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ginnsbaker · 12 hours

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (14/?)

Part Summary: Leigh reconciles with Jules and then receives news from Danny that could potentially disrupt her new beginning with you.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5.200+ | Warnings: Spicy phone call | Author's note: The date will happen in the next one, and then after that, 1-2 chapters to wrap up this series :)

The date doesn't happen as quickly as Leigh expected. You don’t bring it up again for several days after your grand, against-all-odds declaration of love.

In the meantime, you text constantly. Sometimes you call, just to ask about her day. The first time, she’s so confused, waiting for the real reason behind your call. But there isn’t one—you simply wanted to talk, and texting wouldn’t do it.

She’s rarely on the phone with anyone these days. For her, phone calls are usually reserved for urgent requests from Drew or her mom, or from companies trying to sell her something. The last time she was on the phone just to talk was with Matt, during the stretches when work kept them apart for days. Before that, it was high school, chatting with friends and boyfriends about everything and nothing.

Talking to you on the phone feels like stepping back in time. There’s something intimate about it, something that modern-day texting can’t capture. She finds herself looking forward to your calls, the sound of your voice at the end of a long, tiring, or listless day.

Days stretch into a week before you finally ask her out, armed with the when and where. Leigh will never admit it to anyone, but the wait is excruciating.

The butterflies swarm in her stomach as she lies on her bed, fresh from a shower, in an oversized shirt and boy shorts, biting at her fingernails. She's already restless by the time her phone rings at the usual hour.

She picks up almost immediately, trying to keep her voice as blasé as she can manage. “Hey.”

“Hey, Leigh,” you reply breathily, not realizing how that tone makes Leigh press the phone harder against her ear, as if she wants to hear more of it. “How was your day?”

She rolls onto her back, stretching her hand out and drawing patterns in the air against the ceiling.

“It was okay. Nothing too exciting. How about yours?” she says.

“Pretty good. Just busy with work stuff. I was thinking about you, though.”

The simple statement sends a new wave of warmth through her. “Is that so?”

“Very much so,” you whisper, and Leigh can almost see your smile, just like the one forming on her lips. “So, uh, I was thinking…”

“Yeah?” Leigh prompts, her heart picking up speed. She hears some shuffling on your end and waits with bated breath.

“Maybe we should finally go on that date,” you suggest, hopeful and a bit nervous.

Leigh’s heart leaps, and she tears the phone away from her ear, burying her face into her pillow as a squeal escapes before she can contain it. Catching herself, she quickly schools her expression, tosses the pillow aside, and sits up ramrod straight.

“We should,” Leigh blurts out, still feeling her heart thumping wildly against her ribs. “When were you thinking?”

“How about this Saturday?”

Leigh pauses, mentally counting—one, two, three—before replying, “Great. I’m free then.”

Wanting to lock in the details, she asks, “What time?”

“Could I, um, have you for the whole day?” you ask hesitantly, and then quickly realizing how it sounded, you clarify, “I mean, could we make it a day-long date? I promise it’ll be worth your while.”

Leigh hums, pretending to mull it over, but inside, she's practically screaming yes.

“What do you have planned?”

“It's a surprise,” you reply, the playful secrecy in your tone drawing a grin from Leigh.

Unable to contain her intrigue, Leigh tries to coax out some clues. “Anything you need from me? Dress code? Anything I can help you with?”

“No, just be yourself,” you say, your voice dropping to a softer, more intimate cadence. “Wear whatever makes you feel most like you. You're beautiful in anything.”

Leigh feels a warm blush spread across her cheeks. She's grateful you can't see her, can't see how your words reduce her to a pile of mush.

“In anything?” she asks coyly.

“Or nothing,” you whisper back, almost without thinking.

Leigh nearly chokes on her breath at that, biting her lip to stifle a moan that threatens to escape owing to the boldness of your flirtation. She doesn't immediately realize she's drifted into a stunned silence until you apologize, worrying that you might have crossed a line.

“I'm sorry if that was too forward,” you say.

Leigh shakes herself, trying to clear the haze of memories—the soft moans, the way your body yielded to her touch that night. “No, it’s... I still think about that night,” she shares.

“O-Oh?” you stammer, your grip tightening around the phone. You're driving home with one hand, thinking it would be a short call. Suddenly feeling lightheaded, you quickly pull over to the side of an empty street, realizing you might not make it home safely if you don't.

“What do you... think about, specifically?” you venture, slowly unbuckling your seatbelt.

It’s as if a switch has been flipped in her. Her mind races back to that night—the way you touched yourself under her gaze, how she guided your movements, the feel of her finger inside you while she rode your thigh.

“Leigh?”

Leigh's breath hitches, and she feels heat spreading through her body. She kicks off the covers, finding herself lying flat on the bed, her fingers inching teasingly at the hem of her shorts. She closes her eyes, letting the memory of that night trickle into the forefront of her mind.

“I think about the way you looked under me,” she says softly, “The flush of your skin, the sounds you made, how your lips felt against mine.”

Her words send a shiver down your spine. “Leigh,” you murmur, “I-I think about that night too. How you took control, how you made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered.”

Leigh's fingers slip beneath the waistband of her shorts, teasing herself as she remembers the feel of your skin against hers. “I remember guiding your hands,” she continues, her voice growing huskier. “Watching you touch yourself, seeing the pleasure in your eyes. It was intoxicating.”

You can hear the desire in her voice, and it sends a surge of arousal through you. “I remember the way you moved against me,” you reply, your voice low. “Your skin was so hot against mine, it felt like I was on fire.”

As Leigh's fingers dip lower, brushing against the wetness between her legs, she gasps. She tries to contain it but fails, letting out a guttural moan—a sound of pure want—right into your ear. The rawness of that sound snaps you out of your lust-filled reverie.

“Fuck, are you... are you touching yourself? I-I'm so—” you start, your voice shaking.

“Don't apologize. Just keep talking. It's okay,” Leigh cuts you off sharply, switches the phone to speaker mode, and swiftly removes her panties. For a brief second, she thinks she probably shouldn't be doing this, not before the date they'd just planned. But the overwhelming urge washes over her, making rational thoughts blur into the background. She can't control herself; she needs to come, needs you to make her come.

“Tell me what you'd do,” she chunters, no longer concerned about sounding needy. “Please.”

“Shit,” you hiss, quickly connecting your phone to your car’s speakers and then tossing it onto the passenger seat. You then adjust the driver's seat to give yourself more legroom and hurriedly begin to unbutton your jeans. Though you're embarrassed to admit that you've never had phone sex before, you're not about to let inexperience stop you. Not when Leigh was practically purring in your ear, begging for it.

“Y/N?” Leigh’s voice rumbles through the confined space of your car and you hurriedly close your eyes as you formulate a response, your head buzzing with several things you want to do to Leigh at once.

“I'd start by kissing you,” you begin, your voice low and deliberate, though you feel a bit foolish at the tentative start. “Soft, teasing kisses, tracing a path down your body. I'd take my time, Leigh, tasting every inch of your skin.”

“Where would you kiss me first?” Leigh breathes.

“Your neck,” you reply, your fingers brushing against your own skin as if you’re tracing the path your lips would take on hers. “I’d kiss right behind your ears…then down your throat, lingering at your collarbone.”

Leigh’s breathing becomes more ragged, and you can almost feel her anticipation. “And then?”

“Then I’d kiss my way down to your breasts,” you say, your own arousal building. “I’d take each nipple in my mouth, sucking gently, then harder, feeling them harden against my tongue. I’d circle my tongue around them, flicking the tip, just like so.”

Leigh listens, her breaths becoming shallow, her body trembling with need. She closes her eyes, lost in the sensation, in the vividness of your description. She traps a rosy bud between her two fingers, mimicking the rhythm you describe, the tension in her belly coiling more tightly.

Meanwhile, your own hands are busy on your body. Despite the cramped space even with the car seat reclined, you manage to slide two fingers inside your pants, rubbing your clit, while your other hand tweaks your nipple.

A soft moan escapes Leigh’s lips, and you know she’s imagining your mouth on her. “I’d keep moving lower, kissing down your stomach, tracing the lines of your body with my tongue. When I finally reach your thighs, I’d spread them open and kiss the inside, so close to where you want me but not quite there yet.”

“I’d breathe you in,” you murmur, “taking a moment to just enjoy the scent of you. Then I’d lick, just once, a slow, teasing lick from the bottom of your slit to the top, tasting how wet you are for me.”

“Fuck,” Leigh groans wantonly, her fingers undoubtedly mirroring your words on her own skin. You can almost see her hand moving against her clitoris, fingers collecting her own wetness and spreading it all over until her inner thighs are glistening with it.

“I’d part you with my fingers,” you continue, your own breath coming faster now, “and then I’d dive in. I’d lap at you, my tongue moving in slow circles around your clit, feeling it swell under my tongue. I’d drink you in, Leigh, tasting every drop, getting lost in how sweet you are.”

“Don’t stop,” Leigh pants, and you can hear her movements quickening, the unmistakable sound of wetness and skin in frantic motion, as if she's placed her phone near the epicenter of her impending climax.

“I wouldn’t,” you promise. “I’d suck on your clit, gently at first, then harder, using my tongue to drive you crazy. I’d slide a finger inside you, curling it to find that perfect spot, the one that makes you see stars. I’d keep licking and sucking, adding another finger, thrusting them in and out, matching the rhythm of my tongue. I wouldn’t stop until I felt you trembling, until I heard you crying out my name as you came.”

Leigh’s moans grow louder, more desperate, and you can almost see her, writhing on her bed, lost in pleasure. “Y/N, I’m close,” she gasps.

“I’d be looking up at you, watching your face as you c-come for m-me,” you say, your voice faltering as you slide a finger inside yourself. “Fuck, Leigh, baby, come for me.”

It's the endearment and the mental image of your deep brown eyes, brimming with hunger and worship, that sends her spiraling into ecstasy.

“Oh god, Y/N!” Leigh moans, her back curving as an intense orgasm overtakes her.

You’re not there yet, but you close your eyes, letting the image of her climax burn into your mind.

Leigh lies there, basking in the afterglow, her body still trembling with the remnants of her orgasm. She’s about to check in on you, perhaps return the favor, when the front door opens and closes with a bang.

“Mom? Leigh?” Jules yells from the living room.

Panic surges through Leigh. She scrambles to her feet, hurriedly pulling on her underwear and shorts. The phone slips from her grasp, landing on the bed, the line still open.

Leigh reaches the top of the stairs, breathless and flushed, just as Jules appears at the bottom, looking up with a mix of worry and curiosity.

“What's going on?” Leigh asks, wincing as she feels the stickiness between her thighs. She silently curses, wishing Jules could have shown up after she had a chance to shower.

“Where’s Mom?” Jules demands, her eyes scanning the hallway. “And Logan?”

“She took him with her for a grocery run,” Leigh replies, coming down the stairs. “Is something wrong?”

Jules sighs. “I was just worried. The door was unlocked, and I couldn’t find anyone. Thought something might’ve happened.”

Leigh relaxes a bit, though the adrenaline from moments before still courses through her veins. “It’s fine. I just didn’t realize you’d be coming home tonight,” she says.

“Yeah, about that…” Jules trails off, tilting her head toward the kitchen with a meaningful glance.

Leigh follows, her bare feet whispering against the wooden floorboards. Striving for nonchalance, she asks, “You hungry?” Her hand hovers over the fridge handle, betraying none of her recent distractions.

Jules stops in her tracks and turns back to Leigh. “I’ve been thinking,” she starts, hesitating slightly. “I’d like to move back in.”

“That’s… great,” Leigh says flatly, unsuspecting of her sister’s announcement. She catches the sharp drop of Jules’ brows and hurries to cushion her words. “I mean, we never actually wanted you to go. You’re welcome back anytime, you know that.”

Jules' eyes sharpen, her lips pulling into a tight line. “But only if we talk first.”

Leigh nods, a hard lump forming in her throat. “Of course,” she says.

They end up ordering take-out when Leigh's nose wrinkles at the unmistakable stench wafting from the numerous boxes of leftovers crammed in the fridge. She can't recall how long they've been there, only that their rightful place is now the trash bin.

It's Jules who picks the restaurant, and Leigh bites her tongue over the choice of Vietnamese. The last time they'd ordered from there, Jules had barely picked at her food, pushing noodles around her plate more than eating them. Leigh tries not to think too much about it.

The dining table is overtaken by a clutter of takeout boxes, each one wafting a blend of lemongrass and ginger into the room—a scent so rich you could almost scoop it out of the air. Leigh watches her sister with that look—the one that's all walls and wariness, like she’s guarding the last piece of herself she can’t afford to lose. Jules, on her part, looks a little restless, her fingers skirting the edges of a white takeout box like it might offer some kind of sanctuary.

“So, talk,” Leigh prompts, twirling her chopsticks to pick up a fresh vegetable roll and dipping it into peanut sauce.

