright approximation of his usual voice, “how was your day?”

“Okay…” you reply slowly. It's clear he doesn’t want you to notice, or at least not to comment on, whatever is bothering him. You’re willing to play along, for now. You don’t want to spook him. “I guess.” While you talk, you try to see if you can spot a physical source of what might be bothering him. He doesn’t look visibly injured or sunburned—can naga get sunburned? “The shop had already sold my flute though.”

He sobers at your words, distracted enough by your news that he forgets to try so hard to be normal. He frowns and says sympathetically, “I’m sorry, that’s really too bad.” He makes an aborted motion towards you, like he’s going to come over to give you a hug but then he stops himself. You suddenly realize this is the longest it’s been since you woke him up from hibernation for him to be awake and aware of you and yet not touching you.

A pang of hurt goes through you at the thought that he might truly be done with hibernation and the long embraces will stop. You knew this would happen, you told yourself not to get used to it. You still feel an aching sense of loss that you try to shove to the side. You’ll deal with it when you’re inevitably sleeping alone again.

“If you’d like,” Heshi’s voice pulls you back to the present. He’s clearly trying to be upbeat, trying to cheer you up, but there’s a manic undertone to his voice that still worries you. “I could try to make you one? A flute, I mean. It’d be glass and not silver, but I’m sure it will sound just as pretty.”

He looks adorably earnest, but it's so obvious something is conspicuously off with him. “That, that would be really lovely,” you say truthfully, because it is a really sweet offer, and yet you can’t ignore this any longer. “But Heshi, what’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” he repeats anxiously. “Nothing’s wrong.” He winces when his voice pitches too high. He deliberately coughs before continuing, “In fact, my hibernation is officially over. So everything’s back to normal.”

You eye his very nervous smile at that proclamation and say, “Um, it’s really not.” You take a step closer, studying him as you continue in vain to try to figure it out yourself. “What’s wrong, Heshi?” You’re starting to really think he might be sick. Is this because you messed with his hibernation? You take another step closer, trying to peer around the table—a naga’s tail normally will give them away if there’s something wrong with their body and you can’t quite see it from where you’re at.

“Stop!” He holds out his hand, palm facing you. “Stay over there.” You immediately freeze, too surprised by his reaction to even say anything.

“Why?” you breathe, unsure of what you’ve done to make him more upset. You try to hide the illogical bit of hurt you feel at his words, but given how his face falls, you don’t manage it.

“I’m sorry,” he says, looking wretched and wringing his fingers, “but you really need to stay away.”

“Should I leave?” you offer, not sure what else to say. You want to understand, but you want him to feel better more so if you need to leave without an explanation, you will even if you know you’ll end up at wit’s end with worry.

“No!” he reaches out again, this time as if to pull you close. He squeezes his eyes shut and presses his fingers to his forehead. “I mean, yes, probably. You shouldn’t be here while I’m like this. I’m so sorry.”

Any hurt or fear melts away in the face of his distress. “But what is this? Are you sick? Is it contagious? Should I find a healer?”

“No, well, sort of,” he pulls his fingers through his hair violently enough it almost looks like he’s pulling on it. He deflates, pressing one palm to the table and leaning on it. “Maybe you should.”

Before you can even think of how to respond, he continues talking, “I just don’t understand! This shouldn’t be happening.” He glares at the table top as if the pressed glass pattern he designed might hold all the answers.

Hesitantly, you say, “Are you sick or not? How can I help?” You swallow before venturing, “Is this because your hibernation got interrupted?”

He barely seems to hear you, talking to himself and keeping his eyes down as if purposely not looking at you. “Not sick, exactly. No illness. Hibernation, yes, yes. My sunsleep! That’s where it all starts but why? How?” He looks up and you can see his eyes are wildly dilated, now that yours have adjusted to the lower amount of light in here. “None of this makes any sense. It shouldn’t be possible.”

“What shouldn’t be possible?”

“I’m in heat!” The words burst out of his mouth without his permission and his grip on the table edge goes white-knuckled. He looks embarrassed as your mouth falls open, but he doesn’t take the declaration back even as he snaps his mouth shut tight.

“I’m sorry, you’re what?” you ask, mind spinning, even as you catalog his symptoms in a new light. He is flushed, you hadn’t realized ‘heat’ is quite so literal, but it clearly is. His breathing is too fast, but it's deep too, drawing your attention to his bare chest. The tension in his frame, the dilation of his eyes, your eyes nearly try to track down his body before the table and your own awareness of the situation stops you in your tracks.

You frantically try to remember everything you’ve heard about a naga’s heat. Heshi himself has only mentioned, in passing, that it happens after hibernation between mates, but that’s really all he’s said. Everything else you know, you picked up just, listening around. You haven’t been to help but wonder, what with having a naga friend. An attractive naga friend. An attractive naga friend you had a crush on.

Still, you’d never outright asked anyone—you’d never be able to get the words out—but you know it lasted more than a day, that there is a special significance placed on the first heat after marriage, and that the reason so many naga are born around the same time as a species is because the majority of them are the result of heated matings. Because obviously the other part is that anyone in heat wants to have sex—like, a lot. However, like Heshi himself had always seemed to suggest, you thought it only happened when they already have a partner and possibly only if that other partner was a naga.

“I mean,” your face feels warm and so does the rest of you at just the thought that Heshi might be…riled up—and he so clearly looks it too, now that you’re looking for that. “I thought, you needed, you know, a partner,” you manage to squeak out, “for that to, um, start.” How are you standing here talking about this with him? Is some god upset that your moving out went so well that they’ve thrown this in your path?

You almost feel like, now that you’re not worried he’s hurt or sick, that it's affecting you too. Could humans sense, smell, naga pheromones? Is it actually warmer in here?

“Sort of,” he says, a bit miserably, finger tracing along the table, drawing your eyes to the slender digit. “That’s what doesn’t make sense. I’m not with anyone or courting or anything so it shouldn’t be possible. You don’t need someone officially, but you do need someone with potential as a nestmate.”

A shiver of heat and jealousy goes down your spine at the word ‘nestmate’. You think he just means someone else who’d hibernated with him in the same nest—not an actual mate—but the only person even close to that description is you, if only for the last week, which sends a tendril of heat through you. The jealously is at even the thought of someone else, wrapped up in his arms, in his nest, waiting for him to awaken and… “Right,” you say quickly.

“There needs to be complementary pheromones in the air,” he continues explaining as if trying to prove to you why it shouldn’t be possible. “Someone interested in mating with you being close enough, often enough, during hibernation to trigger heat.”

“Oh,” you nod, again trying not to picture this hypothetical other naga that would make your Heshi all... “And you haven’t seen any other naga, right?”

“Well,” he hedges, “it wouldn’t have to be a naga actually.” He shrugs and you try so hard to keep your expression steady at that little admission. Before your mind can run with it, he continues, “but you’re missing the key: receptive. I would have to be around someone who wanted to mate with me.” He presses a hand to his chest before shrugging again. “And I’ve only seen you and Nell, so I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“I…” You swallow, sure your whole face must be turning red because if that’s what brought this on… “You’re sure that’s what’s happening?” If all that’s needed is someone interested in him, sharing his nest then…

He rubs the back of his neck, “I’ve gone into heat once before—years ago.” He gives a sharp nod. “I’m sure.”

Oh gods. This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. If the ground swallowed you up, would that make his stupid heat stop and prevent you from having the most embarrassing conversation of you life? After a second of nothing happening, you burst out with, “Then this is all my fault. I’m so sorry, Heshi.” You squeeze your eyes shut, cursing your stupid feelings for making things ha-difficult for your friend. “How do I make it stop?”

“Your fault?” Heshi’s face screws up in absolute bewilderment. “How in the world could this be your fault?”

“Because what you said earlier was wrong,” you say, trying to force the words out of your mouth, but they’re as jumbled as your thoughts are. “You… I… I didn’t know… I didn’t mean…”

He says your name, sounding calmer than he has all night, clearly trying to ground you, but it's not working because you have to tell him. There’s no getting around it.

“Darling, what are you—”

“I am, is the problem,” you blurt out, knowing it probably still sounds like nonsense. You hate putting yourself out there, but you have to say it. “Interested or receptive or…” You flap your hand uselessly in his general direction, unable to even look him in the eye.

“You…” The clear disbelief in his voice, lacking in recrimination as it is, does little to make you feel better.

“I swear I had no idea this would happen.” You finally look at him again, needing him to understand this wasn’t some horrible plan on your part, but he’s still just staring at you in shock. “I tried to sleep in my own bed. And there was only that one dream! Why didn’t you warn me that's what causes your, you know, heat?”

Heshi actually moves out from behind the table, his gaze intent, his expression surprisingly unreadable. You unthinkingly take a step back.Your stupid feelings did this to him, clouding his mind, overwriting his desires.

He tilts his head to the side. “Are you saying you find me attractive or that you have feelings for me?”

His voice doesn’t give away anything that he’s thinking. You shrug helplessly. “I mean, yeah. Both?”

You barely have time to blink, barely able to see something ripple across his expression before he’s across the room, in front of you. His strong fingers take hold of your chin, tilting you face up towards his. He slants his mouth over yours for a kiss before you can comprehend anything beyond how much heat he seems to be giving, so different than his usual temperature.

Then there’s nothing on your mind except the feeling of him pressed so close, the softness of his lips, how solid he is against you. Your hand wraps around his wrist, keeping him where he is and his arm slides around your waist—as it has so many times in the last few days—and yet everything is different this time as he pulls you against him. Your other hand curls over his shoulder as you return the kiss instinctively. He pulls away briefly, only to press another kiss to your lips, giving a light pull to first your top lip, then your bottom lip. He flicks his tongue against the seam of yours after that and you let out a gasp at the sensation.

