#quinn (made by ash)

[orfisheus]

I'm getting bullied (told) by Pidge ( @sirscribbsalot ) to post my doodles I've been sending to an online server so. I guess this is y'all's informal introduction to my AU, harrowingly named Wokesworld by @thebirdsystem.

Featuring OCs made by @thebirdsystem and @anything-that-isnt-nails

[mezamun]

Liko's Meowscarada talks to Ash's about jealousy.

[kniesandtoews]

rotday

fem!reader and ultimate boyfriend! Quinn

still on for tonight?

You glanced down at the message on your phone and instantly groaned. You wanted to go out with him tonight, you really did. Only, you'd had the day from hell at work and you felt like you'd been hit by a truck. 

Being a kindergarten teacher, it was inevitable that you would catch whatever bug was going around the classroom. This time, it just so happened to coincide with your period, and the only thing you wanted to do when you got home was to change into sweats and melt into the couch.

With a sigh, you began to type out your response. is it ok if we rescheduled?

You really hated doing that. You knew he only had so many free evenings. 

It had been a few hours before you had a chance to check your phone again when you saw his response.

yeah everything ok? 

You let out another sigh and smiled. How did you get so lucky to have someone so understanding in your life.

Everything's ok. It's just been a long day and I feel like shit. I don't think I' be a very fun date tonight.

This time, he only responded with a heart emoji. 

You finished up the afternoon dismissal and then packed up your classroom before heading to your car where you sat for just a moment before hitting the ignition button. It was rare that you stopped thinking until you left the building and sometimes you just needed a minute of silence, not even Spotify or your most recent podcast was allowed to infiltrate those few moments of tranquility. 

Fortunately it was a quick drive back to the condo you shared with your friend Ashley. Well, shared wasn't exactly the best way to describe your living arrangements; Ashley's dad bought her the luxury condo and you paid her a ridiculously small amount of rent each month for a bedroom. You quickly punched the code into the keypad and immediately went to your bedroom, already anticipating stripping off your work clothes and changing into something comfy. You had just swapped your underwire bra for a stretchy bralette when you heard Ashley calling out to you.

"What?" You poked your head out into the hallway. The open floor concept meant that you could hear each other from practically any point in the house.

"I said," Ashley called back, clearly from downstairs."Our boyfriend is here."

"Be right down!"

Pulling on a cami and then your favorite cardigan, you soon found yourself skipping down the steps.

"Quinny!"

"Hey you." He moved to embrace you, burying his face in the crook of your neck and breathing in your scent before taking a step back with a quizzical expression. "Our boyfriend?"

You smiled as you shook your head, Quinn now being privy to one of Ashley's inside jokes. "Ash has a bit of a crush on you."

"Well who wouldn't?" Ashley answered from the kitchen. "You're so boyfriend coded."

Quinn turned to you again but didn't need to put his question to words.

"She means you have a lot of characteristics that women look for in a partner." You leaned in for a quick kiss. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged. 'Taking a gamble that you didn't want to go out because you didn't feel good, not that you didn't want to see me."

"I always want to see you," You smiled again as he continued to hold on to your waist. "I just feel like death." 

"I brought some turkey and tomato sandwiches and chicken soup from the deli." He added quickly, "If you feel like eating."

Giving him another quick kiss, you stepped back. "You're too good to me. Wanna watch a movie first?"

"Whatever you want, babe." He gave you one of his little half smiles as you both made your way to the stairs.

You immediately felt a little pang of guilt. "I'm sorry I ruined our date night."

He raised an eyebrow as he kicked off his shoes and sat down on your bed. "Why do you think you ruined date night?"

"We're just here." You joined him on your bed, tucking yourself under his outstretched arm. "I know you always put so much thought into planning what we're going to do but we're just here tonight."

He let out a little laugh as he kissed your forehead. "You know the whole point of our date nights is to spend time together, right?"

"I mean, yes, but-"

Quinn cut you off. "Especially since you're dead set against moving in together."

"I'm not dead set against it." You softened when you realized he was teasing you. "I just want to wait until the school year is over. I can't imagine my life in two different places right now."

He gave you a wink as he continued on in a dreamy kind of voice. "We could get a dog, you know, as practice for kids."

"I really don't think your mother would enjoy the thought of grandkids before we get married." Now it was your turn to tease him. "And if I recall correctly, you haven't put a ring on it yet."

"We'll get engaged once you're willing to live with me." Quinn leaned in to give you another kiss. "Besides, I haven't found a ring I like yet."

That last part, his tone was different. He wasn't kidding around with you anymore, it was more earnest and contemplative, almost like an aside to himself. You decided not to address it as you reached for the remote and snuggled in closer. 

You watched a few episodes of a British crime drama before Quinn's stomach began to growl.

"Ok, mister." You sat up and extended your hand for him. "Dinner time."

Quinn popped the soup in the microwave while you got out plates for your sandwiches. It wasn't necessarily the way you thought you'd be spending your early twenties. Granted, you did go out to some clubs but you found so much more enjoyment in the quiet domesticity of spending the night in with your boyfriend.

"We've got a pretty long roadie coming up." Quinn commented, almost absentmindedly.

You looked up at him to see if he was finished his thought. When he didn't add anything else, you nodded. "How long are we talking here?"

"'Bout a week. Little longer." He took another bite. "You gonna be ok?"

You let out a laugh. "What would you do if I said no?"

He shrugged. "I'd pack you away in my luggage. You'd make a better seat mate than Petey anyway." 

You could only shake your head at that. "I'll be ok. But I can't wait until your season is over."

Now he smirked. "You actually want me to lose?"

"No," You shook your head again. "But I do like our summers at the lake house when you take some down time."

A wistful smile, albeit brief played on his lips. "Soon enough."

You caught yourself gazing back at him. "You staying tonight?"

"Of course." He stood and took your empty plate. "That is, unless you need some space."

With a shake of your head, you smiled again. "I need cuddles."

Quinn leaned in and placed a kiss on your forehead. "Anything for my girl."

[dannydoesthisthing27]

Asher loves shifting. If you were to ask him what his three favorite things were, it would be his Baaaaaaabe, shifting, and wings/pizza (the third is actually the pack, he says the wings/pizza combinations right there with them though)

When Asher shifts he feels like he's finally able to shake off the restriction of being human. He can run as fast as he wants (outside at least...baaabe was upset last time he got zoomies in the apartment)

When he gets excited its almost like he's a puppy who hasn't grown into its paws yet. He wiggles, he rubs up against people in the pack, he gnaws on Baaabe and a few other people, he tries to hit other shifters heads with his paws, he runs into David and Milo all the time, he and Christian will vocalize together (like when actual wolves chatter and whine at eachother?), sometimes Ash will actually just make a noise that sounds like screaming, he carries the pack kids, he teaches the younger wolves in the pack how to wrestle sagely, and he lays on top of anyone close that will stay still long enough for him to. (Sam and Darlin are his favorite targets, Christian and Milo are close seconds)

Ashers wolf is also very large, and as Beta of the pack, he has the authority to make that size power. There are very few times he's needed to, though. One of the only times the other pack members have seen him like that was shortly after Darlin' came back to the pack. He and Tank had gone on a run together, on their way back, a set of vampires sent by Quinn tried to attack them. The vampires didn't last long, barely able to get a hit on either of them. Tank did take a hit though. They always do when there's a fight. What wasn't expected was how Asher reacted to them taking said hit. He had no hesitation ripping the head off of the leech trying to hurt his family, and he didn't move from his protective stance in front of them even after they shifted back. Going as far as to wrap himself around them while they waited for their mates and David to arrive, nuzzling into their uninjured side licking and nibbling at them in an attempt to sooth the pain since healing magic still isn't his strongsuit. The injuries weren't bad, just a few cuts and a solid bruise spreading up their right side, but still enough that he got scared. He only moved when his Baaabe and David made him so that Sam could have access to heal Darlin. That was what permanently cemented in everyone's mind that Asher was truly the best choice for pack Beta.

Asher let's younger members of the pack climb and ride on him when he's in both forms. When he's in wolf form and a pack meetings running late, he'll curl up near the main table and let the youngsters sleep on him. Plus, he's still close enough that he can listen to the discussion going on and give an occasional huff/snort to agree/disagree with David or whoever else is speaking

Ashers favorite thing to do is shift and lay with his mate. He loves when he can sprawl out and they just lay against him. He tucks their head under his chin and curls his legs and tail around them. Sometimes, he'll just lay between their legs with his head on their stomach or chest. His tail thumping so hard it's reverberating through the bed, or the floor, or their couch, whatever surface they're on you'll probably be able to hear the telltale thumping of a happy wolf's tail

[luvly-writer]

Aretia: Ceaelyan First

Xaden Riorson x Gamlyn! Reader

Masterlist

The war room was louder than usual—voices clashing, commands flying. But Y/n’s voice rose above them all, sharp and desperate.

“They burned it.” Her fists slammed against the table, her voice cracking. “You let them burn it!”

“Y/n—” Brennan’s voice was low, warning, but she didn’t flinch.

“My home is gone!” she shouted, eyes glassy. “Our village, our people—our family. You’re telling me we’re not even allowed to go check? Not even allowed to say goodbye?”

Ridoc stood behind her, jaw tight, his entire body vibrating with rage. He wasn’t saying anything—he didn’t have to. The way his hands curled into fists at his sides said enough.

“Intel says the venin might still be nearby,” the officer replied evenly. “It’s not safe.”

“I don’t care if it’s safe!” she snapped. “That’s our home. You can’t just expect us to sit here and do nothing.”

Xaden had entered quietly with the rest of the squad, but the second he saw Y/n like that—unraveled, eyes red, breathing uneven—he was at her side.

“Y/n—”

“Don’t.” She turned away from him, voice trembling as she held herself upright. “Don’t try to calm me down. You of all people know what this feels like.”

That stopped him cold. Because he did. And so did Imogen. Garrick. Bodhi. Quinn. Every one of them bore the scars of Aretia’s ashes, of running too late, of remembering how the sky looked blackened by the smoke of everything they ever loved.

“It’s the same,” Bodhi said softly, breaking the silence. “It’s just like Aretia. And no one let us go either.”

Y/n’s shoulders shuddered at the weight of it, her throat tightening around unshed tears. “They should have warned us. They should have let us go.”

“I know,” Xaden said gently, stepping closer, but not touching her yet. “I know.”

She turned toward the window, fists clenched at her sides. “There’s nothing left.”

“I’m sorry,” Quinn whispered. “We heard the scouts. The village… only a few homes made it. A handful of people. The rest—”

Ridoc looked like he might punch a wall, or someone, as he took a shap breathe.

Y/n shook her head, voice barely above a whisper. “That place raised us.”

“I know,” Xaden repeated. “And when it’s safe… I’ll take you there. I swear to you, Y/n. We’ll go. You’ll see it again. You’ll say goodbye.”

She closed her eyes, silent tears trailing down her cheeks, and finally let Xaden step forward and wrap his arms around her. She didn’t sob. She just leaned into him and held tight—like she was trying to keep the pieces of herself from slipping through her fingers.

The squad surrounded them, quiet, protective. Mourning with them. Because they understood what it meant to lose a home—and to not even be allowed to bury it.

That night, the Riorson estate was still, the kind of stillness that came after bad news—when even the wind outside seemed to quiet in respect.

Y/n stood in the doorway of Ridoc’s room, her arms wrapped around herself, sleeves of her black undershirt pushed halfway up. She didn’t say anything at first. She didn’t need to.

Ridoc was already sitting on the edge of his bed, shirt half-unbuttoned, hair still damp from the shower. His eyes lifted to hers and something broke quietly between them. The bond only twins could understand—grief mirrored in each other’s eyes.

Without a word, she stepped inside and crawled under the blankets beside him, like she used to when storms scared her as a child. He didn’t question it. He didn’t tease her like he might have on any other night. He just lay back beside her, one arm coming around her shoulders.