Jules takes a breath, a deep one. When she meets Leigh’s eyes, it’s with a resolve that seems to pull her upright. “Fine, since I’m the one who kicked this off, I’ll lead. I’m sorry. I know I tossed around some pretty nasty words last time I stormed out, and I meant them—then. But calling you a sociopath? That was me going off the deep end.”

Leigh’s face hardens, a quick, involuntary tightening of her features as she recalls the sting of that last confrontation. She pushes her noodles around her box, the chopsticks clattering softly. Jules waits, the steam from her own untouched meal rising and disappearing into the air.

“I appreciate your apology, Jules, really, I do. But you can't just throw words like that around, whether you mean them or not. Words stick. They fester,” Leigh says, meeting Jules’ gaze squarely.

Jules looks down, tries to mask the hurt that flickers across her face, biting down on her lip.

Leigh continues, “When I criticize you, it’s not meant as an attack. I’m not someone who likes to beat around the bush, especially not with family.”

The word ‘family’ hits differently this time—at least for Jules it does. Her heart aches at the mention, dragging up memories of a recent painful conversation where she had confessed to feeling like an outsider in her own family.

“Sometimes it's not about what you say but how you say it,” Jules mutters.

Leigh looks at her expectantly, clueless and curious at the same time.

“Not everyone can handle being talked to so bluntly. Not everyone’s as frank as you, okay? Sometimes it feels more like you're pushing me away instead of trying to help.”

Leigh goes quiet, letting the silence stretch just a bit before she nods. “You’re right,” she concedes, the words slipping out almost thoughtfully. It’s almost surprising, the lack of her usual quick-fire defense. “I think I got so wrapped up in the idea that being honest meant being harsh. I can work on that. I should work on that.”

Jules blinks, taken aback by the calm acceptance in Leigh’s tone, the ease with which she receives the criticism. It’s a side of Leigh she hasn’t seen much of—this reflective, almost gentle version. It's a welcome change, a sign of growth that feels both sudden and deeply necessary.

“I didn’t expect... I mean, I’m glad you took that the way you did,” Jules says.

Leigh gives a small, almost sheepish smile, a rarity on her usually stoic face. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About how I say things, not just what I say. It’s been... a lot to unpack. But hearing this from you, it really helps. It does.”

She means it. Ever since you’ve stubbornly eased your way into her life, she’s done a lot of thinking. She’s done a lot of grieving too, realizing that if she had seen the changes that needed to be made earlier, things might have been different for her—for Matt. She’s learned to accept that life is always going to be filled with regrets, but she’s grateful now to recognize that she still has the chance to change, even if it came a little too late.

Better late than never, right?

She looks at Jules, her eyes earnest and a little bit haunted. “I’m sorry, Jules, for everything I said, everything I made you feel. I love you. You’re my sister, always. I know I can be too hard on the people who mean the most to me, but I’m going to try, really try, to balance that love, to understand how you need to be loved.”

Jules sits frozen, speechless for the first time. Their confrontations usually spiral into heated exchanges until one of them storms off. She hadn't expected this to be so... civil and mature.

So unlike them.

Finally, she manages a small, shaky smile. “Yeah, this... this went way better than I played it out in my head.”

Leigh’s laughter is a quick splash of reprieve, a burst of surprise at how well things have turned. But it fades as quickly as it bloomed, her smile slipping into a frown as she catches the shadow creeping over Jules’s face.

“What is it?”

Jules fidgets, nervously twisting a napkin between her fingers. “I... need to ask you something that’s been eating at me for months... well, almost a year now. And I need you to be brutally honest with me, Leigh. Can you promise that?”

Leigh feels a slight tremor of worry, but brushes it off and nods. “You’re scaring me, but sure. I promise.”

“Here we go,” Jules says, taking a deep, faltering breath. “Remember that night? When I was so drunk you had to come and get me? It was the last night Matt was... before he... you know. Do you ever resent me for it? I did such a horrible thing, robbing you of his last moments because I couldn't keep it together—”

“You know I’ve never blamed you for that. Not during our last fight, not when Matt died, just... never, basically,” Leigh says, leaning back on her chair.

“But some part of you must have hated me, because—”

“No—”

“—maybe he needed someone.”

Leigh just shrugs and denies it which only frustrates Jules even more. “No, Leigh,” she tries, “I need you to listen to me. I was very drunk that night—”

“You were really drunk a lot of nights and you’ve done a lot of crappy things,” Leigh states frankly. “But none of them had anything to do with Matt’s death.”

Jules swallows hard, her eyes stinging. “But what if it did, though?”

Leigh, clearly frustrated, responds, “You really think that?”

Jules looks down at the table and stays silent.

“Jules,” Leigh sighs, searching for the right words to reassure her sister. Eventually, she opts for honesty. “Look, I can’t tell you how to feel, but that’s not how I feel. Okay?”

It takes a second longer for Jules to say, “Okay.”

Leigh stares intently at her sister, noting the way Jules's eyes avoid contact. She knows the soft okay from Jules isn't a signal of acceptance or peace, but a white flag in a battle mostly with herself. Jules is grappling with her own guilt, a feeling that has little to do with Leigh but still consumes her. Leigh wishes, not for the first time, that her sister could see the truth as easily as she reads into misconceptions. It’s the same thing she wishes for herself.

Feeling slightly vindicated to have aired her feelings, Jules turns her attention back to the food spread between them. She reaches for her bánh mì, grips it firmly, and takes a hearty bite. As she chews thoughtfully, she manages a muffled, “Thanks, Leigh.”

Leigh just offers a small, understanding smile.

As they continue eating, Jules suddenly grins, crumbs dotting the corners of her mouth. “You're probably wondering why we're having Vietnamese tonight,” she says.

Leigh raises an eyebrow, curious despite herself. “I was wondering.”

Jules chews quickly, then, with her mouth still full, blurts out, “Well, I've got one more piece of news for you.”

It’s almost midnight when Leigh returns to her bedroom.

As soon as her eyes land on her cellphone, carelessly tossed on the sheets, guilt floods her. She remembers she didn’t even say goodbye to you. Horrified, she realizes she left you hanging, high and dry.

She grabs her phone, her heart pounding in her chest, and checks for any messages from you. The screen lights up, but there are no new notifications, no missed calls.

“God, I’m such an idiot,” she mutters to herself, running a hand through her hair. She takes a deep breath and dials your number, her fingers trembling slightly as she presses the call button.

It rings once, twice, and then you answer. “Leigh?”

“Hey. Sorry, did I wake you?” Leigh asks, picking up on the sleepiness in your voice.

“No, not at all. What’s up?”

She lets out a relieved sigh before rushing into an apology. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you like that. Jules came home and then I—”

“It’s okay, Leigh,” you whisper soothingly, grateful that she called you back at all.

That doesn’t alleviate Leigh's guilt, though. She racks her brain for a way to make amends.

“Can we… Can we pick up where we left off?” she suggests hesitantly.

You let out a kind chuckle. “I’d like that. But maybe we should save it for… later. Honestly, that was a bit reckless, Leigh.”

Leigh's brow furrows, even though you can't see it. “What do you mean?” she asks.

“I want to do this right,” you explain earnestly. “If taking things slow helps us build something real, then I’m willing to wait.”

“Well, clearly patience hasn’t been my strong suit either,” Leigh admits, her lips curving into a grin at your attempt to be chivalrous.

“I know,” you whisper, traces of a smile audible in your voice. “But I didn’t want you to think that’s all I’m after. And believe me, I want you—it’s driving me crazy.”

Leigh runs her tongue along her teeth, feeling the familiar tug of desire low in her belly.

“I just don't want us to get so caught up in the physical stuff that we miss out on really getting to know each other,” you say.

“Me neither,” Leigh agrees, tucking the blankets up under her chin, pretending it's you keeping her warm.

“While I obviously enjoyed our…conversation earlier,” you say, pausing to maintain your composure. You can still hear the echo of Leigh's moans in your car, the memory likely to revisit you on sleepless nights in the coming days. “I'm really looking forward to diving deeper into things, like your favorite book, on Saturday.”

“Maybe I'll bring you a whole list,” she teases.

“Guess I’ll have to find that library card I signed up for then,” you joke.

“A library card, huh? Dork,” she retorts affectionately.

You feign a wounded tone, “Ouch.”

The laughter that follows is light and easy. You sigh contentedly and say, “I should probably call it a day. I’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Leigh.” I love you. “See you on Saturday.”

The call ends with both of you reluctantly hanging up, smiles fixed on your faces as you lie back. Leigh is an addictive rush, coursing through your veins like adrenaline. You've excused yourself out of habit for sleeping early, but you doubt you’re going to get much sleep tonight.

Leigh nudges open the door to the crowded bistro tucked near the Basically News office. It’s the thick of lunch hour, and the place pulses with the chatter of midday patrons. It’s exactly the sort of public, non-intimate setting you'd want for meeting an ex. She weaves through the crowded room, spotting Danny at a corner table, his focus tethered to his phone as he absently taps on the screen.

“Hey,” she greets, sliding into the chair opposite him.

Danny looks up, a hint of irritation flashing in his eyes. “You know, I could’ve just dropped by your house later.”

Leigh shakes her head. “It's better to meet somewhere public from now on.”

His expression darkens, and he scoffs. “Why? So Y/N doesn’t get jealous?”

Leigh leans back, crossing her arms. “Yes,” she says, deliberately blunt.

Danny's jaw sets, a muscle twitching slightly, but he doesn't press the issue. Instead, he reaches into his bag and retrieves a folder, sliding it across the table toward Leigh. “Matt’s publisher wants to release his comic posthumously,” he starts, “but there are strings attached.”

Interest sparks in Leigh's eyes as she opens the folder, her eyes quickly scanning the contract.

“What kind of strings?” she asks.

“They want either you or me—or both of us—to join a group of artists to promote the comic—”

“That sounds fair and exciting,” Leigh interjects a bit too soon.

“—across the country,” Danny finishes, clicking his tongue in mild annoyance. “It’s a tour, Leigh.”

Leigh's fingers stall at the edge of the paper, the reality of the proposition sinking in.

“A tour?” she echoes.

“Yeah,” Danny nods. He flags down a waiter and orders a beer. “Early next year. Matt’s comic is in the final stages of editing, and it should be finalized in about three weeks. They’re aiming for a release in February, and the tour will follow right after that.”

“That sounds soon,” Leigh remarks. “How long is the tour supposed to last?”

“About two months,” Danny replies. “We'll be traveling across different states, attending conventions, signing autographs, meeting fans. It’s a big commitment.”

“We?”

Danny shrugs, the hurt briefly flickering across his face before he can hide it. “Yeah, we. Though I'm not sure I can join because of the new job in Vegas. There's a good chance you might be doing this solo.” His attempt at nonchalance doesn't quite cover the sting of her reaction—how distant the concept of 'we' seems to her.

Leigh chews on her lip, her thoughts drifting to her own commitments—her column, her classes at the Beautiful Beast, and you. The idea of leaving all that behind, even for just a few months, feels like too great a sacrifice.

“It’s a lot to take in,” she says, pushing the folder back towards Danny.

“He deserves this kind of recognition,” Danny implores, as if suggesting that Leigh thinks otherwise.

“I'm aware,” she snaps back, “I just need a bit of time to think it through, to sort out the schedules and everything.”

Danny raises his hands in mock surrender, indicating he doesn't want to escalate the argument. But Leigh knows him well enough to see through it—it’s a tactic. Danny has a way of guilting her into decisions without saying much, letting assumptions and insinuations simmer until Leigh finds herself making the choice he wants.

Leigh stands up, slipping the folder into her bag. “I’ll let you know as soon as I can.”

“Fine,” Danny says with a tight nod. “Just don’t drag your feet. The publishers are waiting on an answer soon.”

Saturday comes soon, but not soon enough.

All week, relentless rain showers have scattered across the days, and though the forecast promises sunshine today, Leigh wakes up to the soft splattering of rain against her window. The gentle patter seeps into her consciousness, easing her from sleep. The room is filled with a cool, damp scent, and is bathed in a soft, diffused light as the morning sun is muted behind thick clouds.

Leigh gropes blindly beneath the pillow to her left, retrieving her phone and squinting at the time. It’s 9:30 AM. She blinks, trying to shake the sleep from her mind, and her heart drops slightly as she notices five missed calls from you, each one timestamped progressively: 7:45, 7:55, 8:15, 8:30, and finally 8:45.

Guilt twists in her chest. She sits up, brushing sleep from her eyes, and dials your number back, hoping she hasn’t missed something important.

You answer on the first ring. “Hey. Everything okay?”

Leigh sighs, running a hand through her tousled hair. “Yeah, I'm sorry I missed your calls. I just woke up. What's going on?”

“It’s Saturday,” you say rather awkwardly. “We had plans to meet this morning, remember?”

Leigh sits up, suddenly fully awake. She’s been looking forward to Saturday all week, eagerly anticipating this date. The realization that she slept through most of the morning fills her with shame. She’s been so restless the past few days, and it was only the gloomy, sleepy weather last night that finally allowed her to get some decent rest.

