#<- that’s your tag here. if you want a different one for when you tag me in stuff let me know

[chunksworld]

Take My Breath

NewJeans Danielle x Male Reader | (Tags: Smut)

A/N: part 3 of this nwjns series I'm still not quite so sure what to call; thank you to kaede for beta reading as always.

Part 1: Double Fantasy

Part 2: Role Model

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“Hnnghhh. F-Fucking me so good—harder!”

Everything about this situation is risky, dangerous, and foolish. But it’s hard to think about anything else when you’re pounding Danielle like she’s nothing but your fucktoy—and you can only be thankful that no one else is here to listen to her wanton moans that threaten to rip out of her throat. And that’s mostly because you two are in the backseat of your car, some early 2000s model that was definitely not built to withstand such intense pressure. It’s only fortunate that you were sitting in the back of the lecture hall when she sent you a pic of her in her lingerie from the night before because it made for an easy exit towards your car and it would have been extremely embarrassing to have to cover your boner with your backpack. It’s also fortunate that your car is tinted because the sight of her face down, ass up with her jacket barely clinging onto her tight body is absolutely not school appropriate. “Keep fucking me like that—shit—I’m gonna cum soon!”

When Hanni gave her your number, you didn’t think that she would be messaging you to hook-up every other day. She didn’t seem like that type of girl, in fact you’d think that she’s the type to only have sex after marriage but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Also, you didn’t think that Danielle would be more insatiable than her two friends. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing or where you are, she can just hit you with a text and you’ll be there to satisfy her carnal needs. The girls call it a “dick appointment” but you’re sure it’s more of an on-call situation with the way you are always there for her—only sexually of course. It’s already getting difficult trying to keep your brain (and dick) intact with the way Minji and Hanni both seem to wanna share and fuck you at the same time. You’re sure it’s only a matter of time before a threesome is in the cards—not that you are complaining because just the thought is enough to keep you horny for days on end. 

And adding Danielle to that mix would further complicate an already mind-boggling situation, as much as you lust for her body as the other two. One, there’s only so much cum in your balls to go around. And second, falling in love with multiple girls at once is not something you’re keen on doing. It was rather something that forced you to commit to the situation at hand (but shouldn’t you have rejected Hanni’s offer in the first place?) It’s too much to wrap your head around at this very moment, especially when Danielle was just that distant friend in your circle. Did you find her pretty? Absolutely. But these past few weeks of hooking up with her led you to discover that she’s much more than that. You’ve only known her as that bright, cheerful girl with a heavenly voice for quite some time now yet here you are making her sing a completely different song.

Wrap your arms around her tiny waist and pull her upright, her back pressed against your chest to thrust yourself deeper into her. Blonde locks block your vision but her scent is enough to encourage your fucking. Her reaction is immediate, louder moans coming out of her mouth that you are sure can be faintly heard from the outside—on top of that, the sound of skin slapping against skin reverberates throughout this tiny space. Plus, how are you going to get rid of the smell of sex later? You don’t care though, not when your face is buried in the crook of her neck and your hands creep up to massage her tiny but beautiful tits. “You’ve been planning this all morning weren’t you?” Lips find that sweet spot on her neck and you begin to nip and suck—you can never, will never get enough of her. “Wearing my favorite cologne because you want me to fuck you till you can’t walk while the rest of our friends are out for their lunch break?” 

Danielle can only nod, her tongue sticking out and her eyes closed. Absolutely nothing matters to her at this point—only the fact that your cock is rearranging her guts and that she’s going to have to explain why she’s limping after excusing herself out of meeting with the rest of the girls. Right. Nothing matters. Take a quick glance at your watch. 10 minutes. Unfortunately, the thirty minutes flew by and you can only ignore their messages for so long before they start looking for you. It was a great lunch you’ll explain, one that consisted of a mixture of Australian and Korean cuisine. “I’m so close, please.” Her voice is hoarse and her makeup is already ruined beyond repair but that just makes her even more gorgeous in your eyes. “Shit, if I knew you were gonna be this good—umph! I would’ve snatched you up for myself.” 

You don’t respond verbally but you’re damn near pistoning your cock inside her in response to the compliment that definitely doesn’t rile you up. “I’m cumming, oh fuck!” She almost falls forward and you wrap your arms tighter around her waist. Danielle is definitely a screamer and you are wondering whether she still has any voice left after such a powerful orgasm. It’s hot, the way it becomes a full body experience with how she’s shuddering and shaking against your figure. The way your name comes out of that pretty mouth in between curse words and broken sentences. She has completely drenched not just your thighs but the polyester fabric of your backseat. But just how messy the cleanup is going to be doesn’t enter your mind at all when you can feel your own orgasm getting closer. You pull out for a brief moment as her slick drips down her thighs and you re-enter after giving your cock a pump. You resume thrusting at the frantic pace you did before and you know that you are only a few thrusts away 

“Gonna cum, Dani.” Through gritted teeth you manage to warn her, the incredibly tight and warm feeling inside her pussy only urging you on towards her completion. Since she’s already made a mess of your car then you might as well add to it. Your thrusts are more erratic, losing their rhythm the more you indulge yourself in her body. Two handfuls of her ass is what you grab onto as her body falls back down, moans muffled by your cum-stained seats. Nothing feels as good as her at this very moment; and if you could just ditch the rest of your classes and fuck her for the rest of the day, you absolutely would. You’d rather have her bouncing and screaming on your cock than listen to your professor babble some nonsense anyways. “Wanna pump you full until it’s leaking down your thighs.” You can feel it, you are going to explode and give her the biggest creampie she’s ever received from you. But her right hand grips on your biceps, almost failing to do so with how much sweat covers your bodies.

“Not this time…” Danielle mutters just in time and you’re almost ashamed by the way you groaned in protest. You have to make a decision in seconds and you make the one you’ve been wanting to since you’ve started hooking up with her. You pull out and make her lay on her back, straddling her face and pumping your slick-covered cock. A guttural groan of her name leaves your lips as shot after shot of thick cum lands on her most prominent features: her nose, cheekbones, and those tempting lips of hers. She looks pretty, so fucking pretty that not even the most expensive makeup she wears can rival the way her face looks glazed and dripping with your cum. As expected, this might have been your biggest orgasm with her so far. But it’s hard not to be completely drained when she lured you into such a precarious situation that has you risking it all once again.  Last week it was inside the maintenance room and now, your car. Maybe you have a thing for potentially getting caught fucking your girlfriend’s friends after all.

You check your watch again and you’ve only got three minutes to dress and clean-up, which you both are experts at doing so by this point. Embarrassed, Danielle offers to help pay for the clean-up of your car but you turn her down. You don’t mind going bankrupt if it means having her cum on your cock every week. After a quick retouching of her makeup you two are off to continue the rest of your day like nothing happened. But it’s clearly obvious with the way Danielle limps off when she exits your vehicle, heading in the opposite direction of you. And it’s not like you don’t smell like her either: the combination of her shampoo, conditioner, and whatever body wash she uses lingering on you. Whatever. As long as you sit as far away from your friends, especially the two girls, as far as possible you’ll be safe. You arrive in the lecture hall in the nick of time and despite making very little noise, you’ve already got two pairs of eyes staring at you from the other side. And they’re not just staring, they are smirking at you—as if to tell you that your cover has already been blown. 

That’s why it was pointless to lie to Minji and Hanni because they could already sense it from a mile away. “So, where did you guys do it? We tried looking at all the places you two have had sex before.” You tried to make a quick getaway as soon as the lecture ended but it was all in vain when Minji grabbed you by your shoulders. Even more so when Hanni is on the other side hugging your arm. It was a mistake, it was all a mistake. Maybe you should have just gone back to your place and took a shower, it’s not like you wanted to attend that stupid math class anyways. Instead you have your girlfriend and oh, your other girlfriend interrogating you. Who in their right mind would agree to such an arrangement? “Oh! They might’ve done it inside one of those empty classrooms down the hall. Am I right? I’m just wondering how no one heard you guys though considering Dani can get pretty loud.” Seriously, do these girls tell each other everything? “Dani likes being fucked raw too so they must’ve made a big mess.” The casualness at which they talk about their sex life (which unfortunately happens to include you) is truly astounding and you feel even hotter than when you were fucking Danielle earlier inside that cramped car earlier.

“Why the hell would I tell you both where we fucked? So you can join in?” Maybe it’s a question you shouldn’t have asked because they both nod their heads eagerly. “You are both unbelievable, I thought you were gonna let me and her do our thing separately? Wasn’t that part of our agreement?” Danielle hates sharing you even if you weren’t lovers, it was an agreement reluctantly agreed to by Minji and Hanni considering they can’t keep their hands off of you. They contemplated and then contemplated again, ultimately deciding that the blonde Aussie can have a slice of the pie rather than it being just a one time thing. They were all friends after all, and not even their overwhelming lust for you won’t get in the way of that. Sharing is indeed caring when it comes to you, and who are you to complain about this whole situation? “Anything else? I really need to go back home and take a shower.” That was thankfully enough to shut them up; a miracle considering they love arguing with you mostly because you tend to spend more time with one compared to the other. 

“Nope! We’re good. See you tomorrow, baby.” Hanni leans in to kiss you first, standing on the very tips of her toes to connect her lips with yours. Then Minji, who pulls you in for a brief makeout session, she really hates being one-upped you see. If there’s a single trait of hers that you love, it’s that she is extremely competitive—that’s how your rivalry with her started in the first place. What began as arguing over who is the better and smarter student landed the two of you in a mess that might just be too much even for two big brains to handle, but again who are you to complain? Instinctively, you grab her by the waist and the moan that emits from her mouth almost wants you to fuck her then and there. “You still have to help me study tomorrow. I hope you’re ready.” Yeah, and you hope your cock is too. A wink from both of them and you’re finally given the opportunity to head home and perhaps contemplate just what the fuck you got yourself into while you make your way there. Your roommate greets you from the couch when the door opens, briefly raising his hand to wave at you before looking back at the show he’s watching.

“Hey man, we’re drinking out tonight. Wanna come?”

“Nah, I’m good.” You didn’t think Danielle would drain you to the point of physical exhaustion but she did, something that her older friends can’t do. You’re not exactly the fittest but it is as if you ran a marathon with how tired you are. “Just tired today, have fun though. Try not to get shitfaced.” You joke but he absolutely will, all of you do—to the point that you find yourself crashing at a random friend’s place instead of your own and that is exactly what’s going to happen tonight. A night out with the boys is usually something you never miss out on but not tonight, a good sleep is what you need especially if Minji is going to exhaust you again tomorrow. You bid farewell to him instead and head back into your room, crashing immediately on your bed to sleep. Well that was the plan at least but you find yourself waking up a few hours later to your phone ringing. You groan in frustration at having your beauty sleep interrupted but the stupid phone won’t stop ringing. It would stop for a few seconds then start ringing again. Groggy, you blindly grab your phone from your nightstand. It’s already extremely dark outside and the lights of your phone screen almost blinds you. You squint your eyes a couple of times to clear up your surroundings and you damn near jump out of the bed when you see the name on top: Danielle. 

That was sobering enough to fully wake you up and for some reason, your heart is pounding even at just the sight of her name. She rarely calls you, what’s the matter? Check the time. 2 AM. What could this woman want from you now? Feigning reluctance, you swipe to answer her call. “Dani, what the fuck do you want?” On the other end, you could hear squelching noises in the background along with the eerily familiar moans of the girl in question. “Daddy, please.” There is absolutely no way she’s doing what you think she’s doing. But the long pause and the sound of her moans that are music to your ears are all you hear. Five seconds. Ten seconds. Fifteen seconds. More squelching noises in the background and it’s undeniable what sinful actions that girl is doing in her room. “I’ve been fucking myself with this dildo for the past 10 minutes now but it’s not as big as you…..” You can hear her bed squeaking, and you can only imagine her gripping on the bed sheets and squirming around as that phallic object fucks her and you wish it was you that was fucking her instead. But it’s too late, and your roommate could come back home anytime. What if he didn’t crash at someone else’s place for the night? You’ve always let your dick do the thinking but it’s time to show some maturity, even though you’re only a year older than her. As much as your cock is about to burst through your shorts, there has to be a line drawn—though it’s difficult when it comes to her.

“Danielle, there is absolutely no fucking way you’re calling me at 2 in the morning for some di–”

A loud moan interrupts you, followed by breathless pants. “…I’ll even let you cum in me this time. I’m s-sorry I couldn’t let you—hnghh— do it earlier.” That’s what eventually lured you in because twenty minutes later. Danielle is sitting on your lap in your apartment sticking her tongue as far down your throat as possible. Your shirt is discarded already the moment you basically carried her towards your room and threw her in your bed.  It is also wonderfully considerate of her to not wear a bra because you are immediately greeted by her perky tits the moment you removed her hoodie. A hand of yours fondles her breasts while a hand of hers pulls you even closer to her as if there were any inches of space left between you two. It is messy, teeth clashing and tongues swirling. It is not sufficient to say that Danielle is a good kisser because she is a great one. Every makeout session leaves you breathless and wanting. You absolutely don’t have the time to question it now but you always seem to savor these moments more with her than anyone else—this blonde woman just has an effect on you that keeps you coming back for more.

“You know, you look good with my lipstick all over your face.” A proud smile on Danielle’s face and you can only imagine all of the lipstick stains peppering your visage. She rests her forehead on yours and you swear you could see your own reflection on her eyes. They’re captivating, jaw-dropping and you wouldn’t mind staring at them for a few minutes if she wasn’t pulling you in again. “I wonder what they’ll look like on the rest of your body.” Her lips immediately test out that hypothesis, trailing down to the expanse of your broad shoulders and chest and kissing every single inch of your upper body. Whatever she is doing to distract you is effective because her hands have left your face and are instead trailing down towards your shorts. Both of you groan as your clothed length grinds with her warm underside, clearly she’s just as excited to have your cock out as much as you. You don’t want to make her wait so she gets off of you to pull your shorts and boxers at the same time; you whimper at the sensitivity of your length as it is exposed to the cold air of your room. 

“So hard for me already….” You chase Danielle’s lips again but she purposefully moves away, her eyes focusing instead on your cock like a predator looking at its prey. More kisses, this time towards your neck and collarbones. “You could’ve easily ignored me when it’s this late but you answered.” A hand wraps around your shaft and you whimper; the head is swollen and leaking and you wish she’d just stop teasing you. She removes her panties herself and you’re now both in an equal state of undress. “You even let me into your place, have the unnies been here before?” You shake your head, it’s not like the circumstances allowed. Danielle lives off-campus with her parents while the other two have to live in the dorms. That’s it. There’s absolutely no other reason why this blonde woman is the only one that you’ve invited over.  

It’s definitely not because she has this power over you that not even your girlfriends do. “You have a soft spot for me, huh?” You refuse to acknowledge such a fact, for the repercussions in doing so would mean you’d have to face two angry (but extremely gorgeous) women who were already reluctant to share you with another woman. “We’re not fucking unless you say something.” Her other hand cups your heavy balls, fondling them. Somehow they’re back to being full again despite blowing your load all over her face earlier. 

Sure, a one night stand is perfectly fine and even encouraged but what you two are doing have surpassed that— “Fucking hell, Danielle! Slow the fuck down…” But the opposite of your request is what she does, lips continuing to leave their imprints all over your upper body while her dainty fingers pump your cock at a much faster rate. She doesn’t say anything but instead gives you a look that tells you she will not stop unless she gets what she wants. It’s torturous yet feels so damn good at once, the way she can work you into the throes of an orgasm that threatens to make a mess all over her porcelain skin yet again with just her fingers alone drives you breathless and groaning her name shamelessly. A small part of you is willing to do just that because you don’t even remember if you ever came thanks to someone else’s hands but the thought of her voice sounding raspy and fucked while you are pumping cum inside her lithe body is enough to make you crack under pressure, especially when those deep blue eyes of hers stare at you with so much want and need. But how would Hanni and Minji react? Fuck it, you’ll deal with whatever consequences there will be tomorrow morning. How pathetic. 

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” It’s almost devilish the way she’s smiling so sweetly and innocently and yet her voice is laced with venom. Her soft hands slow down the pace of their pumping and you are about to lose it. “You’re the only person I’ve ever invited over.” A breathless admission that has your entire body heating up to a feverish temperature. Why was it so hard to admit that? “Now please, Dani. I want you.” At this point, Danielle can make you admit to crimes you never even committed. All you want is her and nothing but her. If it takes losing every ounce of self-control like you’ve already done with Minji then so be it. It was already gone the moment you decided to fuck around with three girls at once anyways. Danielle smirks and lets you take control once again now that she is getting what she wants from you. You get a taste of her lips again when she lays back on the bed—your bed, with you hovering on top of her and hands planted on either side of her head. Because of how much she craves the feeling of your skin on hers, you find yourself crashing on top of her ever so slightly and your cock briefly makes contact with her slit. “Hmmph!” The blonde woman below you whimpers at the sensitivity and you don’t wait any longer. With how wet she has been you find the task of penetrating her quite simple, your cock sinking into her pussy in one clean motion.

Her legs immediately circle around your waist and arms wrapping around your head as you start off slowly. Fucking Danielle is always a breathtaking experience; with her making so much noise which includes moaning your name for everyone to hear, you only need to drink it all in and enjoy every single second. There is also the way she would grab onto you tightly like she is afraid of losing your touch—you can only imagine how clingy she is as a girlfriend. Just like what she is doing now with her nails scratching your shoulders and back while she leaves dark red marks all over your neck. If she wants to mark her territory then so be it, you can only hope that the other girls will be understanding. You groan as you feel her teeth sinking down your neck like a vampire, you know it is accidental because not only is she immediately trying to soothe the pain with kisses but her limbs are now coiled much tighter around you. You must have discovered a certain spot deep within her and you want to keep hitting that spot. “Faster…fuck, fuck, fuck!” You do not waste any second to grant her request, pounding her with surgical precision and she is on the verge of crying in your arms. You are glad you don’t have to worry about the confined space of your car this time around nor do you have to worry about making a mess.

Unlike earlier there is no warning when Danielle cums this time around—only a vociferous moan that makes you thankful your roommate isn’t around.  It’s not surprising considering she was already close to getting herself off when she called you a while ago and it only took having a real cock inside for her to become completely undone. A few more deep thrusts is all you were able to accomplish before she clenches so tightly around your cock and her nails dig deeper into the skin of your back. The room feels exponentially hotter now despite the cold temperature inside the apartment, and you’re both sweating so much that a shower is definitely your next destination after this. Her breath intermixes with yours and you grab the side of her face to kiss her, causing her moans to redirect inside your mouth instead. It’s sloppy, it’s intense, and you find yourself drowning in her lips as you continue to fuck her through her climax. Despite having some insane features on her body, it’s her lips that draw you in the most and you just can’t stop kissing her. “So-so good! Don’t you ever fucking stop!” Not like you were planning to, especially when both of your thighs are so absolutely drenched in her cum now that squelches echo inside your room every time you bottom out inside her. 

Take a look at your bedside clock and you notice that it’s getting incredibly late, it is 3 AM already and you have yet to accomplish the one goal you’ve been salivating towards: to cum inside Danielle. You ignore just how drenched your bedsheets has become and you grab her legs and place them on your shoulders, then leaning forward as you transition to fucking her in mating press. You don’t miss the way her eyes light up when she immediately recognizes what you are about to do. “You better let me fucking cum inside you this time. You promised.” It almost comes off as pettiness the way those words left your mouth but the only reaction you get from her is a giggle and her eyes sparkling with the tears drying up. Knowing her, she probably thinks it’s cute and hot at the same time that you are getting riled up because of her—and rightfully so. You don’t waste time and continue your thrusting, making the bed creak with how hard you’re fucking her into it. You bury your face in the crook of her neck again to inhale the sweet scent of her perfume combined with her sweat. It’s the perfect place for you because her whimpers of your name go straight to your ears and the way she says it with her sultry voice just urges you on.

And tears start to well in the blonde’s eyes again because you are going much deeper in this position, going balls deep with every single motion of your hips. It doesn’t take too long for you to get close either considering you wanted to masturbate at the sound of her masturbating but it’s great that you saved it for this very moment. You can feel your cock throbbing much harder than before and you know you are not lasting for one second longer. “I’m gonna cum inside you.” It’s more of a formality at this point, and you feel her nod—probably because her voice is too hoarse and her mind is too focused on your cock to formulate an actual sentence but it will do either way. Five thrusts you count and you see white; you can’t help the carnal groans of her name  coming out of your mouth as you empty spurt after spurt of thick, hot cum deep into her womb. To make her tight little pussy overflow with so much cum that they coat your cock and drip down to your balls and your bedsheets. Your toes curl and your fingers grip the bedsheet to prevent yourself from collapsing on top of her amidst your euphoric climax. There is absolutely no denying it, Danielle is your best fuck amongst the three.