He takes advantage of the opening, pressing even closer, his slender, adroit tongue slipping in. You slide your own against his, causing him to moan. That sound combined with the feeling of his fangs against your lips send a ripple of heat through your veins.

You tighten your grip on him as he kisses you. You never want him to let you go ever again, you think deliriously as his large hand strokes up and back down your back, encouraging you to arch into him. This is everything you ever wanted with him.

Everything you wanted.

The thought sends a shard of ice down your spine and abruptly, you find the strength to use your hold on him to push him away.

You part with pop and stare up at him panting. His eyes are half-lidded and dark, fixed on your lips, and it's not until you try to maintain the distance between you that he seems to notice something is wrong.

“We’re not doing this just because you’re all hormone crazy,” you sputter, trying to push him even further away. “I can’t! Please.”

“Oh, darling.” It’s unfair how liquid and low his voice is. He leans down to catch your eyes with his own. “It still takes two.”

“What?” You can’t take any chance that he might mean—

His smile is warm and encouraging as he says, “You can’t go into heat for someone you don’t want back.” When you just stare at him with surprise, faintly shaking your head, he ducks his head a little before his eyes meet yours again. “Is that so hard to believe? I’ve had a crush on you for ages now.”

Your eyes grow even wider as you try to make sense of his words. “You have?” There’s that shy hope you were trying to avoid, but it's so hard with him continuing to say all the right things, still holding you, still looking well kissed by you.

“For years,” he admits, a little sheepish. “I just didn’t say anything because, well, I lived here and you lived everywhere.” He pushes against your hold again and this time you let him close once more, his breath fanning across your face as you stare, entranced. He nuzzles against you, before pulling back the barest inch to continue, “I thought it was a dream, you saying you were going to stay here, that you wanted to live with me. I felt so guilty for how happy I was that your family finally crossed the line, but I am.”

He looks like he expects you to judge him for that but you’re just waiting to hear what other, wonderful, impossible thing he might say next. He presses his forehead against yours and murmurs, “Because you’re finally here, with me. In my nest, in my arms.”

“Oh,” you breathe, unable to find a single coherent thought to voice in response.

He pulls back again, just slightly, and goes on to say, “I was going to wait until you were more settled, see how you liked living here, living with me—when you were dealing with fewer changes--to see if you might consider…” he looks at you through ridiculously pretty lashes you’ve somehow never noticed until right this second, “consider being with me.”

“Yeah?” your voice is a little teary in the face of his sincerity, his consideration. Heshi. Heshi had a plan to ask you out. Heshi likes you. Heshi wants you. Your mind is spinning and you’re holding back tears and you’ve never felt so many overwhelming good feelings in your life.

He nods with a smile. “Yeah.”

“Yes,” you say, nodding rather vehemently. “I don’t need time and yeah, life is crazy now, but it always is. I want to be with you.” And this time, you pull him down and press your lips to his. The kiss starts sweet, but he lets out something like a whine against your lips in the split second you pull back to breathe. Heat radiates from him and you begin to feel feverish with it too, the desperate need to be closer, even closer.

Ever since you nudged him from hibernation, you’ve been trying so hard to hold yourself back, to accept his hugs and embraces, but not reach for him. Your arm hooks around his neck as you let yourself pull him to you. He capitulates easily, wrapping arms around you, his tongue along yours as the kiss grows hungrier. You feel something smooth and strong against your legs and moan when you realize his tail is spiraling around you.

At some point you have to breathe and he wastes no time in lunging for the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, his favorite spot to nuzzle, only this time… This time, you gasp out his name as his fangs lightly drag along the spot and he nips. The shiver his mouth inspires only grows when he sets about sucking a mark into your skin.

You groan as he skims his mouth and fangs back up your neck only to pant desperately in your ear, “Want you. So much.” You nod thoughtlessly in his hold.

“Now, please,” he demands, breathy with need.

“Yes.”

[Part Eight - NSFW]

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baek1nho · 6 months

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something about how almost all the zhang ling he dramas i've seen, his characters are at least one point unrequited pining

#obsessed how i'm pretty sure xie wei has been in love with jiang xuening since the beginning #that part of mjty gong ziyu thought it was one sided but it was mutual pining

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twicearoundthesun · 2 years

Note

college au where momo gets jealous because of sana this time instead

Momo was careful to keep quiet as she moved about the small kitchen, chopping vegetables and trying not to let the pot boil over. She was by no means a chef, but she certainly knew how to throw together a good breakfast.

One of the bedroom doors opened and she turned to find Mina shuffling into the room, eyelids half-closed, oversized T-shirt hanging off her small frame, and a blanket draped around her. She sat at the kitchen table with a yawn.

“Good morning.” Momo whispered.

Mina rubbed her eyes and hummed a greeting back.

Momo smiled and poured her a cup of the coffee she’d brewed earlier. She thanked her, a much more cheerful smile on her face now despite still being half asleep.

“Whatcha making?”

“Miso and eggs. And some vegetables.”

“Mmm… My favorite miso soup in the world.” Mina pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders and Momo smiled; their youngest roommate was adorable, even if she was more in control of her life than Momo would ever be.

“You’re in luck, it’s for the whole apartment.”

Mina flashed another sleepy gummy-smile. Momo heard the door to the third bedroom unlock and her heart raced for a second as she found Sana standing in the doorway. She was the reason she’d even decided to cook a nice breakfast – she thought Sana could use a bit of cheering up lately.

“Goodmorning, Satang.” Mina smiled.

“Morning.” Sana beamed. Momo smiled back. Unlike Mina, she was dressed for the day already. Her hair had been styled with a bit more thought, she could tell, her clothes a little dressier than her average Saturday sweatpants look. She somehow looked like a movie star. She filled a mug with coffee and sat down at the kitchen table with Mina.

“Someone looks awfully fancy for ten a.m. Saturday morning. What happened to not being alive before noon on weekends?” Momo cocked her head, beginning to spoon out the miso soup into bowls.

“If you must know, darling roommate, I have brunch plans.”

Momo deflated a little at the change of plans, but brushed it off. Brunch would cheer Sana up, too, she was sure. She hoped.

“We weren’t invited to brunch?” Mina gasped dramatically.

“Mina, we’re uncool.” Momo added, placing a bowl of soup in front of her and going back for the sides. “You know that.”

Sana rolled her eyes. “I’m just meeting a friend at a café for coffee and pastries.”

“We know your one other friend, you know, you can say Dahyun.” Momo teased as she piled vegetables and rice onto a plate.

“Ha-ha.” Sana made a face at her. “You’re funny. Not Dahyun this time, Momoring, It’s a boy from my English language class.”

Momo froze. A boy from class? Momo had never heard of a boy from class; she thought back - no, Sana had not once mentioned a boy. Not from class, not from anywhere, not since she told them about her highschool crush on the freckle-faced tennis player who went on to go pro.

“Ooh, one of the suitors throwing themselves at your feet actually got a chance?” Mina laughed.

“They’re not suitors, Mina, don’t be so weird.” Sana laughed. “His name’s Seonhwa, he’s from the states.”

“If he’s from the states, why is he in English class?” Mina tilted her head.

“You’re from the states and you don’t speak English.”

“That’s different. I was bornthere, I’m not from there.”

Sana giggled. “I’ll ask him. I’m sure he just wanted the easy A.”

“Well that’s dishonest of him.” Momo said with more bite than she meant it to. The kitchen paused, obviously confused on why Momo’s only contribution to the conversation thus far sounded so angry. Momo winced.

“I mean,” Sana sounded a little offended. “if it wasn’t blatantly obvious I spoke Japanese I think I’d take the Japanese class for the GPA boost… I think it’s smart.”

“No, you’re right, I guess.” She tried to cover it up with a laugh. “Just confused. I guess.”

Sana nodded slowly. “Right… Well, thank you for making breakfast, Momoring, I’m sorry I didn’t stick around to try any.”

“No, no worries. There’ll be leftovers.” She busied herself with doing the dishes. She felt too weird to face them after her comment. “Enjoy brunch!”

“I’ll bring back some pastries for everyone.”

“Thanks, Sa-tang.”

She gathered her things and left with another cheerful ‘see you later’. As the door slammed shut, Momo held her breath.

“What was that?” Mina had a teasing tone to her voice – for what, Momo couldn’t even begin to fathom.

“What was what?”

“Well that’s dishonest.” Mina said.

“I guess I’m just upset I made a nice breakfast and planned a nice morning and it didn’t go as I planned.” Momo said. Yeah, she guessed that’s why she was oddly upset. “I also don’t think Sana should be entangling herself with boys who cheat for academic success.”

“Momo, I watch you copy your homework from the internet almost every day.”

Momo huffed. “It’s different. I just think Sana should be careful who she dates. Everyone on this campus is in love with her – boys, girls, everyone. She has her pick. She shouldn’t date anyone with any negative qualities at all. And not to mention we haven’t even heard of this boy before.”

“Mhm…”

“She’s my best friend. I just think she deserves the best.”

“Uh huh.”

“Why are you saying it like that?” She dropped the sponge in the sink and turned to see Mina.

“No reason, Momoring. I’m sure she’ll be careful and she knows she has us should she need help.” Mina’s tone was soft, it only added to Momo’s annoyance. She tried to shake it off. “You said you had a nice morning planned. I’m still here, would you still want to have a nice breakfast with me to take your mind off things?”