“I’m sorry if I disturbed your sleep, but since it’s an all-day affair, I thought we could start with breakfast,” you continue, breaking the silence that had been filled only with Leigh’s soft breathing.

“Where are you now?” she asks.

You hesitate for a moment before replying, “I’m actually parked outside your house.”

Fuck. Shit. Damn it.

“Okay, okay. Sorry, uhm, can you give me five minutes?”

“Take all the time you need.”

Leigh ends the call and throws off the covers, scrambling to get dressed. She rushes to the bathroom, splashing water on her face and running a brush through her hair, muttering curses under her breath. Her hands tremble slightly as she picks out an outfit, the anticipation of the day ahead propelling her forward.

As she heads for the door, a small smile forms on her lips. This might not have been the flawless beginning she imagined, but just knowing you’re on the other side makes it perfect already.

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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ah0minecchi · 3 days

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IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?!♥︎ megumi f. x reader

Ꮺ in which meeting megumi fushiguro was a complete, but sweet, sweet chaos . . .

cw: angsty af, mentions of intimacy, use of alcohol if u squint

NOW PLAYING! 💿 cherry waves - deftones

<𝟑.𖥔 ݁ ˖

dear megumi:

sometimes i wish i could tear apart this heart of mine, that’s apparently too big for my body. i wish i could just shut down everything you were and are for me. i wish i could turn off everything you light up in me. ever since the beginning…

[ ♥︎ ]

“so you’re fushiguro… yuuji talks a lot about you.” i looked at him, finally getting to meet my best friend’s best friend… wow. “just call him megumi, y’all are basically indirect friends at this point.” yuuji laughed, which i followed, looking at the raven haired boy for his approval.

“call me what you like.” megumi responded nonchalantly.

[ ♥︎ ]

i’ve been wondering nonstop what the fuck i did wrong. did i not deserve you? wasn’t i good enough? all those times i dropped everything just to run after you, all those times i promised you the whole world… weren’t they enough? weren’t you tired? of having me chase you around all day? did it bore you? having someone care so deeply about you, but not feeling the same about them?

i don’t think you can even imagine how it feels… cause, fuck.. has anyone ever said ‘no’ to you? have you ever wanted to pursue something that doesn't want you until it suffocates?

it hurts. it really fucking hurts.

[ ♥︎ ]

“are you at the party yet?” megumi asked through his phone, reaching my ear. “yeaaahhhh, im kinda drunk to be honest hahaha… but it’s real fun in here! you should come… pleeeaaasee.” there were a few seconds of silence until megumi broke it, shoting straight to my heart in the process.

“i don’t know how the fuck i’ll get there… but i will get there.” he hung up, leaving me excitedly waiting for him as i told all of our friends he was attending.

[ ♥︎ ]

that one night you kissed me, did i mean anything to you? cause at that very moment, to me, you were the whole world. my whole world. that one night i ended up tangled in your sheets. was i just another one on the list? cause to me, it was the very first time i felt cared about. you showed me the love i never thought i’d deserve.

could i even call it love?

i think you’d just call it lust.

[ ♥︎ ]

“how is yuuji going to find out about this?” i asked megumi as i ruffled his bed hair. “i think we should just tell him… but not now.” he answered as he scanned every detail on my face.

[ ♥︎ ]

i wish i knew what you meant by that. all the while i wanted to keep you as a promise, you just wanted to keep me as a secret. i wish nothing had ever happened, not because i regret it, nor did i not love it for a moment, but because i don't want to feel like this anymore. not with you.

i tried. i tried to be your friend. leave everything behind and continue as if nothing had happened. but the mere idea of thinking that I was never for you what you were for me is enough to make my heart ache.

maybe we live in a world full of superficialities, empty, where everything is momentary pleasures, satisfyingly chaotic, and pleasantly disposable. i never want to fall like this again. i don't want to dream so high again. i don't want to be so naive again.

but i can’t help it when it’s you.

[ ♥︎ ]

“i’m not ready for anything, with anyone…” he sated as tears started rolling down my face. why? why’d you give me a taste of some love you couldn’t give me? or didn’t want to give me…

[ ♥︎ ]

weeks passed, and i started to accept the fact that it was not gonna happen. i started seeing someone else.

maybe you didn’t want to have me, but you definitely didn’t want to lose me…

[ ♥︎ ]

“you coming y/n? we gonna go grab ice cream or sum.” yuuji asked turning back to look at me. i couldn’t tear my gaze away from my phone, but i didn’t fail to notice how megumi looked at me.

“uhmm actually, go ahead without me guys! i’ll hang out with yuta later…” i commented as i blushed lightly. “OOOOOO Y/N’s GOT A DATEEE” yuuji joked.

megumi didn’t say a word until i left.

[ ♥︎ ]

next day, everything changed. that kiss you stole from me… i wish i could have it back.

you told me you were ready, that you wanted this. that you wanted me.

you made fall all over again. but deeper this time. you tricked me into your game once again. i mistook your lies for a future, with sins and sweet promises.

friday. i wanted to confront you about it.

and you tore it all apart. again.

i am so fucking greedy, and i don't want to let something i love die, even though i know i will never have it.

i’d fucking love to be your friend. i’d fucking love to pretend that it doesn't burn my skin to want to hug you and not be able to do so. i’d love not to want to know everything about you.

i wish i didn’t want to be your whole world.

i don't know why you hurt this much. i barely know you, and yet, i can't imagine a life without you. i have never had the courage to face what i truly feel. cause it's too soon, cause it would only complicate everything, or just because you don't want to hear it.

but i love you, megumi.

i wish it wasn’t like that. none of this.

yours truly.

y/n

a/n: i wish i could lie to y’all and say this wasn’t based on a personal experience but haha guess what…

AND SORRY FOR THE ANGST I LITERALLY CANNOT WRITE HAPPY SHIT WTF

LIKES, COMMENTS & REBLOGS are very much appreciated ♪( ´θ｀)ノtysm for reading !! <3

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sadseungmin · 1 day

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♡ sex with psychotic hyung-line ♡

psychotic hyung-line x reader | gender neutral | dead dove | nsfw (MDNI)

⚠︎ Bang Chan ⚠︎

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!chan is possessive & intensely passionate during sex *✧･ﾟ:*

During sex, Chan's possessiveness translates into an intense, almost primal passion. He wants to mark your skin--his territory--with dark love bites and bruises, ensuring you know that you belong to him and only him. Expect a lot of eye contact, biting, and gripping hands as if he's afraid you might disappear. Chan's intensity borders on roughness, but it's all driven by a deep, obsessive love.

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!chan is obsessively devoted & tender during sex *✧･ﾟ:*

Chan believes sex is an act of worship. He lavishes attention on every part of your body, wanting to memorize and own every inch. His touches are gentle but possessive, his kisses long and lingering. He whispers sweet nothings and reassurances, reminding you constantly of his undying love and your irreplaceable place in his life.

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!chan is dominating & controlling during sex *✧･ﾟ:*

Chan craves control, and this desire extends to the bedroom. He takes on a dominant role, orchestrating the entire experience to his liking. His commands are firm but laced with a dark, seductive tone that makes obedience almost irresistible. Chan enjoys teasing, edging you until you're begging for release, savoring the power he holds. Despite the control, there's a twisted care in his action, ensuring your pleasure is paramount, albeit on his terms.

"Face down, ass up--I don't care if you're tired. I need to fuck you until your insides are in the shape of my cock. Do you understand, baby? Be good for me, yeah?"

⚠︎ Lee Minho ⚠︎

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!minho is manipulative & teasing during sex *✧･ﾟ:*

Minho enjoys having complete control over your pleasure, playing with you until you're pleading and crying for release. His teasing is relentless and borderline cruel, pushing you to the edge again and again without allowing you to climax until he decides. This control satisfies his darker impulses, making him feel powerful and in command. You will be left in a state of heightened desire, completely at his mercy.

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!minho is protective & intense during sex *✧･ﾟ:*

Minho wants to ensure you feel safe and cherished, albeit in his own intense way. His touches are both possessive and tender, a mix of roughness and gentleness. He's vocal about his need to protect you, whispering assurances and praises a he brings you pleasure. This duality of protectiveness and intensity makes the experience deeply emotional and physically overwhelming.

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!minho aims to fulfill his dark fantasies during sex *✧･ﾟ:*

Minho wants to explore darker fantasies with you. He enjoys pushing boundaries, indulging in role-play and scenarios that are as thrilling as they are intense. You are the center of these unconventional fantasies, and Minho ensures your experiences are as immersive as possible. This could involve sex toys, blindfolds, restraints, and detailed role-play scenarios that feed his darker desires while ensuring you are always a willing participant, fully immersed in the shared fantasy.

"Awe, my poor little kitten. Did I put the vibrator on the highest setting? Be careful, thrashing about will only make the restraints tighter! You just gotta take it like the good kitty I trained you to be. And don't you dare fucking cum."

⚠︎ Seo Changbin ⚠︎

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!changbin is overwhelmingly dominant during sex *✧･ﾟ:*

Changbin's psychotic tendencies amplify his need for dominance, resulting in overwhelming and commanding sexual encounters. Changbin takes full control, ensuring you know who is in charge. His dominant nature means he likes to assert his power physically, using his strength to pin you down or lift you effortlessly. His intensity is matched by his deep desire to see you submit completely, finding pleasure in your surrender and the raw power he holds over you.

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!changbin is fiercely passionate & obsessive during sex *✧･ﾟ:*

Changbin is intensely focused on you during sex, handling you with rough and tender touches. His passion is overwhelming, driven by an obsessive need to make you feel pleasure like never before. He's quite loud while fucking you, expressing his love and desire with a mix of growls and whispered confessions, ensuring you know just how deeply obsessed he is with you.

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!changbin is sadistic & controlling during sex *✧･ﾟ:*

Changbin's psychotic nature includes a sadistic streak, taking pleasure in the control he has over your pleasure and pain. He enjoys mixing pleasure with a hint of pain, such as using light bondage or impact play, always ensuring it's pleasurable. Your reactions to this mix of sensations drive him feral, and he takes careful note of what brings you to the edge, pushing boundaries to keep things exciting and intense.

"See, sweetie? I told you I'd make it fit! Doesn't it feel good to be split open on my cock like this? Oh, don't mind the blood, sweetie; it just means your hole is adjusting to become my perfect fleshlight. Fuck, I'm so in love with you!"

⚠︎ Hwang Hyunjin ⚠︎

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!hyunjin is unpredictable & wild during sex *✧･ﾟ:*

Sex with Hyunjin would be wild and spontaneous. Hyunjin is driven by sudden impulses and desires, making each encounter different from the last. One moment, he's gentle and sweet, and the next, he's rough and demanding. This unpredictability keeps you on edge, never quite knowing what to expect but always thrillingly intense. During sex, his actions are driven by a chaotic mix of love and obsession.

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!hyunjin is obsessively attentive to detail during sex *✧･ﾟ:*

Hyunjin is fixated on every reaction you make, memorizing every gasp and moan. His goal is to drive you to the brink of ecstasy and back, learning exactly what makes you tick. This can mean prolonged foreplay, where he explores every inch of your body with a meticulous, almost clinical precision, ensuring they're completely overwhelmed by pleasure.

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!hyunjin is darkly & possessively affectionate during sex *✧･ﾟ:*

Hyunjin's affection is dark and possessive, and during sex, this manifests in thrilling, yet terrifying way. He likes to remind you that you're his and his alone, using a mix of physical restraint and verbal affirmation. Hyunjin will bind your hands, whispering in your ear about how no else can have you, all while driving you to the heights of pleasure. His touch is a mix of rough and tender, balancing his darker impulses with genuine care.

"Your body is my favorite canvas, angel. Every inch of you is mine and mine alone. Every mark I leave on your skin, every drop of my cum that paints the inside of your walls is just a testament to that."