You pull out beside her on the bed; exhausted, satisfied, and fucked. Danielle is the same and you can see a fresh, wet spot in between her legs along with your cum signaling that she had her own climax as well. She looks tantalizing and even more so when she turns to stare at you before scooting over to place a kiss on your lips. The way her sweat mists across her skin, the way her blonde locks compliment her extremely well. and the way her breast heaves ever so slightly when she attempts to breathe normally again is an absolutely stunning sight. It’s a soft makeout session this time, with her playfully nibbling on your lower lip and swiping her tongue across yours. “So, I hope I’ve made it up to you.”  A brief pause then you resume kissing again. “Because I know l’ve probably drained you more than my unnies just today alone.” She probably has a point but you are not going to give her any upper hand by acknowledging it so you remain in silence by shutting yourself up with her lips. You can feel her smile on your lips and you think that this is how your night ends but Danielle sneakily brings her hand down to fondle your balls and it looks like she thinks otherwise. “But I’m sure you still have one last load for me.”

She stands up from your squirt and cum-stained bed. Her perfectly sculpted body glistening under the warm lights of your room and her inner thighs still dripping with your cum. “Shower?” Then she turns around in perfect timing, showing her perfectly shaped ass that has you considering fucking her from behind again. It doesn’t take long for blood to rush back to your lower regions and you find yourself rock-hard once more—which is perfect because you found yourself pinning her against the shower’s tiles mere minutes later and trying to fuck whatever remaining load there is left inside her. Mission accomplished in that regard and you two actually spent the rest of the time taking a shower. It was a quick, but satisfying one and after giving her a shirt of yours to wear for the night she immediately falls asleep into your arms after a long and tiring hookup session. And as you watch Danielle peacefully sleep, your conversation with her earlier is repeated in your brain about having a soft spot for her and maybe you do because there’s no other way to explain how she’s the only one that can make you feel certain things. You wouldn’t dare fuck the other girls in your place, maybe opting for a cheap motel instead but you didn’t do it for her. And that’s maybe because deep down, you do have a thing for her. The complications of such a realization has not dawned on you yet but you do know that Hanni and Minji will not take it well. 

Yeah, you are fucked.

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! I’m working on an original character project that I want to include a lot of casual representation in (“casual” meaning that the characters don’t need a justification for being disabled/fat/POC/etc, they just are because people can and do exist that way in reality!)

I was wondering if you had any suggestions for finding resources for drawing facial differences(and maybe other visible disabilities), especially in a cartoony style. I’ve looked through the Facial Equality Week tag but would like to see more examples, and since my art is so… goofy, for lack of a better word, I would love any help I can get in integrating differences without being offensive or upsetting.

Sorry if this is a bother, and thank you for all that you do!

Hi!

I'm not aware of any guides for drawing facial differences specifically (or at least, good ones. There's 1 billion tutorials telling you that scars are just a Singular Line, always, but that's not... correct), but perhaps someone in the notes could help out?

For my own advice, you could check out this old post I made. Because you mentioned your art being cartoony, I would specifically urge you to not overexaggerate facial differences the way they often are. Prime example would be how a lot of cartoons portray strabismus;

It's just a funny gag to them rather than, IDK, how some of us look like. Not to mention that one of these is also a mockery of intellectually/developmentally disabled people with "Derp" in the name, but that's beside the point here.

It's the whole "the character is crazy/stupid/wild/whatever and that's why they have it" that's the problem with how it's often shown. You can also see it in how characters who don't even normally have it will be shown with it for a scene where they're saying something nonsensical, etc.

Another example that's nowhere near as rampant is the like... split-face thing with various facial differences being used. Mostly vitiligo but sometimes also facial palsy. I'm talking about this weirdly perfectly halved face that looks extremely different on each side, often used to signal that a character is two-faced or that the author doesn't know how vitiligo looks like.

[note: vitiligo also shows up on lighter skin. I wanted to make sure it's visible here for tutorial clarity purposes.]

This one is just weird because it straight up doesn't look like that? I have no idea where it came from, but it should go back there. Facial palsy doesn't make someone look like the antique comedy/tragedy theater mask.

Unless I'm forgetting some other annoying cartoon trope, these would be the big ones that you should stay away from.

Outside of that, it's really on a case by case basis on how a specific FD should be drawn because they're so different! A birthmark can just be a differently colored patch of skin, but a craniofacial difference would require some more changes to be included. Alopecia is well, lack of hair, and can be done very easily but ectrodactyly can be more complicated to show properly because of the limitations of a cartoony artstyle when it comes to hands. And while I do think it would be great to see more of those facial differences that tend to not be included in art at all, there's nothing wrong with deciding to go for the things you can represent more faithfully, especially if you're just starting.

I will say that if you're making an honest attempt at being respectful and trying to get it right, most of us will still be excited to see your work. Even if it's not perfect or has some inaccuracies. I will take a "'yeah more or less' correct with a happy, human character" over a "Very Technically correct but tagged as #tw burns and with blood splattered on them" any day.

Lastly, I wanted to share some art featuring characters with facial differences (and other visible disabilities) that are done in a cartoony, or at least somewhat simplistic artstyles (I'm using both terms very widely here, but like. Not Realism) - maybe it will give you some ideas!

Man with Treacher Collins syndrome (also one of the first pieces online where I saw a character with an FD portrayed in such a lovely way! A fav of mine) Girl with Pfeiffer syndrome Too many characters to count! Woman with burns Woman with a limb difference Multiple characters again Animation featuring people with Down syndrome [youtube] Multiple characters, including a girl with neurofibromatosis, a burn survivor, a girl with a cleft lip and another with TCS! [twitter]

If you have a more specific art question ("how do I draw a person with XYZ facial difference?") you can send me an ask on @saszor! I prefer to stick to the writing theme on this blog but would still like to help if you need it:-)

Hope this helps!

mod Sasza

Edit: apologies for the lack of alt text on one of the images, it has been fixed!

[saerins]

ᯓ ᝰ RIGHT HERE .ᐟ — touya todoroki

touya x female reader. content tags modern au, childhood sweetheart!touya, both are working adults, making out, mentions of infidelity/murder, he’s a tease. word count 1.7k

ᯓ notes .ᐟ haha can you tell i love touya too much rn ? just getting back into writing so have some of my touya :) thanks to any of you who read this <3

“touya, you’re gonna make me late for work tomorrow,” you whine, pouting as he wins you in yet another round of super smash bros. (and hence you’d have to stay up and continue playing at his behest.)

beside you, touya smirks, rows of pearly white visible while he clearly enjoys tormenting you. “weren’t you the one who said you needed a distraction?”

you grumble as you take the couch pillow and hold it over your face, groaning in frustration. touya’s right; you’d called him right after dinner, practically forced him to come after you figured out that you’re actually not as strong you thought and you’re actually still really upset that your ex cheated on you.

it’s only pathetic because it’s already been a couple of months and you’re still wallowing over it somehow.

“you know, i bet all that frustration will go away if you just let me kill that fucker,” touya tells you, flicking your forehead as leans forward, yanking the cushion off your face.

unamused, you deadpan at him. “yeah? then what am i gonna do when you’re in jail, huh?”

touya snickers, “aww, what? can’t handle being without me?”

in a strange way, your honest answer is definitely not. you’ve known touya forever. ever since you were five and your families connected at a preschool event. ever since your friend fuyumi introduced you to her brother. ever since touya confided in you how much he hated his father.

fast forward more than a decade later and you’re both sitting in your apartment, in a different state than either of your families, still as close as you were when you were kids.

you glare at touya, rolling your eyes before scrunching your nose and smirking at him. “actually, go ahead, i’ll go find myself a better guy while you rot in the cell.”

your best friend scoffs, cocking a brow and looking like he’s offended. “i off someone for you and you don’t marry me immediately? the fuck is wrong with you?”

the shit-eating grin that dawns on his face immediately after makes your heart skip a beat. yeah, you’ve always found him attractive, maybe even had a crush on him back in high school, but he’d always had girls after girls, and somewhere along the way you learned to stuff those flimsy emotions back down.

until you remember that he’s been single for a while now, and the fact that you’re both working adults with all the freedom in the world.

fuck, you really shouldn’t go back there.

“haha, funny,” you try to wave it off sarcastically. “says the one who told his ex that he just sees me as a little sister.”

he laughs, leaning back against the couch, a hand behind his head, abs sticking out from the edge of his shirt. it takes you a second to rein yourself in, not wanting to get teased relentlessly by him if you get caught staring.

“hey, she was getting jealous of me spending so much time with you! what was i supposed to say?”

yes, you’re aware. most of them were. most of the time you never told touya about any of that; of how his girlfriends were coming up to you, all insecure about your friendship and asking if you could back off. that was the most common thing among all his relationships: the girls’ pleas for you to keep a distance.

you did… the first few times.

and after his fifth relationship, you realised that touya would always pull you back close. would always end up breaking up with them if your friendship is causing them too much worry.

“you didn’t have to say anything, maybe you should’ve just kept your distance, you know? since most of them seemed to have a problem with it,” you comment, trying to act as nonchalant as possible, though even you don’t believe yourself.

a life without touya is unimaginable for you. even if you can’t really say the same for him.

touya sighs, shifting in his position before ultimately putting an arm around you, pulling you close. he smells like your soap and his hair against your face tickles.

he’s always like this; always touchy, always close. recently he’s been more than usual, coming over and sleeping the night (you never did anything physical!), chasing other guys away at the club because they’re not good enough for you.

and when he’s like that, you think maybe there’s no harm in letting those long-lost feelings flow back.

it’s dangerous.

he’s always like this. always way too much for you to handle. and yet you can’t live without him.

and then he does something he’s never done before.

you feel his lips on your temple, and you hear the chuckle reverberating from his throat. his left arm around you holds you tight, not that you’re running anywhere—you’re pretty sure you’re frozen stiff from the shock.

did that really happen?

“how can i do that when you’re the only one i want?”

you’re sure that’s his voice. it can’t be anyone else’s. but you’re not sure if you believe him. is he really saying what you think he’s saying?

slowly, you turn to face him, expecting him to wear that smug grin and tease you for being so gullible but it never comes. instead, you’re greeted with his half-lidded eyes, blue pupils staring at your lips like he’s hypnotised, his thumb caressing your lower lip from left to right like he’s trying to memorise all the grooves.

it’s so soft that you barely recognise your own voice when it comes, “touya, kiss me.”

and maybe he’s always wanted to, because he doesn’t miss a beat. the second you open your mouth, he’s giving you what you asked for, his tongue prying your lips open and he tastes just like the warm in winter mornings, like the comfort people always dream about.

mint. you can taste the sweet from when he ate it right before he beat you in the game. you can feel the cold on the tip of your nose from when you brush against the piercings on his nostrils. you can feel him carry you onto his lap, feel his hands wrapping around your waist. you can feel his heartbeat under his chest, under your palm, almost as erratic as your own.

were you really just upset over someone else?

every relationship you’d been sad over suddenly didn’t seem to make sense anymore. not when touya’s right here, lips locked with yours and telling you more with his kiss than you’ve ever heard from his words.

by the time you pull away, both of you are breathless, his hand on your cheek, lips softly brushing over your own like he can’t bear to be away even for just a second. you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes, half overwhelmed and half confused.

“fuck, did we really just—”

“shh,” you hush him, putting a finger on his lips, suddenly embarrassed. your foreheads are still pressed together, and you can’t see it but he’s admiring your face, holding himself back from just kissing you even more.

touya moves your finger away. he whispers your name in the most gentle tone you’ve ever heard, “does that mean you feel the same?”

you swallow the lump in your throat, tongue-tied and still straddling your best friend on the couch. you’re just a single impulsive action away from going all the way.

dangerous.

pulling back even further, you’re about to make a break for your bedroom when touya pulls you back, making sure you face him.

“no running this time,” he tells you, voice raspy and his eyes flicking from your eyes to your nose and your lips but mostly your lips. “i want you,” he whispers, and the minute you lock gazes, the answer has never been more clear to you.

“i want you too, touya,” you answer, both excited and afraid but he never lets you harp on things too much because he’s already kissing you silly, barely letting you breathe—you don’t have to guess with him; he wants you so desperately you can feel it in his actions.

“touya, we should stop,” you whine, knowing that this might be going way too quick yet you want it all the same.

touya shakes his head, big hands slipping under your shirt and squeezing your waist. “no, don’t wanna stop,” he whispers into your mouth.

he’s about to pull your shirt over your head when the loud shrill of his phone interrupts. he would’ve tossed it to the side if you hadn’t taken it and insisted he should take it. it’s from shoto, after all. (he doesn’t call often, it’s a complicated relationship.)

grumbling, touya leans back, keeping your thighs in place so you can’t move away. he’s smirking at you as he answers, “shoto, what is it?”

you can’t hear his brother over the phone. you can only guess snippets of the conversation from touya’s end.

“huh.”

“what for?”

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever.”

when he finally puts it down, he pulls you close by the chin, a glint of mischief in his grin. “get ready, doll.”

“huh? for what?”

touya gives you a peck on the lips. “family’s visiting, a surprise or whatever. they’re already in the city.”

you blink, praying he’s not being serious and wishing it’s not what you’re thinking. “okay, have fun!”

“and where do you think you’re going?” touya laughs, pulling you back down after you barely got back up.

“go spend some time with them, it’ll be fun.”

“oh i’m sure it’ll be fun,” he smirks, typing something into his phone and sending the message before you can sneak a peek.

you’re almost too scared to ask. but you do. “and why’s that?”

touya chuckles, thinking you’re way too stubborn, playing dumb even if it’ll kill you. but he guesses it’s fine if he has to spell it out for you. “because i wanna re-introduce you.”

“wait, what do you mean?”

with a gentle smile and a poke on your forehead, he looks you in the eyes. “i’m gonna introduce them to my future wife.”

[uranometrias]

wait for your love, spencer reid (pt. 2)

this is the second part to this. tysm for all the love on the first part, as well as all the new follows. this literally took so long, and i'm literally so sorry. i suck, but i hope you all enjoy it nonetheless. xx

you can read the alternate version for jj right here.

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau! reader | spencer reid x bau! reader | s7 team x bau! reader (platonic)

summary: following the dismissal of the case against the bureau, you're trying to get back into the swing of things. that moment of realization that comes with discovering the love you feel for someone else isn't reciprocates is never fun. but it's a truth you're meant to accept nonetheless, with a bit of help from your dearest friend spencer, you find that through a conversation about the realities of music and their hidden messages getting the courage to move on is not quite as difficult as you might have initially thought. especially when there's someone like spencer reid waiting on the other side. except of course, things always get difficult when it seems now as you're moving on, the past object of your desires is believed to feel the same way you always have.

content warnings: this is the sequel to angst lol. it's still very kind of angsty, but not as bad! it doesn't exactly end with spence/reader running off into the distance together, but i think it has a very bittersweet & sort of hopeful ending, which i felt made the most sense for a storyline like this. sometimes people have feelings for people that don't like them back, and sometimes it's just something we have to deal with.. sad but true. && i didn't want spence to seem like a rebound for reader, so i tried to go the route of her slowly putting the pieces together that maybe spence had romantic feelings for her && going from there. still spencer somewhat confesses his feelings for reader, hints that hotch might actually like reader, jj/reader reconciliation, because it needed to happen soz! she might have feelings for y/n too idk... she's kinda pulling everybody. this feels kinda melodramatic, but also idk i want epic romance vibes so i tried my best xx

i also love how hotch was such a focal part of this story and never physically showed up once... hmm.

tagged the people that asked for part 2 xx

@stvrlitsky , @cocopuff213 , @aaronhotchnerlover , @ofagathachristies , @blurpleuni-squid , @wolf-phoenix-lover , @babyspiderling , @queermaxwooo , @jihyowrrld , @minkyungseokie , @silentjudger , @btskzfav , @barbeddreams , @ah-blossom , @darker-december

It had been about a week since the court proceedings, you'd been more than a little surprised to find that you all managed to walk away scot free. You still hadn't managed to work up the courage to place your resignation papers on Hotch's desk, probably because you still hadn't gotten up the strength to face him or anyone else for that matter. You weren't outwardly abrasive, you'd offer small nods of greeting when you showed up in the morning, waves as you left.

But everyone knew that it wasn't the same.

Penelope had been trying to get you out for a night of bonding with her, Emily, and JJ, and you'd been keen on turning her down. You don't think you were quite there yet, the wound however surface level was still fresh. Looking at Emily, only reminded you of your grief, how much you had missed her. Looking at JJ only reminded you of how she hadn't had the courage necessary to tell you the truth. You'd tried to take their positions into account, look at things through a different view, but it hardly worked. You just wanted to be left alone.

Spencer was still the only one privy to the thoughts you had about ending your career at the FBI, and everyday he seemed to be holding his breath. It had become a habit to catch him staring at you with his face pinched up like he was deep in thought. It was partially why, even as your eyes skimmed over a file, you knew that he was looking in your direction. "Spence." you mutter quietly, eyes not quite meeting his as you highlighted something of importance in blue.

He sits at attention, back straight, eyes wide. He looked like a puppy that'd been caught doing something bad and was waiting for punishment. "You're doing it again." you exhale, and then you finally manage to peel your eyes from your work, eyebrow raising as you take him in tiredly. "Do you need something?" and he bares down on his bottom lip, almost as if he was thinking over his next move. He stands tall, grabbing hold of his chair and tugging it until it was planted on the other side of yours, before he sat down politely.

"Are you okay?" he's talking quietly, likely to salvage a bit of your privacy. You'd become a bit of a walking attraction in the bullpen, everyone seemed to follow every one of your actions with their eyes. You tap your highlighter against your desk, head tipping to the side as you scrutinize the man. You didn't know exactly what was going on with Spencer, but you had a small inkling, it was nothing more than an internal feeling if you were completely honest about it.

Your sister had been asking about him quite constantly lately, and after learning that day in the courtroom that for some odd reason the duo spoke over the phone, it made you pay a bit more attention to the certified genius than before. "I'm fine, Spencer. Just like I was when you asked me yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that." you keep your tone light, not wanting him to think that you were by any means annoyed with him. "What's going on?"

"I guess I keep waiting for you to disappear." he admits, head nodding involuntarily. "You're here right now, and you look fine." he continues, and you like listening to him, even if he was breaking one of the rules, and choosing to profile you. "So shouldn't things feel different? Better at least, like before?" he asks, and you don't expect that. Maybe he wasn't profiling you at all, and instead was expressing himself to a friend. "At least a little bit?" he asks, and you think it over.

"I don't think it'll ever be like before, Spence." and you hate to be the Betty Buzzkill, but it's as true as you can be. "How can it?" and Spencer's eyes jump across the room, landing on Emily who was not so subtly watching the two of you speak. You follow his gaze, and blink harshly when Emily's eyes connect with your own. It forces you to look right back at Spencer. He looks pensive, and you wonder how long he's been working up the courage to say more than 'Are you alright?'

"She was dead... and now suddenly she's not. That's great, but I grieved my friend, and maybe I'm not done grieving the Emily I knew before." and it's the first time you're admitting this aloud. "Our Emily, not the- Interpol Superspy." and you huff. "And look, I know I should be grateful, how many people get back the people they love after death?" and Spencer doesn't answer. "But is she really back? Is she really still our Emily? And how long before she's ready to pack up her stuff and take off? I'm not opening myself up to that again."

Spencer thinks your point is valid, he at one point had insisted that he had the worse abandonment issues on the team, but you had been right there through most of it. You were, in your own way protecting yourself from being hurt again. He couldn't fault you for that, none of them should. "I understand." and truthfully he does, and he's glad that at least you trust him enough to be upfront about it. "There's nothing wrong with shielding yourself from heartache, I just don't want you to close off completely... not from all of us."

You falter, and Spencer hates that he can't just say that he doesn't want you to close off from him. He didn't want this situation to change the way you behaved with him, he couldn't handle losing you.

"I won't." you promise. "And I won't do anything to jeopardize what we do here, I've got enough self control to be civil." you add with a small smile. "I haven't quite decided what a future at the bureau will look like, but I am willing to give things here a chance to get better." and you do love your work, Profiling was something you enjoyed doing, you wouldn't toss it away, unless you absolutely had no other choice. "So you don't have to worry about losing me, Spence." and you hold your breath, mostly because it's a bit audacious on your part.