For a while, they didn’t speak. The silence between them was heavy but not unbearable. It was shared.

“I keep seeing it,” she whispered eventually, voice rough from hours of crying. “Our house. The beach. Maelyn’s garden. The little pier where we used to race to see who could jump in first.”

“I know,” Ridoc murmured, staring at the ceiling. “I can smell the saltwater. Hear that old merchant yelling about fresh fruit.”

Y/n gave a broken laugh, the sound fragile. “We didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

“No,” he agreed softly, tightening his hold on her. “But we still have each other. That’s something.”

She blinked hard, trying to will the tears away again. “You’re the only piece of home I’ve got left.”

Ridoc turned his head toward her, his expression unusually soft. “You’ll always have me, princess. You know that, right?”

She nodded into his chest, finally letting herself breathe a little easier. In this moment, wrapped in the comfort of the only person who knew her entire world from the very beginning, Y/n let herself rest.

That night, Xaden walked past the closed door and paused. He didn’t knock. He didn’t open it. He simply pressed his hand briefly to the wood, understanding that tonight—Y/n wasn’t his to hold.

She was Ridoc’s sister first. A child of the coast. And right now, she needed the one soul who had lost the same pieces of home she had.

The sun had just begun to stretch over the horizon, painting the Riorson estate in soft, amber light. The halls were quiet—too quiet for Xaden’s liking—but he knew better than to disturb that silence right now.

He stood just outside the training courtyard, leaning against the stone wall, arms crossed as he waited. Moments later, Ridoc emerged from the west wing, hair tousled, shirt wrinkled from sleep. He stopped short when he saw Xaden already there.

“You didn’t sleep,” Ridoc said bluntly, reading him too easily.

“Didn’t want to,” Xaden replied. “Did she?”

“Eventually.”

There was a pause, heavy but not tense.

“She needed someone who remembered what it smelled like at low tide,” Ridoc said, eyes flicking out toward the horizon. “The fish market. The old inn with the green shutters. The salt in the air. We both did.”

“I know.” Xaden’s voice was quiet. “That’s why I didn’t go to her.”

Ridoc looked at him then—really looked. And though he didn’t say it, there was something like respect in his gaze. “She still loves you,” he said, as if Xaden needed the reassurance. “She just… needed to be someone’s sister last night. Not a cadet. Not your future anything. Just a girl who lost the only home she’s ever known.”

“I understand,” Xaden said. And he did.

He looked up toward the window of Ridoc’s room where the curtain fluttered faintly. “When she’s ready, I’ll be here. For whatever she needs.”

Ridoc nodded slowly. “You always are.”

They stood in silence for another moment before Ridoc added, quieter, “You should eat. You look like shit.”

A dry huff escaped Xaden’s throat. “I’ll take it under advisement, Gamlyn.”

Ridoc gave him a tired grin, the first one in days. “Good. You’ll need your strength. She’s not done fighting yet.”

Xaden nodded, the weight of those words sinking into his bones. “Neither am I.”

It was past midday when Y/n found him.

Xaden was in the empty strategy room, the fireplace crackling softly, maps spread across the table but forgotten. He stood with his back to the door, arms braced on the edge of the stone, head lowered, dark hair falling slightly into his eyes, analyzing.

She didn’t say a word—just stepped inside, quiet as the grief clinging to her skin.

He turned at the sound of the door closing, and the second his eyes met hers, everything in him stilled. No words. No breath.

Her face was streaked with dried tears, her hair, messy and undone, the faint scent of home still clinging to her—salt and wind and something fragile. For a heartbeat, she looked so young. So heartbreakingly tired.

“I couldn’t…” her voice broke before she could finish.

He crossed the room in two long strides and pulled her into his arms like the world depended on it.

Y/n collapsed against him, fists twisting into the front of his shirt as the dam finally cracked open. The sob that tore out of her shook them both, shattered his heart into pieces. Xaden tightened his arms around her, holding her like he could keep her world from falling apart if he just held her hard enough.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered into his chest, voice hoarse. “I should’ve come sooner. I just— I couldn’t breathe, Xaden. I couldn’t—”

“Shhh,” he murmured, lips pressed to her hair. “You don’t owe me anything, Y/n. You never have to apologize for hurting.”

Her hands fisted tighter, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck as more tears slipped free. “It was my home. My people. And I wasn’t there.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I know what that guilt feels like. But none of it was your fault.”

He rocked her gently, grounding her in his warmth, his presence, the slow rhythm of his breathing. He didn’t rush her. Didn’t tell her to stop crying. Just held her until her shaking began to slow.

When she finally pulled back, eyes puffy and red, he cupped her face with both hands and kissed her forehead.

“You’re not alone in this,” he said, voice steady and low. “You have Ridoc. You have our squad. You have me.”

Y/n nodded slowly, pressing her cheek into his palm. “I didn’t want to feel anything good again. But then I thought of you. And gods, Xaden, that scared me.”

He kissed her again, this time gently on the lips, a touch full of sorrow and love. “Don’t ever be afraid of needing me. I’ll carry the weight if you can’t. I’ll carry all of it.”

And in that quiet room, where only the fire witnessed their brokenness, she let herself believe him.

The morning sun filtered faintly through the clouds, soft and golden, casting a warm haze over the training grounds. The squad was already gathered—stretching, gearing up, exchanging tired but familiar banter.

Y/n stood at the edge of the field, her posture rigid, brows furrowed. Her uniform was perfectly in place, daggers strapped to her side, hair neatly braided with Tyrrish silks in red and gold—but her eyes were distant. Hollow.

She hadn’t trained with them in days. Had barely spoken. And yet… she was here. That mattered.

Rhiannon noticed her first and didn’t say anything—just walked up to her and held out a waterskin with a soft, knowing smile. “You’ll need it, twin blade. Bodhi’s already bragging he’s faster than you now.”

Y/n gave a small huff, a ghost of a smile pulling at her lips as she took it. “He always was delusional.”

Bodhi grinned from a few paces away. “Hey! I resent that.”

Imogen elbowed him lightly. “Good. Means it’s true.”

Violet joined her side silently, tossing a throwing dagger into the air with casual ease before handing it to her. “Missed your aim, princess.”

Y/n took it with careful fingers, glancing at him. “I missed being needed.”

“Always needed,” she said firmly, and nudged her shoulder. “Always loved.”

Across the yard, Garrick was setting up the course with Quinn, both of them stealing glances at her. When she looked their way, Quinn gave her a cheeky salute, and Garrick winked, calling out, “Hope you’re not rusty, Gamlyn! I’ve been waiting to beat you for weeks!”

Xaden stood quietly near the weapons rack, not interfering. Not pushing. Just watching her with eyes so full of silent support it almost hurt.

Y/n inhaled deeply, rolled her shoulders back, and finally stepped forward onto the field.

“I’m not rusty,” she said, voice steadier now. “You all just got lazy without me.”

A round of playful groans, cheers, and laughter erupted around her, and just like that, the rhythm of the squad began to stitch itself back together. Not whole—not yet—but healing.

And Xaden, still silent, let the corner of his mouth lift ever so slightly.

A few weeks later, they were able to finally fly over to Ceaelyn.

The wind carried the scent of salt and smoke as their dragons circled low over the coast. From the sky, Y/n could see the damage—burned rooftops, broken fishing boats, crumbled stone walls. The once-colorful market square was now half-collapsed, and the beach looked faded without the children that used to run across its shores.

Her fingers gripped Tiamats’s scales tightly as the dragon descended. Xaden’s shadow fell beside hers as Sgaeyl landed silently nearby.

Y/n dismounted before Tiamat had even fully settled, boots crunching softly against the earth she hadn’t touched in over a year. Ridoc followed quietly, his expression unreadable, but his steps mirrored hers. Together, the Gamlyn twins walked toward the heart of the village.

It was quiet. Too quiet. But then—

A door creaked open. Another. And then a voice.

“…Y/n?”

She turned.

An older man—Master Elric, the baker who used to sneak her extra sweetbread when she was little—stood with wide, disbelieving eyes. He looked thinner now, grayer, but his eyes softened the moment they found hers.

“Stars above, it is you.”

The next moment was a blur. More doors opened. More faces emerged. Children peeked out from behind their mothers. And then—

“The Gamlyn twins have come home,” someone whispered.

And it spread.

Soon, hands reached for them—weathered, calloused, gentle. She was embraced by people they hadn’t seen since they were children. A woman with tears in her eyes placed a beaded bracelet in her hand—her grandmother’s, saved from the rubble. Another handed Ridoc a handful of seashells from the rebuilt shoreline. A boy clung to her leg, looking up at her with awe.

“You really fight the Venin?” he asked.

“We do,” Y/n said softly, brushing his hair back. “For you. For all of us.”

Behind her, Xaden watched in silence, eyes locked on the way the villagers held her, how they lit up just from her presence. She didn’t just belong here—she was hope here. She was the girl they remembered, and the warrior they now looked to.

Someone handed her a woven sash—one she had once worn during coastal festivals—and tied it gently around her waist.

“I thought we lost you,” the baker whispered, hugging her again.

“I thought I lost you,” Y/n replied, voice cracking as she leaned into him. “But I’m here. I’m still yours.”

And as Ridoc stood by her side, as Xaden approached and laced his fingers quietly with hers, she felt it.

Not closure.

But the start of healing.

After walking around some of the square, Y/n went to the beach, needing to check out something.

The sky was painted in muted oranges and purples as the sun dipped low over the horizon. The tide lapped gently against the shore, soft and steady, as if trying to erase the memories of fire and ash.

Y/n walked barefoot through the sand, Ridoc and the rest of the squad giving her space. Xaden trailed behind at a respectful distance, watching her with quiet eyes, knowing she needed this moment alone.

Her boots were discarded by the jagged rocks, and her toes curled into the familiar grain of sand. She walked down the shoreline, scanning the landscape with a heart full of hope and dread—until she saw it.

The tide pools.

Her favorite spot.

Her place for her mental shields.

Nestled between two craggy outcroppings of rock was a shallow, crescent-shaped dip in the stone where the sea always pooled, trapping tiny fish, star-shaped shells, and smooth stones. As children, she and Ridoc used to sit there for hours, pointing at the creatures, skipping stones, and pretending they were ocean royalty guarding a sacred cove.

It had survived.

She dropped to her knees at its edge, chest tightening as she stared down into the water—clear, gentle, untouched by the flames that had taken so much. Her reflection shimmered back at her, mingled with the sway of seaweed and darting silver flashes beneath the surface.

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her fingers brushing the water.

“I thought this would be gone,” she whispered.

She didn't hear Xaden’s footsteps, but she felt him when he sank down behind her. He didn’t speak—he just wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin gently on her shoulder. Together, they looked down at the little pool.

“So these are the famous tide pools,” he murmured.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn’t cry. She leaned back against his chest, her voice trembling. “I used to come here when things felt too big. When I needed quiet. It’s like… even the sea remembers me.”

Xaden pressed a kiss to her temple. “Of course it does. You’re unforgettable.”

A soft laugh escaped her lips, barely there. She laced her fingers with his over her stomach.

For the first time in weeks, Y/n didn’t feel like she was grieving something lost. She felt like she had rediscovered something precious—something no war could take from her.

A few weeks later...

The town still bore its scars — blackened stone, hollowed frames of houses, streets that once bustled now only stirred quietly with the wind. But life had clawed its way back. Flowers bloomed defiantly in cracked earth, new beams propped up old walls, and children laughed again in narrow alleyways. The scent of the sea mixed with fresh bread and salt-dried nets, weaving something alive into what had once felt like a ghost.

Y/n walked beside Xaden, her hand in his, proudly guiding him through the parts of the village that had risen from the ashes. Troops had come after she’d insisted—no, demanded—reconstruction aid, and with it, hope had trickled back into her coastal home. She’d stood before the council with a sharp tongue and fire in her eyes, declaring, "You expect loyalty from Navarrian citizens and yet abandon them in ruin? You forget I’m not just a cadet. I am the future duchess of Tyrrendor—and I don’t forget where I come from. Neither should you."