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guiltfinn · 3 days

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planet of the apes 🦧

dude… i have now seen the new kingdom of the planet of the apes in cinema twice and the first time around i wasn’t all that impressed and i left the theatre kinda disappointed but the second time around i left a little more impressed and a little less disappointed.

the movie was still weak compared to the first three films, (the rise, dawn and war) but im glad it was made.

as a whole i believe this franchise is criminally underrated on multiple different levels. The poetic nature of the films is something i don’t think i would ever articulate or write on paper to perfectly capture how beautifully made these films are, they are just chefs kiss

proximus caesar was a funny villain that i think deserved more screen time and back story, it makes me kinda sad to think that we wont really see his character again.

the symbolism that links all four films together is incredibly well done and throughout the entire series there are crumbs of the films that came before them, which is a part of the reason why i love these films so much. i like how they made noa so similar to caesar, not only in his appearance but in his characteristics. i like to believe it was intentional that noa and caesar (particularly in dawn of the planet of the apes with malcolm) cautiously but willingly trusted a human. noa is so incredibly similar to caesar it would be criminal to suggest otherwise.

dude these films are so visually well done you almost forget you are watching cgi. the visual effects alone blow my mind but the accuracy and attention to detail when it comes to the mannerisms of the apes is out of this world and deserves more recognition. in terms of cinematography planet of the apes have always been amazing at beautifully capturing emotions from all the apes and even better at showing the wonders of a post-human run world. the forests and surroundings that the apes find themselves in continue to amaze me, especially in this newest film were we see a variety of different landscapes.

as much as i am growing to love kingdom of the planet of the apes, i feel as though we could have waited for noa and his story. i think cornelius and the others that were left behind after caesars death deserved a closing chapter. i would have loved to know how the community handled the loss of their leader and saviour and how they all moved on. also i feel as though we needed back story on how the apes separated and became different clans spread all across the continent. as an example i would have also loved to see how the misinterpretation of caesar and what he stood for became so strong and wide spread, as well as why noas clan and their elders knew nothing of caesar or chose to leave him out of their history. there were a lot of open ends and unfinished stories that deserved more screen time, but in saying that, that could mean an eternity of story telling that everyone may not want to see.

at the end of kingdom of the planet of the apes they left it open for another film which i am looking forward to seeing where they take story line. are they going to fully circle around to the original films were they capture more humans and start to use them as slaves or will the story begin to get repetitive? i hope repetition won’t sneak its way into these films like is has with so many other franchises, but we can only hope right?

anyways-

long live monkeys… i love monkeys and we need more monkey movies

also- i know i don’t really do this sort of this thing on this account but i was beginning to genuinely tweak if i didn’t word vomit my thoughts on these movies <3

#planet of the apes #rise of the planet of the apes #dawn of the planet of the apes #war of the planet of the apes #kingdom of the planet of the apes #movie review #movies #monkey #proximus caesar

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ghcstify · 18 hours

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✦ . ⁺ BITTER GIFT

carl grimes x fem reader

¡! warnings: enemies to lovers, death, weapon mentions, blood, injuries, angst & traumatic events

¡! a/n: this is a looooong one (specifically 3.6k words, um..) and it doesn’t really have to do with carl that much until the middle, sorry about that :c

the day you lost your parents is one you'll never forget. the sudden screams and gunshots continue to echo in your mind. you had a strong sense that you were one of the few who managed to escape the overrun camp where you and your family had stayed from the very beginning. despite being dehydrated and exhausted, you somehow managed to survive on your own for a while. then one day, you suddenly found you weren't alone anymore.

hearing footsteps behind you, you swiftly drew your knife from your hip and held it out in front of you. you found yourself at a doorway, realizing you needed to act swiftly to eliminate what you believed to be a walker. as you quickly moved past the door frame, you were met with a crossbow aimed directly at your face by a middle-aged man.

“daryl?” you heard another man speak, and with that, your anxiety intensified. you heard another pair of footsteps come up behind the guy who had his crossbow pointed at you. “put it down, she’s just a child,” the blue-eyed man spoke, and as the other man listened intently, he slowly lowered the crossbow from your face.

“i’m rick, this is daryl. what’s yours?” the man with blue eyes spoke. for some reason, you found yourself unable to even say your name to these strangers. you couldn’t determine if they were dangerous or if they had others around them waiting to harm you. you just weren’t sure. after a while, you finally spoke up. “y/n, i’m y/n,” you responded, lowering your knife to signal that you intended no harm. silence filled the air for what seemed like an eternity before rick finally spoke, “how many walkers have you killed?”

“what?”

“how many walkers have you killed?”

with the sudden question to which you had no answer to, your nervousness intensified. “i… i don’t know, i lost track,” you responded, hoping that not having an answer wouldn't cause any trouble. “how many people have you killed?” he posed yet another unusual question. with that question remaining unanswered, you took a deep breath before replying, “two.”

“why?”

why? what did he mean by “why”? given that your response to the “why” question might be hurtful, you took a moment to collect yourself before addressing yet another question. “my mom and a stranger because they asked me to,” you answered. rick gave daryl a sidelong glance, which left you confused. you still couldn't decide whether they were good people or not.

“we’re part of a larger community, you look like you could use it,” rick mentioned. you had observed daryl's silence, suggesting that he was likely a very reserved individual. at first, you were unsure of what to say, realizing how big of an opportunity this was in such a world. searching for the right words, all you could express was, “really? i would love to.”

before you realized it, you found yourself in an actual car with rick at the wheel and daryl in the passenger seat, heading towards what he described as a “large community.” the journey was marked by an unsettling silence, which only added to your discomfort. however, if they were telling the truth, it would be worth it.

upon finally arriving at the community, you looked out the window to see actual houses still standing, walls fortifying the area, and a sign that read, “welcome to the alexandria safe zone, mercy for the lost, vengeance for the plunderers.” observing this sign and noting all the pre-apocalyptic details, you genuinely felt a sense of safety and assurance that nothing bad would happen here.

rick had opened the car door for you, allowing you to step out and walk through the gates of your future. this gesture made you reconsider your initial impression, thinking that perhaps these people were not as bad as you had thought. taking everything in, rick began to speak, “if you don’t mind, my son’ll show you around. is that okay with you?” quickly nodding in response, daryl spoke up and instructed a middle-aged, brown-haired woman to open the gate. as the gates closed behind you, she approached and began to examine you. “i’m rosita,” she extended her hand towards you, signaling for a handshake. putting your hand in hers and shaking each others hand, you replied, “i’m y/n.”

after sharing your painful past with rosita for a moment, you hear footsteps approaching. turning around, you see a boy wearing a cowboy hat with long hair and a bandage over his left eye. “my dad wanted me to show you around,” he spoke, his voice carrying a subtle hint of annoyance. after parting ways with rosita, you found yourself walking in silence alongside the boy. “you never told me your name,” you finally break the unbearable silence by speaking up. “uh, it’s carl,” he replies, his voice still carrying that slight hint of annoyance. realizing that he didn't really want to be there, you remain silent. it becomes clear that carl isn't much of a people person, or perhaps you haven't been around him long enough for him to warm up to you.

an hour or two passed with carl still giving you a tour, yet you still felt as if he didn't like you. perhaps your gut feeling was right — maybe he really did want you gone. however, all you wanted was to make friends. after the lengthy tour was over, you found yourself sitting on your bed. unsure of what to do next, you layed down and drifted off to sleep.

months had passed, and you had developed many friendships, including with rosita, glenn, michonne, rick, and maggie; unfortunately, carl was not among them. in all honesty, you found that you didn't mind. you were beginning to feel similarly, not particularly liking him, though you couldn't quite discern the reason why. upon hearing the gossip, you learned that rick and carl had encountered someone in a gas station parking lot. you felt a pang of guilt, knowing that you were in that situation at once and you realized that you needed to take action. you decided to approach rick to discuss the situation and possibly work something out with him.

“if you decide to do what you’re going to do, i’d feel better with carl by your side,” rick spoke as you stood at the doorway of the house he shared with michonne and carl. “rick, you know he doesn’t like me,” you replied, feeling a sense of anxiety about having to work with someone who seemingly didn't even like you. “then i don’t know what to tell you,” he responded, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders. as he conveyed this information, you started to carefully contemplate your course of action. silence filled the house before you finally spoke, “okay, do you think you could talk to him?” before replying, he gave you a reassuring nod,

“of course.”

and with that, you retreated to your room to figure out what your plan was going to be. about an hour later, a knock sounded at your bedroom door. for some reason, you believed it was carl, and you took a deep breath before saying, “come in.” the door opened swiftly to reveal rosita.

“i heard what you’re doing,” she said as she stood at your doorway, the worry evident in her brown eyes. “i kind of have to do this, rose,” you replied as you began to contemplate where you would be right now if it weren’t for rick and daryl. she sighed before approaching you and taking a seat beside you. “i get that,” she remarked before continuing on, “but you really don’t have to.” you shook your head from side to side, indicating your disagreement with her. “i somehow got saved, so why not save someone else in return?”

“y/n….”

she spoke in a tone that conveyed her concern for you. giving her a smile, she embraced you before expressing her feelings in more profound words, “just be careful, please.”

“i will, i promise.”

after rosita had left, your door creaked open to reveal rick, who acknowledged you with a nod, indicating that he had successfully convinced carl to work with you. the next morning, you waited at the gate for carl to arrive, eager to get this over with. despite your efforts to convince yourself that carl wasn't such a bad person, you still couldn't find yourself caring for him. lost in thought, you heard footsteps approaching from behind. turning around, you saw carl finally making his way towards you. you turned back around to head out of the gate, taking a deep breath and preparing yourself for the discomfort that was about to ensue.

rick had previously informed you both that this individual followed specific routes each day. since today was one of the days he would pass through the forest, you and carl waited for him at that location. breaking the silence, carl finally initiated the conversation, “how long were you out there?” not fully believing that he was actually addressing you, you turned to look at him before replying, “about 3 to 4 months, i kind of lost track after a while.” he nodded in response and once again, he spoke up, “where are your parents?” with carl posing all these questions, you started to think that maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. “dead,” you responded, maintaining your composure by looking at the ground.

“i’m sorry.”

before you could say anything else, you were interrupted by footsteps. you and carl exchanged a nod and with this, you both approached the man, hands raised to signal that you meant no harm. “we’re not going to hurt you,” carl remarked, directing his gaze toward the man who had just finished killing a walker. after carl had spoken, it was your turn. you grabbed the bag of food and water and tossed it to the man. “there’s food and water in there.”

addressing the bag of food and water, the man fell to the floor, grabbing it and opening it. he grasped the bottle of water and chugged it, which reassured you about the decision you had made. “i’m glad i found you,” carl stated, breaking the silence. “you were looking for me?” the man inquired as he rose to his feet. “me and her, we’re in a community,” carl dodges the man’s question with a statement that could positively impact the man’s life. putting your hands down, the two of you slowly approach the man, as you begin to speak, “we’re going to ask you a few questions. we need you to answer honestly, okay?”

“how many walkers have you killed?” carl asked, breaking the silence, his voice carrying a tone of curiosity and anticipation. “i know it’s hard to keep track-“

“237.”

“really?” you asked with a professional tone and a thoughtful demeanor. “give or take a couple,” the man responded as he glanced at the walker he had previously put down. and with that, carl asked the second question, “how many people have you killed?”

“one.”

“why?” you asked, curious to know his answer. “dead tried to kill him, but they didn’t.” he responded while looking down at the ground. both you and carl had nodded at his response.

as you surveyed your surroundings, you observed that the man employed traps to kill the walkers. “you’re making walker traps. is that how you’ve killed so many?” you ask as you draw attention to his method of eliminating walkers. “it’s only part of it…. my mom thought, or hoped that killing them would.. free their souls,” he replied in a genuine and sincere tone, his words carrying a sense of honesty and earnestness that was unmistakable. after he stated this, you and carl exchanged a glance before refocusing your attention on the man. “you know, maybe she was right,” he continued speaking, his tone growing increasingly sincere.

“but doing that, doesn’t it just make things harder for you while you’re trying to survive?” carl asked as he closed the distance between him and the man. “i… i don’t know. but you… you gotta honor your parents, right?” the man spoke once again, his tone genuinely sincere. “if i wasn’t honoring my dad, we wouldn’t be talking right now,” carl replied with a slight smile spread across his face before continuing on, “and i definitely wouldn’t bring you back to our community.”

walking back to alexandria and engaging in conversation, you discovered that the man's name was siddiq. suddenly, you had encountered a few walkers — nothing that you couldn’t take care of…. right? drawing your knife, you noticed that siddiq had fallen to the ground due to a walker, and carl looked at you. “go! help him, i got this,” you shouted as you plunged your knife into the head of one of the walkers. unaware, you found yourself trapped and fell backward onto a deer that the walkers were feeding on. your knife had landed roughly two feet away, and as you layed on the ground, three walkers had fallen on top of you.

as you attempted to reach for your gun, you felt a burning sensation on the side of your torso.

fortunately, you managed to equip your gun and shoot all three walkers. pushing their bodies off of you, you stood up to find carl and siddiq looking at you. "are you okay?" carl asked, worry evident on his face. “we should go,” you avoided his question, pushing past the two who exchanged a glance as you walked by.

the walk back was as dreadful as you had anticipated; no one uttered a word or noise, except for your coughing. to enter alexandria without raising questions about siddiq, the three of you decided to use the sewers. as you climbed in, you noticed that carl kept staring at you. “i’m fine,” you lied, hoping he wouldn’t catch on. you could sense carl's suspicion, but he chose to remain silent after replying with an “ok.”

upon finally arriving in alexandria, you went directly to your house without speaking to either carl or siddiq. you hurried upstairs to your bathroom, where you removed your flannel to reveal blood seeping through the right side of your light brown shirt. removing your shirt, you inspected it and discovered a bite mark. looking at your abdomen through the mirror, you realized the dreadful truth: you had been bitten.