Momo wasn’t sure what things Mina thought she needed to take her mind off, but a nice breakfast with one of her closest friends still sounded relaxing.

“Of course, Minari. Let me just get more coffee started.”

#uh ohhh #someones getting a little jeaaalouus #let the mutual pining begin #anon #ask #college au #samo #sana #momo #i miss samo

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theimperialnuisance · 8 months

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FFXIV Write 2023 || FFXIV Write info\\Prompt list\\Character info \\Master post ||

Prompt 3: Free day! (Memory)

something remembered from the past; a recollection.

Character(s): Kien Eilath (aged 19/20) G'raha Tia Cw: mentions of past abuse if you squint Word count: 2393 Notes: I love free days cause either I’ll revisit an old unfinished prompt or I’ll ask my friends to give me a word! Today I decided to revisit an old prompt that I meant to do for a free day last year but never got around to it. Readmore for length as again, I had time to work on this one so it’s long but I am rather proud of it. It’s basically the first of G’raha and Kien’s many meetings that formed their friendship. Takes place immediately after Syrcus Tower in the CT questline.

Kien woke up slowly, the top of the tent blurring into focus as he blinked open his eyes. For a moment, he tried to recall the reason as to why he was sleeping in a tent rather than back at Rising Stones but the memory of when he actually went to sleep was lost on him. What happened yesterday? The only thing he could clearly recall was spending the evening with G’raha Tia talking about the Allagan Empire while flipping through various tomes they had found during their excursions in the Crystal Tower that morning. Beyond that, however, Kien didn’t know when he had actually fallen asleep or how he had gotten to the cot in the first place.

He sat up and stretched, wincing a bit as his arms were still a bit sore from yesterday before glancing around to see the cot across from him had been slept in but its occupant was already awake. With a yawn, Kien decided to leave the tent for some fresh air, not surprised to see the horizon was just beginning to show signs of the sunrise. The rest of the Find was still asleep, save for G’raha Tia who was crouching by the long extinguished fire, mindlessly poking the ashen logs with a stick. Kien quietly approached him hoping the other would hear him as his ears twitched at the sound of his approach but he still jolted, nearly dropping the stick as Kien got closer.

“Ah, apologies, I was hoping you’d hear my footsteps.” Kien sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck as G’raha visibly relaxed once he knew who it was.

“Kien—ah, no, I was lost in thought,” G’raha muttered, his cheeks turning slightly pink. He cleared his throat and tossed the stick to the side before straightening back up to his full height. “I couldn’t sleep so I came out here for some fresh air…I hope I didn’t wake you when I left the tent?”

Kien shook his head. “I used to be on my tribe’s day watch so early mornings come naturally for me.” He explained, shrugging his shoulders. “Even if I’m exhausted, I cannot seem to sleep past the sunrise.”

“And exhausted you were,” G’raha chuckled. “If I remember correctly, you were still insisting to help even as Cid dragged you off to the tent—and then you were telling him you had to return to the Rising Stones and not stay here too late or the others will get suspicious?” His eyes sparkled in amusement as Kien blinked at him in confusion, his ears flattening slightly.

“Seven hells,” Kien groaned as he felt his cheeks beginning to flush. “Did I really say all of that?” When the red-haired Miqo’te nodded, Kien felt as if he could melt on the spot despite the cool morning air. “I apologise to you for having to witness that.” Kien couldn’t bring himself to look the other in the eye, too embarrassed for letting his guard drop that much.

G’raha let out a laugh. “It’s quite alright…I thought it was cute.”

Kien snapped his gaze up, his cheeks heating up again for an entirely different reason as he watched G’raha grin, his tail swishing playfully. He quickly turned his gaze away to fake a cough, attempting to bring down his heart rate, unaware the other was just as flustered as he was.

A moment of silence passed as they tried to gather themselves before G’raha cleared his throat and continue to speak. “Though, I’m full glad Rammbores had a spare cot for you…with how out of it you were, I was almost sure you wouldn’t have even made it back to the Rising Stones before collapsing again…tis good to see you had a good rest.”

“Oh, I meant to thank you for yesterday,” Kien suddenly said, the memory of G’raha’s timely arrow protecting him when he was down because of the vision flashing through his mind. G’raha had asked him about it later that evening and Kien explained to him what had happened and the two were so caught up in discussing the vision that he never got a chance to thank him. “…the echo can sometimes occur during the most critical moments and leave me in a vulnerable state…had it not been for you, I’m sure I would have been shot down by one of those clones yesterday so…thank you for saving me.”

G’raha took a moment to soak in his words, a small but genuine smile playing across his face, his cheeks turning slightly pink. “Oh, ‘tis nothing,” he began humbly, gaining a sudden interest in his boots. “I saw the clone approaching you from behind as soon as you collapsed and just acted on impulse…I’m glad you did not come to any harm.” He then looked back up, his tone full of playfulness. “I did tell you I was quite skilled with the bow, didn’t I? I’m full glad I had the chance to prove it, even if the circumstances were not the best.” He smiled a bit sadly, the reality of the situation sinking in again. “We’ll save them yet…” He muttered. “We have to.”

“I know we will.” Kien reassured and G’raha nodded. A sudden thought struck him. “What about you then?”

“Hmm? What about me?” G’raha asked as he titled his head.

“Your eye seemed to be giving you a lot of trouble yesterday…” Kien began slowly, watching as the other became a little tense. “Is it still bothering you?”

“Ah, right…” he fidgeted slightly, as if embarrassed. “Mayhap we could go for a walk? It seems the others have yet to wake and it may help us better prepare for the day ahead.”

Kien blinked, the sudden shift of topic was not what he was expecting but still nodded all the same. “Sure, I’d like that.”

G’raha smiled and swept his arm out to the side in an ‘after you’ gesture, and the two took off down the path. The first half of the walk was silent—the two automatically made for the Eight Sentinels and did not speak again until they were climbing up the steps to the platforms; both seemed to have a great deal on their mind with no idea on how to address it.

Finally, G’raha spoke as they came to the edge of the platform that granted a perfect view of the Crystal Tower and sat down. “Forgive me for my sudden change of topic,” G’raha began quietly. “I didn't mean to brush off your concern but your question caught me off guard and I was unsure on how to respond at that moment.”

“Why would you say something like that?” Kien asked as he glanced at other who kept his gaze fixed on the Crystal Tower shining in the distance.

“I guess it’s because I’m not used to it?” G’raha shrugged sheepishly. He sighed, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before explaining. “Being born with one red eye, I did not have the most pleasant of childhoods…” He glanced over at Kien, his expression grim. “You know what they say: children can be cruel...My father would always tell me that our eye was important and I should be proud of it but…the other children in my tribe did not seem to agree and they treated me as an outcast which resulted in my relationship with my tribe as a whole to become strained.”

“All because of something you had no control being born with,” Kien said quietly, knowing full well what that was like. “That must have been difficult.”

G’raha hummed as he nodded his head, bringing a hand up to touch his red eye. “I’ll admit, it was difficult at first but the stories my father told me drove me forward to study all I could about the Allag and I started to worry less about what my tribe thought and more about uncovering the truth of our eye…and the day I was accepted to study in Sharlayan to become an Archon, oh how happy I was.” He smiled fondly, bringing his gaze to the tower again. “Full glad I am to be here now, mayhap I’ll return to my tribe to tell them all that I achieved…but…that day will have to wait, there are more important things to do and I know I’m close to uncovering the truth.”

“You should be proud,” Kien smiled after a moment of silence. “You’re one of the greatest scholars on the Allagan Empire that I know, and that’s coming from someone who’s from Meracydia.” He watched as G’raha’s eyes grew wide before softening into admiration, unable to form a verbal reply as he nodded his head in thanks. Kien smiled as he continued to speak. “I wish I could be proud of my past but I still think I have a long way to go—I still hide my eye away in fear of what others may think even though I’ve met far greater people than those in my tribe…” He trailed away, his gaze falling to his lap.

“You do not give yourself enough credit, my friend.” G’raha said quietly, as he glanced over at Kien who kept his gaze away. “If I may ask, is that how you got that scar?” His eyes flicked briefly to the thin scar that traced Kien’s right amber eye, hidden well behind his dark hair. His expression softened when the other tensed slightly.

Kien inhaled a breath, curling his hands softly on top of his knees as he carefully nodded, releasing some of the tension in his shoulders. “Like you, my eye was the reason why I was shunned by my tribe…it served as a sign that I was a result of a broken tradition—that I was born of mixed blood.” He paused, a sigh escaping him. “I was told my mother and I should have been banished but she died before that could happen and one of my older sister’s took pity on me and raised me.” He paused,leaning back a bit on his hands. “I guess when my mother was still alive, she highly favored me over my older brother for some reason and he got jealous.”

“So your brother was the one who…?” G’raha trailed off, unable to finish his question, shock and anger burning his throat when Kien nodded grimly.

“My older sister who looked out for me was away on a hunting trip, and that was the day he decided to take his years of built of resentment out on me.” He brought a hand to his eye to trace the scar, the memory still painfully clear. “I tired to run away after that but when you live in an unforgiving wasteland, it’s not easy to survive on your own.”

“So then…you went back?”

“I had to,” Kien nodded as he let out a breath. “I told myself I would bide my time, endure the sneers and taunts just until I was able to fend for myself and leave. But then suddenly, my tribe elder allowed me to join the nightly hunts and leaving became the last thing on my mind.” he laughed, albeit bitterly. “I was so blinded with eagerness to finally prove my worth to them–to my brother, dispute everything he ever did to me. It was then I started to experience the Echo—though I did not know what it was at the time and I dared not say anything to my tribe for fear of being shunned again...and then one day, I received a vision that caused me to collapse and when I came to, I found out I ruined an entire hunt and it put me right back where I started without being able to prove anything more apart from what I already was to them—a burden.”