He offers you a half smile, and you notice the way he visibly relaxes. Still, he doesn't want you to feel obligated to stay somewhere just for his sake, so he feels the need to be honest with you. "I'm not worried." he promises you, and it's a tiny fib, one that could become true if he grew just a touch more confidence. "Even if you did decide to leave one day I would put in the work to keep you in my life." and his smile stretches across his face now, and reaches his eyes. "You're not someone anyone would want to lose." your stomach twists.

"You're not either, Spencer." and you say it firmly, mainly to show just how much you need him to believe it. "I'd just make it my job to take up all your free time outside of work." and his face feels incessantly warm, like he'd stuck his head directly in the stream of scalding shower water. The funny thing about you was that you were oftentimes one of the hardest on the team to read. He figured that because he spent so much time hyper focused on you that he'd get better at it. He still hadn't, and you still managed to leave him stuck.

Comments like the one you just made were common for you, but the meaning behind it always escaped him. Were you flirting with him or were you just being nice? Was it possible that you knew that he had feelings for you? Were you using him as a rebound after the mess you'd found yourself entangled into with Hotch just months ago? The thought of him merely being an emotional rebound made him sad, disappointed, and insecure. But then he's taking in your expression, how despite your confidence you still look shy, and reels it in.

You had never been that sort of person, maybe you were just as oblivious as he was. "I'd be okay with that now." and you look a bit surprised, but also pleased. You nod your head slightly, leaning forward just a little in your seat. Spencer isn't sure if he's moved too quickly, but he's got no room to second guess it now.

"We should do something." it's not at all what he'd expected you to say, and he's surprised, it's more than evident on his face.

"Who? Us? Just the two of us?" he asks, and you find yourself offering him an amused sort of glance.

"Yeah, it could be fun." you insist, and you're not trying to play with his feelings, at least not in the traditional sense. Spencer Reid was no rebound. "It's not often we have days off, you know?" and you lean against your palm, head tipping slightly to the side. "Only if you want." you add, hoping that this addition would make him feel a touch more comfortable. It seems to work, because he untenses just a bit.

"Y-Yeah." he nods his head slightly, hair moving with the action just slightly. "Yeah, we should definitely do something." he agrees, and your smile is bright, clearly pleased at the turn of events. "When would you?" his eyes jump to his watch, and he shakes his head. "Obviously, not right now." he says and you're staring at him a bit bemused, because Spencer Reid was nothing if not a bit unserious.

"There's this music store I've been dying to check out." you say, and you witness Spencer's eyes seem to brighten. "It's sort of right on the strip, if you don't mind going with me to look at some vinyls and cd's for my collection, we could just go-" and you're eyebrows are raised, "And see what happens? There's a lot you could do..." you finish, and Spencer's already nodding his head in agreement.

"T-That's..." and he clears his throat, you think to keep you from acknowledging the fact his voice cracked in his nervousness. "Yeah, I don't mind that at all." he agrees politely. "Did you know that in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, record stores only sold gramophone records, but over time they've sold other formats like eight-track tapes, compact cassettes, and compact discs." his hands curl into one another as he relays this message and you snort.

"Did you know that there's a national record store day? It started back in 2008." and he's a bit surprised that you're shooting him a fact of your own, and one that he wasn't actually aware of.

"Really?" he questions, and your eyes sort of crinkle, smile broadening enough to show off both rows of your teeth.

"Don't tell me that I know something the brilliant Doctor Reid doesn't." you tease, and his eyes roll, though his entire demeanor remains lighthearted. "So, what's your poison?" you sidestep, but just barely, your work ignored as you focus all your efforts on keeping this conversation with Reid going.

"My poison?" and his mind of course drifts to alcohol, a bit of a confusing pivot in the conversation. "I don't really see myself as much of a drinker." he admits truthfully, and he's confused when you're laughing, hand flying up to cover your mouth as his face contorts.

"I meant your favorite music genre." you correct. "And I know you're partial to classical," and you try not to stretch your eyes. "It's great when I need to concentrate, but I wouldn't exactly say I'm dying to put on Bach and Tchaikovsky in a regular setting." you explain, both hands resting against your cheeks as you await the hopefully longwinded answer he'd have to give you.

"What if that's my only answer?" he asks, and you scoff.

"It's not." you deadpan, and he exhales through his nose. "I know you and Morgan have that understanding about music..." you explain, head cocked to the side. "He got you to listen to Nas." you remind him as he purses his lips at the reminder. "And Garcia's always sending music recommendations." you proceed as Spencer shoots you a look that clearly reads 'What's your point?'.

"Are you really telling me that out of every genre of music that's ever been released to the entire world, the only genre that's ever stood out to you is the one where old men sit behind a piano and twinkle the keys to their hearts content?" Spencer's releasing another one of those quiet laughs, this one is clearly full of exasperation though.

"I think they're doing a little bit more than twinkling keys." he corrects you, and you know that. You'd only said it to get under his skin just a little, he was fun to mess with. "Classical music is one of the only genres that seemingly does so little and is able to express the full spectrum of human emotion and life experience." he explains, and you fight your smile, leaning in just a bit more to show you were focused. You weren't sure what was happening or if anything was really happening at all, and it was all in your mind.

But you were finding that you didn't mind just listening to Spencer go on and on about whatever he wanted. You thought a lot about what had happened outside of that court room, how he'd listened to you. Really listened to you, and had never once made you feel like the emotional failure you'd imagined yourself to be. You couldn't say that in the span of a week all of your feelings for Hotch had vanished. That'd be bullshit, because deep down you knew it wasn't that easy.

And sometimes you wished it could be, sometimes you wondered why you had to fall for Hotch when Spencer was right there.

Still, whether or not you were being forced to come to grips with the fact that Hotch was not, and wouldn't ever love you the way you loved him, you couldn't deny that it was nice to have a friend there. Spencer wasn't coming to you with heavy confessions and tear-streaked cheeks begging you to look and see that he was perfect for you, which is why you think you like him even more. You knew a lot of times it was hard, rare even to find someone who would just care for you without expecting anything in return. That was Spence to a T.

"Go on." you instruct, and you find that despite the way you'd baited him into this conversation, it was well worth it. He didn't get a lot of time to just be Spencer, and with no clock over your heads, no rush for time to solve a case, you figured it was the least you could do. Especially after he'd spent the last week trying to show you how much he cared.

"I just mean that in classical music, it's actually very common to have one piece of music encompass an entire host of emotions, experiences, and subject matter." he expresses, and you hum, nodding along. "And it's all because most classical pieces use a similar formula that uses textures, dynamic colors and key modulations to express things certain words can't properly articulate." he proceeds. "That's why certain sounds and notes manage to adduce certain reactions." he seems finished.

"Oh, yeah?" you press and he nods limply, seemingly awaiting the moment you offer some jab regarding his oversharing. "I guess Mozart and Beethoven were really onto something." you mutter, and he snorts. "Still, I'd much rather listen to something a bit more obvious." you admit, not that you had a real problem with Classical Music.

"What do you mean?"

"Well I'm just saying... music's always sort of been the perfect tool for expressing everything you might need to say." you counter. "And while I agree that music in any form does a great job of invoking certain emotions, sometimes you don't want to guess what someone means." you admit, and it's partially (mostly) because you had never been good at reading in between the lines. Things always made the most sense when they were plainly spelled out.

"Or maybe that's just a me thing." you correct. "I've found that I always enjoy things when they're a little more laid out... there's no way to misunderstand when it's spelled out for you, right?" you ask and Spencer's lips curve down into a slight frown. He's not pitying you, mostly just sympathizing with how torn up you must have been about everything. Especially as your eyes instinctively are drawn to the shut doorway of Hotch's office. Spencer thinks that's when reality sets back in and hits him like a brick.

Because he knew something that you didn't. Something that would probably make everything better for you, but would undoubtedly double his heartache. In truth, he, much like everyone else on the team tried their hardest to ignore just how obvious you'd been about your feelings for hotch. spencer more than anyone.

He remembered how things had changed a few months back, how you'd started to move on all for the rug to be pulled from up under your feet. It had been outwardly cruel, undoubtedly. because while everyone else on the team seemed to be just fine with 'don't ask, don't tell', Spencer had been unable to not pay attention to the way Hotch had actually changed too. Did he hate him? Absolutely not... and he knew you didn't either, because despite how idiotic the plan was, he hadn't done much besides give you more attention.

And Spencer guessed the act of giving you more attention had unsurprisingly ended with Aaron Hotchner realizing it was something he actually enjoyed. Hence the sudden change their boss underwent.

He supposed that was the worst part about it all, the fact that everyone had the right to tell you that "nothing had happened", and there was nothing you could do about it. Because in the grand scheme of things nothing really had happened. Hotch was no heartless womanizer, Spencer couldn't even imagine the man flirting with anyone, let alone stringing someone along for kicks. Still, that didn't change the fact that you'd gotten your hopes up, and now you were back to your own harsh reality.

Not because it wasn't a real possibility, more so because Hotch was self destructive, and sabotaged himself and his happiness at every turn. Spencer wants to stay quiet, to bask in the fact that you were slowly on your own terms getting over Hotch, and paying more attention to him, but he can't do that. He'd hate it if someone did it to him. So instead he decides to throw you a bone, push you in the right direction. "Why haven't you just talked to him?" it's not what he had meant to say. He had meant to play the role of the supportive friend.

He'd wanted to pat you on the back, mumble some agreeance that would validate how you were feeling, and possibly give him cool points. Instead, here he was about to push you in the direction of someone else. He supposed that's how stupid love made you.

"What?" you exclaim, and Spencer doesn't know what's so exasperating about his question. It was obvious that you needed to, it wasn't fair that you were slowly deteriorating on the inside whilst trying to maintain some semblance of being a "team player". He said 'screw the team' if it wasn't genuine. And clearly, from the way you'd still been icing out JJ and Emily, it wasn't. Not fully anyway. He'd never rush you to get over it, mostly because it'd make him a hypocrite. He still cringes at the thought of the tears he'd shed to JJ.

But, that was his own problem.

"Hotch." he lowers his voice a little, because it's just now hitting him that the two of you have been slacking off for a while now. Emily wasn't exactly focused in on the both of you anymore, but every so often, he'd find that she still look up every few moments. JJ, Derek, and Rossi had made a habit of leaving their respective offices, eyes glued to what was apparently becoming unit news. "You should talk to him." he says simply as your eyes cross dramatically.

"What's there to talk about?" you ask suddenly distracted by a smudge on the corner of your desk.

"What happened." he says simply. "I mean, don't you think there might be some explanation you might be missing?" Spencer tries, and you curl into yourself just a little bit.

"It's still work hours and he's still Hotch." you deny, and Spencer's lips push to the side, an obvious sign of his slight discomfort about what he was going to say next. "He's not going to want to talk about it." you admit. "And what exactly do you say in a conversation like that? Oh by the way boss, I was in love with you, and it kinda felt like maybe you felt the same, except oh wait, it was just a ploy to keep me from realizing you were lying about Emily being alive?" you say sarcastically. Spencer huffs in retaliation.

"Yes actually, you could say exactly that. Maybe you'll learn something you didn't know before." he deadpans, and your nose curls. You cut your eyes over at the man, who's not amused.

"I kinda thought you'd be the last person pushing for this sort of confrontation, you know?' you admit before you can really help yourself. You watch as Spencer's face seems to set into one of surprise, his cheeks and neck slowly gaining a red sort of tint to them.

"What do you mean?" he questions, and your mouth parts just slightly. And you think the same way he's been gentle with you is the exact same way you need to be gentle with him, so you pivot, head shaking from side to side.

"Nothing." you say firmly. "Forget about it." you say quietly, and then you're looking back at your paperwork. Spencer, embarrassed finds himself fiddling with his fingers, trying to scold his heartbeat back into submission. It suddenly felt way too cramped sitting at your desk.

"You should go after work." he says, and your eyes snap back to him. "Talk to Hotch after work, I mean." he says and your stomach feels a bit tight. "I think it'll be best." he proceeds, and you frown.

"You do?" you question, and you try not to sound despondent.

"Y-Yeah, I do." he agrees despite his stutter. "Things like this don't go away on their own, you know?" and you chew on the inside of your lip, and feel that gloom cloud from earlier making its way back.

"I thought we were supposed to be hanging out today, Spencer." you start and he blinks owlishly, long lashes nearly caressing the tops of his cheekbones.

"We could always raincheck." he says, and you stare at him just a bit blankly. "It's not like it was a date or anything. They were just plans..." he adds, and your teeth chomp down on your bottom lip. He doesn't really know how to read the look on your face, but he knows that he feels like he's being noble.

"Just plans." you shrug your shoulders dismissively. "Right." and then you pick up your pen. "Well if that's what you want, I guess it's fine by me." you add, body curling into itself as you position yourself away from him.

"Isn't that what you want?" he questions, and you cut your eyes.

"Do you think I'd be sitting here if it was?" you keep your voice level, but your leg is bouncing. You're not quite sure why, maybe because Spencer was being Spencer. You supposed your comment that made it clear that you knew that he had feelings for you had scared him. Now, he was trying to protect himself, but you weren't so hungry for a relationship that you'd string him along for the sole purpose of getting over Hotch. You would've made this call had you figured it out or not, and you supposed the fact he didn't get that was what sucked. "I'm not that pathetic." you add with a quiet scoff.

"It's not about you being pathetic." he denies. "I don't think that about you., I just know that you're in a vulnerable place. You had real feelings for him, and I think it'd be best for you to get it all off your chest correctly, before you start projecting all those leftover feelings to the first person you can." and he doesn't mean it in the way it sounds. In fact the statistics about rebounds would sound a lot worse, but as usual, he's horrible at communicating exactly what he feels.

You blink. Once, twice, three times.

"I can't believe you just said that to me." you say, and you're abruptly standing up, mostly because you're about to cry like the fucking baby you were. Spencer's certain this is a new record for how quickly things could go left just because he couldn't shut the hell up. What he'd been trying to convey was that after a rejection, it was much easier to mistake platonic feelings for romantic ones. He had been a consistent shoulder for you to lean on since everything went south.

He didn't want you to think that he was being nice to you only because he had feelings for you, and convince yourself that you felt the same all because you refused to fully shut the door with Hotch. But he'd never actually meant to make it seem like you'd be so desperate, and especially not with him. "Y/N, wait. That's not what I meant-" except you're already leaving, taking in the shaky breath that told him he'd stupidly made you cry.

"L/N?" Emily's calling as you pass her, but you don't respond to her either. Instead you're rushing off in the direction of the bathroom, likely to calm yourself down. Emily's eyes are immediately snapping over to Spencer, and her eyebrows are furrowed. He instinctively looks away, internally cursing himself out.

────────────────────────

"Y/N/N?" you're surprised to hear JJ entering the bathroom, and you're hurriedly moving to splash at your face with water to keep it from looking so puffy. Still, JJ was as perceptive as she was pushy, so it's clear she's already put it together that you're crying. "Hey, is everything alright?" she takes on that motherly tone she uses with Henry, and the rest of the team when they're feeling down.

"I'm fine." you insist, and she doesn't look convinced. She takes a tentative step towards you, standing beside the sink you were occupying. "Seriously JJ, please just leave me alone." you partially beg.

"I know you're upset with me, but you're still my friend." she reminds you. "I'm not going to leave you in here when it's clear you're upset." she exclaims. "So you can talk to me or not, but I'm not going anywhere." she deadpans, and you sniffle, rubbing harshly at your cheeks. They're sensitive to the action, blood rushing to your face.

"You're so annoying." you mumble, but there's no bite. It makes JJ snicker, and it's a step in the right direction you're sure.

"It's my job." she retorts with a shrug, and she leans her back against the sink beside you, legs crossing slightly. "Is everything okay?" she tries again, much more gently as you frown. No, everything was not okay. You hadn't actually expected to be sitting here crying over Spencer's remark, but you supposed that the fact he believed you'd ever use him as a rebound had kind of hurt. You supposed it also didn't help that he'd so callously canceled your plans.

You'd actually started to look forward to hanging out with him.

"Do you think I'm desperate?" you question haughtily, and JJ's eyes widen, surprise overtaking her features as she turns to you fully.

"Of course not." she denies firmly, blonde ponytail bobbing with all her intense animation. "What would make you think that?" she pries, and you cut your eyes just slightly.

"You guys could have trusted me with the truth." you counter, and she falls silent. "And even if you couldn't there were so many other ways to keep me from finding out about Emily. Ways that didn't involve making me look like an idiot to the rest of the team." you mumble crossly, and you blink enough that you feel like your lashes are crumpling into your cornea. it forces you to drag a hand over them roughly, rubbing harshly at your eyes until the sensation left.

"That wasn't what we were trying to do." JJ tries, and it doesn't really matter what exactly she was trying to do. What mattered was what had happened. "You know that." she adds, and you think she's trying to appeal to the part of you that knew the type of people she and Hotch were. The ones that had proven their loyalty to the team for years and years. "Is this about Hotch?" she says and you wince because the problem wasn't that simple.

And you didn't understand why everyone seemed to think so.

You weren't some girl that couldn't handle rejection, what bothered you the most was that Hotch and JJ had felt like they couldn't trust you, and it bothered you that Hotch had felt like he had to play along to some stupid fantasy to ensure you'd play your role. And it especially bothered you that you'd mourned your friend Emily and everything you thought you knew about her, and all anyone could focus on was the fact that you liked Hotch and he didn't like you back. As if your entire world stopped all because of it.

"No, it's not about Hotch." you deadpan. "I wish you guys would just stop being so casual about it." you add on as JJ's mouth parts.

"Y/N... it's not really something that you'd ever really been subtle about. Everyone knows." and she's still trying to be gentle, despite the fact that the words still managed to slice at you.

"So that makes what you guys did, okay?" you shoot back. "Is that really the hill you want to die on?" and you're growing crosser. "This isn't about not being liked back by a guy, this is about me believing that the people I spend most of my days with have my back. How are we supposed to be a team when I can't trust you?" you press. "Because you never would have done that to Spence." you add, and JJ blinks, mostly because she doesn't know how to counter that.

"You didn't have to do it to Derek or Rossi or Penelope either." you remind her. "So what was it about me, about this that made your only course of action rubbing salt in a wound that I was doing a damn good job of healing all on my own?"

"I-I don't know." she admits, and you suppose it was an answer.

"Yeah, well I don't know if I have the patience to wait around for you all to figure that out." you mumble.

"What are you saying?" and JJ's blinking a bit more, eyes misty but not quite showing any signs of shed tears.

"I'm saying that before I didn't know if I wanted to stay here anymore. I love my job, but I don't love how it makes me feel now." you say plainly. "When Elle got like that and ignored her gut it got someone shot." you say, and it sounds melodramatic, but it doesn't feel that way at all. JJ gasps, though it's faint. "I just don't want to wait around for that to happen to me." and you inhale sharply, shuddered breath wracking through you as JJ stares at you clearly gobsmacked.

"But-" and she can't quite grasp the words. "You can't just leave." she exclaims, and it sounds like she's pleading. "Look-" and she's starting to sound just a little desperate. "Look we never wanted to hurt you, okay? And-and none of us..." and she stops to make sure she's staring you directly in your eyes. "None of us want to lose you, Y/N." she insists. "I-" and she's shaking her head again. "Please don't do this." and she sounds the same way Spencer did when he said it. Your nose twitches, "We just got the team back together." she mutters.

"JJ, that's not fair." you huff at her, and she's not really trying to be fair. She just doesn't want you to leave.

"I'm so sorry that we hurt you." and while most apologies that start that way are usually rife with deceit, JJ sounds more sincere than she probably ever has before. "And I'm sorry if it feels a little flat, especially with you already having a foot out the door." she sighs, "It wasn't okay, but-but I know how Hotch feels about you. How the entire team feels about you." she reiterates. "We can't do this without you, we can't." she emphasizes sternly. "And maybe that's selfish to bring up, but we all care so much about you." she promises.

You want to cut her off, but she doesn't give you the chance.

Classic JJ.

"Do whatever you need to! Take as much time away as you need, hate us forever if you have to, but please don't- don't walk away from what you do here." she exhales shakily. "And-and for the record, whether it helps or not... we didn't sit around discussing your... feelings for Hotch." she tells you quietly. "It wasn't some master plan that we composed, and-and I don't know... it couldn't have all been fake." she whispers, and you wonder why she's changing her tune, because just last week she was telling you that 'it wasn't real'

"JJ-" you finally manage and she's shaking her head.

"I'm serious." she insists, and your nose crinkles up again.