“fuck.”

you began to panic, fully aware of what needed to be done. closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and opened them again. to distract yourself, you decided to take a shower to clean up. afterward, you put clothes on, dressed and applied a bandage over the bite mark.

now, you found yourself in your room, writing letters to everyone you cared for, including carl. once you had finished, you sat on your bed and began to cry, feeling as though you had been saved for nothing. beginning to feel tired, you closed your eyes.

finally waking up, you noticed it was pitch black outside. surely, you hadn't slept that long... or perhaps it was just a side effect of the bite. trying not to think about it, you started to hear commotion outside and a sudden knock at your door. believing that an enemy had somehow gotten in, you grabbed an axe that you kept in your room for protection. the door suddenly swung open, revealing carl standing there. “carl? what the hell is happening out there?” you ask, your worry unmistakable in your voice. “the saviors. come on, we gotta go!” he responds as he takes your hand, guiding you both out of your house.

from a distance, you began to hear negan's voice, and an idea formed in your mind. “carl, i need you to follow me,” you said as you turned to look at him. “just trust me, okay?” now, you found carl following you to the watch tower at the front of alexandria where he began to climb up with you. “no. stay here, please,” you stated as he complied with your instructions. climbing up the ladder, negan began to speak again, “okie dokie. you brought this on yourself, rick. you see, i was willing to work with you. all you had to do was follow a few very simple rules. well, now i see that you’ve got to go! scorched earth, you dick.”

“he’s not home,” you shout upon reaching the top as the saviors aim their guns at you.

“oh-ho! holy shit! everybody hold your fire, it’s y/n,” negan remarks with a chuckle. “look at you, answering the door like a big girl. i am so proud. rick’s not home, huh? well i guess he’s gonna get back to a big ol’ smokey surprise!”

“there’s families in here,” you interrupt him with a stern voice before continuing on, “kids, carl’s little sister.”

“well that shit just breaks my heart. there’s kids at the sanctuary, you must’ve seen ‘em,” he responds in a measured tone. “even had a little baby at one of the outposts. i wonder what happened to her,” he continued speaking before beginning to walk around.

after a brief moment of silence, negan began to speak again, “none of this shit’s fair, kid. hell, you know that. you had to kill your own mom. that is screwed up. we need someone in charge who’s willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that shit doesn’t happen. oh-ho, wait! that’s me!”

“bad stuff does happen, but we can figure this out. we can stop this,” you respond with a somewhat convincing tone before negan interrupts.

“oh now you wanna talk? see rick had it that i died, no matter what. he gave my people a choice, not me. so now, we’re gonna need a new understanding: apologies, punish-“

“kill me,” you interrupt with a tone that is both desperate and heartbreaking.

before speaking, negan moves closer to you than he was before, “what did you say?”

“if you have to kill someone, if there has to be punishments, then kill me… i’m serious,” you respond, your voice beginning to slightly crack.

“you wanna die?” negan asks with a slight smirk spread across his face.

“no i don’t,” you reply as you shake your head side to side, “but i will…. it’s gonna happen. if… if me dying could stop this, if it can make things different for us, for you, for all those other kids, it’d be worth it.”

“i mean.. was this the plan?” you ask after a couple seconds of silence, “was it supposed to be this way? is this who you wanted to be?”

with a lot of commotion in the background, negan looks away from you, giving you the chance to get away. just as you're climbing down the ladder, you hear negan’s voice, “son of a bitch, y/n! was that just a play? i thought we were having a moment, you little asshole! bombs away!”

“what the hell was that?” carl asks you as you drop down to the ground. you ignore his question and proceed to take gas bombs out of your bag, handing a couple to him. understanding that this is all part of your plan, carl follows your lead.

after deploying numerous gas bombs, you and carl find your visibility severely impaired. slowly, you both make your way to the sewers. upon climbing into the sewers, your body began to feel weak, which heightened your anxiety. stumbling over your own feet, carl swiftly came to your aid, helping you to regain your balance.

“just put me down here,” you uttered in a weakened voice. “y/n?” carl expresses with concern before assisting you to sit down on the ground. kneeling beside you, carl watches intently as you slowly lift your shirt to reveal the bite mark.

“no no no, what? why didn’t you tell me?” carl asks, his eyes remaining on the bite mark, unable to believe that this is truly happening. despite the pain, you managed to give carl the most reassuring smile you could before replying, “it was bound to happen, carl.”

“bullshit.”

“no, it… it should’ve been me,” he continues speaking as he takes a seat beside you. feeling pain coursing through your body, you begin to grow weaker and weaker. your vision starts to blur, and your breathing turns into wheezing.

clearly concerned for your well-being, carl carefully lifted you and managed to navigate out of the sewers. thankfully, the saviors had ceased their bombing, and despite the surrounding fires, carl successfully brought you to a safe haven — the church. as carl was laying you down, your condition deteriorated rapidly; it felt as though you had been thrown off a cliff and subsequently run over.

“hey…. i just wanted to let you know that i got the wrong impression of you,” you spoke with a weak voice, which shattered carl's heart. “i got the wrong impression of you, too,” he responds, his voice beginning to crack. “if i knew that getting to know you would’ve helped, i would’ve done it a lot sooner,” he continues, and his words provoke a shared chuckle before you start coughing up blood.

“carl, i need you to-“

“stop it,” he interrupts you, his gaze shifting downward. after a moment, he takes a deep breath before slowly drawing his gun. cries begin to fill the church as he slowly raises the gun to your head before he spoke in a soft voice, “i wish we had more time.”

“maybe in another universe. but in this one, it was just a bitter gift.”

and with that, the gunshot echoed through your mind, bringing the pain to a final end.

#carl grimes #carl grimes x reader #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #writing #angst #the walking dead fanfiction #carl grimes fanfiction

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canirove · 1 day

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Friends, lovers… and an orange | Chapter 13

Previous chapter | Next chapter (coming out on Friday)

Masterlist

“They have a sex tape.”

“They have what?”

“A sex tape” Mason repeated.

“Yours?”

“Obviously” he laughed.

“I’m sorry, I… I… How? When?” Adele asked.

“Why don’t we sit down and I explain everything?”

“Yes, sure.”

“Ok” Mason said, taking a deep breath. “Where should I begin?”

“From the beginning?” she chuckled.

“Yes, of course. It was… it happened during my 21st birthday. I don’t know if you remember, but I was working in the US. I had spent some time in New York, and for my birthday I was in Los Angeles.”

“Oh, I do. I remember seeing all the photos on Instagram while laying on my couch feeling like shit because of a cold. You sent me chocolate macaroons to make me feel better.”

“I wish I had been taking care of you and eating them instead of… Anyway” he sighed. “My friends threw a big party to celebrate because 21 is a big number in the US since you are finally allowed to legally drink and all that, and they invited many people, most of them girls. By the end of the night I was very drunk, and I’m pretty sure I had hooked up with a few girls already. But then, I saw her. She was stunning, and when she came to talk to me, I just couldn’t say no. She was… hypnotizing. Hypnotizing and a bitch” Mason chuckled. “Instead of going to one of the rooms of the house where we were throwing the party, she took me to her hotel room. I think she said she was visiting from Florida, I can’t remember. And then… well, you can imagine what we did. When I woke up the next morning, she was gone. She had only left a note behind saying that I should pay for her room before leaving if I didn't want to get in trouble.”

“Oh, how nice.”

“Yeah… A couple of weeks later, my agency called me. Someone was trying to sell some compromising photos from my birthday. They were just me being very drunk, nothing that you hadn’t seen before, but I had just gotten my first big contract, was starting to make a name for myself and being recognized because of me and not because I was Toni Mount’s son, and they didn’t want them to jeopardize everything we had been working so hard for.”

“Look at them being nice for once…” Adele said. “How did they get the video?”

“Whoever was trying to sell the photos wasn’t happy that we had managed to stop them, so they tried with something more juicy. My agency had to ask for many favours and pay a good amount of money to stop the press from publishing it.”

“That juicy is it? Wait, sorry, I…” Adele said, feeling her cheeks burning.

“You can see me completely naked while she gives me… and then she…”

“I can imagine, there is no need to get into details” she interrupted him, her face about to burst into flames. “So your agency paid for the video?”

“Yes.”

“Do they know who was trying to sell it? Was it her?”

“It was her, that bitch had planned it all. Somehow she had found out that there would be famous people at the party and went looking for a victim who would allow her to earn some easy money and maybe become famous. When she took me to the hotel, the camera was already there, ready to film everything we were about to do. I was so stupid…”

“Mason, it wasn’t your fault. How could you have known it was all a trap? Besides, you were drunk. You are lucky you remember all the details you do.”

“I know but… Anyway. That’s what my agency has against me. They say I owe them. Big time. And if I don’t do as they ask, they will release that video and the photos and end my career.”

“That’s blackmail, Mason. You could report that to the police.”

“And the moment they find out, they will release the video and everything will be over” he sighed, letting himself fall on the bed.

“You don’t know that, Mase. People these days are very aware of what a video like that means. It is a violation of your intimacy. I’m sure your fans would do everything in their power so it doesn’t get shared everywhere, it has happened before. You are so lucky you are a man…”

“But what about the brands I work with? About the designers? What will they think?”

“If a sex tape makes them stop working with you when they keep doing it with people who have done worse, it probably is for the best” Adele shrugged.

“And you? What about you?” Mason asked, sitting up again.

“What about me?”

“What do you think about me?”

“Can I be completely honest?”

“Please” he said.

“I think you are an idiot.”

“What?”

“Not because of the video. Again, that isn’t your fault, you are the victim here. Double victim if we add what your agency is doing. You are an idiot because you thought I would look at you differently or stop caring about you because of it.”

“But Addie… It’s a sex tape.”

“And?” she laughed.

“Aren't you like… shocked? Scandalized? Outraged?"

"The only thing I am is angry at that bitch and at your agency. She used you and filmed you without your consent, and they are blackmailing you."

"So if I had known she was filming and had agreed to it… you would not mind?"

“Can I confess something?” Adele said, biting her lower lip.

“It can’t be worse than what I just confessed” he chuckled.

“Remember Ben, my last ex?”

“I do. Why?”

“Well… We liked to take photos or film ourselves from time to time to spice things up.”

“Adele Antonia Turlington!” Mason laughed.

“You can’t tell anyone. Anyone, you hear me?”

“I won’t, I won’t. But wow. I didn’t expect that from you” he chuckled.

“I’m full of surprises“ she smiled, still not believing she had confessed something like that to Mason. “And here is another one… I will walk that red carpet with you.”

“Wait, what? Are you sure?”

“No, not really. But until we find a way to get rid of your agency, I’m gonna do everything in my power to help you and protect you. And if that means posing in front of a bunch of photographers, then so be it.”

“Addie, I… I don’t know what to say.”

“A thank you will be enough for now.”

“Ok, thank you” he smiled. And this time, it was one of his smiles, one of those that was all dimples. “I love you, Addie.”

“I love you too, Mase” she said as she hugged him, trying not to think too much about the three words they had just said to each other.

#mason mount #mason mount fanfic #mason mount imagine #football fanfic #football imagine

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downbadf0rficppl · 2 days

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still here in the evening

Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

Summary: Part 2 of still here in the morning - Nikolai's mad at you. You don't know why. Maybe an injury will help secrets come to life?

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: Violence - guns, gangs and bullets, Blood, Injury, Misunderstandings.

The wind whipped through your hair as you looked out over the deck. You were less than half a day’s travel away from West Ravka - where you’d dock and stock up on supplies before heading back out to Novyi Zem.

You sighed. The past few weeks had been weird - ever since you and Nikolai had woken up together, he’d been ignoring you. It was almost as if you’d ceased to exist for him. No matter. Things should be back to normal after this stop in West Ravka. You could both forget it ever happened.

It was almost midnight when you finally tethered the ship to a dock in Os Kervo. Tamar and Tolya grabbed your arms and practically dragged you to a local inn to celebrate. You’d had a lot of successful missions over the past few months, and just because the Captain was opposed to any kind of revelry, doesn’t mean you should be.

You knew the truth. Nikolai was too scared of being discovered here in West Ravka - where people still knew what the monarchy looked like, even if they had been hidden away on the other side of the fold for years. Still, you let Tamar and Tolya drag you away and had a few beers to celebrate. Maybe more than a few beers.

Meanwhile, Nikolai was sat at his desk on the ship, nursing a pint of ale. He’d tried to distract himself with work - checking the ship’s logs and inventory, making a detailed list of everything they needed before they set off on their next adventure. This would be their longest trip yet, and they were going to need a lot of supplies, especially if they kept picking up new teammates. It wasn’t enough.

His mind kept drifting back to you. Mouse. His Mouse. Nikolai couldn’t recall when you went from being just another shipmate, to the only person who was ever on his mind, but he wasn’t complaining. Still, the words that passed between you and Tolya rung clear in his head.

“He’s no one… Someone from back home.” You didn’t like him like that. You were waiting from someone back home.