Now, as she strolled down the cobbled main road, Tyrrish silks in her braid and sea-colored earrings glinting in the sun, people looked up from their stalls and shops—and smiled.

But not at her.

At him.

Xaden’s shoulders stiffened slightly at the attention, but Y/n squeezed his hand and tugged him gently closer.

A baker stepped forward first, wiping flour from her hands. “So this is the brooding rider who stole our girl’s heart,” she said with a teasing glint in her eye.

Y/n smiled, but didn’t deny it.

An older man leaned on his cane, nodding once at Xaden with quiet approval. “The Gamlyn twins… they were always ours. She gave us pride. You… you’ve given her a reason to smile again.”

Another woman reached up and straightened a thread from Y/n’s silk ribbon, then looked at Xaden. “You hold her heart, boy. That’s not something we give lightly here.”

A chorus of agreements rippled from around the square. Children stared at the sword on his back in awe. A few of the elders clapped his shoulder as he passed. One even muttered something about how he “better stay good to her, or the whole coast would rise up against him.”

Xaden took it all in with silent grace, but Y/n could feel the way his fingers tightened around hers. She leaned closer, whispered, “This is how I felt in Aretia.”

He looked at her, gaze softening. “I didn’t think I’d ever be welcomed like this.”

She tilted her head. “You didn’t just win me, Xaden. You protected what I love. Of course they see you.”

He paused then, standing still in the center of the square as more people smiled and went back to work—comforted by the sight of the couple who had somehow weathered the war and still held each other close. The Gamlyn girl and the Tyrrish heir. Sea and shadow.

And for once, Xaden Riorson didn’t feel like a weapon.

He felt like home.

The sky had faded into soft indigo by the time they returned to the small inn overlooking the edge of the village—the one Y/n had claimed for their stay. From the window, the sea whispered to the shore below, and the air was filled with the scent of salt and night-blooming jasmine.

Y/n sat on the edge of the bed, loosening the silk tie from her braid, her expression soft and unreadable. Xaden stood by the window, arms folded, gaze fixed on the stars scattered over the sea. He hadn’t said much since they left the town square. Just held her hand a little tighter. Just glanced her way a little longer.

She looked over at him now, brushing a curl from her face. “You’ve been quiet.”

He turned his head slowly, meeting her eyes.

“I’ve never had a place… that saw me as more than my father’s shadow,” he said quietly. “Or a weapon to be used. Even in Aretia, I was the general’s son. A child to grieve after the Apostasy. But this? These people? They looked at me like… like I belong.”

“You do,” Y/n said without hesitation. “You belong with me. And I belong to them. So they’re yours too now.”

He let out a soft breath, walking over and kneeling in front of her, resting his head lightly against her knee. “You fought for them, for your village. You fought for me, for Tyrrendor. You fight every day, and somehow still smile, still braid silk into your hair, still light up every room you walk into.”

She ran her fingers through his hair gently, soothing. “They weren’t just welcoming you, Xaden. They were thanking you. For loving me.”

He looked up at her, something raw in his expression. “That’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Y/n swallowed hard, brushing her thumb over his cheek. “I’m glad you felt it. That you felt seen. Because you are. Not for what you can do. But for who you are.”

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her thigh, then rested his forehead there again, eyes closed. “Thank you. For bringing me here. For sharing this part of yourself with me.”

“You’ve shared your world with me too,” she whispered. “It only felt right.”

And in the quiet that followed, filled only with the sound of waves and the warmth between them, Xaden Riorson—tyrrish duke, rebel, rider, shadow wielder—let himself feel something he rarely gave into: peace.

Because being with Y/n meant he didn’t have to fight to be understood. He simply was.

A few days - Aretia - Riorson Estate

Y/n had just returned from training, her braid loose and tousled, the scent of salt and metal still clinging to her skin. Aretia was unusually calm—cool winds rolling in from the cliffs, quiet murmurs from the kitchens, the distant flap of wings as dragons settled into the ridge.

She opened the door to their shared room, expecting to find Xaden already halfway into a report or sharpening one of his obsidian daggers.

Instead, she froze in the doorway.

He stood by the window, back to her, dressed not in his usual black leathers but in a pirate like shirt—loose and linen-soft, dyed a rich ocean-blue with cream threadwork stitched along the collar and sleeves. Traditional wear from her home. The kind her father wore on rest days. The kind Ridoc would sometimes pull on in summer.

It took her a moment to breathe again.

Xaden turned slowly, his dark hair still damp from a recent wash, and the shirt somehow made him look softer… warmer. And yet just as dangerous.

“I know it’s not black,” he teased, one brow arched as he took in her stunned expression. “But I saw it on the last run to the coast. Picked it up without telling you.”

Her throat tightened. “You—you remembered?”

He crossed the room to her, every step calm, deliberate, and folded his arms around her waist. “Of course I did. I saw your face every time you looked at the old merchants, at the shirts in the stalls. I know what it meant to you.”

She blinked quickly, a tear threatening to fall. “You wore it.”

“I’m yours, aren’t I?” he said quietly. “And that place—that culture—is part of you. So now it’s part of me too.”

Y/n smiled, eyes glinting as she traced her fingers along the collar of the shirt. “You look like a coastal lord.”

He smirked. “Then I guess I’ll need my duchess to stand beside me.”

She kissed him before he could say another word, and in that moment, wrapped in sea-colored cloth and the weight of their shared histories, they found something deeper than words: understanding, belonging, and love that honored all their roots.

Author's note: I love having a complex multifaceted/multilayered overthinking but fierce and strong Y/n.

Taglist: @eepyfaerie @dreamdragonkadia @hiraethjules @nikfigueiredo @galaxystern08 @taleiaargenis @minidemont @poeticbookwormcat @eternallyrosyfire @shadowhuntyi @bubble300 @messageforthesmallestman @iheartshopping @lagrandeourse @readinf @barbreadsbooks @optimisticsoulstarfish @locatinginspo @lxnvmvrzx @im-a-weirdo-for-life

If you want be added to the taglist, leave a comment. <3

[httpuckdrop]

ashes – day 138

series masterlist

jack had your valentine's day planned out long before the day arrived. a cute little picnic out in the february sun, with all of your favorite snacks and possibly even some painting. but when the day finally arrived, you both woke up to a storm.

typical jack to not check the weather beforehand.

however, the day was far from ruined. instead, you had your picnic in jack's living room, spending the day listening to the raindrops against the windows and just enjoying each others' presence. jack eventually brought out his old photo albums from when he and his brothers were still kids – ones you had never seen before, because otherwise you would've been obsessing over them every day up until now.

"this is from luke's tenth birthday," jack said, pointing at a picture of his brother with his face stuffed full of cake. in the next one, a dalmatian was licking whipped cream off his face. "our dog, amber. not nearly as calm as you could think from just looking at her."

"she looks sweet, though," you commented, eyes flickering over another picture of amber fast asleep in jack's embrace.

"her looks betray her." jack shuffled a little closer to you on the couch, side of his head leaning against yours. "i've been thinking about getting a new one, actually."

"a dog?"

"no, a new brother." he hissed when your elbow thrust into his side. "maybe not a dalmatian specifically, but… i don't know. i've just thought about it."

the next page showed a few pictures of jack on a stage, sitting in front of a grand piano in a pretty suit. he can't have been more than 13, and your eyebrows rose at the sight. "a piano man, huh?"

he rolled his eyes. "mom forced me to take classes. i hated it at first, but then…" he shrugged. "i kept it up for five years, and it grew on me. it was kind of nice to have something else to focus on other than hockey."

you never could've guessed that he would have done something like that. jack was so sporty, a very typical jock boy – he seemed more likely to be the one making fun of the music nerds than be one himself.

even when you'd spent so much time with him, you realized that you still had so much to learn about him; so many new sides to discover, so many layers to unravel.

frightening? no, exciting.

"i remember this one time when i was fourteen… quinn and luke were at some friend's house, so i was the only child at home. and our parents were fighting." your gaze fell to his hand which was resting all lonely on his thigh, so you took it in yours. "they were, like, yelling and everything. and i couldn't do anything about it. so i just sat down at the piano at home, and… played." you could feel the shakiness in the deep breath he took, but you didn't say anything, instead settling for a squeeze of his hand. "i think i did it to drown out the sound. it was the only thing i could control."

of course. his need for stability and to always be in control was deeply rooted in him. it made so much sense being put in perspective with your relationship; he craved the stability of knowing you're there with him and he hated the way you pulled away, leaving him unsure.

"what made you quit?" you hummed after a few long moments of silence.

"hockey was getting more serious… and the guys on the team didn't really think it was cool to spend my free time learning how to play classical pieces."

"i'm sure you still remember something," you said, head resting on his shoulder. "you should play for me sometime."

"i promise." he kissed the top of your head before flipping over to the last page of the book, revealing even more pictures of little jack – this time with a big, red bruise on the side of his cheek and boxing gloves covering his hands. "oh, right. i used to box."

"oh, you were a little fighter, huh?" you joked. "how come?"

"hockey wasn't enough. i wanted to be physical off the ice, too." his tone was lighthearted, yet there was a hint of sincerity in it. "something about it made me feel… invincible, you know? knowing that i could take a hit and still stand to deliver one of my own."

"uh uh. sounds totally sane."

he reached up to flick your forehead with his fingers, before giving your hand a gentle squeeze as an apology. "i guess, as a kid, i felt… powerless? a lot of the time. especially when my parents argued. and boxing helped with that," he said, and you could feel him nodding along to his words. "once, my dad came home from a night out with a black eye, and i've never felt so useless. i wanted to be able to fight back for him. or myself. or anyone else who needs it."

you want to protect them, you thought to yourself. his protective instinct was clear as day – even in the way he couldn't not be there for you, even when you said you didn't need a relationship or someone to take care of you.

he didn't fight just to fight. he fought to protect. it was the same thing with his fight at the first game of his you attended; he punched that rangers player to protect his teammate, not because he wanted to injure him.

"my coaches told me that i had to quit once i joined the ntdp, though. it made sense, since i never thought i'd have to use it in real life," jack said with a shrug. "so i didn't argue. but, in some twisted way, boxing made me less physical on the ice. like i had an outlet, somewhere to just let it all go, so i could just skate away from arguments on the ice."

"you're a good man, jack hughes," you said, leaning slightly to the side so that you could look up at him, glistening eyes studying his features. "you know that, right?"

he paused for a few moments, merely breathing as his gaze fell on you. "i'm good because of you. you make me want to be good."

[toasttt11]

blog recommendations? I want your fav blogs if possible!

of course! i apologize how long this took i’ve been busy! i could add a lot more if you want more!

@luke-hughes43 always meg! i’m very biased but some of my favorite au’s ever and is the best at doing insta post !

@babyboyjude one of my favorite accounts and i always enjoy reading her fics, she does some hockey, f1 and soccer fics if you are interested !

@rowdyluv cay is absolutely lovely and her writing is incredible!!! she mostly writes for jack, luke and quinn but sprinkles with a few more players

@wintfleur roro!!! love love her au’s and fics so much! a very beautiful writer and i enjoy her works! she also writes for hockey and f1!

@fantillisgirl reyyyyy! very good fics and au’s and writes for a lot of different hockey players! loves to take requests as well!

@httpuckdrop she has one of my all time favorite series so i definitely recommend reading ashes! a very sweet and amazing writer, she writes for hockey and has another account for f1 where she writes for f1

@pixiebratz anaaaaa! amazing au’s for so many different sports and shows so i definitely recommend! has some really fun fics and blurbs !

@laceyhearts sweet emma! my favorite blackhawk fan! she writes mostly for hockey and wnba but sprinkles in a few other sports as well! has a lot of fics as well au’s for a lot of different players ! some really amazing fics to reread!