"Stop." you deadpan. "You're being really mean." you huff, and you begin to click at your nails just slightly. JJ thinks you're a little bit exasperating. Too stubborn for your own good, but she wont push.

"Could you just listen for one second?" she exclaims, and you're pouting as she grows more overwhelmed at it all. "I wouldn't lie to you about this." she insists, and you wonder why she, and Spencer have taken this sort of stance with you. It should make you hopeful, right? Oh, there was some chance that Hotch felt the same way as you. Except you can't be happy about it, because he's not the one that was sitting here telling you this. It was JJ.

What had you told Spencer earlier? 'There's no way to misunderstand when it's spelled out for you, right', and emotionally exhausted or not, you meant it. Which meant you refused to do the work for him. If he couldn't say it, if he couldn't admit it, than it was as if it wasn't true at all. Which is why you exhale, blinking away whatever bleariness tried to keep itself latched to your eyes. "I love you for trying so hard, but I'd rather you didn't." you instruct sternly.

JJ inhales deeply, audibly expelling the breath from her nose. "That's what you're missing, Y/N." she begins, and she reaches out, hand cupping your shoulder. "I'm not trying to do anything. Everything I've said today I meant. You're important, and you're a lot to lose." she admits. "If you're going to leave, leave because you hate the job, do it because you don't feel fulfilled any longer. But don't let this be what makes you throw in the towel, Y/N." she says and you huff again.

You were doing a lot of that today. "We'll make up for it." she begins, and then she sighs. "I'll make up for it, however long it takes." and you think her pivot from sharing the blame to taking it all for herself makes you feel a little less like you were being ganged up on. She was no longer the spokesperson for everyone involved, and was back to just being JJ, your friend JJ. "Please?" she tries again, and it's not like her to beg, which tells you all you need to know about how serious she was.

"We should get back to work." you mumble, and it's not quite the answer she's expecting, but at the very least it was a promise that you both still had until the end of the day at the very least. She doesn't have the strength to fight her smile, arms looping around you in a move that's much too invasive for your still sour mood, but you don't slight her for it. You instead let her hug you, because obviously it meant a lot more to her than you knew. She'd missed you.

"Alright, alright. That's enough." you tease, moving to lightly push the blonde off of you as she exhales.

"Can you blame me? I thought you were gonna hate me forever." she admits honestly, and you crinkle your nose.

"Guess I'm softer than I thought." you reply, and she waves you off at the remark. Still, despite this slight turn in the direction of your relationship with JJ, you still couldn't feel all that settled. But, you know hiding out in the restroom was by no means the best choice. So when JJ moves to leave, you tail her, surprised when on the other side is a nearly pacing Reid.

"Spence?" JJ exclaims in surprise, the tawny haired man turns to you both. He's immediately looking past JJ to take you in. JJ follows hos gaze and whistles under her breath, deciding that her job was done. She offers you a hopeful sort of look before she continues on towards her desk, leaving you and Spencer mostly alone.

"Are you okay?" he asks, and you're subjectively alright, for the moment. You're better than you were, but not as good as you could be. You're not anywhere near where or who you were before, but you suppose after what the team endured there wasn't much that could be done about that last bit. "I'm so sorry." he's exclaiming, and of course, he means it. He always means it. "I didn't mean to-" and he doesn't really know how to articulate all his thoughts correctly.

He's good with words, knows facts and statistics and data, knows what runs through his mind when he thinks about you, and knows what he wants to say. It's when he opens his mouth that things go awry, because despite all his grand attempts, he always manages to screw up when it came to expressing the emotional side of things. His pep talks sometimes fell flat, and a lot of times he missed the mark when it came to cheering someone up. But, he'd never wanted to be a person who hurt you, so he needed to fix it.

Even if it ruined everything forever.

"I wasn't trying to insinuate that you'd-" and he motions between the both of you. "I don't think that you see me as a rebound." he finally vocalizes. "That would mean you'd have to see me in a potentially romantic way." Spencer's voice is as steady as it often was when he was giving a geographical profile or helping to relay some form of fact or evidence during a case. Which said a lot about his intentions, and how serious he was about you not misunderstanding him.

"I was merely trying to note that a lot of times in circumstances where we're faced rejection from someone we hold to a high regard, it's really easy to misinterpret our own feelings and latch onto people before we really mean to." he expresses, and your chewing on the inside of your cheek, albeit subtly. "For example, because you've established me as someone who you can trust during this time, it'd be really easy for you to misinterpret what you think you feel for me." he says, and your eyebrows furrow inwardly.

"How could I possibly do that? They're my own feelings." you retort.

"Because, the first thing people do after a breakup, is they seek validation, or a new way to boost their esteem and self worth." he doesn't quite lecture, but it's clear he's intent on your knowing all of this. "And that doesn't necessarily mean that you're vying for me as a potential person to bounce back with, but a lot of times when you don't process the end of a previous emotional bond, your view of the entire new dynamic can be warped." he proceeds, and you're still not really understanding his point, instead you're feeling more silly.

"What are you saying, Spencer?" you question quietly.

"All I'm trying to explain is that I don't want you to tell me that you want to go out and listen to me promenade facts unless it's what you really want to do." he says, "I don't want you to feel like you're obligated to play along, because you think we're in the same boat... where we- we love someone that we can't have?" he presses, and he winces once it's out, you think you may have started holding your breath. "Does that make sense to you?"

You nod your head limply, and you take in his words. You find that your little hunch about your dear Spencer was correct. You also note that it doesn't quite scare you the way you'd initially believed it would. "Spence, I wouldn't do that to you." you remind him, and he nods too.

"I know that." he promises. "At least not consciously, but our minds can play tricks on us. You could think that this is what's best, moving on... forgetting about- about everything that happened." he presses, and your lips form into a thin line. "And then wake up in three weeks and remember why you fell in love with Hotch to begin with."

"Or-" and his eyes widen.

"Or?"

"Or...I could choose to stop waiting around for someone to not be afraid to love me." you counter. "I could- I could choose to hang out with my friend, Spencer and be okay with whatever happens after that. I could- We could do that. And it could be okay." you purse your lips. "Because, it's what I want to do. Nobody's entitled to my feelings but me, and you know what that means, Spencer? It means that if you think that you might love me, you need to be okay with that." he looks a bit startled that you're saying it so bluntly, but stays quiet.

"And you need to know that sometimes your statistics are gonna be wrong, and sometimes the guy that's too scared to admit how they feel doesn't get the girl." it's a shock, you can't say that you've fallen out of love in a day, you can't say that you've fallen in love in a day. But you do know that Spencer Reid managed to invoke a hope inside of you that you hadn't managed to feel in a long time. He made you girlishly giddy, and you liked talking to him, you liked listening to him, you liked the way it felt when you'd made plans together.

And maybe there was no such thing as a happily ever after where everyone gets who they want, maybe in three weeks you would wake up and find that you and Spencer were better off as friends, but you weren't going to hold up your life in the hopes that maybe someday Aaron Hotchner would wake up and decide he was finally ready to love you out loud. Not when there was a chance to take your own life, your own emotions by the balls and do with them what you wanted.

"He doesn't?" Spencer asks, and you're not quite sure you can place what emotions are resting on his face and in his eyes.

"We can find out." you offer, and it's not some heady and heavy declaration of unyielding devotion, but wasn't that sort of how every relationship started? With some decision to take a chance. Maybe, you didn't really know. "There's this music store I've been dying to check out." you say, and for the second time that day Spencer seems to brighten right in front of your eyes. "It's sort of right on the strip, if you don't mind going with me... there's a lot we could do…" and the small change is almost everything. It's scary, causes a pit in your gut.

Still, it's a nicer feeling than uncertainty and the hollowness left behind by idleness. "Are you in?" you ask, and Spencer is already nodding his head, smile reaching his eyes as his pretty teeth reveal themselves to you, eyes twinkling in a way that's very very beautiful.

"Yes." he agrees with a simple nod. "I would-" and you think it's cute the way his smile refuses to leave, and sweet the way he's suddenly grown nervous all over again. "I'd like that-" and his voice cracks, and earns him a laugh, your own demeanor seeming to change as your excitement starts to brew in the depths of your chest.

"Good." you beam.

"Good." he repeats, and there's a small moment, a flicker where you're certain you both look nervous, frightful of what came next. But it only lasts a second, because you're both suddenly being called by Derek, a resounding 'Pretty Boy, Pretty Girl' forcing you out of your bubble and back into the fray. With another shared smile you find yourselves in step, making your way back towards the heart of the bullpen where the rest of the team is huddled. It's rare when work is so light, but you know as well as everyone else, you'll all take advantage of it.

When Penelope smiles at you, you smile back, and it's real.

When JJ plants herself on top of your desk, the two of you actually laugh, spilling secrets and trading gossip like nothing's ever changed.

When Rossi calls you Piccola, you relax even more into the familiarity of being surrounded by your teammates.

When Derek slings an arm around your shoulder and plants a kiss to the top of your head, you remember why you loved your job.

When Emily calls your name and waves you and JJ over to the group, you oblige, meeting Emily's eyes with no mirth left behind. When she calls you by your nickname, you feel that familiar swarm of familial adoration filling your chest, and recognize that things with her would be okay. You find that in the grand scheme she is still your Emily.

When you find yourself standing next to your boss, his usually stern and stoic persona shed in the presence of the team he considered family, you hardly bat an eye. When he smiles at a joke you make, you're pleased, but the anxiety, the panic that tormented you is all gone. The butterflies are too, replaced with the respect you remember.

And when you find yourself looking across the circle and meet the pretty brown eyes of one Spencer Reid, you feel it when your heart tremors, just a little bit.

And you think, in the end, you made the right decision.

[babycharmander]

PSA for TF2 Fanartists

(And... really for everyone on the creative side of the fandom, but artists are the ones hurt by this the most.)

I've been seeing some really concerning stuff here that is going unnoticed. Granted, I don't think this is any artist's fault--if anything, the artists are the victims here. But that's why I want to make you guys aware of this, so you can protect yourself from this sort of thing.

"This sort of thing" being a little something called fetish mining.

Fetish mining is when someone with a specific fetish attempts to trick someone else into providing them with content for their fetish... without letting them know that's what they're asking for. Outside of fandom spaces, this can look like someone with a foot fetish approaching someone who is selling socks, and asking them to "model" the socks for them--they're not actually interested in buying the socks, they just want to see pictures of feet.

Within fandom spaces, however, they often take the form of someone repeatedly requesting something featuring a very specific body part of a character, or repeatedly requesting art of a character performing a weirdly specific action. (The repeated part is important here--someone could just say "oh hey could you draw this character shirtless?" once, and that would probably be fine. There's a chance it could be a fetish thing, sure, but it's significantly less likely. Same with a really random request--someone could request something really specific, but if they only do so once, it's significantly less likely to be a fetish mining request.) They might also provide an excuse like, "oh, I think this would be really funny! :)" or "this is a joke request! but it would be hilarious if you drew it"

So what are some examples of this?

Well... they might look a little something like this:

[ID: Two screenshots of two different anonymous asks. The first one reads "HEAVY TF2 TUMMY" with multiple red exclamation points afterward, and the second reads "Sniper tf2 teeth" followed by multiple red exclamation points. /end ID]

(I was going to feature another but then realized it wasn't anonymous, and I'm not comfortable putting an actual blog on blast.)

If these were just one-off asks, that would be one thing, but if you look up these things, you'll see dozens of these asks.

As well, there's nothing wrong with drawing Heavy shirtless, or drawing Sniper baring his teeth. Having fetishes for stomachs or teeth is not wrong, either, nor is specifically requesting fetish art (so long as the artist is okay with such requests)!

The problem is that the specificness of these asks, combined with how frequently these asks get sent, are signs of fetish mining.

(Though another problem is that... this isn't always a 100%-for-sure sign of fetish mining. Some people have special interests that might not be a typical thing like a fandom or hobby or branch of science, but could just be something oddly specific like stomachs or teeth. These things are okay and are not bad! But requests relating to these things can, unfortunately, look identical to fetish mining.)

And again, fetish mining is a person sneakily asking for someone else to provide them with something that is fetish material for them--something that is sexual for them--without letting that person know that's what it's for.

This makes it a form of sexual harassment.

I feel like a lot of the fandom is... not really aware of what's going on, here, and it's distressing. These are very likely bad actors trying to take advantage of people and get away with sexually harassing others (including minors). This is not okay. No part of that is okay.

The best thing to do when faced with a request that seems oddly specific is to look it up, and, if there seem to be multiple requests of this nature, to ignore it--do not fulfill the request. Do not encourage this behavior. (Unless you're okay with drawing that kind of content, but like... if that's the case, then tag your work appropriately.)

Don't feel bad if you've fulfilled some of these requests in the past--you didn't know, and being tricked is not your fault. But now that you do know, you can hopefully better protect yourself from this kind of thing.

[fanaticsnail]

Pretty Bird - Part 2

Masterlist here

Word count: 2,065 Part 1

Synopsis: you nursed back to health and injured raven that was found in the canopy of your cottage. The raven was a shifted Avariel fae, a creature of myth and legend, and the new lord of Kuraigana. He is extremely smitten with you, and doesn't know the adequate customs to court you. All he knows and feels is you are his mate, and he wants you.

Themes: fae!Mihawk x human!reader, raven!Mihawk x f!reader (can be read as gn, no gendered terms used).

Notes: prompts based on this ask by 🪶 Anon. Header picture made by me using OPLA's Yoru and doctored stock images. We're leaning in on a bit of hybrid au stuff. Mihawk is a winged, elf-like creature that can shift into a raven and human form - but he is most comfortable being a winged humanoid with dark feathers and talon-like fingernails.

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @sinning-23 @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @sordidmusings @nerium-lil

It wasn't quite the grandiose hallways and intricate ornamentation you had experienced once upon long ago. The high keep was, for all other words considered, gloomy. The light was dull, the curtains barely parted, and the lengthy leading carpet had begun to fray at the edges from ill-maintenance and neglect over the years.

The single room in the entire manor that caused your heart to flutter was the one you had reminisced with your pretty bird at your inherited cottage. The gallery was in full bloom, the curtains clipped and dusted with a place for everything, and everything in its place.

A large amassment of individuals were wandering and chattering within the halls, eyeglasses drawn up their faces and assessing the finery with criticism in their snarls. The group which were invited to the grand premier of the reopening were some that you had not seen prior, and many local dignitaries you had dealings with in your cottage.

You assumed you were here as a civilian observer, like some of the others, to give the new lord of Kuraigana a reputation of hospitality and humility. Truth be told, you did not care you were to be used as a ruse. All that seemed to matter was finding that one painting you recounted from the days of your youth.

Spotting a long since forgotten painting of your childhood, you felt the wonderment warm and swell in your chest as soon as you laid eyes on it. Your land, your hometown, a field of wildflowers shrouding your familial home with two figures sitting on a hanging swing off on a hollowed willow tree. The figure on the swing was looking up, just as a winged creature with a humanoid face was smiling down.

This was the picture you imagined when you spoke with the wounded raven in your cottage. There was something in the way the two subjects looked at each other, their hearts swelling in their eyes, as joy was depicted on their lips. Two creatures from different worlds just as captivated with the other as the other was with them.

As you leaned in closer to the image, you felt a presence behind you with their dark shadow cascading your form with their silhouette.

“Do you enjoy this one, then?” their vocal cadence was difficult to read, but their presence felt intimidating. You turned to face the figure, and curtseyed low to them with your eyes fallen to the ground.

“This painting holds meaning for me, yes, sir,” you rise from your curtsey, keeping your gaze held firmly to their dark, leather boots as you rose back to full stature. They stepped forward in a single stride, puncturing your border of personal comfort and towering over you.

“Can you explain it to me, so as to grant me a greater understanding of such a piece?” their voice purred down at you. The scent of their cologne felt familiar to you, as did the subtle pattern in their flowing cloak over their shoulders.

Softly floating your gaze to their features, you hovered over their unique, angular facial hair and bit back your nerves.

“The prior lord of this house was known for his admiration and appreciation for the fae-folk,” you spoke, attempting to maintain your calm demeanor while feeling intimidated by the man towering over you, “Many seem to enjoy the fables and tales of old. Hearing the joy of a world far from our own, whether written on written paper or depicted on canvas, is an accessible binding that draws people of all creed and color together.”

You float your eyes up to meet his, the amber hue of his gaze piercing you like a blade and seeming to goad you into speaking more on the subject.

“And the fae?” his challenging tone almost made you recoil, but you held your ground and attempted to avoid his gaze as he spoke down his nose at you, “Do they not frighten you?”

“Truth be told, sir,” you quickly bobbed a polite curtsey as you continued, “I feel I do not have enough experience on the matter to fear them.” You turn back to the painting, focussing on the gaze of the young Avariel beaming down at their human counterpart on the swing, “I appreciate them from afar, but I am yet to truly meet one.” The man hums in deep thought, slowly turning their own attention back to the painting while sitting in silence beside you.

After several moments of studying the painting, you turn to your guest and curtsey once more to the individual with a shy smile tugging at your lips.

“I fear it's getting rather late for me, sir. I best be getting home and tending to my homestead,” you nod to the sun beginning to fall behind the swirling landscape of curling mountains, “It is a lengthy trek home.”

“You arrived here on foot?” his voice seemed to be taken aback, “Do you not have horses, or some mule to pull a carriage? A cart with two goats, a saddle for a swine-?” You broke his train of thought with a soft, melodical giggle. He halted his words, listening to your laugh and slowly offering his own alongside it.

“Forgive me, sir,” you stifle your soft laugh, slowly biting back any further humor in your tone, “Some of us more common people can not afford the luxury to own such things. This is the furthest I've ventured of late, and I do wish to make it back before nightfall.”

Before you had the opportunity to flee from his sights, he swooped down and claimed your arm in the crook of his left elbow and held you there while slowly whispering down at you.

“You will allow me to escort you from the gallery and towards the door,” he was firm in his tone, but his poised elegance seemed to put you at ease. As he began to take a step to walk with you, he froze in place as you spoke to him.

“I feel like there should be a ‘please’ in there somewhere,” you offer him a nervous giggle and gently nod your head to him, “I don't think you have a right to lord over me like some cruel tyrant, sir…?” you trailed off, attempting to meet his gaze.

He looked at you from the corner of his eye, a look that seemed somewhat familiar to you, but foreign atop his features. His amber eyes seemed to hold a challenge within them as the corner of his lip ticked up.

“Lord Dracule Mihawk,” he offered you freely, raising his right hand to circle over your knuckles clasping his left elbow, “And, would you please allow me to escort you from the gallery towards the door?”

Something between a squeak and a gasp caught itself within your throat as you failed to find the words to respond to him with. The man at your side was the mysterious host you were curious about, and you had been conversing with him so openly you didn't spare a thought as to whom he was.

As he lead you silently through the quiet halls towards the door, he gently coaxed you through the threshold and gracefully spun you to face him within the archway. He stooped down towards you, and gently reached up to preen at a fallen strand of your hair to tuck it behind your ear.

“Should you need to borrow a horse, I would gladly provide you with one from my stables,” he uttered, gently caressing the crown of your head and scanning over your features without meeting your eyes. “I have a few to choose from, alongside a personal carriage or cart should you ever need one.” He finally met your eyes, looking down at you as your gaze was intense with eyes wide and in shock.

The lord of Kuraigana was shuffling your hair with such familiarity, it immediately drew up and rose every alarm in your mind. Why was he doing this? What motivation would he have to press his hands into you, and toy with you in such a way? You were a commoner amongst a den of lords and ladies, why you?

“I have no formal training in cart rearing, my lord,” you nodded your head to bob your hair from his clutches, “Nor do I desire to have you part with a horse on my behalf.” Stepping away, his hand hovers where contact was priorly met against your skin and hair. “Thank you for your hospitality, this is where I take my leave from you, my lord.”

Bowing in a low curtsey, you chose to walk from him without waiting a further dismissal from him due to the fluster his intimidating aura rose to you. As soon as you were out of sight, you breathed out a sigh of relief and gazed up into the first light of purple stars greeting the pastel purples and pinks over Kuraigana.

“I am such a fool.”

Both yours and Mihawk’s lips shared the same sentiment, feeling truly imbicilic in the interaction you had with one another not moments ago. For you, your embarrassment came from speaking so freely about childhood fantasies to the man who lords over you. For Mihawk, it was another aspect entirely.

“My mate hates me,” he whispered to the walls of his keep, “My mate fears me and recoils from my touch.” He gazed down at his hands, witnessing the first release of talons protruding from his fingertips in response to holding a human-passing form for so long.