“You cannot blame yourself for that,” G’raha said gently. “Especially if it was because of something you had no control over.”

“I know, and it took a long time for me to come to terms with that but if anything, I’m grateful that the Echo occurred at that time.” Kien said as he brought his gaze to the sky above. “If not for that, I would have blindly stayed longer with my tribe until the next mistake, and even then, would I have been lucky to find someone so willing to accept my exchange and allow me passage to Eorzea like Ranald was?”

G’raha closed his eyes as he brought his gaze back to his lap. “Along with all the stories he told me, my father also told me that certain things happen for a reason…” he smiled softly, leaning back to gaze up at the tower again. “So, in a strange way, I’m glad the Echo was gifted to you at that time, otherwise I wouldn’t have had the chance to meet you and hear all the stories of your adventures.” Kien brought his gaze to G’raha, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“And, though I’m sure it won’t make much of a difference coming from me, as I too have an odd eye and might be a bit biased,” he turned to meet Kien’s gaze with a smile, “but, your amber eye is a gift, and you should be proud of it too. Mayhap one day there will be a day I can see it without it being covered by your hair, but take all the time you need.” He bumped into Kien’s shoulder gently, smiling when their eyes met but just as quickly, they both turned away, G’raha clearing his throat and Kien faking a cough in order to hide their blushing faces.

“Well now, I think it’s time we head back, don’t you?” G’raha looked up as the sun began to creep higher into the morning sky. He stood up and brushed himself off, offering a hand for Kien to take. “If we stay here any longer, I think your friends will get suspicious when they arrive back at camp.” He winked.

Kien rolled his eyes but still grinned all the same. “Very funny, G’raha.” he said as he accepted G’raha’s hand and was hoisted to his feet. They both paused, sharing a smile with each other before making their way back to the Find, energies renewed and ready to take on the next task within the Crystal Tower.

#ffxivwrite2023 #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv write #ffxiv arr #final fantasy xiv #kien eilath #miqo'te wol #crystal tower questline #ffxiv #g'raha tia #wolgraha #g'raha x wol #nico writes #and so begins the slow burn #and mutual pining

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layzeal · 2 years

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hmm, everyone knows i'm a teen wangxian enthusiast and i love coming up with AUs for them and all that, but if we're talking about actual canon, i think my unpopular opinion would be that i.... really really don't think wei wuxian liked lwj "that way" in his first life

#and i think the way people eill soread it as fanon that wwx was in love with lwj since he was 15 #is just sorta setting up new readers for disappointment #because wwx rly does think lwj is funny and amusing. but i've read the flashback sections so many times and I really really can't see it #especially when we have post-timeskip to compare to. when we DO see how wwx acts when he's falling in love #and if we're talking about authorial intent (which u can take it as gospel or ignore it completely. idrc about it personally)#the novel is tagged as “单向暗恋-双向暗恋感情” on jjwxc #which translates to something like ''one way secret love to two way secret love''#or basically ''unrequited pining to mutual pining'"#idk !! this is my own personal interpretation nd ofc ppl are free to interpret what they want but #i just don't /see/ it. to me wwx was not romantically interested on lwj in any point of their first life #i just can't see any sort of desire the way we see later on. and i've tried!!#like. he thinks he's really pretty and all. but wwx thinks almost everyone is pretty skdhsjdh EVEN JIN ZIXUN #he's a guy with an eye for beautiful things. and Iz happens to be a very beautiful thing #but to use that alone as a ''he was in love with him since the beginning''? idk i always feel like it's such a stretch #modao #lace speaks

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hotaruyy · 1 year

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Without her conscious input, Li Wei’s eyes flicker towards the corners of the ceiling. Empty. Yuan Ying catches her doing it, and something flits across her face even as she smiles gently.

“No, I… I’m not here to do business with you,” Yuan Ying says, uncharacteristically hesitant. “I just thought we should talk. In private.”

A girl group elimination reality tv show AU.

shoutout to @moonraccoon for beta-ing!

#卿卿日常 #new life begins #yuan ying/li wei #hao jia/zhao fangru #li wei #yuan ying #hao jia #zhao fangru #yin zheng #fan writing #fanfic #my writing #writing #modern au #mutual pining #hotaruyy

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cloudy-dayys · 2 years

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@finalfridayss when they first met

click on for better quality!

#my art #jammin jay #mandela cult au #i kinda maybe sorta wanna perhaps make watchman canon nd involved in the auuu just so these 2 can be sad nd angsty nd gay together #strangers with heavy tension to mutual pining to lovers 200k when?#hope i made human watchman good nd a nervous long boy enough here bc i was worried nout makin him ooc nd lookin like a fool #I HAD SUCH A BLAST DRAWIN THESE 2 INTERACTING OUGHGFGFHD #tyler follows him to his car nd fixes it up nd watchman brings up how tyler also appears to be deviated from the cult #they ask some questions back nd forth nd answer nd stuff nd begin connecting #tyler: if u need something regarding ur car or /anything else/ (pokin at the cult) then u now know where to find me #watch tryin his best to not pass out: okay thank u (gets in his car and flops his head on the horn and accidentally sets it off)#nd well maybe watch does come back just to talk a few times nd tyler is just like huh. hes kind of a weirdo /lovingly #nd then the crushing happens… dun dun dunnnn

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theflyingfeeling · 1 year

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I’m really anxious and can’t sleep, spare some cute (Allu/Olli or Joonas/Niko) thoughts? 🥺

Nawwwwwww 🥺

Okay, hear me out: you know how in the red flag videos they did last winter for Bad Idea promo, Olli said he's shy and socially awkward and Aleksi said he was an introvert? So imagine when Aleksi first started hanging out with the guys (dragged to their band training place by excited golden retriever Joel), they didn't really talk much at first because they were just too damn shy and awkward and thought the other one was too cool to be their friend? 🥺 but then when Aleksi kept coming back to write songs with them time after time (Joel no longer had to drag him), they grew closer day by day and eventually realised how much they have in common ("wait, you watched that show too?") and how they laugh at the same kinda jokes and how goddamn pretty the other's eyes are and---

...oh

(yes, the italics oh my beloved 🥰)

#and that's where their story begins 🥰#insert lots and lots of mutual pining 💞#also. i'm still awwwing at olli and aleksi's ''red flags'' 🥺#shy and socially awkward?? honey those aren't red flags they only make you seem more lovable 🥺#introverted? that's exactly what i look for in a man actually #hope you'll feel better and get some good sleep soon anon 🌙#i'm about to tuck in too in a bit 😴#ollixallu #anon asks #answered asks

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femvaylin · 1 year

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The grocery store played When She Loved Me and I'm instantly back in Revan/Exile hell

#just she and i together like it was meant to be #furiously ignoring canon to ship unrequited love between two idiot women #UNCONDITIONAL DEVOTION!!!!#BUILDING YOUR SENSE OF IDENTITY AROUND SOMEONE ELSE SO WHEN THEY'RE GONE WHAT'S LEFT-#i've shipped this for at least 12-15 years ish and what do i have to show for it #a heart rent to pieces and a playlist of 12 songs #ooohhhh this relationship dynamic is why i've been low-key obsessed with Suzalulu for 10 years too #when you don't know where they end and you begin #where love ends and hate begins #ahhhhh #i promise i'll stop spamming at some point #when i hit post limit :^)#this is my personal tag #ch: tyril naris #ch: sera kast #AND MUTUAL PINING

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rouge-the-bat · 2 years

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adhd is homophobic bc its preventing me from writing my incredibly gay fics

#i have so many kur.ahi fic ideas #ive been hyperfixated on them for months and getting so many beginnings of fic planning #but once my brain loses the spark of New Idea Formation then it will not let me focus for shit to devlop any particular fic idea more #its driving me CRAZY #i just want to write my gay shit!!!! all the fluff!!! mutual pining before getting together!!! soft first times and shameless kinky smut!!!#please brain i am BEGGING just let me write. P L E A S E #i particularly wanna work on my fic idea where kuwa.bara realizes hi.ei has a crush on kur.ama #and kuwa.bara immediately decides to be hi.eis wingman despite hi.eis constant protests against that #and hi.eis constant denial of having feelings for kur.ama lmao #itll be so fucking fun once i can ACTUALLY FUCKING WRITE IT

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gojonanami · 3 months

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❝ 𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ! ❞

❝ I HEARD FROM A FRIEND OF A FRIEND, THAT DICK WAS A TEN OUT OF TEN !! ❞

✧ pairing: jjk au sorcerer! suguru geto x sorcerer! reader

✧ summary: geto's routine after a mission -- ingest the curses that he collects before his shower. but after he does, his body begins to burn and ache with lust to the point of pain -- and he can't get rid of the feeling alone. so what else can he do when you show up at his doorstep offering to help but accept it (aka a sex pollen / aphrodisiac curse fic).

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, jjk compliant au, geto stayed a sorcerer and didn't defect, reader is one year younger than geto, (set during jjk s1), aphrodisiac curse (sex pollen), multiple orgasms, multiple positions (missionary, doggy, riding, other positions mentioned: standing, against the wall, spooning from behind, against the wall), masturbation (m), soft dom! geto, oral (m +f), handjob (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, cervix fucking, panty stealing, squirting, mutual pining, a little angst (discussion of star vessel / premature death arc), but a lot of comfort, cuddling, gojo hijinks

✧ wc: 8,180

Suguru was only sure of one thing, as he stared at himself in the mirror — cheeks flushed red, sweat nearly soaking through his black t-shirt, and a painful and glaring problem in his boxers—

This was a curse — literally.