@ice-man-goes-bwoah faith faith faith! i adore all of her fics ! has so many f1 fics and so many sinner fics love them so much! proud to be the one who made her write a hockey fic

@mikkomacko MOB NICO!!!! love love love love love her au’s so much literally one of my favorite tumblr notifications! alpha nico too literally incredible!

@sweetdispatch v!!!! outstanding writing and some amazing fics for quite a lot of different hockey players and always makes her cellys so fun and absolutely adorable

@wineauntie has a luke hughes + john marino au that is so so incredible!! so many hughes fics that are always perfect! also has a few platonic fics that i really enjoy!

@star2fishmeg literally the luke hughes girl has so much for him as well as other players but if you love luke you will adore her page just as i do!

@hischiershoe my favorite nico and kovy girl ! makes really good social media fics and amazing fics especially nico fics!!

@bitchinbarzal incredible au’s! does a lot of song fics that are so fun to read even the angst ones…. really all of her posts are great to read

@theemporium i don’t think there is anything posted from her that is bad ! i love her nico fics especially honey and nico!!

@isaadore isa!!!!! some of my favorite connor bedard fics are hers! love her fics so much even if i can’t always read all of her angst because it’s to painful!

+ so many more!!!

[honeysghost]

listening to the inversion again. when milo hands angel david's jacket i imagine them standing there frozen in place the entire time, burying their face in it because it still smelled like him, clinging to it with a death grip like it was the only thing that mattered, unable to focus on anything else until they saw him again

i kind of wish we lingered on the after effects of the inversion a little longer. especially with the mates, you know?

their trauma, not knowing if their partner is okay—hearing all this talk of death and wondering if it's one of them, is hardly talked about.

angel picking up a habit of taking david's sweatshirts when he isn't home because they smell like him, waiting up for him on late nights because they can't sleep until they know he's home safe

babe being more patient with asher, talking him to sleep on most nights (i hc they were a heavy sleeper until the inversion happened and now they wake up every time ash twitches in his sleep, worried something is wrong. even more after the summit)

sweetheart being scared to death of losing milo, clinging to him just a little tighter, more frequent panic attacks, being unable to get the image of milo when he made the ward collapse, how broken he looked after, out of their head

darlin' hearing what was happening and dropping everything to be there... do you think it reminded them of quinn, even just a little? do you think they thought of their friend, remembered what it felt like to be that terrified of losing them, that angry, thinking of the pack, their friends, their family, sam and wondering if they could make it through that again

[phyllocnistis]

Summerween

A group of friends, mostly butch, gather together for a Summerween party thrown by one of the friend’s free-use girlfriend, Casey. What was supposed to be a butch-femme fuckfest, the weekend quickly deteriorates into butch4butch madness on the first night. Lots and lots of POV switches in this one, though Casey is my most recurring in this piece. If you’d like more of these characters, I have another piece titled “The Grand Prize” that features the same cast at the poker game referenced in this piece.

This piece has free-use, biting, anal, double penetration, light coercion, and voyeurism.

Cast:

Casey- she/her, femme

Shay- she/they, butch

Quinn- they/them, butch

Ash- she/her, butch

Jo- she/her, butch

Sage- he/him, butch

Casey's POV:

Music thrummed through the air as you put the remaining few decorations up, practically vibrating with excitement to see your guests. Orange and black streamers hung from doorways, campy purple and green striped signs covered windows and walls, and there were plenty of fake candles set for ambience. After meeting everyone at Shay's poker game a few months ago, you’d been eager and excited to host them again for round two. You'd talked about it with Shay, expressing how lovely they'd all made you feel last time and how much you'd enjoyed it, quickly learning it was equally as enjoyable for her. Once everyone had a chance to cool off and recollect themselves after that night, you set off on making invites for your next big get together; a Summerween bash at a big, secluded cabin right outside of town. You hoped the privacy of the place would let everyone feel secure enough to let loose and go wild. As you hung the final toy bat on the ceiling, the door rang.

You skipped gleefully towards the door, beating Shay to it by just a moment. You grabbed the handle and eagerly wrenched it open to find a tall, masked figure standing there. Though the outfit was simple; a black, ribbed tank top, dark cargo pants and heavy combat boots, the iconic "ghostface" mask was enough to spark a laugh from you.

"Eeeee! Are you Billy or Stu?!" You jumped up and down, consciously making your tits bounce in hopes that somewhere beneath the dark mask, your suitor was staring.

"Neither, I'm afraid," they said, pulling the mask from their head. Ash! Dark, shaggy hair fell just below her gold-pierced ears and she shot you a sparkly smirk, reaching forward for a hug. You plunged yourself forward and threw your arms around her neck, feeling the warmth of her hands against the small of your back.

Pulling yourself off of her, you stepped back and invited her inside, grinning wildly at Shay as they welcomed Ash into the cabin. You checked the time and watched with delight as Shay directed Ash around the cabin and showed her all the rooms and features. You couldn't help but stare at the muscles in Ash’s forearms, dreaming of how they might use them tonight.

After the poker game and during the discussion about it that followed, it came to light that not only had Casey had plenty of fun bottoming, but Shay had a wonderful time too and wanted to play a little more with the others. The thought made you dizzy... all those muscles wrapped up in one another.. the growling and panting.. You could see it so perfectly in your mind and you wanted to watch so bad. Adjusting your white miniskirt, you looked up just in time to see the door crack open and a familiar figure step through.

Even through the white, plastic "Jason" mask, you could immediately tell that the broad-shouldered and dark clothed beauty in front of you was Jo. You had spent countless hours thinking about Jo since the poker game; the way she called you a "good girl," the way her fat girlcock stretched you out, the way she effortlessly threw you around like a rag-doll.. After going home that night, even Shay made a comment about how hard the two of you had gone at it. Since then, you'd been thinking of her, hopeful you'd get a chance to show her how good you could really be but also desperate to see what she did to others.

"Diiiid we find the right place?" she said, her voice deep and joyful. She stepped inside and behind her, Sage's wide frame came into view. He wore a red and white, pleated cheer skirt and halter top, reminiscent of the costumes from a B- grade camp film, though his thick, hairy thighs sticking out of the skirt gave him a wildly sexy edge. Huge trap muscles flexed against the halter top as the two walked in together.

Shay and Ash were back from their tour so after giving a long, tight hug to both Jo and Sage, you let them step past you and towards the rest of the house. Your thighs squeezed together tightly, no doubt trying to stifle the growing wetness in your panties. When the group returned to the living room, Sage was only wearing the skirt, their flat, bare chest exposed and flaunted. The others had stripped their masks, tossing them to the side to chat and crack beers. Looking out at them, you couldn't tell if you were more excited to watch them all or to let them use you. You excused yourself quietly, nodding to the group and turning to find your room.

You had patiently waited to put the rest of your own costume on and now that most of the group was here, you slipped silently into the log cabin room and found it laid out on your bed. It was clever, you thought, at least for the occasion. You fixed your tiny, white miniskirt and admired how you looked in the mirror, before pulling off your t-shirt and turning back to the bed. Unclasping the bra you currently wore, you let your breasts fall out and bounce before pulling a lacy, white bra over them again. It was scant, sure, but you were here tonight to fully give yourself over to the group outside your door.. and that started by dressing as pretty and sexy as possible for them.

Adding the final touches to your costume, you put on a small headband with a hovering, white halo on it and pulled on a tiny pair of white, feathery wings. Then, you turned and found a pair of white pumps, sliding them on comfortably. The last piece of your costume’s "punchline," so to speak, was a small, blue and black hand timer on a shitty nylon string. You picked it up off a desk nearby and pulled it over your neck, hopeful your costume would get some laughs.

Shay’s POV:

Just as Casey excused herself to get dressed, a small knock on the door peaked your ears. Opening it after just a moment, you found your good friend, Quinn, wearing a huge smile and a black and red cape with a flowing white shirt underneath. Tiny black, painted fangs gave away the costume and you couldn't help but notice how sexy the cape's silhouette made them look. You returned the smile and offered them a hug, ushering them inside to a cacophony of yells and whistles from the others.

The gang was settling in nicely. Mingling without the structure of a poker game was nice and felt more casual. You all sat in a sort of broken circle in the cabin’s comfortable chairs, a small coffee table sat squarely in the middle. When the bedroom door finally clicked again, Casey stepped back out into the room and a muted hush fell over everyone as they all noticed how fucking delectable she looked. Quinn spoke first.

"Wow, Case. Really, holy shit," they stumbled out, clearly lost for words. "Are you a... ref angel?" The group laughed, amused by their joke. Sage retorted, leaning back into his chair with their legs spread wide beneath the skirt.

"She's obviously a famous deceased sports coach." He spoke so matter of factly that it garnered an even bigger audience reaction and with it, Casey stepped into the middle of the circle and took a seat on the coffee table, rolling her eyes. She leaned back a little, legs crossed at the knee, and when the group finally stopped laughing and joking, she spoke.

"I'm seven minutes of heaven, duh."

The whole room gasped and laughed, suddenly understanding the costume and its implications. Casey loved being free-use, especially for your friends, and you thought the costume reflected that nicely. It was a clever costume and ever since she'd suggested it, you'd been excited to see her in it. Plus, you had been dreaming of your friend's reaction for days now and were not disappointed by their adoration and appreciation of your girlfriend. They were all practically drooling over her and the sight made you drool, too.

Sage extended a hand and helped Casey off the table, quickly swinging her up into a bridal carry. For a brief second, her leg caught on the cheer skirt he wore and the whole room got a clear shot of the defined packer in his boxer shorts. Your chest tightened at the sight but before you could do anything, Sage was whisking Casey away into another room while she clung to his bare chest, waving to the group with a huge smile.

Sage's POV:

You'd thought it very kind of Casey to share herself like this, especially considering how well-mannered and ready to please she was. She stared up at you with bright and excited eyes as you carried her into a bedroom, unwilling to wait any longer for your chance with her. At the poker game, you'd tasted how sweet she was and had a chance to overwhelm her with your mouth. You'd loved the sound of her screams and the way she'd squirmed around under your grip and since then, you hadn't stopped thinking about her. You hadn't stopped thinking of plowing her. You hadn't stopped thinking of plowing all of them.

Closing the door behind you, you playfully tossed her onto the bed. She giggled as she flipped over and crawled towards you on all fours, her miniskirt riding up on her hips, exposing her matching lace panties. Of course she was matching, she was always so put together and coordinated, you should've known to expect that by now. You couldn't wait to ruin her.

Casey's POV:

As you crawled towards him, Sage pulled his cheer skirt up over his lower stomach, hiding the happy trail that peeked out over it. He stared down at you with intent like a predator watching its prey as you pressed your face against his packer. Mouth open, you felt the soft bulge of him through your mouth and watched as his head fell back in pleasure. Obviously sure of what he wanted, it wasn't long before his hands ran through your hair and firmly gripped your head, pressing your face harder against his crotch. Spit leaked from your mouth and onto his boxers and the two of you panted and squirmed together, playful but impatient.

He pulled you up by your hair and kissed you roughly, biting your lip and neck as his hands explored you. They were so much bigger than yours, bigger than Shay's even, and they felt incredible gripping your hips and thighs. His lips dragged across your collarbones and chest and you couldn't stop yourself from moaning softly, sure the others would hear sooner or later. Hands unclasped your bra from behind and your tits fell out and straight into his face. He left small kisses and bite marks all over your breasts as he held you tightly against him with thick, tattooed arms. Moving around to the edge of the bed, he sat down and pulled you into his lap, your legs spread out over his. You could feel the sensation of lacy fabric rubbing against your pussy lips, but the feeling of being pressed against him, his soft packer on your ass, his hands cupping you, it almost sent you over the edge.

His hands wrapped around you again and squeezed your tits through your bra as you began to unconsciously grind into him. He let out a groan right into your ear and your head fell back onto his shoulder, too heavy to hold up on your own right now. He took this opportunity and softly nibbled on your earlobe while pinching your already tender nipples. This pulled the first real moan out of you. Like a sleeper agent, the sound of you moaning out activated something inside of Sage and he no longer could contain himself.