As soon as he left your cottage once he was healed, he was attempting to find a way to welcome you into his home. While he understood that humans have kindness for one another in times of need, and compassion for injured animals, at the first offence of aid from you in his raven form, he knew it was you. You were his, and he was yours.

He needed you, craved you to know how desperately he wanted you in his high keep. The understanding on the intricacies of human clourtships was sadly lacking in his regard, but he knew he needed to try to win you over.

If you were an avarial, a changeling, or a shifter of the fae folk like he was, he knew he could express his desires and make his wanting known by preening and grooming you. He would nest for you, fill it with your scent matched with his, and welcome you into it while nestled against one another. Should he wish to make the match permanent, which he considered the notion the moment you began to converse with him as a man, he would dance for you to showcase his skills as a reveered fighter and exceptional provider.

Witnessing the fluster on your face at the moment he attempted to groom you left him feeling deflated and dejected. The rejection of his mate, the one he sorely wanted for himself, had him frustrated and desiring to know if you truly were rejecting him, or if this was an action lost in the courtship discorse of fae folk and humans.

He would never be able to get close to you as the lord of Kuraigana, your lord and ruler over your land. He would absolutely not desire for you to see him in his radiant glory, as half-shifted into his more comfortable form as a winged humanoid. He was assured you would turn from him in fear.

But as a raven? You liked him as a raven. You praised him as a raven. You scratched his chin, offered him meat, and spoke to him as a raven. He could listen to you as a raven. As your raven: your pretty bird.

Giving his shoulders a gentle shimmy, his cloak sprung to life and revealed his darkened wings as his form began to shrink into his smaller avarian form. The golden hue of his watchful eyes remained as intense as they searched for you on the pathway leading to your cottage.

He needed to know. Were you interested in such a courtship with a beast like him, or were you simply one of the kinder varieties of mortals? He shook his wings to take flight, his intense gaze was fixed on your form as the soft sunset became a gentle dusk and faded into a blue, cloudless night.

[xoxochb]

you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

warnings: kissing

pairing: loser! luke x daughter of aphrodite

summary: she fell first, he fell harder

A/N: this was not my idea but the person who requested this had their tags off

1. There’s a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear (the campfire)

it was never about aphrodite

luke strongly believed that if aphrodite wasn’t your mother you would be just as beautiful

he watches you now beside him, wearing his sweatshirt and eating the s’more he made for you. although it is making a mess, bits of chocolate and marshmallow covering your mouth, a disaster to you, yes, but luke thought you still looked just as gorgeous

you finish up the last bite of your s’more and then speak “luke?”

he snaps out of his love-struck trance “angel?”

“you’re staring” you lick the last bits of melted chocolate off of your fingers

he doesn’t say anything but instead averts his eyes to the ground with a deep red blush

you laugh and lay your head on his shoulder, then intertwining your fingers with his, something common in your friendship

he rests his head atop yours “do you want to go back to my cabin? nobody’s there right now”

“sure” you say

he’s quick to stand up before you, his hand not leaving yours so he uses it to help you up and you make your way to cabin eleven

when you arrive you walk over to his bed and he starts looking through his drawers. he finds one of his shirts and a pair of shorts you once left here for nights like these. he throws them over to you and you take off your previous clothes switching them for comfier ones to sleep in, then you lay down on the bed and wait for luke to do the same

this is normal for friends right?

no, it’s not, but this friendship was different. you fell in love the moment you saw luke, but he fell ten times harder when he saw you.

every thought he had consisted of you from the moment he woke up to when he fell asleep, even his dreams you appeared. everything he did was for you, every conversation had you brought up at least once, everywhere he looked he saw you, or perhaps because he only wanted to look at you, no one else, ever.

once he’s changed he lays down beside you on the bed and he wraps an arm around your waist, and you place your head under his chin, and before you know it you’re drifting off to sleep

2. You told me I was pretty when I looked like a mess (cabin eleven)

mornings at cabin eleven were not very peaceful, curtains open, people talking ‘quietly’, and the door being open and closed.

but did luke care? no he didn’t, all he cared about was the girl in his arms. he watches you as you sleep peacefully, not in a creepy way, he doesn’t want to appear to be a creep but he can’t help it. how could someone look so good while sleeping? he knows the answer to this though- it’s because it’s you, he believes its impossible for you to look unattractive

distracted by his thoughts he fails to realize that you’re stirring, your eyes opening slowly

“luke?” you mumble, still half asleep

he moves your hair away from your face to plant a kiss on your forehead “good morning sleepy”

“what time is it?” you ask

usually if asked this luke would’ve looked around for a clock, but when he was with you he never did, afraid that the moment would end sooner, so that’s what he does now, he doesn’t look for a clock

he sighs “I’m not sure”

“would you mind if I went back to sleep? just for a bit” you close your eyes again

“I wouldn’t mind if you put the whole cabin in flames with me in it”

you laugh at his words and then soon fall back into slumber

you didn’t end up starting your day until around one pm that day, and luke ended up getting in trouble for discarding his counselor duties, and as much as his punishment sucked, he would say it was worth it because he got to spend almost his whole day with you even if you were asleep

3. If you kiss me, will it be just like I dreamed it? (cabin ten)

cabin ten was empty that night, your siblings were off doing who knows what so you lay on your bed waiting for your best friends arrival

on the other hand, luke is internally freaking out. he knew of your cabin being empty tonight, and he knew it would be the perfect opportunity to tell you how he felt, so he plans out what he’s going to say before entering your cabin

yes- he has been standing outside of cabin ten for the past ten minutes planning out what to say to you, his best friend. he gives up after a couple of tries and decides to just speak from the heart, something you told him you loved

so he opens the door and makes his way to your bed where you lay

“I’ve been waiting for you” you laugh

he takes a seat beside you “can I talk to you?”

you smile fades into a worried look “yeah, I- sure”

his eyes widen at your scared demeanor “it’s nothing bad! I mean unless you don’t feel the same way, it might be for me, not for you I hope”

your presence often did this to him- leave him rambling and in shambles. his friends often made fun of him for the affect you had towards him and he told them you ‘had no affect’ on him but when he heard himself talk right now he couldn’t help but agree with what they had said

“feel the same way?” you quote, sitting up “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“oh gods I didn’t mean to word it like that” his cheeks turn pink

“luke?” you inch your face closer to his

“yes?” he glances down at your lips that are incredibly close to his

“say it” you demand, using the newfound knowledge that you indeed have an affect on him

“y/n-”

you cut him off “say it”

“I don’t-”

“would you like a kiss?” you say, your lips almost fully on his

“more than anything”

“then say it”

“I love you”

before he can say anything else you fully press your lips to his, and he is extremely quick to reciprocate your action along with tangling his hands in your hair to pull you closer

you decide that’s about all he’s going to do unless you guide him, so you push him back onto your bed, straddling him, and you guide his hands down to your waist, but he musters up the courage to wrap his fingers through the belt loops of your jeans, pulling you almost impossibly closer

once he realizes that you’re comfortable with this, he trails his kisses down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone

and the only thing you can think is ‘thank the gods the cabin is empty tonight’

[ybklix]

BROOKLYN BABY

★ hwang hyunjin

✦summary: Your boyfriend’s pretty cool, plays guitar and is in a popular band. You love to support him, yet you can't help but feel jealous and insecure at the sight of all his fans and the groupies the rest of the members bring backstage.

✭ content - tags - warnings: smut, rockstar bf hyunjin x fem reader, established relationship, fluff, fingering, oral sex

word count: 3.7k

•masterlist•

♡ inspiration:

a/n: happy late ultraviolence day, my fav album, no one loves her like i do lolol, so here’s a little smth, i'll write more inspired by the rest of the songs omg i love my fav child

Hyunjin was a romantic, unlike the rest of his band members, who enjoyed the excess, success and fame that grew more and more every day. He was in charge of writing each of the songs that thrilled thousands of teenagers since he had such an idealized perception of love and loved to romanticize every detail as well as he was in charge of designing each artistic design of the album because of his skills in drawing and painting, he was a sensitive artist, born under a water sign, trying to give the image of a tough and sexy guy for the good of the band. His position was to be the lead guitarist and backing voice for the lead vocalist, yet everyone in the band contributed vocally, grabbing the audience like no other band in that year in the nineties. The crazy nineties, everyone loved rock and roll with the same intensity as the seventies and this time more styles were explored. Everyone loved your boyfriend's band.

You were lucky enough to meet him when they were still newbies with big dreams performing in bars, where Hyunjin claims to have fallen in love with you at first sight, however, his shyness got the best of him and he didn't dare to talk to you and, it wasn't until a month later that, in a jazz club in Brooklyn, in one of the poetry sessions and nights, almost by fate, he met you again, he couldn't miss the opportunity and finally approached you, he seemed so cute and strangely his face seemed so familiar to you, it was about the handsome guitarist you saw once.

Hyunjin didn't have a specific favorite band, he took inspiration from the greats, he enjoyed everything from Nirvana to Guns n' Roses, to classics like Led Zeppelin, he was frequently talking to you on the phone to tell you about his obsession of the week musically, the most recent one, Chris Isaak. Two months ago he started his official tour around the country, which you couldn't accompany him no matter how much you wanted to, the university stopped you. Yet you still supported him from afar and watched every TV show he went on and every radio station with his interviews, you were so happy for him. His most recent appearance was on MTV, he looked like a celebrity, but he was still your sweet and tender Jinnie. And finally he was coming back to close the tour at his hometown in New York City, where it all started for you.

You, unlike Hyunjin, were more down to earth, honest and not afraid to stand up for your beliefs, so you studied law, with an uncontrollable passion for shy lyrics. In contrast to your parents, both rock and roll lovers, artists, your mother was a tarot amateur and identified herself as a spiritual person, your father a landscape painter, both met at a music festival the same amount of years ago as your older brother's age, a Manhattan novelist; yet you grew up in an environment where support was always constant and your personality developed being totally different from your boyfriend's, bold and daring, born under a sign of fire.

You loved Hyunjin, together you were literally like fire and water, and finally you could see him again after so long, you missed him too much, you missed when his band was still small and you spent days in his apartment watching him play the guitar, how he held you by the waist and kissed your neck while you combed your hair to go to college, every little detail that from one day to another changed.

Because of your schedule you couldn't meet your boyfriend at the airport and you could barely stand in the front row, waiting for them to come out and play. You wanted to go backstage to wish him luck, run into his arms and kiss him, after so long and only surviving on phone calls. But, for the first time you were terrified to be in the crowd and you didn't want to lose your place in the front row next to your boyfriend's position, although you thought for seconds if you should go closer and watch the concert from backstage… you were so indecisive and you never visualized your boyfriend's manager to authorize you to enter… you pouted and in a matter of minutes the venue was filling up more, you noticed how, among the crowd and entering easily, three girls were standing next to you. You couldn't help but notice them, they were wearing skirts and cleavage-baring tops, their eyeliner was sharp and perfect, you felt a little inferior and slightly less attractive for a second.

And the show started, the lights went down, and you heard your boyfriend's guitar, the people started to scream and your heart accelerated, the lights turned on, illuminating individually each one of the four members and, among them was your boyfriend, looking as good as always, his long black hair, his red guitar and wearing a gray sleeveless shirt attached to his body with ripped jeans and black combat boots, you noticed he was wearing the necklace you gave him before he went away from you to start the tour and… suddenly your world came to a standstill, there was only Hyunjin in front of you, doing what he is most passionate about.

Hyunjin, once he started to play, he looked for you with his eyes without stopping until he found you in front of him, his smile got bigger, he was smiling like he had never done in another concert, he felt so full. He winked at you and continued with his show, moving his fingers with agility, a young and gifted guitarist with talent, so did Rolling Stone described him in a small article; a little more than an arduous hour of concert later, Hyunjin finished agitated and slightly sweaty and, among the emotion, the only thing he asked to make the night more beautiful, was to be able to hug you. Until he finally did it, he had to go backstage with the rest of the group, but his manager took care to guide you discreetly to the room behind the stage, at the same time you noticed the same three girls next to you walking next to you, to which you understood instantly that they were groupies, you sighed, you could not help but get upset at the fleeting thought that… maybe Hyunjin has had his own groupie before.

Among the darkness of the venue, you finally found the light, the lit room and, there, your boyfriend standing there with a nervous smile waiting for you, your jealousy vanished in seconds, you couldn't be mad at him, he looked so cute with his little sparkling eyes and a shirt over his shoulders trying to dry his sweat. You ran to him and hugged him no matter how soaked he was, it was part of his routine. You felt his lean frame next to your body and warm chest bump against yours, oh, Hyunjin, you had missed him too much.

“I missed you” Hyunjin spoke, his chin resting on your shoulder, holding you tightly.

“I missed you, too” you replied breathlessly, you were so excited to see him.

You slowly pulled apart and he had to kiss you, so he took your face in his hands and did it delicately and passionately, in such a unique way he knew how to do it.

You both smiled at each other as you pulled apart.

“You should have come with me next time, oh god, the west coast is… so different, I think we should move to California once you finish college, love. They offered me a house in Hollywood” Hyunjin blurted out suddenly excited and overstimulated to have you near him.

You laughed softly at his adorable reaction, the way his cheeks went up, narrowing his eyes more, his smile, hiding his upper lip and showing his teeth, ready to speak again.

“I have an interview for Rolling Stone in a few minutes, but after that I'm all yours, I promise, let's get you to say hi to the guys” Hyunjin spoke softly taking you by the hand.

You happily walked into the place, but your smile faded as you saw one of the girls wildly kissing the lead vocalist, Han, on one of the couches while she was sitting on his lap. Another girl on the drummer's lap as he sat behind the instrument and the bassist talking animatedly with another girl.

“Hey, guys” you said shyly trying not to interrupt something.

The members came out of their trances and greeted you.

“Do you want something to drink?” Hyunjin tried to distract you with a tender smile.

“I'll get it, love” you smiled at Hyunjin giving him a quick kiss on his full lips and headed to the drink table.

Hyunjin made himself comfortable on an elongated couch, alone, and waiting for you.

“And you, Hyunjin, if you had the chance to smoke and chat with any singer who would it be with?” one of the girls came dangerously close to Hyunjin, plopping down on the couch very close to him, placing her hand on his thigh.

You turned around, with the two drinks in your hands and suddenly saw the scene of the girl near your boyfriend, making you squint your eyes in annoyance.

“I don't smoke. I don't know… Steven Tyler maybe” stood Hyunjin uncomfortably and walked to your direction, giving you a tender smile and taking one of the glasses.

“God, his daughter is beautiful, we saw her at that club in L.A., didn't we? A pretty, educated girl” added Chris, the drummer.

“The correct answer is Bon Jovi, he's too good looking, who wouldn't want to talk to him?” commented Changbin, the bass player.

Los Angeles, you thought, just California that Hyunjin told you so passionately about a few moments ago… you couldn't help but think of ideas not good at all, you were jealous, upset and a little hurt. You knew Hyunjin would never do anything to hurt you… or would he?

You looked at him, he understood your look instantly, he knew you as well as every string of his favorite precious guitar and tried to pull you away from them, taking you to his dressing room, ready to calm you down and be more in privacy. Hyunjin knew you were easily angered, you tried to be a cute and docile girlfriend but you couldn't. He recognized your annoyed expression, making him bite his lip undecided what to say.

“Those girls are always with you?” you spat annoyed.

“Y/n…” tried to reassure you Hyunjin.

“Hyunjin have you been with a groupie?” you blurted out suddenly staring him straight in the eyes defiantly.

You weren't thinking clearly, anger took over you, you were aware that it happened every time they finished a concert, or at least you want to think it's like that for the rest of the members who are single, but seeing it with your own eyes made your blood boil at the thought of a girl near your boyfriend trying to seduce him. The life of a rock star girlfriend wasn't for you, you wanted Hyunjin all to yourself.

“You know I wouldn't do that… I waited every day for you, I thought every day about you” Hyunjin replied, taking your glass and leaving it on a small table over there just like his drink.

Hyunjin searched for your gaze, you didn't want to see him, you were behaving a bit childish but his words could be a lie, after all he was a rising star. He grabbed your forearm, squeezing them gently between his large hands and you turned to look at him. His tender but manly face of compassion, his thick eyebrows making the slightest expression of concern, if you didn't love him too much you would have trust issues, but you believed Hyunjin blindly.

You approached up to him and hugged him, he reciprocated the happy gesture, your heartbeats joining and the closeness of your body, Hyunjin was so in love that if there was a way to make you do it clearly, he would do it without thinking. Sex was not enough, he wanted to live inside you forever and he was so passionate about it that he wrote countless songs, you were his muse and the great love of his life.

You stood on your tiptoes and brought your arms up to wrap around his neck with a smile.

“Tomorrow, let's go to your favorite place in Greenwich Village, okay?” you said to him, letting your frustrations pass you by.

Hyunjin raised his eyebrows excitedly and smiled sweetly without showing his teeth.

“I'm dying to go… and to kiss you and make love to you while we play an Audrey Hepburn movie in the background…” he said slowly and flirtatiously, holding you tighter around the waist and leering at you from above.

You laughed softly as you remembered the first time you fucked in his apartment, where he promised a romantic movie date and ended up frantically pounding your pussy as he cummed in you.

Hyunjin leaned further into you, closing his eyes and kissing you fiercely, after a little over a minute, his sizzling kisses suddenly turned you on, making you weak in his arms. You hadn't had sex with Hyunjin for two long months, at this point you thought it was even abstinence, you needed him.

He continued to tease you with his deep, slow kisses as he groped your body and brazenly ran his hands under your dress, reaching down to your bare bottom wearing only panties and massaged your ass hard. You were starting to feel a mess of emotions, but luckily this time you finally had your boyfriend with you.

Hyunjin continued to squeeze you tightly, drawing you to his body and this time feeling that he was the same way you were, aroused. Hyunjin found his way to bring his dominant hand to your entrance, making you open your mouth slightly in a soft moan between the kiss. He pulled inches away from you, almost still almost touching your lips and you saw how attractive your boyfriend looked with his slightly intimidating gaze and fuller lips from your passionate kisses.

“I missed you so much” he said excitedly, nimbly pushing aside the fabric of your panties for better access to your area.

You lowered your hands from his neck and held onto his abdomen. Hyunjin was more turned on by the slight difficulty in caressing your pussy because you were standing still. You felt his long, slender, slightly raspy fingers, due the strings of his guitar, stroking along your tight, compressed folds and you spread your legs wider trying to facilitate his caresses, Hyunjin smirked smugly at the sight of you horny, licking his lips.

“Do you like it, love?” he sighed amused and excited.

You nodded awkwardly and didn't stop looking into his eyes for a second, but your peripheral vision caught perfectly his long arm guided in your area, you were losing more and more strength, every touch of Hyunjin made you lose your sanity, he was so skilled with his hands and fingers, after all he was a talented guitarist, you wanted to fuck him so desperately, to feel filled by him after such a long time. You didn't think about it and your hand also went to his prominent bulge, rubbing it gently, this time driving your boyfriend crazy. You stroked and squeezed the denim, he was so hard and at the same time his cock was so soft and slick, it always felt good.

Hyunjin sped up his rubbing on your clitoris, making you tremble a little, he leaned towards you bringing his foreheads together and looking at you sweetly.

“Do you want me to fuck you with my fingers, my sweet angel?” he said, as you felt his hot, heavy breathing hit your face.

“Yes” you moaned in between breaths.

Your boyfriend smiled sweetly, so innocent almost like he didn't seem to know exactly the distance from your labia to your entrance, slipping two of his fingers easily into your tight, wet hole. He gently fingered you, enjoying your caresses on his erection and being in control of your pleasure, occasionally looking smugly to his right side as you were in front of the mirror, watching your body tremble before him, but it was becoming increasingly difficult for you to stand, so your boyfriend, concerned looked for an immediate solution, looking at his dressing room chair.

“Sit down. Let me taste you, love” he whispered in your ear, gently pulling his hand away from you.

You were about to do so but a voice near you, interrupted you.

“Hyunjiiiin, come out, where are you? The Rolling Stone fuckers are about to arrive” you heard a rather familiar voice shout, as it slowly approached.

Hyunjin opened his eyes in fright, causing you tenderness, followed by a gasp of frustration.

“Shit, I can't show up to the interview like this” he groaned in frustration.

You looked at your boyfriend's large and noticeable erection in his pants, and you again directed your hand on it squeezing it gently and looked him submissively in the eyes.

“Let me help you, Jinnie” you said seductively, stroking his bulge to which he moaned.

“B-but” he was about to protest.

“Shh” you silenced him, giving him a quick kiss and a cocky grin.