Nikolai shook his head trying to clear his mind. Obviously, a girl like you had someone waiting for them back home. That was why you chose to take an extra long pit stop every time you were back on Zemeni soil. It was obvious, wasn’t it? He turned back to his logs, trying to catalogue everything they had done over the past few months since they had been here in Os Kervo.

He had thought you were the one. The past few weeks had been difficult, trying to avoid conversation with you, trying to avoid being under your gaze. Nikolai knew that he had no self-control when it came to you - one look in his direction and he’d crumble again. And he deserved better than someone who just used him to ‘break his 'I don't sleep with crewmates' rule.’

He should’ve known something was up when you disappeared from his bed in the middle of the night, he thought, putting his journals away for safe-keeping and taking another swig of his ale. People don’t just disappear when they actually like someone.

He just didn’t think you capable of leading someone on so maliciously.

But maybe he read the signs wrong. You never explicitly said you wanted to sleep with him, did you? Nikolai racked his brains for anything you’d said to give him that impression, but nothing came to mind. Maybe his own feelings clouded his judgment.

Nikolai took another swig of his ale. The light buzz that accompanied every thought of you now made him reckless. Nikolai clenched his jaw, determination etched across his face, as he set out towards the bar where Tamar and Tolya had taken you, his mind racing with concern and unresolved questions. The dimly lit streets of Os Kervo blurred around him. He just wanted to get to you.

You slipped out of the bar, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to keep your steps light and silent. Tamar and Tolya were relentless, always watching, trying to stop you from seeing Nikolai. They insisted that he wasn’t worth your time, that he was just in a bad mood, though they wouldn’t tell you why.

The moon hung high and cold above the narrow streets of Os Kervo, casting long shadows in the alleys. You didn’t dare look back, afraid that one glance would reveal your escape to Tamar and Tolya. The bar’s raucous laughter and clinking glasses faded behind you, swallowed by the city’s nighttime murmurs.

You turned a corner, your mind racing with thoughts of Nikolai. What had you done to deserve his wrath? Every attempt to remember came up empty, a frustrating blur of confusion. You didn't see the men until it was too late.

A flash of metal, the sound of a gun cocking—it snapped you out of your reverie. You stumbled, your boot catching on the uneven cobblestones, and you fell to your knees just as the first shot rang out. The alley exploded into chaos, bullets whizzing past you, ricocheting off the brick walls.

"Get down!" someone shouted, but the voice was lost in the cacophony. You scrambled to your feet, ducking low and trying to find cover. Two rival gangs, by the looks of it, were locked in a deadly exchange, their faces twisted with rage and fear.

You pressed yourself against the wall, breathing hard, your eyes scanning for an escape route. Another shot grazed the wall near your head, sending a shower of brick dust into your face. You wiped your eyes, blinking rapidly, and saw an opening—a narrow gap between two buildings, barely wide enough for a person.

Without thinking, you dashed for it, your heart pounding in your ears. A sharp pain tore through your shoulder, and you gasped, stumbling but not stopping. You squeezed into the gap, your shoulder screaming in protest, and kept moving, pushing through until you spilled out onto another street.

The shootout was behind you, the sounds of gunfire muffled by the buildings. You leaned against the wall, panting, clutching your shoulder. Blood seeped through your fingers, warm and sticky.

You collapsed to the ground, arm still covering the wound on your torso, but you couldn’t keep your body up any longer. You were close to the docks. Someone would find you.

“Hey, hey, hey…” A familiar voice floated across the heaviness, bouncing around in the back of your head. “Don’t move. I’ve got you.”

What did he say? Why couldn’t you move? You didn’t try though, instead nuzzling into the warmth of their hand.

“…didn’t hit anything important, you’re okay…”

What didn’t hit anything important?

“You’ll be fine. We’ll get you back to the ship and get you right.” A warm hand pressed down on your abdomen, putting pressure. A sharp pain cut through the fuzziness in your mind. Your eyes met familiar muddy green ones. Ones that you knew all to well.

Everything came rushing back, your train of thought screeching back into coherence, and you gasped, face pressed against a warm shoulder. Nikolai’s shoulder. Pain flared in your abdomen like lightning, and you cried out, gripping Nikolai’s arm.

“Easy, now, sweetheart,” he grunted, gathering you further into his arms as his hand turned more and more red. “Can’t have you move right now.”

Fuck, it hurt. You let out a small whine as Nikolai adjusted his hand. This pain was unlike you’d never felt before - you’d been stabbed before but it didn’t hurt like this.

“Nik- I- I…-” you stammered.

“Hey, it’s okay, mouse. You’re okay. Just focus on breathing.”

You bit down another cry, forcing air out through your nose, burying your head further into his shoulder.

“Good, that’s good… Can I move my hand, mouse?”

You caught a glimpse of him ripping off a section of his shirt - somewhere in the back of your mind, you were disappointed. You liked that shirt. It was a shame to ruin it.

“Nik, it- fuck…” You were really feeling it now, warm and sticky blood seeping down your stomach. Nikolai tried to tie the strip of fabric as tight as he could but the pain seemed to deepen with every movement, spreading up through your torso to the rest of your body, and you gritted your teeth to halt a pained scream.

Nikolai glanced down at your fear-stricken face with a mix of guilt and shame, but quickly offered you a tight-lipped smile. “Nothing new to us, huh, sweetheart?”

The nickname wasn’t lost on you, but you didn’t have the energy to comment on it. You felt woozy again, as if you were slowly floating away from your body. His muddy green eyes were getting harder and harder to focus on, your body begging for the respite of unconsciousness.

Nikolai moved quickly, carefully lifting you into his arms, his expression tightening as you winced. Despite the urgency, his touch was gentle, his concern evident in every movement. The streets of Os Kervo blurred past him as he made his way to the ship, his mind racing with worries and questions.

By the time you reached the ship, Tamar and Tolya were already there, alerted by some unspoken bond or perhaps just the unmistakable sense of something gone wrong. Tamar’s eyes widened when she saw you, and she immediately set to work, her hands moving quickly as she tried to staunch the bleeding and mend the torn flesh.

“They need to rest,” Tamar said, her voice firm despite the strain of her efforts. “They’ve lost a lot of blood.”

Nikolai nodded, his face a mask of controlled emotion. He watched as Tamar worked, feeling a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest. The thought of losing you, without ever understanding why you had caused him such pain, was unbearable. As Tamar finished and stepped back, Tolya helped her move you to a more comfortable position.

Nikolai paced the small cabin, his thoughts a whirlwind. He needed answers, but for now, he needed to be prepared for the worst. Turning to the twins, he took a deep breath. “I need to ask you about their… person back home,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “In case they don't make it.”

Tamar and Tolya exchanged confused glances. “Their person?” Tolya echoed, frowning.

Nikolai nodded, frustration creeping into his tone. “I overheard the three of you talking. They mentioned someone. If something happens, we need to know who to contact.”

Tamar's eyes narrowed slightly as she tried to recall. Then, a look of realisation dawned on her face. “Oh, you mean Nikolai.”

Nikolai’s heart skipped a beat, but he kept his face impassive. “What do you know about him?”

“Not much,” Tamar admitted, glancing at Tolya, who nodded in agreement. “Just that his name is Nikolai. They mentioned him once, but not in detail.”

Nikolai’s mind raced, connecting the dots. They didn’t know. They had no idea that the Nikolai you spoke of was him—Sturmhond, the privateer. He felt a strange mix of relief and guilt. Relief that his identity remained safe, but guilty that all of this had been a misunderstanding. “Thank you,” he said finally, his voice softer. “That’s… helpful.”

Tamar frowned, sensing his unease but not pressing further. “They’ll pull through,” she said confidently, more to reassure herself than anyone else. “They’re strong.”

Nikolai nodded absently, his gaze fixed on your pale face. As the night deepened, he slumped into the chair, needing to be near you, so he could apologise.

When you next awoke, the pain was pretty much gone, and you were decidedly not dead. It was a good start.

You were lying in a bed. For a second, the sun filtered through the windows and you thought you were in your bed. All the way back home in Novyi Zem. Your sister would run in in a moment asking for you to make her tea - you did it the best, not too milky and not too sweet. You opened your eyes to the sight of dark wooden panels. You were on the ship. The bed was familiar, though. The last time you were in it, a warm heavy arm had been resting across your chest. Your heart ached at the thought.

You looked over to the sight. The Captain was curled up in an armchair next to the bed, head cupped in his palm, his hair, loose and unkempt, clearly having had a hand run through it over and over. He must have nodded off at some point during the night. You were happy to see him sleep - he looked so calm and peaceful, unlike the past few weeks.

His eyes fluttered awake, almost as if he felt your gaze over him. His flickered to your covered waist before meeting your eyes. His gruff expression melted into one more sympathetic, and he reached out to squeeze your hand.

"You're still here?" You croaked.

"I promised you I'd still be here in the afternoon."

fin.

#grishaverse #nikolai lantsov #netflix shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov fluff #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov being kind #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov my beloved #no y/n #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfic #siege and storm #nikolai lantsov imagines #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai x reader #nikolai lantsov imagine #shadow and bone x reader

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intimidatingpuffinstudios · 11 hours

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Oh, please, dear author, how could we not love our little cutie patootie? Our babygirl did nothing wrong. <3

Beside that i always wondered why Mornie did that. (Sorry if you already answered this and i missed it!) I think i read one side story (which was from the second book i think?) from where i got the impresion that Mornie and Manny go waay back. So it always confused me why she suddenly decided to go against his orders. Not only that but why she then went to him after she failed him. Surely she must have known that nothing good awaited her? (And also, she doesn't seem to be too scarred from that bite, which should have been a horrific experience for her... Not that i am calling for blood ... or anything... haha... just you know... a nightmare or two cant hurt~)

Manerkol is forever babygirl ❤️☺️✌️

So uhh... Dis be a bit spoilery, but since it will never be explicitly touched upon in the books...

Mornie is kind of...in love...with him. Like, big time.

She is always trying to prove herself, have him look at her for just a moment longer.

But she was starting to realize that nothing she did ever made an impression on him.

Then, when he told her not to harm the MC, she was shocked to her core.

There was no strategic advantage to extending extra effort to ensure the MC's safety.

But what hurt the most was how Manerkol delivered the order.

His eyes had momentarily flashed with smoldering heat before he glanced to the side.

To anyone other than her, it would have seemed as something so small and unnoticeable that it was rendered inconsequential.

His voice got just a breath huskier, raspier. The sound of it alone was enough to shatter her concentration.

All her dreams, condensed to this one, fragile moment.

But the name that fell from his lips was not Mornie's.

And then he was walking away in a soft swiss of robes and the scent of jasmine left in the air.

So you will excuse her if she got a bit jealous. You will excuse her if she got a bit upset.

The way she saw it was:

1) Get the MC trussed up like a chicken, terrify them, make them feel as ugly as she was.

2) Bring them back to Manerkol as swiftly as possible and finally get the recognition she deserved. The attention.

3) Why wait for months to achieve what could be done in a couple of weeks with the right approach?

3) She was running out of time.

And then when she failed... She went back to him dreading what he would say to her, but she did not think for a moment he would actually hurt her.

She thought she was different from everyone else.

She knew he would forgive her.

As for the bite uh...she remembers that it happened. She understands what it means.

But she does actively remember it. She cannot recall images, sounds, nor a single detail.

Just a clinging, toxic black. As for her nonchalant behavior afterwards...

Trauma is a very peculiar thing, and suppression and disassociation can override everything else.

So, for those of you thirsty for her blood, I hope you can take some comfort in knowing that Manerkol did a stellar job punishing her...

That's not to say you may not get a chance to deal with her personally in the game lol!

Sorry if the answer got a bit heavy 😅

#the soul stone war #tssw #mornie #interactive fiction #manerkol

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distortionbobble · 2 days

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Royal Flowers Chapter 12

series masterlist

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pairing: anakin skywalker x f!reader

series summary: A long, long, time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, a certain Jedi by the name of Anakin Skywalker meets you, the current Queen of Naboo and adopted cousin of Padme Amidala, and is tasked with protecting you by pretending to marry you. As a spy, you’ve infiltrated the Separatist ranks and are close to finding out the mastermind behind all of it. The fate of the galaxy is in your hands.

warnings: minors dni. masturbation scene (m), but other than that nothing too spicy.

a/n: come get y'alls juice. also i can't find the gif i was using of anakin so just like. remember what he looks like i guess. he's pretty if that helps

When you wake up, you feel like you’ve swallowed a stone. You remember everything— every excruciating detail, each moment that his skin was pressed against yours. You try your best to recollect everything that was said yesterday, but it feels fruitless. Your mind has already rewritten each word ten times, translating and shifting and switching until the meaning is entirely different. Did Anakin say “I need you” or “I need this”? If he had said “you”, did he mean anything by it, or were you the first person that he could trust with this? The only? Something strange and all-too familiar crawls out from your stomach.