His long arms had no problem reaching down to your cunt. With one arm wrapped around your waist and the other reaching towards your panties, you could feel your pussy twitching and wondered if he could, too. Just then, a slap shocked you and for the first time tonight you could really feel how badly you needed him.

"Aww, you're already this wet for me, Casey? How sweet."

You groaned at the sound of his deep voice, wishing he would just pull your panties aside and fuck you already. He didn't, though, only continued gently slapping your throbbing clit through the fabric. He ran his finger up and down the seams of your underwear, pressing more firmly against the lace in some spots without actually giving you the satisfaction of touching your skin. You squirmed in his lap, flexing your hips to try and get his fingers closer to you, but he caught on immediately and moved his hand away each time. You let out small huffs and pouts and listened to Sage’s breath growing heavier. After a while, you couldn't take it anymore. Sage dragged his fingers down the edges of your panties, and barely broke the surface, touching your lips slowly and gently. You needed more of him.

You managed to wriggle your way free of his grasp and turn around to face him, your legs now wrapped around his in the opposite direction. Sitting back onto his lap, you let his strong arms steady you as you lowered yourself onto his bulge, eager to tease him now. You felt the sensational feeling of two layers of fabric sliding off one another as you grinded on his lap, each thrust pressing the lace of your panties further into your clit.

"Fuck, Case.." Sage groaned as you placed a knee in between his legs and the other next to him. You could feel your cunt throbbing against his bare leg so you took a chance and rubbed your swollen clit against him, now roughly handling him by his hair. You pulled his head back and exposed his neck, biting his ear and running your tongue down the length of his jawline. You planted kisses down the most sensitive parts of his throat before letting your teeth sink into his chest and shoulders. He was loud as he called out, grunting and panting all while helping direct your hips with his hands. You thought briefly of what the group outside was doing. Were they listening? Were they having their own fun?

You felt your knee press against his boxers and he let out another small moan, this time wrapping his arms tightly around you and pressing his face into your tits while unclasping your bra from behind. Slowly, he began to work up a rhythm with his leg, bouncing it under you. Your tits bounced in his face and you could tell it was driving him crazy. It was driving you crazy. Your hole was practically aching at this point, almost like you could already feel his cock in you, but you kept playing his game, refusing to move the fabric of your panties.

Before you knew it, the feeling of his hands on your skin and the sight of his strong, yet gentle, arms was too much. His leg shook beneath you like a vibrating saddle. Moments later, the two of you were collapsing onto the bed, both chests heaving, as you came in your panties and on his leg. He put a thumb on your chin and kissed you again, speaking softly directly into your ear.

"You're such a good girl."

The words made you melt ever further, sliding off of his shoulders and down his chest. It took you a moment to gather yourself as he held you, your breath heavy and heart pounding. Finally though, you looked back up to him, chewing your lip.

"Thank you, sir. I'm not done with you, yet.." you said, trailing off. Your cunt was quaking, your legs were weak, and your throat was dry. You needed to find a drink, sure, but the curiosity about what was going on in the living room was eating at you. Planting one last kiss on his lips, you pulled yourself off of Sage, adjusted your mini skirt to somewhat cover yourself and walked towards the door, still topless. Creaking it open, you stepped forward, tits bouncing as you walked. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sage fall back onto the bed, hands on his head in exasperated pleasure.

Ash's POV:

Silence had fallen over the room as Sage carried Casey out. You wanted to watch them, of course, but you'd had your eye on Quinn since they got here. Their costume was subtle and the tiny vampire fangs made you wish they’d sink their teeth into your neck. Sensing the lull in conversation, you approached them cautiously, turning around to lean against the table they stood near.

"Heh, I like your cape," you said, giggling. You didn’t know them well, but had spoken a few times since the poker game and even gotten a drink once.

"Oh, yeah? You aren't sscaaaarrreeddd?" They said, raising their voice comically to add a "spooky” effect.

"Mmm, no,” you retorted, rolling your eyes. They chuckled, glancing up at you before quickly lunging towards your neck. Their teeth bit down on your earlobe and you let out a gasp, caught off guard. Whispering in your ear, their words sent shivers down your spine.

"Not even now?"

Shay's POV:

You were so focused on Jo's stories that you didn't even notice Ash and Quinn until they started getting loud. Turning away from your conversation, the two of you saw Ash and Quinn furiously kissing as Quinn straddled Ash's lap, cape covering them both like a heavy blanket. Small moans escaped both of them and they must have noticed you were watching, because they stopped briefly and looked up.

"Well? Aren't y'all gonna try it?"

The thought made you shake. You'd watched how hard Jo fucked Casey last time, seen how tight of a fit her fat cock was. And still? You couldn't help yourself. You stifled a smile while adjusting your legs on the couch to scoot towards her, eager to play a little. She smirked at the sight, not bothering to stifle her smile. A growing mass under her pants confirmed she was feeling the same way and with that, she pulled you onto her lap facing her. The jolt of being onto her made you gasp and giggle a little. You’d never been handled like this. You settled onto her and as you stared down at her, you felt her growing girlcock pressed against her pants and teasing you.

Her kiss was intoxicating. Huge, fat and muscular arms wrapped around your hips as you leaned into her, tilting her chin up with your pointer finger. Her mouth was open just a bit, set in an "ah" shape with slightly upturned corners like a smile was trying to overcome her, and her eyes looked drunk on lust as she stared up at you. It was harder to focus as she began to kiss you in places that were not your mouth. She left trails of fingerprints and spit across your neck and shoulders and you could feel your hands shaking from excitement and adrenaline as you ran your fingers from her shoulder to her wrist. Casey had always been so submissive, which you loved of course, but you'd almost forgotten what it felt like to give up control. You let Jo take complete and total control of you, eager to serve her in whatever way she wanted most.

She was gentle. She didn't pressure you or make you feel nervous. She was so focused on touching you and exploring you that you were sure you were the only two people in the world. This only made you feel more... feral. More needy. She was soft and sweet as she caressed your hips and thighs. Your costume was lackluster this year, paling in comparison to Casey's. You'd opted for a simple basketball jersey and shorts, the latter of which was scrunched up on Jo's lap at the moment. Her hands ran up your thighs under your shorts and tugged at your boxers. You felt your breath catch in your throat and closed your eyes, trying to center yourself. You could hear Quinn's soft moans from across the room, Jo's slow and measured breathing, and distant moans from the other room. You focused in on Jo and opened your eyes to find her staring back at you kindly. You couldn't help but feel her throbbing bulge twitching against you and knew she had to be as worked up as you were.

She helped you stay steady as you lowered yourself off of her and onto your knees. Smugly, she stared down at you and reached behind her head and pulled at her shirt, thick tricep muscles straining against her skin as she did. Her shirt popped off her shoulders and neck and she tossed it aside, leaving her sports bra untouched. You took this moment to take your own shirt off, but followed suit in leaving the bra. Staring up at her with excitement, you helped her fiddle with the buckle on her jeans. The sound of metal clinking and Quinn moaning made you dizzy but you collected yourself and focused. She raised herself up a bit and tugged at her jeans and boxers and you took the hint, pulling them off her legs. You tossed them aside and returned your attention to the veiny, swollen girldick in front of you waiting to be drained.

You wrapped your hand firmly around the base of her shaft, feeling the oozing precum seep onto your hand as you did. Her head fell back before your mouth even touched her, but even still, you wrapped your lips around the aching, throbbing tip and began to swirl your tongue around it. You let your hand pull at the length, drool dripping down from your mouth, and she let out a deep, "Fuck." You tightened your squeeze and pushed her as far into your throat as you could, eventually pulling your hand away to steady yourself. You hovered over her and sunk her length into your throat, gagging on the sheer size over and over again. You bobbed your head up and down, moaning on her cock as you felt your own pussy growing in wetness.

Strong hands wrapped around your ponytail and held your head in place as she bucked up into you, fucking your throat like a toy. You had to restrain yourself, so pleased that she was using you like this. You spent several moments suckling her balls, squeezing them together to eat her out. Breaking your "submissive" streak, you lifted Jo's legs and pressed them to her ears, exposing her asshole. She looked so cute and helpless folded up like that, so you dove right back in as she held her ankles, eating out and squeezing her balls before spitting in her asshole. Your tongue collided with her and you began licking broadly and pointedly, your hand tucked behind her leg and firmly wrapped around her cock. You slurped and sucked on her ass as you gently stroked and tugged on her, each of her moans filling your ears and mind completely. Eventually, she was ready to take control again and lowered her legs.

It was a little bit of a blur as the two of you switched spots. Your boxers and shorts fell to the floor and she threw you softly against the couch, lifting one of your legs to your ear. You could feel a sticky wetness as your lips pulled apart, hungry for her. She made eye contact with you as she sucked two of her fingers before placing them at your quivering slit. Plunging them in, you let out a moan before you could stop it.

"Please, Jo, I need more, please. Please?" You begged. It felt odd begging, but so totally right.

She didn't hesitate. Pulling her fingers out, she stuck them in your mouth and you licked and sucked them, getting every last bit of yourself off of her. At the same time, she pressed the swollen, wet tip of her cock at the slit of your hole and your head fell back in anticipation of her size. Taking her time at first, she slowly worked up a steady speed using your leg for leverage. The girthy cock plunged deeply in and out of you until you were shaking, nearly crying. You noticed Quinn and Ash had stopped their own interaction to watch you, basically drooling at this point. You felt your cunt stretching and clit throbbing with each pulse, small moans escaping your mouth when she hit the right spot.

Lights flashed over your eyes and your skin ran hot as you approached a climax. Jo panted above you, her face focused and eyes dilated. Each rough stroke sent you closer and closer to the edge. Finally, like a long awaited appointment, you felt your legs shaking and your chest heaving as Jo hastily pulled her cock out, warm cum spurting onto your pussy. She collapsed onto you, hard cock pressed against your destroyed and quivering cunt. You were so caught up in clinging to her during the mutual orgasm that when you looked around the room after, you were surprised to see not only Quinn and Ash still watching in awe, but now Casey sat quietly staring with intrigue, lust, and curiosity.

Casey's POV:

You were unused to seeing Shay bottom, mostly due to your own bottom tendencies, but watching Jo take control and get her way, it was easy to see why Shay was enjoying themself. Your cunt tightened at sight, not jealous of Shay, but definitely eager to have your own fill.

"Thank you," Shay giggled, "That was fun."

Jo chuckled in return and nodded, standing to go find a towel.

"It was, wasn't it?" She said, smirking and returning to clean up your partner. Quinn stifled a laugh, Ash having left to gather some of their things. A door further in the house could be heard closing and you turned to find Sage, chest still barren and skirt still on, but now you could see long, black straps hanging off his hips under the red pleats and knew that he was ready to play more.

Ash crossed back into the room, her pants gone and boxers scrunched up by a strap. Your heartbeat quickened as you stared at the length of it as she walked. Quinn clocked her right away, their eyes widening and legs shifting. You felt almost invisible, like a fly on the wall. It was a pleasant feeling. You enjoyed watching everyone jerk each other off and fuck their friends. Just as you thought you might fade into nothing, a gentle hand touched your knee. When you looked up, it was Jo.

She was bent over so far you could see down her sports bra. You had to force yourself to pull your eyes from her chest to her face.

"Come on," she said confidently. Without hesitation, you stood up and crossed the room with her, grinning when she pulled you into her lap by your hips. Beside her was Shay, cheeks red and all smiles. You kept your legs closed until Jo couldn't take it and spread you open. Shay took one of your legs in their lap and the three of you were wrapped up in a pretzel of limbs as the two of them softly caressed you.

You still had your panties on and Jo was playing the same games Sage had been; teasing you outside of the lace but never touching you too much. You thought you might lose it but just before you could, your attention was caught by Sage stepping over to Ash and Quinn.