And with no time to waste you got down on your knees in front of his cock, you were so aroused, your pussy was throbbing hard and your throat was suddenly dry and ready to be filled with boyfriend's stiff member. You loved giving him blowjobs, his cock was exquisitely long and Hyunjin always knew how to use it with agility at every strategic spot on you, he knew you so well. You nimbly pulled down his pants and underwear finding his well standing and sensitive manhood, your boyfriend whimpered, yes, he was excited to see you too.

You grasped the base of his penis with your right hand and gently held his balls with your other hand, you raised your gaze to Hyunjin, who was pressing his lips tightly together letting himself be carried away by your touches. You ran your hand over his slightly tanned cock, your mouth was salivating more and more and your poor pussy was also reacting for your boyfriend's erect cock. You had forgotten how it was the last time you sucked him off and you were more than happy to be able to do it again. You gently spat on its tip and lubed it further, jerking it off in the process, feeling its slippery, slightly rough texture; Hyunjin was panting hard, letting out deep sighs and moans from his chest, a completely vocal boy.

You stuck out your tongue a little and opened your mouth to flick his big piece of organ on your needed tongue, tasting a little of his nice white precum, until finally introducing it little by little in your mouth, making sure your lips also felt what was yours, Hyunjin's big cock, all yours. He was big and with a very good thickness, always filling your insides to overflowing, to your limit; you had it all with him, he was cute, romantic and gave you the best orgasms.

Hyunjin whimpered at the feeling of the inside of your soft cheeks caressing his cock and immediately held onto your hair delicately without pulling it.

“Aggh, sweetheart, it feels so good” he gasped.

“Hyunjin, where the fuck are you man?” they shouted again.

“Fuck” gasped your boyfriend frustrated by the situation and the tightness of his cock in your mouth.

You also felt the pressure, your blood flow rushing harder and your heart racing, you had to make your boyfriend cum fast; so you started sucking him hard and keeping a little faster pace than usual, back and forth, taking all his swollen and throbbing length expertly.

“Hyunjin” you heard again a call in the distance. “Hyunjin come out, the Rolling Stone magazine people are here.”

“I'm coming” he squealed out loud in a shuddering whimper, completely lost from the stimulation of his cock in your mouth, “I'm literally coming, what the fuck” moaned Hyunjin biting his lip and taking more tightly your hair, intensifying your movements, fucking your mouth wildly.

You felt your boyfriend's climax near, so he didn't hesitate to feel the bottom of your throat, pushing hard on your head until you felt his tickling glans rubbing your throat as your boyfriend gave gentle lunges, you whimpered on his cock, your eyes quickly watered, you couldn't breathe somehow and, after a few seconds, he pushed you away a little. Finally, you saw his head falling back, his thighs quivering and his perfect abdomen contracting as he babbled excitedly and barely understandable your name. Until you felt his glorious shot of cum in your mouth, filling you completely; Hyunjin always cum in one strong shot and then his cum kept coming slowly so you waited to have it all in you. He subtly stopped holding your hair tightly and gently pushed your head off his member; resulting in the obscene image of his shiny, lubricated cock spurting out of your mouth as more of his liquid fell to the floor.

You swallowed your boyfriend's thick, white liquid and stood up quickly, Hyunjin was trying to steady himself and think clearly again, but you recognized that he was in a hurry, that was the main reason you were sucking him fast and hard so he would ejaculate fast and also the reason you tried to quench your fiery desire and arousal, he had to continue being a rock star and doing rock star things.

“Come on, Hyunjin you have to go out” you told him.

Your boyfriend gently shook his head as he stared at you and reacted instantly, rearranging his cock back into his underwear and pulling up his pants, you watched the scene cheekily biting your lip, even without him being hard, you could clearly see the big package your boyfriend was hiding in his pants, you blushed and once again thought of all the fucking groupies fantasizing about fucking him.

Hyunjin took your face in his hands and made you look into his eyes, his sharp dark eyes that made him look so intimidating, if only they knew he was the most tender and you had him in the palm of your hand, so docile and obedient.

“I promise to reward you, okay?” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “Thank you for that, love, I love you.”

You nodded softly even with his grip on your cheeks, you watched him lovingly. And you watched him walk away, ready to go back to being the shining star Hwang Hyunjin.

[lukesvangelista]

𝐖𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊

in which luke is your brother’s best friend.

warnings; pining, heavy make out session (but not quite smut), going after a sibling’s friend, little bit of an age gap (but totally legal i promise)

The music from the party throughout your house pulsed in your ears, your eyes blinded by the flashing lights that your older brother Max had set up in the living room. Luke was back in Toronto for the summer after his season with the Preds ended, and your brother thought there was no better way to celebrate than by getting black out drunk on a Friday night.

While a house party wasn’t your usual scene, you had to hand it to him - he had gone all out. In the middle of your kitchen island, a makeshift bar had been set up and boasted an array of drinks—beer, seltzers, and, of course, hard liquor. Nearby, your dining table was practically collapsing under the weight of takeout and finger foods. Laughter erupted as groups formed and dissolved, the animated conversations blending with the rhythm of the music.

Some guests, half of whose names you didn’t even know, gravitated towards the packed living room, where couches provided a safe place for French kissing and unfortunately, much more. The thought of what could go down on those couches practically made you sick, and you wanted nothing more than to find respite in a quieter area. So, naturally, you gravitated to your room.

Luke was in the kitchen talking to Max when he noticed your disappearance. It was fairly early in the night, but Max had already had one too many, and as much as Luke loved his best friend, he would rather be spending time with you. He wouldn’t admit to anyone, but the hardest part of Luke’s time in Nashville this past season was his lack of seeing you, “Hey, Max, I’m gonna head to the bathroom, alright? I’ll meet you back here soon!” Luke shouted over the music blasting, but Max was too busy to notice, so he slipped away easily enough.

Once in your room, you collapsed on your bed, quickly reaching over to shuffle a random playlist. You were trying to focus hard on the lyrics of “Lovers Rock”, but the truth is that you couldn’t keep your mind from wandering to the brown-haired boy downstairs.

It’s no secret that from preschool and onward, Luke Evangelista and your older brother Max had been inseparable, their friendship an unbreakable bond forged over girls, shared secrets, countless adventures, and most importantly (to them), their hockey careers. They had always been the perfect balance of humor and seriousness, hard work and slacking off, and, when it came to you, kindness and smallmindedness.

With three years between you and Max, he had always viewed you as the annoying little sister. Growing up, you didn’t have many friends, which meant that oftentimes, you would ask to hangout with him and Luke. And, oftentimes, that question would lead to Max slamming his bedroom door in your face. Luke, however, was different. Whenever he would come over and see you alone while Max was off doing something else, he would always offer to tag along. He would ask you about your favorite movies, songs, and books, and would even let you join some games of street hockey and pond hockey when the weather was nice. It didn’t take long for you to grow comfortable with Luke, his presence as an older brother figure becoming all too familiar in your life. Yet, amidst the comfort and familiarity, subtle shifts began to occur as the two of you grew older. A lingering glance here, a touch that lasted a moment too long there—small, almost imperceptible signs that something more profound was stirring beneath the surface.

Luke had been Max’s best friend for as long as you could remember. Growing up, he was like another brother to you, always around, always apart of your family. But recently, something had shifted. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had started, but your feelings for Luke had changed. And, if you weren’t mistaken, his feelings for you had changed as well.

And Max knew nothing of it.

The sound of footsteps outside of your door made your heart skip a beat. A gentle knock followed, and you knew who it was before he even spoke.

“Y/N, it’s Luke. Can I come in?”

You froze, but tried to hide it as best as you could, “Sure,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Luke opened the door and stepped inside, closing it softly behind him. He looked around your room, a place he had been countless times over the years, but tonight felt different. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Luke spoke softly, nodding toward the direction of your phone.

“You’re not interrupting,” you assured him, sitting up slowly to pause the music. He smiled softly, gently asking for permission to move closer. You nodded.

He took a seat on the edge of your bed, a little closer to you than he ever had before. Turning his head to look at you, he sighed, “I just wanted to talk.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, a look of slight confusion etched across your face. It wasn’t rare for Luke to hang out in your room whenever he wanted to get away from tons of overwhelming activity, but this was different, and quite honestly made you a little nervous, “About what?” you asked, your curiosity piqued.

He rubbed his thumb across his nose, which had forever been one of his nervous habits. Throughout your guys’ childhoods, you had noticed it countless times - when he and Max performed in the fifth grade talent show, when he watched Canada win gold at the 2010 Winter Olympic Games, and when he was called up to play for Nashville for the first time. But you had never noticed it as intensely as you had in this moment, “About us,” he said, his voice just barely above a whisper.

Your heart raced. You had been hoping for this conversation for the longest time, but were now suddenly terrified of it. Nervously, you made eye contact with him, flames of his own anxiety dancing in his warm brown eyes, “What about us?”

Luke looked at you, sincerity extinguishing the anxious fire that was previously burning in his eyes, “I’ve been feeling something for awhile now, and I think you have too. I just… I just don’t want to hide it anymore.”

You felt a rush of relief mixed with nervous excitement as you struggled to process Luke’s words. Nashville Predators star Luke Evangelista just admitted his feelings for you. The boy that you had known since you were two years old had just admitted his feelings for you. Your older brother’s best friend had just admitted his feelings for you. You smiled quickly, replying almost instantly, “I feel the same way, Luke. I’ve been terrified to say anything because of Max.”

Luke nodded, his thumb dropping from his nose as his confidence began to grow more and more by the minute, “I know. But he’s not here now, and I don’t want to waste any more time pretending.”

With those words, the space between the two of you seemed to disappear. Luke leaned in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. Instead, you closed the distance, your lips meeting in a tender, hesitant kiss.

The kiss deepened, and soon the two of you were lost in each other. Luke’s hands gently cradled your face, and you ran your fingers through his wavy locks, pulling him closer. Every touch, every movement felt electric, charged with the intensity of your guys’ long neglected feelings.

For a moment, you pulled apart, breathless. “Are you okay?” Luke asked you, his forehead resting against yours.

You nodded, a shy smile playing on your lips, “More than okay.”

Luke kissed you again, this time more passionately. The two of you fell back onto the bed, your bodies pressing together, all of the noise of the world outside of your room fading away. It was just the two of you, both you and Luke finally giving in to what each of you wanted.

Time seemed to stop to stand still as you explored each other, learning the curves and lines of each other’s bodies, memorizing the taste and feel of each kiss. It was as if the both of you were making up for all the moments that you had kept your feelings hidden.

Eventually, you lay side by side, tangled in each others arms, your breathing slowly returning to normal. Luke brushed a strand of hair from your face, his eyes filled with a mixture of affection and wonder.

“This changes everything, doesn’t it?” you murmured, your voice soft.

Luke sighed, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, “Yes,” he agreed. “But I think it’s for the better.”

You traced your fingers on his bare chest as you nodded, speaking quickly, “I don’t want to tell him just yet.”

“Then we won’t,” Luke reassured, his fingers intertwining with yours, “we have all the time in the world, pretty girl.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of peace and security wash over you. The two of you would have to navigate this new situation, figure out how to tell Max, which scared the hell out of you (and Luke, but he wasn’t going to admit that to you at this moment). But in that moment, all that mattered was that you and Luke were together.

As you drifted off to sleep, wrapped safely in Luke’s embrace, you knew that whatever the future held, you would face it side by side (even if that meant forcing Luke out of your house through your bedroom window, or having an escape route at all times for the time being). And that was more than enough.

a/n; special thanks to @babygirlboeser for proofreading!!

[loliwrites]

II. Strength | Edelweiss

pairing: joel miller x f!reader  rating: explicit, 18+, minors dni  warnings/tags: jackson era!joel, sharpshooter!reader, age difference [joel is mid 50s, reader is early to mid 30s], joel lives forever fight me, reader being a bona fide badass, canon compliant violence, hunting mention, infected and terrible humans present, mention of death, blood, and murder, hunger, passing mention of trauma-induced menopause, DUBCON [mention of a previous event], quick flirting bit with jackson!male oc, female reader, no physical description, protective!joel, joel’s really just a big softie, no use of y/n. word count: 5.2k series masterlist

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate all they were trying to do for you. You did. Truly. In a time when not giving people the benefit of the doubt and becoming entirely xenophobic was not only the norm, but easy, Tommy and Maria encouraged the others within Jackson to treat you like one of their own. At least for this month. During your trial period. Probation. And you appreciated their patience with you as they tried to assimilate you into the culture. Dina hadn’t grown frustrated when your lack of upper body strength made feeding and watering the livestock difficult. Seth only made mildly offensive comments toward you when you fumbled orders at the Tipsy Bison and poured a pint of beer that was nearly all foam. Maria managed to hide her disapproval of your lack of enthusiasm to what you could only refer to as Jackson beautification. In reality, just a small handful of the townsfolk delegated to cleaning up the commune. Landscaping. Trash pickup and disposal. General maintenance. And of course there was Wendy who never balked or complained when your greenhouse shifts turned less into an act of work, and more into a study of the edelweiss.

The real problem was that you knew you could never serve them in the capacity they hoped for like this. Maybe in a different life under different circumstances, you could’ve played this role perfectly. A yearning for something else wouldn’t have been present, and you could live a somewhat normal, happy life in Jackson. And with just a week left of your trial run, you told Tommy as much. Told him that you really did appreciate him, but this wasn’t working out. Told him that you’d never been good or reliable at anything except with the use of your gun. Told him that the men in the other group hadn’t brought you along on scouts only because you were a good lay. You didn’t need to be a good lay, it’s not like they cared one way or the other. It was because you were a sure thing with your gun. Told him that he was right – you didn’t miss very often. And told him that if they wanted you to be useful to the community, they were going to have to trust you enough to get you out on patrol. That you wouldn’t go rogue and shoot your partner.

Tommy nodded. Diplomatic. And said you were right. That he’d been denying the thing he knew to be your true talent. That he’d give you a shot and let you take his place on patrol for a day. Joel, however, wasn’t as enthusiastic when his brother told him the news. Something muttered over his shoulder as he pushed past you to get into the armory, like, if she fuckin’ shoots me, Tommy, I swear to God…

You followed him into the armory, where metal cases on the wall, currently unlocked and unlatched, held a line of rifles and handguns. All looked a little different, coming from all walks of life before they ended up in Jackson. Somewhere behind you, you heard Tommy yell back at his brother, at this point, I’d fuckin’ shoot you, Joel. But it all drowned out to nothingness because the very real discovery in front of you was that your rifle wasn’t among the others in the cases. Yours was gone and a fury started to grow inside you. Which one of these scummy, good for nothing…

“Here,” Joel said gruffly, nudging your arm. 

In his hands, outstretched in your direction, was your prized possession. You grabbed it from him without hesitation; fingers running over the wood and metal, searching for anything that hadn’t been there almost a month ago when you’d last touched it. Anything that clued you in to the fact that someone else had put their mark on it. But you found none. And while still examining it, Tommy led you out of the armory and toward the gate with the other patrolmen.

“You and Joel are at the ski lodge today. It’s about a thirty minute ride north. Usually not too many sightings of anything up there, but the infected start to migrate in with the colder weather so you gotta stay sharp,” Tommy handed you the reins to a horse, which you immediately went to mount. And once settled atop it, with your rifle in one hand and the reins in the other, he spoke again, “hate to say this as you’re heading out, but… that’s my brother, so if somethin’ happens to him, I’m comin’ after you.”

“Yeah and if he does somethin’ to me, who’s goin’ after him?” You tugged the reins to the left, angling toward the large wood gates that you’d stepped through for the first time three weeks ago.

In a community yet not part of the community. It was a weird limbo to be in. That hadn’t happened in the last group – even if that was only fueled by their desire to get in your pants. Maybe that was the reason you weren’t part of this community yet. And you couldn’t even blame Tommy. Had you not killed the man who’d obliterated your family three weeks ago? Had you not taken the chance to hunt him when it was presented to you? Why would Tommy be any different?

You weren’t sure if Joel only spoke under the veil of darkness. The most words he’d ever spoken to you were on the porch that first night. Every other time – during the day – it seemed he went out of his way to avoid getting near enough to have to speak to you. But here and now, on patrol, there was nowhere for him to go except the same place you were going. And though he rode even with you (you took it as a great success that he didn’t remain a few paces behind you with a gun pointed in your direction), his eyes remained fixed straight ahead. His lips pulled into a thin line.

“She’s your daughter?” you chirped, almost too happily given that the response you’d get in return was an icy glare. “The one I saw on the first day. When you jammed my gun into my back,”

Joel returned his gaze to the wide open space in front of him. The lodge so close now. The muscle in his jaw clenched; teeth gritted.

“She hangs ‘round the barn a lot. To see Dina. Always has something to say about you. You two in a fight?”

“Drop it,” he growled.

You smiled to yourself, taking his verbal response as a win. You forced him into speaking. “I was a teenage girl once. Nothing seemed to piss me off like my parents could. They weren’t even bad parents. I suppose it would’ve been different if they had been. But that’s the thing about teenage girls,” you dug your heels into your horse and got it trotting away, toward the lodge, “they always run home to father.”

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

It was more spectacular of a place than you ever thought you’d see. A real-life palace. High ceilings. Big windows. You were sure at one point the furniture would’ve been considered luxury. Now it was worn and dusty and showed its age.

Joel approached a small table off to the side and flipped open the cover to a leather bound notebook. He scanned through the pages until he settled on one about a third of the way through. There must’ve not been anything particularly interesting in it, because it was just a quick glance before he closed it.

“So what do we do?” You looked up, inspecting the high-points visible from this great room. Rifle angled down at the floor.

His answer came delayed as he angled his head to the left, seemingly listening for something. When he finally spoke, it was in a hushed tone, “clear it, then post up on the upstairs balcony. You take the second floor. I’ll clear down here,”

“You’re not gonna shoot me, are you?”

Joel turned his back on you and started toward a large doorway at the opposite end of the room, “not on purpose.”

Inspecting your new surroundings once again, you found the stairway to the second level and slowly ascended it, rifle poised and ready. God, it felt good to have it back in your hands again. It had been like you’d had a limb missing for the last month. You were complete again. Restored with the bountiful confidence that maybe was foolish to have in this day and age. Hell, you could turn a corner and a clicker could be in front of your face. Coming back to that reality, you got your head back on your shoulders, your focus on the task at hand, and every one of your senses tuned in. 

Each new room you entered, it grew harder to keep that focus. It was all so grandiose, and maybe even in the very back of your head, you wondered when this patrol was going to take the turn that all previous patrols had taken. You remembered the very first one – with George and James. They’d made you prove your skills by taking down a mountain buck a quarter mile down the barrel of your gun. It was child’s play. Almost insulting that they’d think that was anywhere near a hard shot. And of course you made the kill. An hour later after you walked to it and the men finished field dressing it, James pushed you up against the nearest tree not covered in deer blood, and ripped your pants down your legs. At the time you didn’t know to fight him on it. Maybe fighting him on it would’ve gotten you in the same position as the deer. But if you had known that was going to become routine, maybe you would have.

Now this was your first patrol with a new group. With a man no less. And a man that seemed to wield a great deal of power in the community. A man that, if he went back to Jackson with something bad to say of you, meant that Tommy would be comin’ after you. An eight year sentence had already been served, what was a little bit longer?

Joel called your name from what you assumed was the stairwell; his voice distant but growing nearer. You spoke up to give him a clue of your whereabouts, and only a few seconds later, he entered the room you were in. The sling of his rifle over his shoulder. You’d found yourself paralyzed in thought in what you only knew to describe as a library. A long wall of books, some sad-looking, broken lounge chairs, and a long velvet upholstered couch. Dusty and in desperate need of a cleaning, you figured it was still a better option than up against a tree.

Joel looked up at the wall of books and closed the gap between you, “y’read much?”

You could sense him right behind you. Over your shoulder. The energy was buzzing off of him, and you figured this was it. “Not really,” you turned to face him, and set your gun down at one side of the couch. “How do you guys do this?”

“Do what?” His eyebrows furrowed, ultimately confused.

Hands gesturing between your bodies, you almost felt annoyed at his level of coyness. Couldn’t he just get on with it? “The sex,”

Joel choked on his breath and hacked out a cough, “what?”

“It’s just been a month, so it’s gonna be…” your hands migrated down to your pants and swiftly undid the button. Joel’s hands quickly flew to your wrists and held them still. You caught his eyes on you and the look made you want to disappear into thin air.

“We don’t do that,” his eyes flicked down to his hands where they held yours, and he released them and stepped away from you in one fell swoop. “How many times did they do that to you on patrol?” Joel's entire expression fell.