Guilt. You’re not even sure if Anakin wanted you the way you wanted him, and the words he first spoke to you scream themselves loudly in your head. I love Padme, and I’ll love her til I die. You were just a means to an end, and you’re sure that you should have known that as you took pleasure from his touch on your body. You’re no stranger to desire, to the heat of another’s body, but it’s never been someone you’ve wanted as much as Anakin.

And at the same time, you understand fully that it wasn’t just you. What you and Anakin have is bigger than just what happened last night; it’s been working up for months, an ocean of desire eroding your reasons to resist until you caved, gave into the sweetness of his mouth on yours, sweeter and softer than you could have ever imagined. The way that fell in the force of his desperation to something all-consuming, something that carved away a piece of your soul and kept it in the confines of the night, sacrificed at the altar of your memory. Your self-indulgence feels rotting, pushing unease into your throat and you can no longer lay here with your tattered dress cocooning your body. No matter what it is, you’ve never been faithful to the driving force within you. It’s a foreign feeling, one that you don’t like. You never thought that doing what you wanted would inspire such guilt.

You push yourself out of bed, turning to look over your shoulder at Anakin’s peaceful form, allowing yourself another moment of indulgence as your heart weeps. Your movement has shifted the blanket away from his shoulders, and as quietly as you can, you reach over to adjust it back over his shoulders. Your heart’s corruption rules you for only a moment longer when your hand skates over his jaw. Not quite touching him, no; you can’t allow that in the bright clarity of the morning. It was just sex, you remind yourself. Then you’re gone, swept away in the mirrors and meticulousness of your morning routine.

The peace allows you to sit with your thoughts for a moment longer— to remember your purpose, to remember your role in a story that is so much greater than the microcosm of you and Anakin. You’re here because you’re the queen of Naboo, and you have a responsibility to your people. For just a moment longer, you loathe what has become of your life. All you are now is a vessel for the needs of others, and it hurts to know that you’ll have to give and give until there is nothing left of you, until you can fade into nothingness with no one having truly known you, and yet having been so largely involved in the universe’s fate. You swallow your bitterness, resting your chin on your hand as you stare at the mirror before you, steam clouding the surface. The reflection that looks back at you feels otherworldly, a woman that you’re not sure you’ve ever been and yet one that you know you must be. Your face crafts a perfect smile, the hollowness within invisible to even you. Don’t forget your role, your reflection whispers at you.

Your fingers drum against the surface of the counters as you collect yourself, carefully calculating every diplomatic advantage. Naboo is economically powerful at this time, putting you at a position where you can safeguard from famine with the right connections. Lothal, you should corner the representatives of Lothal. They’re just a backwater, in essence; a backwater planet that you’re positive you can strike the right deals with. Agricultural aid in exchange for a hefty deal, put them in a good position with the economic boost Naboo could get.

Your mind starts to wander as you get dressed. You feel a sense of clarity that’s been absent from you for some time— your guilt sharpens itself into a weapon, holding you at its blade to force you to think deeper, think clearer. Why hadn’t the Separatists told you of their plan? Why did you need to find out from elsewhere? All paths lead to one singular conclusion; they want to get rid of you. It makes total sense, doesn’t it? Install a puppet ruler to get away with whatever you want, and at the right moment, cut the strings. They’d step into the void of power, gaining total control of the planet and thus, giving the Separatists a new stronghold.

But at the same time, you understand the injustice caused by the Republic to many. Its neglect of many systems is not unknown to you, you’re not so foolish to think this is a one sided coin. By pushing the Separatists into a coerced acceptance of the Republic’s governance with militant force, the galaxy is only further polarized by loss. Perhaps… Perhaps the only solution is to allow self-determination. That may not filter out the splinter sections of Separatists, but at least it would be a start.

All you know now is nothingness. You don’t know the solution, but you suppose it doesn’t matter; not if you’re going to end up dead at the end of this all. And doesn’t it make sense? For them to kill you now, blame it on something else and drive Anakin into further madness and desperation? The ultimate form of control. Even if you live, you are leverage against the most powerful weapon in the galaxy. You hate thinking of Anakin like that, but it’s true; even you, removed as you are from the Jedi Order, understand that he is the chosen one.

Your fated doom lingers on your being, shadowlike, but you won’t let this keep you here. For however long you’re in this life, you’ll serve your purpose as best you can. You push the thoughts of your inevitable self sacrifice into action, an agenda spinning into order: you’ll talk to the Lothal representatives, strike up a deal. You’ll have food shipped to Naboo’s moon, allowing safe transport of the food to Naboo so that it doesn’t get blown up on arrival. It feels more like bandaids than a solution, but you’ll figure it out. A solution, that’s something that you’ll have to talk to Padme about. The way you see it, she’s the galaxy’s out— under her leadership, she could bring clarity, a new direction. Which means if you’re aware, so is Palpatine. Or Sidious. You don’t know what to call him now, really.

She’s in danger. But maybe she always was.

~~~

When Anakin wakes up, the only thing he feels is hunger. Clawing out from inside of him, stretching and breaking from his skin; a beast that he had buried, now awakened, that only desires you. He feels it eating at his skin, a certain kind of pain that he almost delights in as he thinks of last night. The hedonistic indulgence of giving in, Dionysian in its call, had only served to fuel his thirst, not quench it. And you’re not here, why aren’t you here?

He thinks back to every moment from last night. Had he pushed you too far? He hadn’t meant to, he hopes he didn’t, but the pain was messing with his head. He couldn’t think clearly with his entirety ripping at the seams. Anakin wants to make it better, wants to kneel at your side and take your hand like it’s a lifeline, but that option isn’t his to take. He doesn’t belong there. Anakin is the Chosen One— something that he would have understood in another lifetime, but now it’s just a label with constraints that he’ll never understand. He can’t have you, and yet… now that he’s given in to the Dark Side, things are different. It’s not quite the same story that he was used to. Now, he’s constantly fighting himself. He wants to pursue you openly, fully, yet he can’t. Why can’t he? Because of some arbitrary rules? But those rules are the ones that have dictated his entire way of thinking. He doesn’t want to give it up so soon. He swings between two extremes, a pendulum of moral inconsistency, hearing the voice of the Jedi Council, Obi-Wan, Shmi, encouraging him to let go of his hunger; Sidious, to feed it.

Anakin knows he has to look past what he wants right now. You’re counting on him for something bigger, and he knows that he needs to figure out what exactly would happen if he exposed Sidious. It’s something you’ve brought to his life: the rationality that he was always expected to have. As a spy, though, you’ve shown him that the guns-blazing approach sometimes will not work, that he has to take his time, collect his information. How deep is the Chancellor’s control? What is the endgame, if he’s already the Chancellor? None of it makes sense to him.

Long, slender limbs are forced out of bed as Anakin stretches, gritting his teeth at the thought of having to face the day. He winces slightly at the sticky feel of sweat on his skin. He needs to wash up, he realizes, and the quick jump to why he has to wash up has his face flushed. He grips himself tightly, eager for some relief from the aching in his cock as he thinks of you. You, with your warm body, your eager responsiveness to his touch, the taste of you on his tongue. Anakin wrenches his hand away in shame, feeling much like a dog panting for a bone as he salivates over you. He mourns the fact that he didn’t take his time and get you fully naked, rather than tearing the clothes from your body, as he pulls his own garments fully off. He wants to give you a better experience, he realizes; he wants to worship your body with his hands, then his tongue, spend hours with his head buried between your thighs as you grind on his face in pursuit of pleasure. Anakin wants more than the quickness that came from sinking to the hilt into your heat brought the night prior— no, he wants the aching, the throbbing in his loins as he makes you see stars.

Cool water pelting across his back isn’t enough to deter his fixation on all the filth he hopes to cause to you. Anakin’s cock still stands at half mast, and it doesn’t take much thinking for him to wrap his fist around it, fucking his tight grip as moans escape. His metal hand claws at the wall as his flesh unites in a perfect pursuit of pleasure. He wants you to hear this, fantasizes about you walking through the bathroom door, sinking to your knees, and sucking the soul out of him. He’d grab your tits, squeeze them, play with them. Anakin doesn’t think he could fuck your pretty face, wants to treat you far too gently for that to happen but he thinks of your hands under his, guiding you to stroke him just how he likes it. It doesn’t take long after that for him to cum, sticky pearls collecting on the bathroom tiling before it washes away.

Anakin gets dressed in an afterglow that’s still focused on you, imagining what it would like to get ready with you. He’s never really done that, has he? Not like this, not in the morning, not with this gentle sweetness blooming in his chest. But his blood turns to ice when he catches his eyes in the mirror, flashing that shade of yellow that he knows to be true to the Sith.

He needs to find Palpatine.

~~~

Anakin finds Palpatine after an assembly, towering over the rush of senators that flow past him. He locks eyes with Palpatine easily, the deceptively meek-statured man smiling at Anakin from where he waits at the doorway. Anakin feels sick at the mere sight, swallowing down his bitter fury to walk towards him. Padme had told him about a myth, a mere story, really, from Naboo; a legend that detailed a king who had put his trust in a bastard son, defending him against any opposition, but finding his life cut short at the end of that very son’s blade. And you, Brutus? He’d said. Anakin feels that way when he looks at Palpatine: that painful, bitter betrayal. It wasn’t fair. But nobody said it ever would be.

“Master,” Anakin calls him quietly. A false name, one that should only have ever belonged to Obi-Wan, or Qui Gonn. Palpatine is nothing to him, a snake laid in wait only to strike at his most vulnerable. “You said you’d help me save my wife.” The din of the crowd is loud enough to diminish the volume of his words, but not the urgency. Palpatine, however, just smiles in response.

“Anakin,” Palpatine says, clasping two hands behind his back. From this angle, he almost looks paternal, like the perfect replacement for an empty slot that Anakin’s had for so long in his life. “I see the concern you have for her. Of course, it is natural. But…”

“But what?”

“I fear you’re simply not strong enough yet. Not ready, you see.”

“Tell me how to be strong enough, then.” Anakin isn’t fooled by his own rationality. He knows that he can pretend this is somehow linked to his infiltration, but he knows it’s his own indulgence in you that drives him. He wants to keep you safe, no matter the cost.

“It’ll cost you,” Palpatine says, walking into an empty sideroom. One that’s often used for business discussions, Anakin recognizes. From in front of him, Palpatine tugs his hood on, and by the time he turns back to Anakin, the physical change is apparent. Instantaneous. The lines on his face are deeper-set, the glow in his eyes inhumane. Sharp, piercing, they see right through him. For a moment, Anakin is fearful that his own treachery will be uncovered. But his fear of losing you drives him further, lets him keep going. Anakin thinks he understands the cost when he sees this.

But he’s wrong.

“Every single member of the Jedi Order are what stands in the way of your realization, your… enlightenment. All the Jedi, padawan or master, including your friend Obi-Wan. They are a threat to the Republic, to peace in the galaxy.”

Anakin feels his heart fall. And he thinks of Obi-Wan, of the warmth of his hug, the crinkle of his eyes when he smiles. The pride, however restrained it may have been, would make his face glow whenever Anakin defeated him in sparring, or when he would laugh at Anakin’s struggles with Ahsoka, telling him they mirrored his own experiences. Sidious was wrong. Obi-Wan wasn’t just his friend, he was greater than that— he was like a brother, like a father, like a part of Anakin that he hadn’t realized had been so significant until he had every single belief he had of right, wrong, of morality itself, put into question. Killing Obi-Wan would be akin to losing the only arm he had left. He isn’t clouded by lust, by love, to even think of the idea.

But then…

He thinks of you. The nightmares of your breath leaving your body, the warmth leaving your physical form. Of the beauty of your laughter, the way you fit his soul so perfectly, pushing him, challenging him and everything he thought he knew. And you did it so sweet, so addictive, making him something else. Making him something that he recognized in himself only once before.

Only when he loved Padme.

And this side of him, the only part of him that Darth Vader hadn’t killed in order to exist, wants nothing more to listen to Sidious. To watch his brother, his Jedi master, die at the end of his saber. It would be fitting, wouldn’t it? The very man he created would bring forth his doom. He’d make it painless, he promises. He wouldn’t dream of bringing him pain. All he wants… is to save you.

It’s not as though the Jedi Order is indestructible, either. Nor is it without its flaws. He’s seen countless villages ravaged by the battle between the Separatists and the Republic. Anakin knows the Jedi are not innocent in the crime of staining the ground they fight for with innocent blood.

Anakin himself, he hadn’t felt free until he was with you. For the first time in his life, away from the Order, away from the dictation of what was wrong, what was right, how to think, eat, dress, breathe, he had a choice now. And you let him have that choice. Wouldn’t it be wrong to pull away? Wouldn’t it be wrong to let you fall, when you had done so much for him?

He loves you. He had told Padme, what feels to him a lifetime ago, that love is what drives a Jedi, to hold compassion that is rooted in none other than love. His loyalty is with you, not Sidious— his religion, his worship, with you also. This is what’s good, what’s right. This is what the Force wants him to do. Anakin understands now, doesn’t he? His whole life, he’s been pulled towards this. Towards you, to love you, to keep you safe.