Quinn's POV:

So far, the weekend had been off to a better start than you could have imagined. You'd hoped to get to please Casey again, but it was shaping up to be a little more of a butches weekend. Even still, you noticed Case watching you with dark eyes from across the room, legs spread while Jo and Shay teased her through her underwear. Replacing your vision with an equally as pleasing sight, Ash stepped in front of you with a thick, dangling strap on hanging from her legs. You stared up at her for only a few seconds until Sage appeared next to her, his arms crossed and expression smug.

They filled you with so much excitement. Sage pulled you up onto your feet and slapped your cunt through the fabric as his hands pulled your head up by your hair. You let out a small gasp, eyes rolled back and unfocused. When you opened them again, Ash was underneath you rubbing lube over the shaft of her toy.

"Where's your holiday spirit, Ash?" Jo's voice was gruff and playful from across the room.

"Good question," Sage remarked.

"Ahhh, you're right," Ash answered, reaching over for her ghostface mask. Pulling it over her head, she put her hands on your hips and squeezed your stomach and thighs. Stiffening your legs, you felt Sage pulling at your briefs, desperate to pull them off. Glancing over, Casey was still watching intently. You could barely see the whites of Ash's eyes through the mask, but you had to admit it was hot. The mask fell over her neck and meshed with her tank top, leaving only toned and muscular arms showing. Sage helped move you, positioning you right over the tip of the toy.

Ash's POV:

Quinn's eyes widened as you touched them. Though it was a little darker in the mask, you could see two small dots on the side of their exposed neck. Fitting. Sage stood behind them, confidently and firmly moving Quinn right where they needed to be. Their arms gripped onto the chair behind you and you watched their face melt in pleasure as they slid down the length of your strap, settling deeply onto it. Sage was just as intrigued, watching diligently from above before positioning himself behind Quinn once again.

The sensation of hairy legs rubbing together began to blend and you could no longer tell whose limbs belonged to who. Instead, you knew only of the seductive soundtrack of pants and growls, the warm and slick feeling of Quinny's tight core, and the holiness of it all. Letting your head fall back, you let the sensation of Quinn rocking their hips on your lap lull you into a dreamlike state, almost like you were high. A pressure on your legs alerted you to Sage's growing hunger.

"Sage, it's.. I think it's too much," Quinn pleaded, "It's too big." Their words were obviously pointed at Sage but they stared down at you with a euphoric and desperate look in their eyes.

"Ahh, that's not true, bud! I know you can take it," Sage said casually. Quinn let themselves fall onto your lap and you wrapped your hands around their hips, pulling their cheeks open wider with your hands. Sage’s face disappeared for a moment and you heard a spitting sound before Quinn gasped.

"That's better. Thanks, Ash." Sage said, smirking at you. You felt Quinn's teeth sink into your shoulder hard as Sage pressed the head of his toy into their ass. Slowly, over several strained seconds, the length of Sage's toy was pumped into Quinn and you could feel the warmth and muscles of Sage's legs pressed against your own. Quinn’s breathing sped up and their core shook, so you steadied them and began to slowly buck into them again.

Sage’s POV:

Everything happening in the room made you tense up. You could feel the hot slick wetness in between your legs as the base of your strap pushed into Quinn. They were taking it like a champ, truly, and their grunts and moans were so hot you thought your legs might give out. Their hands firmly gripping Ash's biceps and the ghostface mask excited you, made you more eager to fuck them. You pressed on, plunging faster in and out of Quinny now.

You had to admit you were a little jealous of Jo.. Casey was in her lap and you could hear the sounds her pussy was making as she grinded achingly slow across Jo's semi-hard cock. You knew there was no reason to be jealous, Casey was a pleaser and if you wanted more after this, she'd be sure to give it to you. Now that you thought about it, you might actually have been jealous of Casey.. You couldn't help yourself from letting your mind wander into the depths, curious about what Jo's girlcock would feel like against your own soaking, butch cunt.

While it felt a little sleazy thinking of someone else while fucking Quinn, their loud and shaking orgasm definitely pulled you back to reality. You could practically feel their asshole clenching around your toy and somehow, though both were silicone, you could feel the tip of Ash's cock pulsing against your own inside of Quinny. They screamed and sat up, the perfect opportunity for you to grab another fist full of their hair and a firm grip on their shoulder. You bucked and fucked them harder than you had all night and through the nylon straps around your hips and the tensing of Quinn and Ash's muscles, you felt yourself cum as well, legs shaky and uneasy as you pulled the toy from their ass.

Casey's POV:

Something about the semi-rigidity of Jo's used cock made you absolutely feral. You could feel only wetness between the two of you, though you weren't able to differentiate the pre-cum oozing from Jo or the slick juices seeping from your own hot pussy. You sat in her lap and the two of you fit almost like a puzzle. Rutting against her, you slowly worked your hips and let your pussy slide up and down against her length. You could feel her shuddering breaths from behind you as she was clearly overstimulated. Feeling generous, you sat still for a moment, giving her just a moment of peace and calm before once again rubbing your swollen clit against the head of her dick.

"Fuck, Case," she breathed through clenched teeth, hands tightening around your stomach. Before you could answer, Quinn was screaming out in pleasure and your attention was stolen. Sage was behind them, furiously and mercilessly plowing into them. You could see the full length of his strap pulsing in and out of Quinn's ass and the vibratory thrusting from Ash beneath. The two sandwiched them in a circle of pleasure and pain, spreading and fucking Quinn senseless.

You hadn't noticed your still hips until now. You'd been so focused on watching, you finally let out a breath you weren't trying to hold. Something hot gently sputtered against your clit, reeling you back in. Jo's legs were tight underneath you and you could tell she was desperately trying to keep you on her lap, but the suffocating wet sensation of your pussy lips around her head was too much for her and she was cumming again, though this time it oozed down her twitching shaft and onto both of your legs. Using sheer strength, she lifted you gently and placed you next to her on the couch, huffing and panting as she did. Shay was there to receive you, immediately driving their hand against your messy cunt to continue teasing you.

You washed Sage pull out of Quinn and saw the thick, lengthy strap fall beneath his skirt again and hoped you'd get one more chance with him tonight. As Shay's fingers began to slow and Ash helped Quinn to the bathroom to clean up, you figured it was a fine enough lull in conversation to excuse yourself. You gave Shay a kiss on the lips and a wink before standing and exiting to the kitchen.

Preheating the oven, you pulled some premade pizzas from the fridge and unwrapped them, placing them on a rack before turning back to the fridge. As you turned, Sage's tall body startled you. You felt your pussy clench as he stared at you, approaching slowly. You could feel your nipples harden as you looked at the tip of the strap dangling beneath the skirt. You felt your pussy clench and without hesitation, turned around to put your hands on the counter, eager to give yourself over to him.

You spread your legs and felt the sticky leftover cum in your pussy as your lips pulled from one another. You steadied yourself and bent over, opening all of your holes up to Sage.

"I knew you were a good girl," he said, approaching you from behind. “I told you I wasn’t done with you yet,” What started as a small pressure against your asshole quickly deteriorated into a long, fat strap on slamming into your asshole and wrecking you. Sage held your hands behind your back and your exposed tits bounced as he pumped into you, strap slippery with lube. His dick hit all the right spots and your earlier encounters replayed in your mind. He pressed the strap all the way into you and moaned deeply into your ear, sealing your case. You felt hot liquid exploding from your pussy and onto both of your legs as you squirted all over Sage and his dick. He moaned and pulsed into harder, your legs weakening beneath you by the second. You struggled to stand, but Sage noticed and steadied you so he could pull the strap out of your ass painfully slowly.

With perfect timing, the over dinged, signaling it was ready. Sage took care of the pizza while you gathered yourself, your cunt and ass still sensitive and twitching with every movement. Shay walked in and joined the two of you, assisting with gathering drinks and snacks for the rest of the night. You finally felt yourself begin to relax, confident this was a good start to the weekend, as the rest of the group slowly shuffled in, giggling and drunk on lust.

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

the world (it burns through me)

Chapter 31: Darlin'

Ao3 | 2.7k Words | Darlin's POV

it was always going to end this way.

TW: kidnapping, torture, binding and gags, cuts, blood and injury, suicidal intent, homicidal intent, fire, arson.

You knew that, eventually, David would make you go home. You had stayed at the hospital far past your own release, hovering over Little Shaw as they healed day by day. They were tough, you had to admit, but the effects of the fire were unlikely to waver for a good long while. 

The circulation in their arms had been cut off for much too long, and the incisions that had to be cut to relieve the pressure in them were long and difficult to heal. The smoke inhalation had damaged their throat and lungs, meaning that, beyond a few gasped words at a time, they couldn’t speak. No talking. No writing. No drawing. Little Shaw was relegated to their hospital bed and told simply to stay still and heal. Little Shaw, who you had never seen be properly still since meeting them. 

It was your fault. The least you could do was keep them company through all of it. 

Two weeks lounging around their hospital bed with David and Asher and Sam when they found the time. Ash and Milo pulled doubles to cover the loss and didn’t complain a lick, which was a real miracle considering who you were talking about. McDreamy handled most of Little’s medical needs, given that, the single time Alexis Solaire had shown her face to look in on her extremely emergent thoracic case, you’d nearly bitten her head off for the tone she took with them. 

You knew the other shoe was going to drop. You knew that it was only a matter of time before Quinn played his hand or flamed out or walked into the fucking room and murdered you. It was torture, waiting. You had never had a patient bone in your body. 

The hospital was limbo, purgatory, and the longer you stayed there, the more the tension grew. Sam brought you clothes and you ate the cafeteria food and showered in the tiny bathroom off of Little’s room. But you knew that, eventually, David would force you to go home. Sam must have conspired with him, since his truck was waiting for you in the spot still labeled; Dr. Samuel Collins. 

On the drive back to Sam’s place, you felt it in your gut. You’d always had a sick feeling when it came to Quinn, even if you were too stupid or lovesick to stay away from him like your good sense told you to. 

It wasn’t that you had bad instincts, you found. You had very, very good ones. It was that you tended to run towards what made your gut twist instead of away from it. 

Maybe you were a fucked up for that. Oh well. You drove home, your gut twisting. Quinn called and you came running like a good dog. 

You’d meet Quinn tonight, and it would be for the last time. It was certain in your mind- no, not your mind, you’d never done a thing with your head. It was certain in your body, the only thing you had ever been able to trust. All of the confrontations you’d had before had an air of finality about them, but this one was so different that you couldn’t help but feel foolish on your former self’s behalf. All of that was child’s play. Worse, it was build up, rising action to tonight. A climactic final showdown. 

You gripped the steering wheel and watched your white knuckles as you drove. You didn’t feel dread or panic. There was nothing to be scared of. This was simply the way it was.

There was an ambulance outside of Sam’s cabin, dormant and lifeless. He was meant to be on shift right now. That was the only thing giving you an inch of comfort here, that maybe you wouldn’t have to make Sam a man of his word, that maybe you could handle this, quick and quiet, and you’d be gone before he even knew it happened. Of course not. As you cut across the lawn, you knew with certainty in your body that it was always going to end this way. 

You threw Sam’s truck into park, didn’t bother to turn off the engine or close the driver’s door behind you. Your body moved on its own, automatically. You didn’t need to tell your legs to move just like you didn’t need to tell your heart to beat. Something in the house was magnetic, pulling you along, although you didn’t feel helpless to it. 

You didn’t believe in God or fate or karma, but you also didn’t believe in love and there was Samuel Collins- real- believe it or not. Maybe there wasn’t a magical old man with a beard in the sky who decided that you deserved or at least needed to die by Quinn Fox’s hand. But that was exactly what was going to happen. What was always going to happen, ever since you first caught his eye in that bar at sixteen. 

You weren’t even supposed to be there. Thank you, passable fake ID. Thank you, teenage stupidity. Thank you, bartender who didn’t give enough of a fuck to note the baby fat that still clung to your cheeks. 

Your fate- whether that was real or not- was sealed as your eyes met his. A pretty bow tied atop a shit show life. 