Curses were made up of different negative human emotions — from loneliness to grief to anger, these negative feelings would pool and create a curse. Sorcerers were made to exorcise these curses, and Suguru did so — but in a different way than the others. He had to consume them as part of his technique. And even with the hundreds of curses he’s swallowed over the years, he would never get used to the taste — a shit soaked rag used to clean up vomit was how he could best describe it, but even then, that didn’t come close to the indescribable act of swallowing the manifestation of the worst negative human emotions — at least for most of them.

The one he had swallowed today was different — he was sent to exorcise a grade 1 curse in the heart of Tokyo that dwelled in an abandoned building — from the inside, he could tell that it was used as a strip club and possibly a bathhouse-turned-brothel, from the seedy mattresses left behind with dirty sheets and mussed covers, with rusting incense burners placed around the room, and the gaudy, fake jewelry that laid strewn about the place — assumedly any real jewelry picked clean. He swore he could have even smelt the ever lingering scent of cheap perfume in the walls and vents.

But the greater concern was the curse he had found himself with — a grotesque creature that stared back at him — its body a deep maroon, many eyes dotting its back with a large pair of black lips that Suguru didn’t care to draw any closer to. It was more humanoid than most — its form showing a more sophistication than many curses did, muscles of its many arms contracted as it finally spotted Suguru, its many eyes settled their gaze on him.

It was far too easy for him to take down the curse in hindsight — far too easy — and it seemed to watch him summon curses — and he swore it almost had seen a glimmer of recognition in its eyes and then it allowed him to deal the final blow.

He had kept the curse on hand — he could swallow it later, when he was near a toilet and perhaps some mouthwash — though that barely did much to remove the taste from his mouth. He had returned to Jujutsu Tech to do his reports, and hopefully head back early — Satoru was out on another overseas mission and Shoko was busy tending to patients and bodies as always, but you—

He wasn’t sure what you were doing, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to text you. Not after what Satoru said.

“When are you guys gonna fuck already?” the strongest sorcerer asked, making Suguru choke on his Sprite — strong in ability, but not in tact, “you and her have been eye fucking for weeks and you had such a thing for her before she decided to move to Kyoto—”

“That was years ago—”

“She has a key to your apartment—“

“So do you!” he glares.

“Then what about last night at the bar?” Satoru leans back in his chair, lifting the front legs off the ground, as he pulled his sunglasses down, “you could have murdered the guy that was hitting on her with your look alone — and I think you did when you stuck yourself to her side with your arm around her waist, until he ran with his tail between his legs,”

If looks could kill, Suguru would have surely murdered his best friend — infinity be damned, “She looked uncomfortable, what was I going to do—”

“Well, she certainly didn’t look uncomfortable with you hanging all over her, now did she?” He raises an eyebrow, as he leans forward again, the front legs of his chair landing with a thunk, “what are you gonna do if a guy comes along that she falls for? You’re telling me you’re not gonna regret it, Suguru?” Suguru says nothing, unable to meet Satoru’s gaze, as Satoru crushes his own can into a ball, before tossing at Suguru, “You guys just got to hurry up and fuck,”

Suguru swats the crushed can away, “You’re disgusting,”

He grins, as his words seemingly only confirm what he assumes, “Disgusting, but correct, and if I’m right, you’re taking some of my missions off my hands,” he grins.

And Satoru’s words had been running around in Suguru’s head — just like any annoying song on the radio — but he couldn’t let Satoru’s words stop from hanging out with you. He had just gotten you back in his life again — he couldn’t lose you, not again.

Geto: Are you free to watch a movie and have takeout?

You: sounds good - did you get back from your mission alright? No injuries I need to yell at you about?

He snorts, as he types his reply: no, not this time.

You: Let’s keep it that way! :)

He bites back his smile as the two of you decide to have you head over in an hour to his place — you preferred it that way since you were still settling into your place, boxes still unwittingly everywhere there should be actual furniture. Last time he came by to pick a report up, he found you eating your meal on a packed box, instead of a table.

And he catches himself smiling, before his face sours at the thought of Satoru again.

Satoru was right — and he hated to admit it, his knuckles pressed to his lips. A year under him, you had spent days with him, along with everyone else — you always waited for him with his favorite snacks when he would return from a mission. You sat with him sometimes when he would get sick from swallowing curses, helping him swallow some water and saltines after he turned his stomach inside out. You were the one that pushed him when he hid his disillusionment from everyone else — even from Satoru. You wouldn’t leave him alone, you wouldn’t stop dogging his every step with snacks and comfort and company, hounding him to sleep, to eat, to say something, anything.

Until he did — one late night you spent up together — he didn’t sleep much those days anyway. And he told you everything — the poison seeping from his body, and leeching onto yours, your frown and hurt was the whole reason he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone to begin with. But the frown wasn’t yourself — it was for him, as your arms only curled around him, and he let you hold him the entire night.

“You don’t always have to pretend to be strong, Suguru. You’re allowed to be upset, you’re allowed to be angry, you’re allowed to grieve — but don’t bottle it up,” your fingers raked through his wet hair, undoing the tangles gently before running the comb through it, “don’t let it kill you from the inside out,”

“I feel like I did die — along with Amanai,” and you pause, your arms curled around his shoulders, chin resting on his head before you pinched his cheek and he flinched.

“There, you’re definitely not dead,” you say, “so don’t act like you are. And don’t act like you’re alone — because you’re not. You have me, you have Satoru and Shoko — even Nanami and—“ you voice cuts off at the thought of Haibara — “Haibara wouldn’t want you to hide from us, he looked up to you — more than anyone else, even Satoru,”

“I don’t know why,” he mutters with a sigh.

“I do,” your fingers guide his face to meet your gaze, your face an inch or two from his, “because you’re kind, you’re intelligent, and you’re strong,”

He scoffs, “Satoru is the strongest,”

“And you think Satoru thinks any differently of you? That any of us feel differently? You’re the only person who can understand him — and he’s the only one who understands you,”

He gives a small chuckle, “not the only one,” and he tears his eyes away, hoping you don’t see the way his cheeks burned.

And when he found those two sorcerer girls locked up — you were the one who called. The rage and anger had built into murderous intent, but he could hear your words ringing in his ears and before he knew it, he had called you to come to him.

You saved them together — Nanako and Mimiko had fallen asleep in your respective laps after all was said and done on the ride back — without much bloodshed (not that the blood that was shed was worth much, in his opinion) — and with Gojo and you smoothing things over with the higher ups (mostly with veiled threats and petty remarks), you managed to allow the twins to grow up safe, under Geto’s care, and your own.

At least for a time. After you graduated, Nanami left — and you were the only one of your class left — and the absence of your best friends weighed on you, even if you didn’t show it.

“I’m leaving for Kyoto,” you told him one afternoon the two of you spent lazing around his dorm, you sat against the bottom of his bed, as he lounged on the mattress, his gaze snapping to you, only able to see the back of your head, “this place holds too many memories — i need perspective, I need space from all of this,”

He wants to ask if you have to, ask you if he could convince you to stay, if he could do something, anything to make you stay — ask if he wasn’t enough to make you stay. But he doesn’t, because it’s the best decision for you. So he instead slips off the bed, sitting beside you, his hand ruffling your hair, “You’ll come to visit right?”

He knows you’re blinking back tears, but he pretends not to notice, your lip quivering, and god, he knows he wants nothing more than to tilt your gaze toward him by your chin and brush his lips against yours, until every sad thought has evaporated under his touch.

But he knows that would only be one more thought that would make things far more difficult — for the both of you. It was better this way. And it was. Years had passed, the two of you had become teachers at the Tokyo and Kyoto schools respectively — but as the years had passed, your relationship grew more distant, as it always seemed to with time and distance.

But then you decided to come back to Tokyo, transferred over — Yaga explaining it was due to all the happenings in Tokyo with the special grades and emergence of Yuji as Sukuna’s vessel — and he found himself in your presence again. And it was as if no time had passed — your days off spent in his apartment — as yours had become a haven of unpacked boxes. And he couldn’t help but wonder — when he’d glance at you in the dark of his living room, the only illumination was the TV that played some shitty horror movie (your words not his) you had put on — if the special grades were the only reason you’d come back. Your fingers were so close to each other’s on the couch, but an inch felt like a ravine.

One he couldn’t dare to cross.

But It was fine, just as he told Satoru — you were just friends, until both of you decided otherwise. Not that it would ever happen — no, he thought that ship had sailed, even if his heart had stubbornly said that it hadn’t.

Until he decided to consume the curse — and his heart was no longer the problem.

Or at least, not his main problem.

He sat in his bathroom, towel in the shower rack, ready to shower after he dealt with this. He had discarded his uniform jacket and pants — only in a black t-shirt and boxers. He stood by the toilet — as he learned his lesson the first few months swallowing curses — he never knows when one will turn his stomach inside out.

He holds the balled curse in his palm — he could feel it squirm just underneath of his cursed energy — the thing keeping it contained at all, itching to be freed from his grasp — though it never would. He pressed the ball to his lips, bracing himself as he opened his mouth, nearly having to unhinge his jaw for how large this curse was and pressing it past his lips and into his mouth. His palms pressed against his mouth, as he swallowed, eyes squeezed shut.