“Every time,”

“Fuck,” Joel scrubbed his hands over his face. He knew people were terrible before the outbreak. Knew men found ways to press their will onto innocent women. But there was nothing like the apocalypse to make people even worse. He couldn’t relive this memory… of finding Ellie after David and the sheer look of fear and panic on her face. And then when he removed his hands from his face and looked at you again, whatever memory he didn’t want to relive, was emphasized by how much he didn’t want you to relive it.

“Sorry,” you murmured.

“No,” Joel cut you off, shaking his head almost angrily. “No one’s gonna do that to you here. ‘nd if they try, you send ‘em my way, alright?”

You nodded sheepishly.

“Alright,” Joel reached past you and picked up your gun from the couch. He thrust it back into your hands, “balcony’s out this way.”

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

“You ever think someone could see your head stickin’ out from above the railing?” The question came with more sass than you thought it would. That type of tone would’ve gotten you something terrible with James and George.

You were belly down on the deck, barrel of your gun positioned between the wood slats of the balcony railing; well concealed. Joel, however, was kneeling next to you, head above the top of the railing, with a pair of chunky binoculars in front of his eyes. And from the corner of your eye, you saw him yank the binoculars away and look down at you with a lopsided grin. 

“When you’re my age, it’s a little harder to get down like that. Might never get back up,” he chuckled and lifted the binoculars up to his eyes again. “‘Sides, don’t you think I’d see ‘em first?”

“No,”

That made Joel laugh a little harder and he relented to abandoning his post as it stood, and turned over, ass down on the ground with his back against the railing. He took a deep breath and set the binoculars beside him. A quick glance to the side at you – which you caught from your periphery again.

“How long have you and your daughter been in Jackson?”

His eyes widened, and at that, you pulled your eye away from the scope and returned his gaze. You thought the new eye contact would send his focus elsewhere, yet you were the one who folded first. Too nervous to withstand more of that ice cold, death stare. You set your cheek back on the gunstock and looked down the scope, scanning the treeline west of your position.

“Ellie,” Joel huffed and turned over onto his stomach. Propped up on his elbows, he picked up the binoculars and looked through the slats in the railing. “Awhile,”

“How long has she been ignoring you?”

“How do you know she’s ignoring me?” Neither of you looked at each other, but in the silence he continued, “not as long as we’ve been in Jackson.”

“And how much longer do you think it’s gonna be ‘til you spot the two runners?”

Joel snapped to attention; the ferocity of his movement heightening as he moved the binoculars vigorously, searching. “Where?”

“Half mile down the edge of my nose,” your sight stayed locked on the two runners, hobbling out from the treeline. It took Joel an extra moment. Time for them to come out into the open. Then the rustling beside you began, and you knew it was Joel scrambling to get his gun. “Don’t worry about it,” you mumbled, pulling off the glove on your trigger hand with your teeth, then quickly chambered a round. But he still kicked and went for his gun, vibrating the old wood beneath you. “Stay still, goddammit!”

Whether it was because no one had ever dared to speak to him that way before, or because he just didn’t expect it from you, Joel did pause. Now standing straight up and holding the binoculars to his eyes, spotting the runners, it allowed you the chance to take action. A slow and steady inhale gave you the opportunity to line up your sight with the head of the first runner. An even steadier exhale as you got ready to apply pressure to the trigger. And then when your lungs were empty, you paused your breathing and squeezed the trigger. Your shoulder absorbed the recoil of the gun, and a second later through the scope, you watched the first runner fall lifeless to the grass. Without much rush, you chambered another round to go for the second, while beside you…

“Shoot!” 

Joel was as good as tuned out right now. Nothing could have rattled you short of your gun being physically ripped out of your hands. Inhale. Exhale. Shoot. Only when the second runner collapsed to the ground, a victim to your skill, did you pull your eye away from the scope, and brush the shell casings away from your side. Clambering up to your knees and eventually into a standing position, you looked out toward the trees. 

“C’mon,” you tilted your head to the side, urging Joel to come with you. “If someone’s out there, they’ve seen my muzzle flash twice from this position. Let’s move,”

You turned to re-enter the lodge, figuring you could just as well post up at one of the upstairs windows. Joel fell in step even with you, holding his gun at his side. “How long’ve you been shootin’ like this?”

“Twenty-some-odd years,” you mumbled coolly, re-entering the library. “How long’ve you been hard of hearing in your right ear?”

A smirk flashed over his face. It was there and gone in an instant and was quickly replaced by something resembling pain. “Twenty-some-odd years,”

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

The rest of the patrol was quiet. Thankfully. Though you had complete confidence in your skill, it was always a better day when you didn’t have to rely on it. Having to rely on it meant you were in, or were shortly going to find yourself in, a sticky situation. As the mid-afternoon sun beat down hard, you were relieved by Jesse and Astrid – two people you’d only happened upon in passing in Jackson. Before leaving the lodge, Joel showed you how to fill out the log book, writing down your names, and documenting what had happened. When he noted “two runners spotted and downed at treeline”, you insisted he write your name there, clarifying that you had been the one who killed both infected. He begrudgingly agreed.

The ride back to Jackson was even quieter than the rest of the patrol had been. Whatever camaraderie had been established at the lodge seemed to have been put on ice the closer you got to the tall gates of the commune. It was almost as if Joel found it acceptable to be a friend to you as long as he wasn’t near the rest of the town. The first words actually spoken on the ride back was when he instructed you to stop your horse. He pulled two flags out of his pocket – one white and one red. Instructed you that white was all clear, and red meant… well, you know… not all clear. Told you that you better wave that flag high and proud when you were coming back from patrol. More than once in his early days in Jackson, someone on lookout on the wall had taken pop shots at him when his waving of the white flag wasn’t up to snuff. You glanced up at the wall and took stock of the guards there – two on either side of the gates, moving to open it up, while their partners remained at high attention, for anyone or anything that might’ve been trailing you back.

It was almost like you had forgotten that the worst part was about to happen. You’d dismount your horse and have to carry on into the armory, whereupon your rifle – which you’d just proved was your best asset – would be ripped from your hands and showcased up on a wall for the taking of any regular joe. Surely that would happen. Because just one foot crossed the threshold before Joel was ripping your rifle out of your hands, steadily moving up to one of the cases on the wall where he replaced his gun. You knew you were about to see yours right up alongside it. But then the strangest thing happened. Instead of stowing your gun next to his, he took yours back deeper into the armory, into another dark room. And too timid to follow him, you remained frozen in place, eyes locked on the doorway until Joel came back through it empty-handed.

He ambled back to you, his arm bumping against your shoulder, “c’mon, I’ll walk you home.”

And he did. And you let him. Trust was always a choice and though not many people had deserved yours in the last handful of years, you chose to give Joel – and Tommy and Maria – the benefit of the doubt. If there were shades of Joel that resembled the men of your last pack, you figured they would’ve come out while on patrol today. Away from everyone else. When you were still new enough for everyone to take Joel’s side instead of yours. But he’d treated you kindly. Like a human. God, wasn’t that just the absolute minimum. The bar was in hell.

Though Joel knew where your cottage was, and probably knew the quickest route to get there. He let you dictate the path. One you were sure wasn’t the fastest one. One that meandered through more of the quiet house-lined streets than was necessary. But it had been your preferred path. Almost like you were doing a neighborhood watch. The sorts you’d done on your family’s land long before George and James scooped you up. It gave you a sense of normalcy; and in it, the strength to turn your head and look up at Joel.

“What’s in that back room in the armory? The one you left my gun in.”

Seemingly catching your gaze out of the corner of his eye, Joel shifted his focus to his feet, kicking up dust with each new step. “Tommy’s got a chest,”

“A safe?”

“S’not that high tech. Just a box with a lock on it. If I’m bein’ honest, it’d be pretty easy to break into,” he looked up from the ground and into your eyes, finding you already nodding. “I know not having your gun on you here was a sacrifice. Least I could do,”

Lips parted and ready to speak but nothing came out. You ascended your porch and nudged the front door open. Maybe the action itself caught Joel off-guard because he hadn’t assumed anyone would leave their property unlocked, but when you looked back at him, he was approaching the threshold with a furrowed brow. “Actually, it’s not the least you could do,” you stepped further into the house and left the door open for him, figuring – knowing – he’d follow. “Reckon you could do far less. So… I appreciate it. Thanks,”

And then, pulling open the refrigerator (a true luxury in this day in age), you remembered the hunger. And just how much you were lacking in the ‘ability to host guests’ department. The appliance was mostly devoid of contents. Just a spare apple and a handful of carrots you’d managed to sneak out of the greenhouse. Maybe that wasn’t the way to go about things in Jackson. But to be honest, you weren’t really sure how to go about it. In a rush, you closed the door so Joel wouldn’t see just how struggling you were. But when you turned to face him again, you found him by the modest wood table. Fingers nudged the “Diva Cup” box off to the side.

“You can give that back to Maria,” you mentioned off-hand. So much so that Joel nearly jumped backward. 

He pulled his hand back and shoved both into the pockets of his jacket. With a gulp, he swallowed down a breath. “Might need it. You– I mean– the women– we don’t got any of the other things here,”

You forced a smile, “I don’t need it.”

“‘Kay,” Joel nodded and took another breath. As soon as the fresh air filled his lungs, he had something else to say, “you don’t need food neither, or you’re on some weird apocalyptic diet?” He grinned a little wider when the look on your face turned positively pained. 

“I don’t have anything to trade for food, so…”

The crease between Joel’s eyebrows intensified in his confusion, “when’s the last time you ate a full meal?”

You shook your head, fearing that if he saw you in the slightest bit weak, it’d mean you’d be cast out. “I’m fine. It hasn’t been that long,”

“When,”

You looked up at the ceiling and shook your head again. “Tommy and Maria asked me to eat with them at the dining hall,”

“When?” Joel insisted.

You shrugged your shoulders as if you’d had so many full meals recently that it was hard to pinpoint this one. When in reality… “Last week sometime,”

Before you knew it, forks clinked on porcelain. Porcelain. Another luxury. You couldn’t remember the last time (outside of Jackson), that you’d eaten on a real plate and not some tin container or by picking things off a spit and putting them directly into your mouth.

Yet the tableware was really the least interesting thing about this. The meal – prepared by Joel. The whiskey – real. The setting – his fucking house. How different it was from your modest dwelling. Yours, impersonal, sparse with nothing there that was really yours. But a little bit of Joel was in everything here. The tattered boots being dried by heat from the fireplace. The guitar laying on the couch. The wood trinkets that sat on almost every imaginable surface. After asking about them, he confessed that he’d taken up whittling with all his new free time now that Ellie wasn’t talking to him. 

And through it all, you couldn’t help but feel nostalgic for how domestic this all seemed. Imagined this was what you would’ve been up to at this stage in life if the world hadn’t screeched to a halt and done a 180. You could see yourself at a table just like this with a husband a little bit like Joel. Big. Brooding. Could see yourself sitting in front of the fireplace with your husband. Reading, catching up. How was your day? Oh I just ran a couple errands. And when the catching up was done, you could see you and him going up to your shared bedroom, having some passionate entanglement, and then passing out. In another reality, you imagined you could really see yourself enjoying sex. 

“You don’t have to trade anything for food,”

You looked up from your plate and over at Joel.

“You’re working in the community. Goin’ on patrol, putting your life on the line to protect the group. That’s why you get to eat. Not ‘cause you got something else to give,”

“Didn’t want anyone to think I was bumming for handouts,”

Joel shook his head and scooped through his food despite using a fork instead of a spoon. “You’re workin’. So grab yourself some things from the greenhouse, and I can help you butcher up some meat. You’ll need the strength,”

His mention of the greenhouse sparked your memory. Of something you’d meant to ask him on patrol. But after the embarrassment you’d faced propositioning sex, and then the adrenaline of having to prove your skill, it’d slipped your mind. “You been to the greenhouse lately?”

He shook his head again and looked up at you, reaching for his glass of whiskey, “I’m pretty much on patrol full time.”

“Wendy’s got this flower there. Edelweiss, she calls it. I’ve never seen anything like it. She said Jesse found it on patrol and brought it back. Was wonderin’ if you knew where he found it?”

Joel took a quick sip and set the glass back down, quickly moving back for his fork. “Probably fuckin’ poisonous or somethin’,”

“No, it’s pretty. Little. She said it sometimes grows right on rocks. Kinda weird, don’t you think?”

“I think it’s kinda weird Jesse’s out pickin’ flowers when he should be focusing on a patrol,”

You giggled. Joel had a point. Of all the things of importance in today’s way of life, gardening seemed to be the least of it. And yet… “I think it’s kind of romantic of him. Maybe he picked ‘em for his partner.” Then, staring at Joel from the corner of your eye, “you got a girlfriend?”

Joel coughed at your abruptness. He set his fork down and took up his whiskey tumbler. “Tommy’s tried settin’ me up with a couple women,”

“No one serious?”

He smirked and shook his head. Picked his fork back up and stabbed at a carrot – your only contribution to the dinner. “They all seem to come to the conclusion that I’m cold,”

“No,” you elongated the end of the word with feigned disbelief. “Not with your sunny disposition,”

Joel laughed. Admittedly it was a little shocking at how easy it seemed to come from him. “Big talk from someone who just spent the last eight years with a bunch’a scumbags,”

“Yeah, well, I’m fucked up.”

His smile lasted a little longer. Long enough for you to both get your wits about you and where you’d brought the conversation. “You ever have a boyfriend in that group of assholes?”

You shook your head with a grin. Consider one of those guys a partner? Absolutely not. “Never had a boyfriend, period. Sounds like a feat but it’s actually not hard when the world shits the bed in your adolescence and your entire existence becomes warding off strangers or muddling through some bad dick just so they don’t shoot you.” With one last bite, and now sufficiently full, you leaned back in the chair, satisfied.

“Jesus,” Joel wiped his mouth with a napkin and leaned back to match your posture.

“But you… I bet you were batting off women left and right before the outbreak,”

Another fond smile swept over his face, “I had a daughter so my escapades sorta tempered out there.”

“Ellie’s not that ol–”

“Ellie’s not mine biologically,” he stretched out and stared at his hands. “Guess she’s really not mine at all. Just a kid I met along the way. Can’t even get her to look at me,” Joel finished off his whiskey in one big gulp and set the glass back on the table with a heavy clink. “Did’ya mean what you said earlier? ‘bout teenage girls?”

Your eyes flicked back to Joel’s face. He looked pensive, almost hopeful that you had. That Ellie would run home to father. And even if he wasn’t actually hers, that she would indeed come back to him. “I did,” you assured and leaned forward in your seat. With hands outstretched across the table, you reached out for Joel though you knew he wouldn’t reach back. “There wasn’t one thing in life I didn’t run back to my dad for. Dad could fix anything. F’I didn’t know how to handle something… if I couldn’t handle something… he always picked it up for me. That’s what good fathers do and I reckon you’re a pretty good father. She’ll come around. Everyone runs back to safety,”

[tiddygame]

Ghoap god type au part 4! Now on Ao3!

part 1 /// part 2 /// part 3 /// part 4

I have not slept in A While because meds are meds so I don't know if this makes sense! Let's Go!!!

And shout out to these people for making me happy stim by requesting to be tagged! I hope this chapter is worthy of such an honor lmao:

@imjustheretofightforlove / @pieckyghost / @life-as-a-gamergirl

Ghost doesn’t know why he continued to give offerings to the god. He should have stopped when he had the chance, but he didn’t. Flowers, jewelry, rocks he thought looked cool, even an entire wallet he stole from a soldier who got on his nerves; It all went on the offering table. 

Something had changed. He doesn’t know what, but there was a difference. And not knowing was terrifying. Ghost liked to compartmentalize, to think things through and sort them into organized boxes. Decluttering the unknown was how he stayed sane.

If there is a problem, do not panic, just figure out what you can do. And if you can do nothing, then you have no reason to panic. The rigid line of thought was the only way he could trick himself into thinking he had any control over his life, that fate hadn’t already woven her strings.

So how do you think through something beyond your comprehension?

Try as he might, he could not and would never be able to truly understand divinity. There was no rationale he could apply to Soap that didn’t make his ears ring. It was all well within arms reach but firmly out of his grasp.

He shouldn’t continue to show patronage to something so unpredictable, so volatile.

“Besides,” Soap said, making eye contact once more. He grinned. It didn’t look human. “I’m not letting you go that easy.”

And yet, every night he would take his dinner to whatever lousy altar he’d created and sit down to eat with an entity that could kill him without raising a finger, would eat and talk to him like they were friends. He’s not sure of when he lost his fucking mind, but it was certainly long gone.

Everything about the god terrified him. It was ancient, domineering over one of the most prevalent parts of humanity. Everything had to die someday, and at the end of it all, Soap would still be there, even as it died too.

So when he appeared behind Ghost at a bookstore of all places, he damn near shit himself. 

He just wanted a book to occupy his time between battles, a distraction from the boredom of downtime. It was the same town as before, barely a few weeks since their impromptu meeting in the temple. He had been perusing the shelves and grabbed a book that caught his eye, some book about the history of the town, and was reading the back of it when someone was very suddenly right next to him.

“Anything interesting?”

Ghost flinched, reaching for a sword that wasn’t there as he turned to face the person who somehow got the jump on him. And just like everything else with the god, he doesn’t know how he knew that the person was Soap in disguise.

He looked nothing like the renditions he’d seen of the god; The man before him was short and had pale skin, light brown hair, and brown eyes. He looked about as non-descript as a human could get. Yet, he still knew that the man was no man at all, but a god that came from the heavens just to make his life miserable.

“Why are you here?” Ghost was too on edge and confused to put the fearful respect in his tone that he normally used when speaking to the god.

“I just came here to look for books, the same as you,” he replied, trying to keep a straight face and play it earnestly but smiling far too much.

Ghost didn’t dignify that with a response, continuing to stare down at him, book still in hand.

Soap sighed, “Alright, alright Mr. Grumpy, maybe I wanted to talk to you again.”

Ghost asked, “Why?” But he realized that probably wouldn’t get him the answer he wanted, “What do you need to talk about?” He was hoping to cut through the small talk and jump right to the essentials.

“I said want. Not need.” Soap corrected. When Ghost looked even more exasperated, he whisper-shouted, “I’ve been stuck in limbo for who the fuck knows how long! I need stimulation! Interaction! Conversation! Anything!”

Oh, gods above, this is the worst torture the god could have devised. He’d rather take eternal pain and misery over becoming a chatty god’s only conversation partner. Fuck, he’s done a lot of bad shit, but nothing to deserve this!

The god grabbed the book out of his hand from where he was still standing petrified and dumbfounded. Soap looked at the book, hummed, and then began browsing the aisle himself.

Soap mused aloud, “I’m not surprised you’re a history nerd… Is there anything else here that’s more interesting?”

A few weeks ago, the god had been so weak he could barely conjure a physical form, now he was in a bookstore to make fun of him?

“The god of death is calling me a nerd with shit taste.” Ghost hadn’t meant to vocalize that thought, but he was still trying to mentally catch up. 

It seemed to catch the god off guard as well, with him snorting as he tried to cover his mouth to stop from laughing, “I didn’t mean ye’ have shit taste, I meant history isn’t an interesting read when you lived through it.”

And at Ghost’s core, he was nothing if not a pain, so even as he was scrambling to figure out what was happening, he pointed out, “But you weren’t alive. You said you were in limbo.”

“Okay, smart-ass. Alive, limbo, whatever. I need a story — one I haven’t heard before.”

“Do you even know how to read?”

His accent became thicker with indignation, “‘Course I do!” 

“This language?” Ghost asked, gesturing to the shelves.

Soap immediately responded, “Ye—,” he cut himself off, looking at the book he grabbed from Ghost. It was upside-down and he twisted his hand awkwardly to have it back upright, squinting at it as he answered, now positive, “Yeah!”

Ghost mumbled, “Hmm, I figured you’d only be able to read dead languages.”

That one got a full laugh out of the god, he desperately tried to quiet his chuckles before they were told off for being too loud. Ghost isn’t sure why, but he felt oddly proud.

Soap was still smiling in an effort to stop laughing as he said, “That would make sense I suppose.” It seemed that not being able to laugh only made the situation funnier, huffing air out of his nose in a quiet giggle. “Well! What book would you suggest?”

Ghost pointed to the other side of the bookstore, “I’d suggest you stop looking in the non-fiction section.”

Soap looked around, muttering a curse under his breath. Seeing where Ghost had pointed, Soap grabbed his hand and dragged him along. Ghost was too surprised by the sudden contact to fight it, which was probably for the best. He may love his personal space, but he loved not getting smote even more. 