The headlights of Sam’s truck bathed you in harsh light as you opened your front door- God, when had his door become yours? That feeling right there in your chest- that bliss of belonging. You sat in that for a moment, hand on the doorknob as the headlights cast your shadow, long down the hallway. 

You knew where the floorboards creaked. You knew how the house breathed. You knew where the springs in the bed hurt your back and which side of the couch was yours. So much was yours now. So much to be taken away. 

You knew with a certainty in your body that it was always going to end this way. But you had no idea that it would feel this good. This moment, Quinn snatching it all away along with your life, was tangle proof that you had something. You’d spent so long trying to convince yourself that you and Sam weren’t anything. That being back here in Dahlia wasn’t consequential. That you could live without whatever David and Asher and Milo and all of them gave to you. But you were wrong. You were wrong a lot of the time. You had more now than you ever had before, and it filled you up inside like light, light, light, bursting through the cracks of you. 

You turned the corner into the kitchen. 

It was always going to end this way. 

Sammy was sitting in one of the dark wood chairs that went in the breakfast nook- a section of the home so rich you felt filthy using it. He was facing you, framed perfectly by the little arch that led from the hall into the kitchen. He was staged there, set like dressing in a play. He was restrained, his wrists bound behind him. He was still in that uniform that drove you wild, straining against his biceps as his eyes bulged and he fought against the make-shift gag in his mouth- a leather belt you recognized as Quinn’s, stretching his jaw against its stiff edges. Moonlight streamed in from an open window. The lighting was romantic, warm as it bounced off the blood running down the side of his face. 

Quinn had cut him up and you recognized his artistic inspiration. A line from Sammy’s chest up his neck like a trail of kisses. A cut through the top of his unfairly full lip that pulled it into a snarl even on the gag. The letter Q, shaky and cut into his cheek so deep you could see a flash of his molars. 

“Sammy,” you breathed, and his eyes flashed, full of tears. Don’t cry. Don’t cry, goddammit. 

“You have a lovely home,” Quinn’s voice sent a shiver up your spine. You didn’t look away from Sam as Quinn slunk from the darkness behind him, arm curling around Sam’s shoulders possessively. His dull, wicked pocket knife was in one hand and a cigarette was in another. 

You took in a deep breath. You smelled something- something sweet and acidic. 

Bean Me Up had burned incredibly fast and hot. They were still investigating it for signs of arson. 

The Shaw home had fallen in a matter of minutes. You were lucky to get in and out as fast as you did. No house should burn that quickly. 

You glanced across the kitchen. A few gas cans were on their sides. Slick gasoline was splashed across the ground, close enough to Quinn’s cigarette to make you nervous. 

“You look like shit.” You said, finally looking up at Quinn. And he did. He was thin, bruises covered his translucent skin. He looked almost corpse-like. So frail. So breakable. “You… you always look so much bigger in my head.” 

Quinn laughed. 

“I was going to say the same thing to you.” 

You asked the question, the one you’d been asking all of these months over and over again. 

“What do you want, Quinn?” There was no heat behind it this time, no anger. Just plain, simple curiosity. Quinn didn’t give his usual answer. His eyes slid across your form before falling to the ground. 

“I’m not even sure I know anymore.”  

You’d been fighting the same way your entire life. You’d always been weaker than someone, you’d always been hungry and disadvantaged and outnumbered. So you took to the ground like a prey animal. You dove in, hit them where it hurt, and ran, put distance between you. Quinn had always delighted in watching you dance around in a fight. He liked setting them up to watch you scrap, play dirty, pull hair and bite and scratch for eyes. But when the two of you fought, he didn’t let you run. He made you stand in one spot and wail. 

Tonight, though, staring him down again, you didn’t get the feeling he had much fight left in him. For the first time, Quinn Fox didn’t feel thirteen feet tall with that limitless reach. You were fairly certain that one good hit would put him on the ground. But you didn’t feel much like fighting tonight either.

There came a moment when you had to lay it all down. There came a moment when you, even you , had to plant your fucking feet. There came a moment when the noise all stopped and the plain, animal facts made themselves at home in your skin. 

Quinn Fox was done. And so were you. 

“Let him go, Quinn.” You said softly. “It’s about you and me. Always has been.” 

Quinn stared back at you, his eyes glassy and face blank. He was looking for something. Whatever it was, he didn’t find it. 

“You used to be so much like me.” He breathed. 

“Yeah.” 

“I used to live in your head. I used to feed off of all those ugly things you thought about yourself. Even when I wasn’t close, I was right between your eyes.” 

“You were.” 

“But I’m not anymore.” 

“No.”

Quinn sighed. A hollow wind sound. 

“What’s the point of it all now?” 

“There never was one.” 

He nodded, head bobbing on boney shoulders. 

“I had you,” he said, “for a time, at least. You were mine. And now you’re… this.” 

This. His. Yours. You were more you than you ever had been. And Quinn, hollowed out as he was, just didn’t cut it anymore. 

His cigarette burned to the quick. He flicked the butt straight towards the gasoline.

A fun fact all firefighters loved to share about gasoline: parts of it evaporated into gas that was just as flammable as its liquid. When the barest spark hit that air, it had a tendency to burst. 

The world lit up around you and took you off your feet. Your rib cage connected with the kitchen counter, your arms pulled protectively around your head. Sam and Quinn were closer to the flames, but the heat was enough to knock the sense out of you for a moment. You gasped in the acrid air, groaned as you curled around yourself. Sam made a noise somewhere past the ringing in your ears that spurred life back into your body. 

He was yours. This was the first time in your life that you’d had anything worth saving and you were not about to fucking waste it. 

Knees then feet under you, scraped up hands balancing you against the tile floor. The kitchen was turning bright and unbearable. Sam had been knocked onto his side, and through the blood loss and the burns blossoming on his shoulder and face, he was still struggling. You loved that about Sam, how hard he fought when he thought it was worth it. 

Your hands found home on his skin. You kicked at the chair until he came free from it. You dug your fingers into his uniform and hoisted him up and over your shoulder. You didn’t look back as you stumbled for your front door. 

No stair railing came crumbling down on you. No flames licked at your heels as you made your way to the lawn. Your knees hit the dewy grass as you laid Sam out. Fingers shaking, you untied his wrists and pulled the belt from his jaw. He groaned, face twisted, wet with sweat and night air. 

“Sammy,” you wheezed.

“‘m here.” He managed. His face contorted around the cuts and burns, but his eyes were bright and locked on you, waiting. He was watching to see what you would do next.

It would be easy. You could turn your back and leave him there. You could tell the cops that you couldn’t get him out and that you barely escaped with Sam and your own life. 

You kept running in circles. You reached endlessly to snatch people from the jaws of death. You kept ending up with bodies at your feet. You thought that you should probably be okay with it, just this once. 

Just this once . 

No. Not even him. 

You surged up, your hand lingering on Sam a moment longer before you bolted back towards the house. Fires spread fast when accelerates were involved, and the heat was crushing when you breached the front door again. You didn’t bother to tug your shirt over your face or try to protect yourself from the flames. This wouldn’t take you long. You knew just where he was. 

The flames had caught along his stupid skinny jeans, fusing the fabric with his skin. He was screaming, kicking against the flames. The smell of burning bacon mixed with the gasoline to give you a head rush. You used it to push forward into the worst of the heat, the deafening sound of the fire circling all around you, warning like a rattlesnake before it struck. 

You snagged Quinn by the collar of his leather jacket and pulled, not stopping as he kicked and twisted, not stopping as you turned a sharp corner and accidentally rammed him to a wall, not stopping until you cleared the house, hacking as you tossed him out onto the lawn. You batted down the flames with your bare hands, palms going numb to the pain as Quinn’s screams turned to moans and pitiful whimpers. You plopped down on your ass in the grass and waited for him to die. 

Sirens overtook the sound of the house collapsing. You expected fire, but it was PD, blue and white and the sounds of guns cocking. You didn’t move except to get closer to Sam as he struggled to raise his hands like you were all told to. 

A hand met your back. You didn’t move but prepared yourself to be shoved to the ground and cuffed. Instead, Colm Greer took some of your weight from behind. 

“I got him.” He said. “The 10-19 is coming. I won’t let him get away.” 

More lights. More sirens. Red and white painting your husking house candy cane. Quinn was taken away at some point. Asher’s voice in your ear, his arm around your chest. Somebody took Sam. You tried to turn to watch him get loaded into the ambulance, but you found yourself buried in Asher’s neck. 

You opened your mouth to the night air and you howled like a dog.

[ghostdoodlen]

ASH !! who's your favorite dc comics character, why & what's ur favorite characteristic of theirs?? (this is totally not me writing a special for my favorite followers)

My live reaction from getting an ask from one of my top 3 favorite writers

I have so many favorites in the last 5 years since I've officially gotten into DC.

John Constantine, literally all of the batfam, Connor (because of you and now I have his origin comic and did my first cosplay as him), Johnathan Crane, Harley Quinn and Edward Nygma.

I think the one that holds a special place in my head above all is Richard Grayson. It's a bit basic but he's the one I grew up with and got to see him grow again and again as i got older.

I might get his character wrong but I loved that he's such a mentally strong character who isn't just a happy guy.

I love that he isn't the most intelligent out of the birds and bats but he's made it up in so many ways with his cleverness, wit and compassion. I also loved that he killed the joker, man's not above murder to avenge family and I respect that.

He's a man with a temper and so much emotion that I don't feel ashamed to have a lot like him. He's just a man who's flawed but still keeps going and loves his family. He's my Robin and I just love him to bits.

You don't have to write something for me. Even a hint of an update, the smallest imagine or any post is a blessing to me 🥹💖💖

[blankswordgame]

If you like what we're cooking with Blanksword, you might wanna check There Swings a Skull - it's a short narrative RPG we (the game's lead devs, Leaf & Quinn, plus our writer pal Conor Walsh) made and it's currently 30% off on Steam :] It's got a horrible mayor and a very angry sun that kills you and tragic gay men! What more can you ask for!!!!

[midnightsun-if]

What would the Ros' reaction be like when killing someone to protect Mc?

Koda: "I'm sorry it had to come to this," he murmurs, gently lowering the body to the ground. The sentiment coming from anyone else would have rung false, but a sincerity lurks within his soft brown gaze that made the bittersweet truth all the more apparent. He knows that if it ever came down to protecting his mate or not taking a life, he'd choose his mate every time, but that didn't make the heaviness on his chest any lighter. "My mama always taught me that you only kill what you need to. Never more than that, because the universe will be unbalanced, and it'll end up righting itself by coming back to haunt you." Koda shakes his head, brow furrowed. "I'm sorry that your death became a necessity."

Scarlett: Blood had never tasted so sweet. Droplets of crimson fall down alabaster fingers as Scarlett grips what remained of the throat she had just torn out, a snarl etched across an elegant face, full lips pulled back in the beginning of a primal growl, fangs coated in red. "Did you think that I wouldn't hunt you? That I wouldn't tear this world apart in order to find the insolent little worm that thought it was okay to harm her?" Her grip tightens, delighting in the strangled gurgle of pain the action causes, as she brings the insipid creature closer. "Your gravest error, besides hurting her, was thinking you'd ever be able to escape. I would let cities turn to ash if it meant I could bask in the warmth the fire cast with her by my side. I would bring ruin and damnation upon the gods themselves, even if it meant I was cast to hell, because I would know what it felt like to have heaven in my arms." Scarlett cocks her head to the side, the ghost of a sardonic smirk appearing briefly. "Taking your life? Is the smallest of sacrifices that I'm willing to make for my heart."

Cyrus/Cyra: A Healer. You're a Healer. The words ring through their mind, sounding vaguely like their grandfather, as they stare at the body in front of them, blood staining the ground in a horrific display; a shade that matched the brilliant vermillion hue that their own eyes had become, soft gold being eclipsed by fiery red. A Healer. You're a Healer. It's a sentiment that echoes tauntingly as they watch the light leave the other's eyes, a grim melancholy settling over them because they know that a single drop of a golden tear would have prevented it. "I am," they whisper, their grip on the still pristine fabric of their pants tightening further. "I am a Healer but before that, before anything, I am theirs."