It…wasn’t as bad as he thought. He frowned, brow knit as he stared at his empty palm — it was still appalling to consume, but it was….sweet? But it burned as it went down, heat remaining in the pit of his stomach, even as it should have faded.

That should have been his first clue.

Either way, he turned on the shower before he shed the rest of his clothes, and stepped in. The water felt warmer than usual, as he washed his body first, letting his hair grow wet under the shower head. His fingers reached for the shower handle, turning it even colder, but his body barely reacted to the water — was it even cold?

Even under the water, he felt like his body was burning — a slow fire that lingered under the surface of his skin, burning and aching, the frigid water barely doing enough to soothe it. Running his hands over his body seemingly helped, a shiver running down his spine as he washed himself, but he knew it would have felt even better if it was you.

….what? He tried to shake that thought from his head — it wasn’t the first time he had thought of you like this. There were many times where his mind would drift to you at night, the warmth of your touch from a few hours ago still lingered, as his hard-on pleaded for his touch. Guilty gnawed at his conscious when he indulged, the first time being after a particularly vivid dream of you pinning him down while training — your mouth kissing down his body, eager fingers tugging at his shorts until that smirk met—

This wasn’t helping.

The burning had traveled southward, as his blood did, and he glanced down at his raging hard-on.

Fuck.

No, he couldn’t.

But his fingers were possessed, already reaching for his aching cock, large beads of pre-cum leaving his slit just as hand closed around it. He hisses when he does, a gasp ripped from his throat, as he braces himself against the shower wall with his other hand.

He palms his erection, swallowing thickly, as he grunts, as he begins to pump his cock from base to tip, smearing his pre along his length. But his mind wanders to you, how pretty you’d look pressed against the wall of his shower, his hard cock dragging between your ass. Lovely moans parting your lips as his fingers would reach around to rub at your puffy clit.

“Suguru, please—“

“Tell me what you want baby, gotta use your words,” he’d murmur, teasing your slick entrance with the tip of his cock.

“Need your cock — need you to fuck me,” you would whine, words nearly enough to make him bust there and then. And he would sink into you just as he does his fist, but your sweet cunt would feel so much better than his hand does.

Fucking wet and tight and just for him, as he works his dick deeper and deeper, until his tip is nudging your cervix. And he’d fuck you hard, just like he’s fucking his fist now, skin slapping each time his hips met your ass.

You’d cum before he would, he would make sure of it — one hand rubbing harshly at your clit, the other toying with one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. And your walls would squeeze and wring him dry, just as he squeezed his own dick now.

He spilled all over the wall of his shower, white spurts kept coming, as he grunted, imagining he was painting your walls instead. He panted, but as the afterglow ebbed away, the heat only came back tenfold.

He panted, as his fingers left his cock, only to find it still hard — the tip red and angry, twitching as he stared back at it.

What the fuck is going on?

He finally left the shower, pulling on his shirt and boxers delicately — every inch of his body felt feverish and sensitive, even the rubbing of his clothes against his skin was almost too much for him.

He stood in front of the sink, knuckles white against the porcelain as he tried to will his erection away, but each thought was only chased away with thoughts of you — of the dress you loved to wear riding up, of your legs spreading for him, of the wet patch on your panties—

He was so fucked. Sweat dripped into the sink, as he glanced at himself in the mirror — skin a ruddy red flush, lips impossibly dry, pupils blown out with need — he was so fucked.

He called Shoko — the embarrassment of this situation far gone at this point fading into plain need of wanting this situation to be over. One ring, two rings — finally five rings and she picks up.

“It’s not like you to call—“

“I need your help,” he cuts her off, biting back the groan from his cock rubbing against his boxers the wrong way — “I don’t know what’s happening to me,”

Her voice shifts from curiosity to concern, “Slow down, Suguru, tell me what’s going on,” and he tells her his symptoms — and she’s silent on the other line for a moment, “you have been a teenage boy before right? You’re not really calling me because you’re horny and you don’t know what to do—“

“It’s not that—“ he hisses, running a slow hand down his face, “I already tried…solving the problem myself but it didn’t work. And I feel weird — it only made it worse. I can’t stop sweating or thinking about—“ he cuts off — he couldn’t stop lewd thoughts of you from springing before his eyes, the thoughts of your moans, how soft your flesh would be under his fingers, how you’d look when he— “what is this, Shoko?”

She pauses on the line for a moment, “When did it start?”

“Right before my shower I think,” his mind foggy with need, he could barely even comprehend a coherent thought.

“And what did you do before your shower? Anything different?” he’s swallowing the lump in his throat, as he resists the urge to brush his hand over his hard-on.

He’s barely hearing Shoko at this point — “I took off my clothes, I got my towel, and then I—“ and the realization struck him — the curse, “I consumed the curse I collected today from my mission,” he mutters, “fuck—“

And then there’s a knock at the door, “Suguru?” He heard you call through the door. His dick throbs at the sound of your voice.

Shoko’s voice cuts through the white noise, “Suguru, the curse you ate — was there something different about it?”

“It was a grade one — it seemed a little too easy to defeat — it formed in—“ he swallows thickly, “in a brothel,”

“I’ve heard of curses being lustful, but not of them becoming a stimulant,” she murmurs, and he can hear her sigh, “you could try extracting the curse from your body — I doubt that would be effective at this point. I assume the effects will linger until the symptoms pass — just as it does when you become nauseous or sick from swallowing other curses,”

His phone buzzed with texts from you:

You: I’m outside, I grabbed takeout for us this time since you always treat me!

You: are you home?

His mind swam, it wasn’t the takeout he was craving — it was you. But no, no — he couldn’t. Not like this, but he was fighting a losing battle and he just about lost the war along with it.

“I don’t know, how do I get it to pass?” he was desperate, the sounds of your knocks and messages ringing in his ear, along with your sweet voice — why do you sound so good with his name on your lips? So sweet — his boxers grow even tighter — bet you even taste even sweeter.

“If dealing with it yourself didn’t work, then,” she sighs, “you’re going to need a partner,”

Another knock.

“Shoko, I have to go,” and he hangs up before she can get another word — a thought to thank her and apologize shoved to the back of his mind, as he stumbles to his door, a thunk as he nearly tumbled into it, wood and hinges groaning under the force and weight.

“Suguru?” you’re so worried yet his name on your tongue was nearly enough to have him cumming in his boxers then, the wet patch of his boxers nearly making the fabric translucent, “are you okay?”

He says your name, “You should go home, I’m not feeling well—“

“What’s wrong? Do you need help?” And he’s biting his lip, teeth digging into his bottom lip, nearly drawing blood, “let me in,”

“I can’t—I can’t let you help with this,” he’s shaking his head, “please, sweetheart, you have to go—“ And he hears the clink of your key going into the door — fuck, that goddamn key he gave you, and the door pulls open, just as he braces himself against the doorframe.

Your brow furrowed in concern, takeout bag in hand, as your eyes examined him, until they found their way to his boxers.

“Suguru—“

“You should leave — I can’t explain, there’s a curse inside me—“

Your eyebrows knit together, “Suguru, a curse did this to you? What happened?” And he’s shaking his head, mind far too gone, as he forces himself away, “let me help—“

“You can’t help. I have to get out of my system but the only way is—“ he cuts off, as he groans again, body and mind railing against each other, as his body just seemingly burns from even being near you.

“There must be something—“ and you step closer, and he can barely hold back from grabbing you, fingers twitching to wrap around your waist, the other holding your neck, lips finding yours, as he fucking rips his own clothes off— “I want to help—“

He’s tugging at the collar of his shirt incessantly, as you step closer, closing the gap between your bodies, and he can only focus on the way your pretty lips part, the way your chest curves under your shirt, and the far too short shorts you choose to wear — fuck.

He was so fucked.

He can’t hold back, as he’s drawing close to you in a moment, his mind clouded with lust, the hitch of your breath only making him want you more — but he forced every muscle in his body to stop. He couldn’t. Not until you agreed.

“If you don’t want me to fuck you right now,” he says lowly, his lips nearly brushing your ear, “I want you — regardless of this, I’ve wanted you for so long,” the confession tumbles from his lips because he needs you to know, needs you know so you can either leave him to his fate or help him get through this, “but if you don’t feel the same—“

But to his surprise, you lean closer, breath warming his skin until it was left scalding, “who said I didn’t?”

And he can’t hold back.

His lips crash to yours, his hands holding your cheeks, as he grasps desperately to you, takeout boxes spilling from the plastic bag and your purse spilling your things when you drop it, your fingers grasping at his damp t-shirt.

And your touch alone even through the fabric is nearly enough to make him bust a nut there and then — and his mind hadn’t even felt so clear until he felt your touch. He could notice every little detail about you — the way your breath caught when his fingers ghosted down your sides, the way your lips parted for his tongue without hesitation, and the way your knees shook when he squeezed your hips.

“So pliant for me,” he murmurs, eager to touch more, to taste more, “such a good fucking girl, aren’t you?”

And you’re nodding wordlessly — lips kiss ruined and red, saliva clinging to your lips when he parted from your lips — and he wonders which one of you swallowed a glorified sex curse.

“Know how long I wanted to do this?” words said pressed with heated kisses down your neck — he was right, you tasted so sweet, he bet another part of you tasted even sweeter — “how many times I thought about this?” He nibbled at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, rewarded with a pretty gasp, “wanted to mark you up so many times — when that fucker tried to hit on you — I wanted to do more than just wrap my arm around you. Wanted to show him how he could never please you,” and he’s sucking a mark there, teeth grazing and pinching your skin before he soothes it with his tongue. He smiles against your skin, as he admires his handiwork.