No matter the cost.

~~~

Lothal’s representatives are easy to find after the general assembly. You don’t know what it is, exactly, but they look lost, like they’re playing a game that they hardly know the rules to. You approach them with poise and grace, your head held high as you zero in on them.

“It’s an honor to be in your presence, your grace,” One of them stammers out. He’s handsome, you think, but not nearly as much as Anakin. Comparing the two is like comparing a candle to the brightness of a sun, anyways. You smile gently, unfazed as you tilt your head in acknowledgement of their greeting.

“As it is for me to be in yours, representatives of Lothal.”

“Denon, milady. I am the senior-most representative of our planet. I assume you do not stop by purely for the purpose of making our acquaintance,” Denon replies. Senior-most. You almost want to laugh at the declaration. He seems boyish still, the innocence in his eyes betraying his youth. You flick your eyes around, assessing your audience quickly before you offer your arm to Denon.

“Not here,” you murmur, strolling arm-in-arm to the nearest room. You’re quick to step away from him once the doors are shut, taking a seat at a table as he mirrors you awkwardly. You’ve done your research, you have no reason to feel nervous, and yet your hands still tremble before you lay them flat on the table.

“Denon, I’ve done my research. The financial sector of Lothal has expressed its frustration at the insufficient funding of the planet— simply put, your planet is not… prosperous. I do not need to explain the subsequent effect of this: how this insufficiency results in a multitude of disasters. The workers on your planet work diligently, and yet the imports to the planet are, by-and-large, inaccessible. Why? I believe, Denon, that your planet’s work is undervalued, understated, and Naboo has a simple answer to your question.”

You sigh quietly, a crafted noise, meant to draw their attention in further. They’re watching you attentively, they know you’re their saving grace and Maker, they’re ready to take it.

Good.

“Naboo will outbid your current agricultural contracts in order to be the primary recipient of your crop. I offer billions of units to your planet, with few caveats; Naboo will maintain anonymity until the length of our contract is finished, and the delivery will be to our moons, not to our direct ports. In the meantime, this will leave fewer supply for the remainder of your contracts. It’s simple economics; your supply will diminish, but the demand will remain the same. I offer nothing but a fair compensation for the labor of your peoples, and a promise that my actions will drive others to do much of the same.”

Denon looks at you, looks to his fellow representatives, then to you again. Then he blinks, opens his mouth as though he wishes to say something, and closes it again.

“Any questions?” You ask, drumming your hands on the table. You need them to take this, but you can’t show how desperate you are. They might be naive, but anyone knows desperation is a flaw to be exploited, even representatives from an outskirts-planet like Lothal. You still hold power, and that will not be mistaken.

“Why? Why now?” One man pipes up from next to Denon.

“Naboo wishes to establish strong diplomantic ties with supporters, like Lothal. This is as much a political move as it is economic, Representative.”

“We’ll take it,” Denon says. He seems starstruck, like it’s too good to be true. Denon stands from the table and offers his hand to you, which you take as you stand up.

“Brilliant. I’ll draft up the terms and have my Ministers send the plans to you.”

“Milady, your offer is most gracious. If there’s anything we can do…”

“I’ll let you know, Representative Denon. Thank you.” Denon drops to a bow, kissing the back of your hand as you hold back your discomfort. You’ve never really been great with all of this pageantry, but you’ll put up with it well enough.

But timing is not on your side. The door swings open to reveal Anakin, whose face betrays his rage as he sees your hand in Denon’s.

“What business do you have with my wife?” He demands callously, striding closer to Denon as his emotions escape his control. You’re careful to watch him, seeing the glint of yellow in his eyes as he sizes up Denon, ready for a fight.

“My love, we were—”

“I did not ask you. I asked the man who dared to touch my wife,” Anakin seethes. You scoff at his arrogance, grabbing his chin to tear his gaze away from Denon.

“Representative Denon, you may take your leave. I will continue my communications with the planet of Lothal at a later time.” You keep your eyes locked on Anakin, watching his form visibly relax as they shuffle out of the room awkwardly. It only angers you further.

As the door shuts, Anakin reaches his hand to your wrist, calling your name softly.

“No. That was unacceptable, Anakin. That might have been acceptable with Padme, but certainly not with me. Do not forget our arrangement, General Skywalker,” you bite out. You see hurt flash in his eyes as you refer to him by his title, but you’re infuriated, and Anakin is the reason why. “Don’t ever barge into my diplomatic meetings and question me or anyone else what our intentions are. We are nothing other than allies to each other, Skywalker, do not let a night of passion delude you.”

“Is that all I am to you?” Anakin asks. You’re unable to look at him, so you allow yourself to let go of his chin, but he keeps his hand on your wrist. “Answer me. Is that all I am to you?”

Anakin’s heart is in his throat. No. He’s seen this before, he knows how it plays out, and he isn’t the victor. In any scenario, he loses you. He can’t lose you. He’s given up so much for you, hasn’t he? Why would you abandon him? You couldn’t. He’s sure you’re bluffing, but there’s still that dryness in his mouth, that dizziness as he looks at you.

Please, let him be more to you.

“That’s all we are to one another,” you whisper.

Anakin lets go of your hand.

#my writing #distortionbobble's fics #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #reader insert #anakin x reader #star wars fic #anakin skywalker fic #anakin #angst #anakin skywalker fanfic #royal flowers #royal flowers series

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this-acuteneurosis · 1 day

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A 3-in-1 set of questions for Don't Look Back if you don't mind?

1) Is Duty Bound the last fic in the series? It's already heaps longer than the previous parts, and I'm wondering if it'll just keep growing and how close we are to the end of the AU story. (I kind of hope it's a while away because I just want to keep getting new chapters ;) )

2) Where about are we right now in the timeline relative to AotC and RotS / how long since the war started? I'm having a hard time keeping a sense of in-fic time.

3) Fun one: What is Shmi dressing like nowadays? I'm pretty sure she's not in her TPM grey dress, but what has she become comfortable wearing? Does she try different hairstyles or stick to her practical braided bun? For that matter, what does Leia wear when(/if) she's not in formal Senator's Assistant garb?

Good questions!

Duty Bound is not the last fic in the series. There is one more story after this with a current working title of We Will Not Wear Chains. I am desperately looking forward to the end of this arc and the start of the next and if I could just get my A plot to stop rewriting itself I might actually be able to get to part 4. Don't worry, there are plenty of chapters of this fic left.

We're close to 2 years since the start of Like Fire, give or take. This means literally nothing in terms of the timeline of the original canon since I've scrapped not only the majority of AotC and RotS plot canon, but also 98% of TCW. Time is an illusion. Mostly the important things to know are Leia showed up just barely older than Padmé and several years older than Anakin and every second she is in this timeline is a second that Sheev is that much closer to death.

Alright, general answer, but I will need to get back to you on this one because @saltkettling is my fashion consultant for all my stories and helps me keep my character's clothes and hair in line and I need to review notes with her one more time to refresh details. Essentially, both Shmi and Leia will have been impacted by Naboo dress standards, Shmi more by middle class ones with a bit of Tatooine flair, and Leia more by Padmé at this point. But Leia also has all of her historical clothing influences in her repertoire, including not only her Alderaanian influences, but also people she was very close to the last few years before her time travel shenanakins. She dresses very differently for anything where she's a representative of Padmé's office than for her personal, practical business.

#Don't Look Back #Leia Skywalker #Shmi Skywalker #writing #I swear I will finish this story one day #canon what canon

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iamirish · 6 hours

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"Promise?" Joost Klein x fem!reader

A/n: okay I know I said I was going to be writing part two of the other story but I got sidetracked and wrote this instead. Don't worry, there will still be a part 2 of the other one some time this week though!! Also I didn't properly proof read this so sorry if its shit 😭 (also schat means like babe in Dutch)

Context: Just for this specific story Joost is 22 and your 21. This is like when he had that black and white clown makeup on and he looked so good 😻

Warnings: kissing, cursing and nothing else!!

I pulled up to the sketchy looking building with my car packed full of makeup supplies. I was hired to do some performers makeup, apparently he's quite big but they didn't tell me his name. I went over to the back door I was instructed to go to in the message they sent me, and knocked on it. A small women opened the door. She was holding a clipboard and seemed quite tense. I gave her a small smile as I said "Hi! Um I'm here for makeup?" She looked at me and then in a monotone voice said "yeah okay, go down that corridor, second door on the left". Even though I thought she was rude I nodded and thanked her before setting off down the hallway. When I reached the door I tapped on it again and said "makeup!". I waited for a moment before I heard a deep voice with a Dutch accent shout "come in!".

I walked in and as soon as I saw him I froze. It was my ex boyfriend from high school, Joost. I should've known as soon as I heard that voice. He was looking down at his phone, sitting in the makeup chair when he turned to look at me. A smirk spread across his face as he said in a snarky tone "Well look at who it is. Did you miss me y/n. Its only been hmmm let's see...5 years since we last met". I rolled my eyes before saying "Oh get over yourself already, you're just as cocky and arrogant as you were back then I see". I wanted nothing more than to just walk out of there and leave, but I really needed this money right now.

As he sat in the chair I began to paint his face completely white. It was awkward, and I felt a need to break the silence so I said in a low voice "so, after all these years your dream of being a music artist really came true, huh?". He laughed softly a little before he shrugged and said "I guess so.....". He then jokingly said in a stupid, cocky voice "I'm just too cool and famous to talk to you now". As he joked, he quickly turned his head away and held his hand up. When he pulled up his hand he accidentally hit the makeup sponge covered in white face paint and it smudged across my cheek and on the bottom corner of my lips. He looked at me and then we both burst out laughing.

He then turned to look at me as I sat close and directly in front of him. He studied my face a bit more intently before lifting up my chin with his fingers and wiping the paint off my lips with his thumb. As he just about finished wiping it off he said "and...there..its gone now". I turned away as I felt my cheeks flush red with embarrassment before I turned back to him and quietly said "thanks....".

I thought it was strange. I had only remembered Joost as this arrogant douche bag, but I forgot that in small intimate moments he could be so sweet. Joost and I had dated for just over a year in high school. I had come to The Netherlands as an exchange student and I immediately took to the cute blond guy in the year above me. Sure he was a dickhead sometimes, but he really was just a sweetheart deep down. I broke up with him after an argument we had over something so stupid I can't even remember now. The next week I moved back to my home country and we never spoke again. Even though the relationship didn't last that long, I always thought of Joost and it seems that he thought of me too after all those years.

After I finished his white facepaint, I began to do the black paint around his eyes. I tried to do the details but I just couldn't get it right in this position. I then instructed him to go and sit on the sofa and lean his head back as I kneeled on the cushion beside him. I still just couldn't get it right. I kept awkwardly leaning over him trying to get it right before he got fed up and said in a cocky tone with a smirk "Oh come on, don't be shy sweetheart, just sit on my lap. It's nothing you haven't done before". I rolled my eyes and reluctantly gave in as I said "fine" in a frustrated tone. I put one knee either side of his legs as I pulled his chin down and finally got the details of the eye makeup right. He chuckled a little to himself as I held his chin and finished up the final parts of the look. As I had a focused look on my face I said to him "what's so funny?". He grinned as he opened his eyes to look at me and said "You're acting as if you aren't enjoying this right now schat". I blushed brightly again. I hated how well he knew me. I said in a small, annoyed voice "Oh shut up....".

When I had finally finished I dabbed his face one more time before leaning back to admire my work. I then said to him "okay your all done! Youre on stage in like 15 minutes now anyway". He thanked me before I began to get up off his lap. I then felt his hand grab my waist as he said in a desperate almost pleading tone "wait....please just stay for another minute....". I tried to leave but I just couldn't resist those puppy eyes he gave me. I then locked eyes with him as I said "okay...I'll wait..". Tension lingered in the air for a moment before I thought to myself "fuck it". I then cupped his face with one hand as I leaned in a softly yet passionately kissed him. My other hand gently tugged on the back of his hair as he had a comforting grip on my waist. After a few moments I pulled away and took a breath. We both looked at eachother before laughing. Neither of us could never be serious. I then sighed and said "okay you've really got to go now Joost". He groaned before softly saying "fine...but just promise me one thing. Please don't leave again. I thought about you everyday for those years you were gone. I can't lose you again....". I smiled gently at him before saying in a gentle tone "okay...I promise...". I kissed him on the cheek one last time before signalling to him that he had to go. As he got up to leave I noticed that my red lipstick had left stains on his lips and cheek. "Shit! Do you want me to quickly fix it?" I nervously asked. He laughed as he smirked at me and said "nah I like it".

A/n: omg this is probably the longest one I've written yet wow. Also if anyone wants to be tagged in part two of the other story when I write it lmk!! 🫶

#joost #joost klein #joost klein fanfiction #joost klein x reader #free joost #justice for joost #eurovision #makeup #hes so cute #oh wow #joost x reader

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