Quinn: Should have made them suffer. Made them scream. Their wolf snarls, clearly angry at the lack of Quinn's "proper" response to the threat that had been imposed upon their mate. "Enough," Quinn orders, a growl working its way into their voice. They could envision their wolf clearly; the large form pacing in the mental prison Quinn had entrapped it in. "We're not like our family. We're better. We do not do what they would have done." Sapphire blue eyes glint dangerously underneath the moonlight, a sharpness hardening the usually calm expression. They know their words would do little to appease their wolf -- not when it was in hunt mode -- but Quinn would never let themself become what they had once been. "Besides," they continue, their eyes taking in the mangled form before them. "I think we made them suffer plenty."

Caden: Despite their personal feelings on the individual perishing before them, Caden would never forsake their sworn duty -- something that had given them a purpose for so long; their only one, if they were being honest with themself. Until you came along. Silver eyes, a haunting shade of argent in the moonlight, meet the dimming gaze of the person they had just killed, an icy chill working itself out from their chest as they grasp a slackening cheek. "It's alright," they intone, voice carrying sharply across the gentle breeze, wrapping itself within the very sounds of nature. "You can rest now."

Sloane: Harsh breaths escape chapped lips, almost panting due to the exertion, as bloodily bruised fists continue to slam into the figure that had tried to take their everything from them. They had already lost their home once; they weren't about to let some asshole, with a superiority complex and a penchant to not know what was good for them, take the one they had only just found. Stop. Enough. The command from their wolf, harsh in its softness, would normally be ignored, shrugged off like an annoying gnat that still persisted to invade their personal space, but their bone-deep tiredness, coupled by their own fears, causes them to finally halt their movements. Hazel eyes honing in on the mess they had made, but they can't bring themself to feel too bad. Not if it meant that you'd be okay, that you'd be safe, due to their actions.

Blake: A small grimace flits across their features, violet eyes narrowed in disgust as they observe the small flecks of red that had suddenly decided to reside on their silk shirt. "That's just unsanitary," they mutter, sending a sharp glare towards the still form before them. "It didn't have to happen, you know? Wouldn't have cared if you had gone after anyone else, but you had to go after them." They settle on their haunches, a snarl twisting their typically docile expression. "And that?" Blake shakes their head; blonde curls being displaced on their forehead. "That is simply unforgivable."

Reginald/Regina: "I-I'm s-sorry. I'm so sorry." The knife, still stained a nauseating crimson, falls from their laxed grip, the clatter of it striking the ground only a dulcet sound compared to the static that had begun to build within their ears. Nausea swirled within their stomach, anguish squeezing their throat in a vice grip, as tears steadily begin to make a trail down their face. Pain, unlike anything they had ever felt before, rips through their chest like the knife had only done a moment before to the figure laying prone on the ground. I had to do it. I had to protect them. I didn't have a choice. They slowly sink to the ground, shaking hands tearing at their hair. I didn't have a choice. I didn't have a choice. I didn't have a cho--

[chrisfavdrink]

Blood in the Shadows  — Part 2

warnings: talks of blood. talks of death. talk of fire. talks of wanting to kill someone. i think that's it!!!

Summary: Harley Quinn!Reader stands by her lover, Joker!Chris during a tense reunion with his brothers, Batman!Matt and Robin!Nick. Accused of past betrayals, Chris embraces his role as the family’s villain. Despite the chaos, she stays by his side, because they don’t want saving—they just want each other.

————————————————————————

Harley Quinn!Reader’s POV

People always ask why I stick around.

Why him. Why the chaos, the blood, the heartbreak. Why not just walk away and never look back?

Simple, sugar.

I don’t want to.

See, love ain’t always pretty. Sometimes it’s messy. Loud. Screamin’ with lipstick smeared across your face and a bat in your hand.

But when it’s real?

You feel it in your bones.

And puddin’?

He’s real.

He laughs like the world’s a joke he already figured out. Smiles like nothin’ can touch him. But I know him. I see him.

Every crack. Every ache. Every memory he don’t talk about ‘cause it hurts too much.

Especially the ones with them.

The Bat.

The Bird.

His brothers.

Yeah, I said it. Blood thicker than paint, even if it’s smeared in red and white. And tonight? They’re all meetin’ face-to-face. Family dinner without the mashed potatoes.

We drop in through the rafters. I go first ‘cause he likes to make an entrance—but not this time. No show. No spotlight. Just the man I love walkin’ into the dark like he’s got nothin’ left to lose.

That’s when I know it’s bad.

“Matty,” he says, all syrup and static. “Nicky.”

And the little bird steps up, heart practically hangin’ off his sleeve. “Chris,” he says—not Joker, and I catch that. So does my puddin’. “You don’t have to do this.”

I feel him tense beside me. He’s listenin’. That’s dangerous.

“Oh, but I do, kid,” he says soft. Like he’s explainin’ the weather. “This city—this family—they already made their choice.”

And just when things are almost civil, the Bat speaks.

“You killed them.”

My heart skips. Not mine, not his—ours.

He says it again, like a gavel slammin’ in a courtroom no one asked to be in.

Chris don’t flinch. He never flinches.

“You think I’d do that?” he asks, real low.

And Matty? He don’t back down. He never does. “You did. You set the fire.”

And right there—right there—I see it.

That last little bit of hope flicker in my puddin’s eyes before it burns out completely.

“I was a kid!” he yells, voice crackin’ like a glass heart hittin’ the floor.

I wanna grab him. Hold him. Tear Matt’s throat out for puttin’ that look on his face.

But I don’t.

I take his hand instead. Quiet-like. Gentle.

And this time, he doesn’t pull away.

“You needed a villain,” he says to his brother, voice like ash. “So I gave you one.”

That’s when Nicky—sweet little Nicky, stuck in the middle like peanut butter in a murder sandwich—he tries to reach him.

“Chris, we can fix this,” he says. “We can—”

And puddin’, my puddin’, just shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “You can’t fix what’s already burned.”

That’s our cue.

He squeezes my hand. I squeeze back.

Then we’re gone—me, him, the smoke, the laughter, all of it.

People don’t get it.

They never will.

But I do.

He’s not perfect. He’s not stable. But he’s mine.

And the thing about monsters like us?

We don’t want saving.

We want each other.

————————————————————————

Part 2 out now!!! hope you like it!!! ik it took me forever to post but i thought people did like it as much until i got asks to post it so here it is!!! @kier-with-a-k @starandcloud @fratbrochrisgf @alexisa78 @youwishyoucouldddd @sturniolofruitloop

-Roni

[hockeygirl101]

The Lake House

Part five: Kiss and yell

The party had calmed down, Luke and Jack still in the back with everyone. I had snuck away to the front porch, I sway lightly on the swing. I hold a joint loosely between my fingers, Phoebe Bridgers played from the small speaker I stole from Theo's room. I take a long drag of the joint, inhaling deeply, holding it letting the smoke fill my lungs. I exhale with a small cough, I take a few more big drags. I ash out the joint and sit back letting the high take over my body. I can hear the slight nose of the Hughes clan in the back with my parents. Luke's college buddies have Jim and my dad acting like frat guys again. Everyone else is drinking and talking, winding down before going home.

I start to think about all the time I spent here when I was younger, how me and Luke would pretend there were fairies in the front garden. How me and Jack used to run all over the front yard with a hose and spray each other. I have good memories of this house, these people.

"You look lonely" a voice says from behind me, it sends a shiver up my spine. I turn and look at Quinn, he's standing beside the house, leaning on the railing of the porch.

"M'not lonely, just by myself." I mumble looking at him. The high making me less cautious.

"Is that so? Yale must be teaching you big things." He says moving over to the stairs, he sits down on the top one, his legs stretching down the rest. "You're happy there?" He says softly, as if it was supposed to be an inside thought.

"I am, the most I've been in a while." I reach over to the second joint I had brought out. I slip the lighter between my fingers, flicking the spark. Bringing it up to my lips, I look at Quinn. His mouth a slightly open, eyes dark. The porch light reflects in his hair, making it a golden brown. His hair had been grown out for the season, and he had yet to trim it. It looked good, maybe too good.

"What" I try to say with the joint between my lips, frowning at him

"Nothing, just sometimes I forget what you look like here. Carefree, happy." He says shaking his head like it's an embarrassing thing to admit. "Well I don't actually forget, it's engraved into my brain. But sometimes I forget just how good it truly is" he says looking down at his shoes, cracking his fingers"

"Quinn" I whisper out, not letting myself get sucked in again. He can't do this to me, he knows he shouldn't. Quinn always knows.

He shakes his head and stands up Turing to face me. "Don't do that. I mean come on Ave it's been years.I know I hurt you, that summer I really hurt you, I never wanted to but I did. I shouldn't have brought her here, this is our place. What happened that day we moved you into Yale was on you. Not on me, you." He says walking back down the steps. He looks back at me and sighs. "I just wish you could see how much we missed you, all of us. Jack loves you, and you pushed him away. Luke is your other half, and you left him." He's pushes me to a breaking point, brining his brothers into this mess, it's a low blow. Thinking about her, and him. It cuts me deep, I finally snap.

"Enough. You don't get to put that blame on me, everything is your fault. You brought her here, you told me to move on then got mad when I did. I had made my choice and you just didn't like it. So fuck off with your whole, I'm older and wiser bullshit Quinn. You aren't fooling anyone who truly knows you." I bite back at him, I'm so sick of his bullshit. He didn't even understand what he did to me, how he hurt me. I stand up and walk down the stairs, marching up to him.

"You don't get to act like you're some innocent little boy. You're a man Quinn, an adult. You knew what you were doing, you just thought you could get away with it." I poke his chest with my finger.

"You're right I am older, I am the adult here. But that doesn't excuse what you did. You dated Jacks best friend, in front of everyone." He shouts, stepping back. I scoff at his words, who does he think he is to throw that in my face? I had problems that I needed to sort out with jack, everyone knows that, And I will when jack wants to.

"So that's what this is about? You're mad I went out with Trevor for like one summer? Or are you mad I didn't come back?" I say walking after him, we're slowly moving to the backyard, where a few party goers turn to look at us.

"Fuck off you know it's more then that" Quinn barks at me over his shoulder. "It's not about the fact you moved on, it's about with who. I didn't care if you came back or not, but you hurt my family."

"Right, so if I had gone out with another guy you would have been fine? You wouldn't have kissed me in my dorm after you moved me in? You wouldn't have asked me to leave with you to Vancouver? Huh Quinn?" I shout after him, ignoring the looks of everyone.

Quinn stops and whirls around facing me, my chest bumps his. "You regret that kiss, that's fine. But you can deny you loved me, at some point." he says quietly, making me gape at him. This, this is the mood swings I can't deal with.

"What are you- that is so not what this is about" he looks down at me, his eyes have softened.

"I don't, I've thought about it for the past three years, that night in dorm after everyone left." He confesses, looking down at his shoes. I hear my mom let out a small gasp. Everyone's staring at us. I feel myself get hot, my skin is burning. He knows what he's doing, he's trying to get me to lash out, prove to himself I love him.

"Come on." Luke's suddenly beside me, leading me back into the kitchen. He sits me down at the small table, getting me a glass of water.

"What the fuck was that?" Luke asks in a hushed tone, sitting beside me.

"I don't even know. We were talking, then he brought up what happened. He started blaming me for everything. He brought you and jack up, he brought Trevor up. He was just mean Lu" my voice cracks as I let the tears slip.

"Ok, ok. It's okay I got you Bear. I got you" Luke wraps his arms around me, cradling me in his arms. I look past Luke, out the kitchen window, Quinn stands there. A sad, almost hurt look covers his face. I squeeze my eyes shut and bury my face into Luke's neck.