You whine when he drags a thumb down your puffy lips, “Sugu, please, more,” and his lips find yours again, swallowing your complaints and moans eagerly, as his large palms slide down your back to rest on your ass, squeezing as he presses you flush to his body, hard on pressed against your body.

“Need my touch that much, Princess? Should’ve just fucked you in that club, huh? Let them see that you’re mine,” And he’s walking you backwards towards his room, as he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the floor of his living room. Your fingers running over his exposed flesh, thumbs teasing his sensitive nipples, pretty little lips pressing teasing kisses to both sides.

Fuck, the need to bury his cock in you grew by the second. But he wanted to feel good first — been waiting too long. He had all night to fuck you — but he only had one time to do it right the first time.

He’s walking you into the edge of his bed, as you both tumble onto the bed, his hands sliding under your shirt, tugging at the hem, and you help him take it off — and he hissed at the sight of nothing underneath.

“Were you always coming to my place with no bra on?” his lips curl, as your eyes look away, embarrassment painted on your expression, “wanted this as long as I did, Princess? Don’t get so shy now — you’re the one who insisted on helping me, so aren’t you going to fulfill your promise?” His lips brush against your earlobe, lips wrapping around it and sucking lightly.

You shiver, biting your lip, before you’re tugging him fully onto the bed, before slinking off of it and onto your knees for him, “Then let me help you,”

When your fingers toy with the elastic of his boxers, he’s ready to cum right there — he’s so sensitive still, he’s sure he won’t last long, but fuck, he doesn’t care with how pretty you look between his legs.

“Don’t be a tease, Princess, or I’ll pay you back later,” but your lips only curl, as you lean forward and press a kiss through the drenched fabric, tip of your tongue teasing his slit through his boxers.

“Oh I expect you to,” and you’re pulling his boxers down painfully slowly, letting the fabric of his boxers rub against his hard-on teasingly, a low hiss leaving the thin line of his lips, his balls aching with his release as his cock slaps against his stomach, “fuck, Sugu,” you murmur in almost reverence — he was thick, the tip flushed red with lovely beads of pre-cum already dripping down his length, your fingers already eager to trace those pretty veins, and feel the slight curve of his cock in your aching cunt, “how am I gonna fit you all in me?”

And his cock twitches at your words, as you pity him with a chaste kiss to the top, “Please,” he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing, fingers knuckles white as they fisted the now creased sheets, “fuck—“ as you blow air along his length, “I’ll cum all over your face at this rate,”

“Oh I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Sugu?” your point finger lightly follows the trail of his vein, as your lips continue to press butterfly kisses along his length, “paint my face with your cum,”

And his fingers thread themselves in your hair, pressing his length to your lips, and you smirk, looking up at him with half lidded gaze, as your lips part and his length slides in — that’s all it takes.

The coil in his stomach snaps, as he cums down your throat, hot seed spilling into your mouth, as his hips jerk against your mouth, his groans of your name sending a hot stripe of heat down to your cunt.

Despite that, his cock only seems to grow larger, twitching against your tongue, as you part for a moment, a trail of saliva and cum dripping from your lips, “Taste so good, Sugu — gotta have you one more time—“ you envelop him with your lips again — and he’s a mess of moans, head thrown back, thick haze of lust as his eyes finally meet yours. You swallow around him, tongue wrapped around his length, as your sinful fingers touch whatever can’t fit in your mouth.

“S’good baby, should’ve fucked this mouth a long time ago,” and he’s gone, as his hips begin to slowly roll against you, watching as you don’t resist, the tip of his cock brushing against your throat, “good fucking girl, never gonna go a day without these lips around my cock,” and god, he’s so close — twitching in your mouth, but what sends him over the edge is when he feels you moan, and spots your hand down your shorts.

Fuck, he’s pulling out, “can I—“ and you pump him in response, a grunt of your name as you let him cum all over your face and chest, the sight enough to make him hard all over again — his thick release slipping down your lips, as your tongue darts out to taste it again.

And he’s pulling you into a bruising kiss, tasting his own cum on your lips, before grabbing his discarded shirt to clean you off. His hand grabs your wrist and eases it from inside your cunt, tongue darting out to lick the release from your fingers, cleaning each of them.

In an instant, he’s got you spread on his bed, legs parted for him, “where’s that attitude now, pretty?” And his lithe fingers sneak under the elastic of your panties and snaps it against your skin, making you squirm, “seems like all those words fell out of your head just from sucking my cock,”

He’s slowly dragging your underwear down, before pulling at his bedside drawer to stuff your panties in, “for later use,” and you can’t managed a reply before his lips are pressing butterfly kisses up your thighs, before his teeth graze the soft flesh of your inner thigh, drawing a gasp from your lips, before sucking and soothing it with his tongue, “mine, all mine,” he’s already hard again — the feel of your soft skin under his lips was enough to have him cumming again like a virgin — the burning in the pit of his stomach only burned brighter for you — god, would he ever work his way out of this state? But as his gaze was met with your lovely dripping cunt with your puffy clit begging him for attention, he couldn’t seem to care.

You hiss when his fingers slowly spread your folds, “So fucking tight, baby, how am I gonna fit in you?” he clicks his tongue, inhaling, as his nose brushes against your clit, making your hips jump, “patience, gotta take my time with this princess cunt, gotta make sure you’re ready for me,” his dick twitching at his next sentence, “because I sink my cock in here, we’re not stopping at one round,”

Your cunt squeezes around nothing at his words, his breath warming your sensitive pussy, until he finally drags a stripe up your needy folds.

“Sugu, fuck,” his arms brace your thighs and hips down, as the tip of his tongue drags teasing circles around your clit, your slick gathering on his tongue, as he tastes it with a groan.

“Fucking, the best thing I’ve tasted,” and as much as he wants to bury his dick in you, he could live with his face between your thighs, “so perfect f’me,” and his tongue trails in tight circles around your clit, while his finger toys with your entrance, gathering your pre on his finger, teasing your entrance and delighting in the way your breath hitches.

He looks up at your face between half lidded eyes, you’re too fucking pretty — your hair a mess from, a sheen of sweat on your body, the lovely way your nipples were erect, and your eyes — pupils lost to lust and need. And all for him.

Fuck, he knows he won’t last long at this rate, he can already feel the urge to palm his raging cock, but he wants you to cum first, and he’s sinking a finger into your sweet cunt. He can almost imagine how your walls would feel fluttering around his cock — but he doubts his engorged tip would be even fit right now.

No, he needed to make this good for you — he slowly starts to finger fuck you as his tongue circles your clit in tighter circles, even sucking on it, and by the way your fingers grasped at the sheets, crumpling under your touch — you liked it.

Pretty moans left your lips, as your fingers found their way to his dark locks, still slightly damp from his shower — as he added a second finger inside. His name said between pants, as his fingers drag against your molten insides — the wet squelch rang in his ears as he fucked your cunt open. Knuckle deep in your sweet pussy, he knows he’s addicted — to the feeling of your molasses insides — warm and soft for him, his digits curling against your walls, looking for that one place that would make you fall apart.

“Sugu, please, please ‘m close—,” and he knows you need a little more, and he’s obliging with a chuckle, a third finger joining the other two, and he’s fucking you in earnest now — lips closing around your clit and sucking mercilessly, as his fingers find that spongy spot that has you seeing stars. Your back arches, as your nails dig into his scalp, as you cum around his fingers — walls fluttering as he eats you out through your high, his name leaving your lips again and again, as you slowly come down from your high, thighs twitching and chest heaving as you do.

As he finally pulls away, his chin and mouth glossy and drenched in a mixture of your cum and his spit — that he licks clean from where his tongue can reach, fingers collecting the rest, as he looks at your sticky cum gathered on his fingers.

Fuck, he could live in your cunt. Your sweet taste was the only thing he’d crave now after consuming curses — he wondered if you’d let him eat you out for hours after the curses he ate — he was sure your taste was the only thing that would erase that disgusting like nothing else ever would.

He’s giving you soft kisses after, dotting them up your body, murmuring praises, but you’re pulling him into a kiss, your fingers resting against the back of his neck, as your other hand finds his aching erection, swallowing his gasp with pleasure.

“Want you, Sugu, please,” and your words are enough to make him cum right there, as he tugs your hand away, “Sugu—”

“Won’t last long if you keep touching me and whining like that, Princess,” the heat only seems to lick at his skin like flames, engulfing him with every touch, and his cock was the epicenter of the wildfire, while you were the fuel that only made it consume you both to ash, “but I know it won’t be long until I’m fucking you again anyway,” Your cunt throbs at his words, as he draws close, dragging his weeping tip against your folds, watching his pre-cum smear against your slick with a grunt, “feels like you’re already trying to swallow me up, princess — you want this cock that bad?” fuck, he can’t hold back anymore, as he’s lining up himself up, and he’s sliding right into you with a groan, “know how long been waiting to do that?” his skin meeting yours as he bottoms out deliciously, stretching your walls out with his girth, pleasure ripping up your spine, “wanted to do this since the moment you walked through the door, but needed to do this right — when nothing about this was right,” he had so many things to say, while your mind had left you with not even a syllable, his cock twitched and pulsed inside your walls, dragging against it deliciously, “wish our first time wasn’t like this — but I’m so glad it’s finally happened, sweetheart,”

And you can’t help but smile up at him, lips parted with a small moan, as tears burned at your eyes from his size, “Me too, Sugu, wanted you for so long, needed you—” and he’s kissing your tears and words away with his lips,

Then he begins to fuck you — hard, the slapping of your skin and the wet squelch of your sex filling up most of the silence of the room, while both of your moans and grunts took up the rest. Your cunt was heaven to him — warm, wet walls wrapped around his aching cock — the slightest bit of relief was overcome with waves and waves of need — he needed to fuck you, needed to make you cum, needed to cum inside — he just needed you.

“S’big, Sugu, too big,” you whine, he was almost too much for you, the way his dick fucked places you only could imagine reaching, as his mouth leaned down to take a pert nipple between his lips — sucking and licking, as he couldn’t have enough of you, while his hand toyed with the other, “feels too good,”

“I know baby, gonna fuck your princess cunt so good — make sure its made just for me,” he’s murmuring, as his teeth graze your tit, as he pistons into you again and again, the tip of his cock brushing your cervix with each thrust, “all mine, baby, fuck — such a good girl for me,” and the praise has you keening against him, the knowing flutter of your cunt that tells him you’re all too close to the edge, as his hand reaches between your bodies to rub at your clit, “cum for me, pretty, need to feel your pretty little cunt squeeze me,”

And you do, falling apart as he fucks you through your orgasm, again and again — fuck, you felt so good, as he watched his cock slip in and out of you, a white ring of your release forming around his base. He’s fucking close too — can feel his balls tense, eager to blow his load, “where—”

You’re still moaning, eyes blown out in pleasure, as you watch him fuck you again and again, “Inside, Sugu, fill me up,” and that’s it, he’s gone — spurting his hot release, painting your walls, as he does, fucking it inside you — deeper, deeper, until he stills for a moment. And you’re twitching, eyes fluttering shut, when he pulls out, a groan parting his lips as he watches his seed spill from your cunt.

But then silence for several moments, the soft pants of your breathing only, before you hear him swearing and grunting, as your eyes open, and your pussy twitches at the sight before you. Suguru’s hand slid up and down his still erect cock, his eyes squeezed shut, as he groaned, “Suguru—”

“Wasn’t enough, need more,” he’s shaking his head, as his fingers squeeze around the base of his cock, “thought it would be enough to cum with you, but I can still feel it—” and he’s groaning, as you sit up, watching your mixed releases drip from you, “baby—”

And your lips kiss the tip of his weeping cock, “I told I’d help you,” and you ease his hand away, as you lick up his length, your eyes fixed on his, “just because we fucked, doesn’t mean we’re done,”

And in a moment, he’s got you flipped onto your hands and knees, as his cock slaps against your ass, his fingers squeezing the flesh, as he leans over to kiss your back, “Then I guess we’re gonna be up all night, sweetheart, because if you’re okay with this — I don’t think I’ll be satisfied with just a blowjob,” his tip drags against your messy cunt, “gonna need something a little tighter than your mouth,” and he’s sinking his thick cock into you again, balls slapping against your ass as he begins to fuck you, “better cancel any plans you have, pretty — because we’re not leaving this bed for a while.”

“Don’t fall asleep on me, baby,” his fingers grab your chin, and force you to meet his gaze, as he fucks into you, as you sit on his lap, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, “almost gonna cum, and don’t want you to be asleep for it,”

How many times had you fucked? You had lost count — but you knew you had done it in far too many positions — on your hands and knees, standing up, against the wall, from behind with his hand gripping your leg up, and far too many others — and now you were spread in his lap, cock deep in your pulsing pussy, his lips kissing your neck, as he fucked into you, his dick reaching a deeper angle from this position, easily able to hit the furthest parts of you.

He had cum in you more than you thought was humanly possible — and you supposed it wasn’t — it was only the curse that enabled this — it was animalistic even, the way he rutted into you desperately. He grabbed a water bottle only to take a swig, and find your lips again, forcing you to swallow the water.

“Good girl,” he’s grunting, his hips beginning to stutter, “I’m close baby, are you?” You hadn’t thought it was still possible to feel pleasure at this point, but it was — his cock dragged against your walls, his dark gaze finding yours, “tell me you wanna cum,” and your pussy twitches at his order, “use your words, pretty, or have I fucked them all out?”

“Please, Suguru, I wanna cum on your cock,” and you’re so fucking close again — the all too familiar knot in your stomach ready to snap any moment.

“Fuck, greedy pussy hasn’t enough of me? We’ve been fucking until the daylight now,” as his hand grabs your chin to make you see the first rays of light peaking over the horizon, and he’s making you bounce on him with each thrust of his dick — your orgasm building and building with every brush of his tip against your g-spot, “fuck, s’good for me, baby — been so good — just need one more and we can stop,” and tears stream down your cheek that only make him groan, his lips finding yours in a messy, sloppy kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth right as his cock hits at the deepest part of you—

And you squirt all over him, drenching his cock and lap as you cum, your lips parting from him, as your head is thrown back, boneless, as he fucks into you, your spasming walls pulling him over the edge as he paints your insides with his release, fucking it into you, until he finally slows, your body draped on his, head resting on his shoulder. Bodies sticky with sweat and cum, his cock finally softens inside you, the heat finally beginning to dull, as he presses soft kisses and gentle caresses to every inch of your skin, as he lays you down carefully, pulling himself from you.

“Thank you, princess, thank you,” and you’re burying your face in the crook of his neck, soft breaths cooling the sheen of sweat on his skin, “did so good for me,” and he slowly rises, grabbing his shirt and running it under water to clean you off, if only a little.

You’re already half asleep, eyes only fluttering half open to watch him, and he can’t help but bite his lip, “Sugu?”

“Yes, princess?” And you nod, fingers twitching for him, and his lips curl as he obliges, wrapping you up in his body, “know it was rough on you baby, I’ll make it up to you — don’t worry, just rest,” he grabs a water bottle, and lifts your head ever so slightly and helps you drink some water.

“I know you want to ask me something,” and he pauses, as he pulls the bottle away, “I can see the gears grinding in your head — you can ask me anything, y’know,” you had quite the way of embarrassing him, didn’t you?

“I know, I just,” he swallowed, “was there any other reason you came back to Tokyo, aside from the threats, did you come back for anything else?”

And your lips curl, raising an eyebrow knowingly, “Anything or anyone you mean?” and you chuckle when his eyes can’t meet yours, your fingers finding his again, “baby,” and your hand brushes against his cheek, tracing the cut of his jaw, making his breath catch, “I did come back for someone — a very particular someone,” and he smiles, as your lips lean up to press a chaste kiss to your lips, “and my friends, of course,” you add, “I love Utahime, but I missed Shoko and Satoru, and you,”

“You did?” he murmurs, and you giggle, kissing him again, melting into his touch again, as your foreheads brushed against the other’s, “Sugu?” and it’s your turn to ask something now, chewing on your bottom lip, “can we do this again?” you murmur, before adding, “not like this but—“

And he laughs, pulling you impossibly closer, lips finding your leaping pulse, “Yes, we can, if you want to — because I know I do, because,” his thumb brushing the length of your cheek, “but I want all of you — want your body, your thoughts, your time, your heart and soul—“ and his lips quirk at the sight of your eyes widening ever so slightly, “is that okay?”

And your lips find his own as an answer, sweet kisses turn languid, heat stealing any doubts from either of your minds, “As long I have yours as well,” and the two of you share only a few more kisses, before you both finally drift off.

“If he’s fine, and I’m checking on him, I’m kicking his ass,” Satoru grumbled, as he held his phone between his cheek and his shoulder, Shoko sighing as he rooted through his pockets for his keys.

Shoko chewed her lip, she hadn’t heard from him in hours, “He was in bad shape, I can't find the time to go check and you were on your way home anyway,” Shoko says, wiping her brow, twisting a strand of her hair between her fingers.

“Yeah, on my way home back from a mission,” he finally finds his keys, sticking Suguru’s spare key into the lock and turning it, “If I have jet lag, and all I find is him jerked off and sleeping, you owe me,”

He twists the knob, and looks — he doesn’t see Suguru in the living room or kitchen — but he does see takeout containers spilled on the floor, along with a very familiar bag, and he blinks, before his lips curl. He asks if she’s heard from you, to which she says no,

He walks silently to Suguru’s bedroom, opening the door a crack to see you and Suguru curled up against each other, your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you, the comforter strewn about and covering the rest of your bodies.

Satoru only grins, before he pulls his phone from his ear and switches to the camera.

“Never mind, Shoko, I owe you one,” and he snaps a picture of the two of you, wondering how many missions he could pawn off to Suguru now, “I’ll treat you to lunch.”

✧ a/n: so this turned out way longer than i thought (story of my life). i had so much fun writing this - i've been writing this in conjunction with prof geto part 3 and its been funny darting back and forth between these two -- although the scenes i've been writing

✧ taglist: @peachyminx, @garfunklefield, @unicornqueen05, @hiyori-ii, @equikaz, @unoriginalidea, @forest-fruits-jam, @torusinfinity, @hellkaiserinphoenix, @loonimae, @gojoedd, @sugurufic, @glaceliy, @telvess, @kentocalls, @nayasch, @iluvvreze, @yamaguccitadashi, @faeismism, @hanxyy, @catsgomurp, @sukaibg, @sugurusdiscordmoderator, @gojorgeous, @getos-slvtt, @sirencholia, @teatreeoilll, @dewdropdive, @appysauc, @kobycetacean, @missroki, @fushitoru, @pricetagofficial, @that-goth-bisexual, @shoyosdoll, @regrettinglifechoices, @mostinsanegirl, @roseybean, @fayyyrieee, @gojobbg, @strangehuman101, @saccharine-nectarine, @i-belong-in-a-retirement-home, @spider-fan72

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