“Okay, well, now what book would you suggest?” Soap repeated himself, this time not bothering to browse the shelves as he looked at Ghost for a recommendation. 

Sighing in resignation, “What genres do you like?” If he could get this done with quickly enough, he might still have some time to himself before he had to return to camp. 

“I don’t know. All of them I guess.”

He is not going to get this done with quickly enough to have some time to himself before he has to return to camp.

Ghost let out an even longer sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose before coming to a solution. The store had their books sorted by genre, so it would be easy enough to grab one or two from each and then get Soap to pick one. 

The god of death’s personal shopper. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Luckily for both of them, Ghost has had an exorbitant amount of downtime and knew of a few popular ones that weren’t complete garbage. Death seemed content to trail behind him as he picked out the books, admiring the simple building.

The store had large windows facing west, golden light stretching over the shelves and reaching across the floor to tell Ghost how much time he was wasting. The smart thing would have been to just grab a random book, sing its praises, and hope he didn’t get called out on his bullshit. Of course, that would require being smart, so instead Ghost went through almost the entire fiction section, ending with a total of seven books. 

The stack of books was ridiculously tall as he set them down on a table at the back, intending to explain them to Soap and let him pick a couple. 

“This is everything, one book each from most of the genres.” Ghost backed away when Soap stepped closer, looking like an owl as he turned his head sideways to read the spines. Ghost gave up trying to understand the god. 

He pointed to the one on top, “This one is—“

“Fantastic! I’ll take them all,” Soap said, completely ignoring what Ghost was about to say. 

“What?”

“I’ll take them all!” Soap repeated, as if he hadn’t been clear enough the first time. He grabbed the stack of books, adding the one he’d snatched from Ghost to the pile as he walked to the counter.

“But… You don't have any money…” Ghost’s quiet protest went unheard as Soap walked away. He had a small existential crisis as he wondered what mistake he made that led him to this exact moment. He decided the mistake was being born as he followed after the god of death, knowing he probably wouldn’t have enough to cover the books.

Soap set down the books next to the cash register and gleefully asked, “How much for all of these?”

The shopkeeper looked a little surprised at the size of the stack but began checking them and adding up the cost. Even without seeing the number, Ghost was already bemoaning having to explain to a divine being how the economy and poverty work.

But apparently, Soap wasn’t done confusing him as he grabbed a wallet out of his pocket and began pulling out credits as the shopkeeper gave the total. 

At first, Ghost checked his own pocket thinking Soap had managed to steal his wallet and was in for a rude awakening when he found out Ghost was broke, but his wallet was still there. He wasn’t going to ask in front of the shopkeeper where he got it, but curiosity was eating at him. 

Ghost stared at the wallet. He recognized it vaguely but didn’t know from where. It was only when Soap was putting it away that he realized it was the one he’d stolen from that annoying soldier and offered to the god.

And who said your misdeeds come back to haunt you?

Once the books were all bagged, Soap gestured towards it and Ghost sighed as he grabbed the paper bag, supporting the bottom as it was lifted off the counter. Mirroring the same motion, Ghost gestured towards the door. Part of him was curious if the god would pop back out of existence when he walked into the light like he did last time.

Ghost whispered once they were far enough away, “You know I stole that wallet, right?”

Soap snorted, “That’s what made it one of my favorites.”

Ghost let go of the handles of the bag, only holding it from the bottom, and opened the door for Soap. Soap nodded in thanks like everything that had transpired over the last two or so hours was a normal interaction. 

Fortunately, the god did not vanish upon stepping outside, disproving his theory.

No, it was unfortunate. He wanted this to be done with. He didn’t want to keep talking to Soap.

His mouth didn’t seem to get the memo as he started to ask, “Why did you actu—”

“Ghost!”

The shout from someone behind him immediately sucked out any positive feelings he had. His usual glare was back as he turned to face the voice. There were two soldiers, a miserable little search party that looked disgusted at even having to go near Ghost.

“The General needs you for something.”

Of fucking course he does. He risked a glance to where Soap had been standing, unsurprised to see that he’d vanished. Ghost didn’t give them a verbal answer, just glared at them until they both began shifting where they were standing.

He felt a little relieved at being able to put the threatening tone back in his voice as he informed them, “I’ll be back before dinner.”

The one that spoke before looked to his partner and tried to forcefully say, “He needs you now.”

Ghost stepped closer, looming over them as he repeated, “I said I will be back before dinner.” He waited a moment, making sure they were properly threatened before he turned around and walked in the opposite direction of camp.

“Why were you at a bookstore?” One of them called out, almost accusatory as if it would stop him from leaving. He had forgotten about the rumor that he couldn’t read; He doesn’t know how it started, but it was a favorite amongst his fellow soldiers.

“What bookstore?” Ghost yelled back, not bothering to turn around.

The forest looked beautiful in the orange light of the setting sun. He was heading back to the temple, not because he missed Soap, but because it was the only place they wouldn’t be able to find him. If he really was needed, there would be soldiers crawling all over town searching for him.

He didn’t like going somewhere so secluded without his sword, but it was back at camp and he was not going back yet, wanting to piss off the general as much as he could. He hadn’t wanted to walk into the village with such an obvious weapon on his hip out of respect for the residents, but now it meant he only had a hunting knife to defend himself with. Nothing to sneeze at, obviously, but he would have felt a lot more comfortable making the hike through the forest with a heavier weapon.

A chill began to take hold as the sun dipped below the horizon. A cold front came through a few days prior that made sure the days were a lovely charming example of the upcoming fall weather and that the nights were frigid enough to make anyone regret not being on a tropical island.

He made the trek much quicker this time, now knowing the path. Which was a very good thing as the shadows grew stronger as he made his way through the trees, trying to make him trip on roots that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

When he got to the temple, he set the bag down and made quick work of gathering a small amount of firewood and kindling with the last of the waning sunlight, the chill turning into a freezing wind. His fingers shook slightly as he made a small campfire near the empty doorway to the right of the statue, paranoid about proper ventilation even with all of the cracks in the roof.

Using the light to see, he pulled down some of the vines, setting both them and the greener wood near the fire. Hopefully, they would dry quickly enough to be used later in the night. He quickly sorted through the books, taking them out and setting Soap’s collection to the side. 

He was trying to read the first page of his book when Soap appeared again. He didn’t look up as he greeted, “Good evening.”

“I do not like the way they treat you.” The god was blunt and Ghost couldn’t help but huff a small laugh at the amount of simmering anger the god held over what was a standard interaction for him.

“No?” Ghost asked, wondering why being told to return to camp was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

But he may have underestimated Soap’s anger as the god answered, “No. They don’t get to speak to you like that.” The sentence was punctuated by the campfire flaring slightly, the flames suddenly rising higher, illuminating more of the temple before they rescinded.

Ghost looked up at that, moving the book away to stop it from getting singed. He was not ashamed to admit that he was nervous, he just would never tell Soap that. To have him suddenly swap from someone friendly and charming to an undeniably pissed-off god was alarming.

“Uh—”

“They treat you like a fucking dog and can’t even speak to you with a shred of respect?”

The god’s form was flickering. This is what Ghost wanted, to know the tipping point for the god, but he wasn’t sure if this was the scenario in which he wanted to find out. He’d prefer for it to have been on the battlefield, the god having lost its patience with protecting him, not next to a campfire in his own temple.

“Soap—”

“Why do you fucking stay? They have no fucking right!”

The flames flared again and Ghost grabbed the handle of his knife. Just like the last time he was at the temple, he knew it would do nothing, but he could at least find comfort in the lie.

Soap noticed the movement, making eye contact. Soap was still breathing heavily and Ghost was doing the same, albeit for very different reasons. The god heaved a sigh, slouching over as he covered his face with his hands.

Once more, despite all rationale screaming otherwise, Ghost stayed. There was a long silence, the only noise being the crackling of the fire and the whistling of the wind. 

The god was sitting with his legs crossed, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands propped up his head. He was still staring at the ground when he asked, “Why? Why do you stay?”

“It’s complicated.” 

Soap looked unimpressed, “No, it isn’t.”

“No,” Ghost agreed. “But it’s a story I don’t like to tell.”

The god let out a long breath like he was trying to calm himself down as he rubbed at his eyes, “Didn’t you say you’d be back for dinner?”

“I lied. Late morning at the earliest.” Soap chuckled, much more tinged with defeat than it had been a few hours ago. The silence was back and Ghost hesitated before grabbing his book again.

“Thank you.”

Ghost wasn’t expecting that and felt a bolt of panic strike through him, not knowing what the god was thanking him for. 

Soap gestured towards the stack of books, “For humoring me today. I haven’t laughed in a long time. Thank you.”

The somber tone settled over him, the emotional whiplash from the past ten minutes alone was enough to make his head spin. Unsure of what else to say, he stuttered, “You’re welcome.” It sounded a lot more like a question than he intended.

Soap nodded and let his head fall again. 

And, just like that, he was gone, fading away with the wind. He stared at where the god sat, ruminating over his words. When he came back to the present, he saw that the books were gone as well.

He would have laughed, Death having grabbed his haul of books and scurried off in the breeze, but the honesty behind the god’s not-quite confession weighed on him. He tried to read, but was only flipping pages as his eyes ran over the words, not taking anything in.

He’s been in this situation before, waiting out time to piss off the general and he knew how it went. Sleep wasn’t an option; He always found something to occupy himself with to stave off the inevitable boredom. He was lucky to have a book this time, but try as he might, he couldn’t focus on it.

He gave up on reading and instead turned his focus to the campfire in front of him. He added another log carefully, taking care to not smother any of the other sticks. He didn’t have much fuel and he’d need to make it last until sunrise. 

Ghost woke up to light streaming in through the open doorway and birds chirping obnoxiously loud. He grumbled and tried to go back to sleep before remembering that he was never supposed to be asleep in the first place.

He tried to get up quickly, to stand to attention and scan for any threats or changes that indicated someone had come in during his nap. Instead, he sat up slowly, having to prop himself up on his arm to not lie back down.

His fire was miraculously still burning. The temple looked the same, there weren’t any assassins hiding in the corners, and his stuff hadn’t moved. It took him an embarrassing amount of time to remember that he never went to sleep with a blanket or pillow, yet now had both.

Instead of thinking about that, he stood slowly, his joints popping along the way. He yawned as he gathered his stuff, smothering the fire and folding up his bedding. Still not even half awake, he dropped the pillow and blanket at the base of the statue.

He grumbled out what was meant to be an expression of gratitude, but he’s not sure he got any of the syllables out. Taking as deep of a breath as he could to try to wake himself up, he began the walk to the river. 

It’s a miracle he didn’t get lost as he stumbled through the woods, listening for the sound of rushing water. When he finally got to it, he was sure to avoid getting too close to the slippery bank, not feeling like drowning so early in the morning.

He walked over the ramshackle bridge that crossed the river and led into camp in the early afternoon. Just like last time, most of the soldiers quieted upon seeing him. And, just like last time, the general came stomping out of his tent, though this time significantly angrier

“I need you to listen to me carefully,” he began, seething with so much anger over Ghost’s disobedience that he was twitching. “I am going to give you ten seconds to explain yourself. If you do not have a good reason for why you went AWOL, you are going to wish you had never been born, am I understood?” 

Ghost had mastered the voice of false innocence and remorse, “I’m sorry General, I wasn’t paying attention and got delayed by an hour.”

“An hour?” The general had a deceptively calm tone, one that spoke of being on the edge of doing something drastic. But the general was no god and Ghost had no qualms about giving him a shove.

“Yes sir, I know I said noon. I’m sorry for being late.” Ghost hung his head like he was ashamed. He was already mapping out a lie to explain why he arrived almost a full 24 hours after the search party said he would.

“Noon?” The general asked. Both of them were playing a very dangerous game, weaponizing an unstable but calm facade and putting on a little show for the rest of camp to sit back and watch.

“Yes sir.”

“I was told that you said you’d be back before dinner.”

Ghost lifted his head and glanced around, furrowing his brow in faux confusion, “Before dinner? No sir, I was trying to hunt for something to bring back to camp. They caught me right before I went into the forest; I might have said I was trying to find something for dinner, but I knew it would take me much longer than that.” Oh, how Ghost loved gaslighting.

The general’s lip curled, thinking he found a thread to pull, “Do you normally go hunting at night, son?” The words were full of poison, but Ghost already had an excuse.

“No sir, I looked for tracks yesterday afternoon, set up camp, and woke up early this morning to hunt. Unfortunately, I was no—”

“He’s lying!” One of the soldiers shouted, walking closer and shaking off his friend trying to pull him back. “He was walking out of a store! He wasn’t hunting!” Ah, that must be one-half of the search party.

Now emboldened, the other half approached from the stables, and joined in, “Yeah, he was leaving a bookstore with some guy.”

Uh-oh, that’s not good. He didn’t realize that they saw Soap. 

He was trying to figure out if he should outright deny it or try to claim that he, the notorious loner, had made a friend in town. A friend that just so happened to leave that day so they couldn’t ask for him to verify Ghost’s story. Hmm…

“What? No, he was alone.”

Never mind, that’s perfect; Only one of them saw Soap.

The two began arguing over whether or not Ghost had been alone and Ghost “timidly” chimed in, “Bookstore?”

The first one that had spoken paused his argument and turned back to the general, “He even had a shopping bag!”

Adding fuel to the flames of their anger, Ghost made a point of looking at his hands to show they were empty. He gently corrected like he was just trying to help the two remember, “I was walking out of a general store. Alone. I needed berries for bait.” 

The rest of the camp gave odd looks to the search party, the rumor of his inability to read not helping their legitimacy. Now he just had to hope they didn’t ask why he didn’t have any camping or hunting supplies aside from a small bag. 

The general looked more irritated than irate, “That’s enough. All three of you are being punished for insubordination. For now just get the hell out of my sight until tomorrow morning.”

Ghost tried not to smile too wide as he nodded and walked away, very happy that the general reached his limit before more glaring holes could be poked in his story. The other two looked offended at getting punished with him, one standing slack-jawed as the other even tried to argue before getting dragged away by his friend before he could dig himself a deeper grave.

Ghost was going to be punished regardless of what he did or when he returned, but dragging the other two down with him was well worth it. Plus, the rest of the camp would now think they were liars as well who tried and failed to get him punished.

All in all, it was a rather successful trip to the bookstore.

…

Had he been paying more attention, thinking more clearly, he might’ve thought to hide his tracks, to not leave an obvious trail to where’d been, to hide the evidence of his time spent at the temple of the god of death.

[revelingrexan]

:D

MADE SOME THINGSSS

if you want to use them as actual cake topper images or other decoration, you have my full permission to! that's why i made them! (i'd love if you tagged or messaged me if you do!)

if you do want to use these for cakes, i also made several other versions and have notes under the cut

OKAY SO FIRST OFF I'M NOT AN EXPERT ON PRINTING STUFF. the (very) short version is, purples and pinks don't show up well in the most common printing method, and that "most common printing method" is used in edible printing, like what's used for cupcakes and cakes

(most printing uses a color model called "CMYK," if you want to look it up)

so!! maybe you can use the images above the cut and it'll be fine, or maybe you need to give the printers these versions. these colors were picked because it lets the images turn out like the ones above the cut, NOT how they're shown here:

i'll find out if giving the printers either version works or what in a few months, and i'll update this section then (or sooner if someone fills me in), since i'm planning on getting myself a Lucifer ducky cake for my birthday :3

i'm including versions with circles because many cake designs are circular -- including the one Lucifer used in-show lol and what i plan to print -- and the circle is placed relative to where i intended the image to crop and how i intended its composition. (if you'd like the circle to be placed a bit different, you can do so using the square version)

i included a bunch of variations where Lucifer's not holding anything, if you want to add a number for someone's age for a birthday cake or your own object or some phrase or whatever you please

again, idk how printing works, so i might swap these out for the more vibrant versions depending on what i eventually learn. i'm just prioritizing these less bright versions basically so everyone remembers these are the intended / expected colors

AND A LAST TOTALLY UNRELATED NOTE:

if anyone wants to take a crack at making the image as show-accurate as possible, BE MY GUEST. SHORT VERSION IS, I DID A GOOF WHEN TAKING THE BASE IMAGE OUT OF PERSPECTIVE, SO IT CAN'T BE CROPPED TO LOOK HOW IT DOES ON THE CAKE LUCIFER CANONICALLY USES, WHAT WITH LUCIFER'S HAT AND ALASTOR'S EARS GETTING CROPPED OUT

(i wanted to make a "complete Lucifer hat and complete Alastor" version as well as a cropped version for the pedants [affectionate] out there. but the second version didn't work out when the time came 😔)

it'll probably take some artist's license to get everything to fit in a perfect circle, but here's two versions where i actually did the first step more correctly, using my programs "mesh transform" to get it circular

in the first image, Lucifer is more accurate, and Alastor is more accurate in the second, in case anyone wants to use these (no obligation; you can do your own thing if you'd prefer).

the mesh is still visible in the second image because i hadn't intended to keep the screenshot -- i just thought the mesh looked wild, so i screenshotted, but it was a lucky save since Alastor looks decent there. (it might also be preferable if you use a mesh with more points than in that screenshot)

again, some artist's license will likely be required to get them both looking good. have fun with it! i might try this project again in the future, but for now i'm done lol. (it'll probably be at least a few months or a few years if i do try again, and no guarantee that i will)

[the-beaten-and-the-damned]

third post today because it's been on my mind for a while and since we're back in business anyway

to all nontraumagens, you know why systems are against you?

cuz you aren't systems, but trying to invade system spaces. AND NO, SIT THE HELL BACK DOWN, let me explain. just for you, i will mark the keywords in different colours this time :)

you see, "system" is initially a medical term. "multiplicity" is a word associated with a medical condition, which happens to be basically synonymous to "plurality". which isn't medical. i don't support the usage of this word by systems, but i'm merely explaining why it happens

let's just hypothetically say, you can be plural without trauma. spiritually, religiously, by the means of taking substances, etcetera. that's still not a system. because it's a medical term. and one medical criterium for being a system (out of many) is that you are multiple without any of the above.

call those entities in your brain a joint, a commune, whatever you want! but not a system. please.

let's say i believe your plurality. i won't either say i 100% do or 100% don't, i never looked into that and this mutual aggression i see between systems and plurals doesn't make me wanna do it one bit. you say it yourself, it originates from something other than trauma! then it's different in nature. WHY are you trying to get into the spaces of traumatised people that aren't going to understand your experiences anyway? WHY are you trying to wage a war on the said traumatised people? Why do you come after those trying to make, in your words, their "endo-free internet bubble"? you can't shove acceptance down someone's throat, especially when your community acts like this.

have your own community. make terms that aren't medical. make flags, i see many of you are passionate graphic designers anyway. here's a couple of basic terms for you i just came up with! entity (part/alter), nucleus (host) walk-in (introject), guardian (protector), warden (gatekeeper), and so on. MAKE YOUR TERMS. PLEASE

tl;dr: endos, you don't belong in the system community only because our experiences differ. make yourself a new one, that won't touch people with severe trauma. this way, you won't have to harass and get harassed back.

sincerely, a traumascum.

to anti endos here, i get the fun you're getting from reclaiming the terms that endos make. do it with those that are based on medical and sys community exclusive ones. DON'T take the terms that are made by them to separate, for the love of god, you're prolonging this war. if you see them making an attempt at separating, leave them be. EVEN IF you don't believe in their experiences, EVEN IF you think you can't be plural without trauma, period, DON'T TOUCH THEM. they'll be in their own space we won't need to invade, and we'll be in ours. isn't it what we all want, for endos to get out of the system spaces?

upd.: a simple solution to systems that DO support nontraumagens! don't post about them in spaces exclusively made for traumatised people. because these spaces aren't about non-disordered plurals. post about them where it's appropriate, not wherever you want to. personally, i think you're still allowed to use your community tags, #systempunk included, but don't drag what doesn't belong in it in there.

nontraumagenics are welcome to interact only if they're being civil and understand my point. and only with this post. otherwise, if you decide to be a little shit to us, we will be meaner to you tenfold, just a warning.

our inbox doesn't have anon asks turned on anyway :3

[nottapossum]

WIP Wednesday!!

Tagged yet again by the wonderful @the-flaming-nightmare

♡♡♡♡A little Meeting: An Itty Bitty imps one-shot♡♡♡♡

“Thank you both for meeting us today, I know it's not our usual day, but we need to discuss something rather important.” Stolas explains. 

He called Blitzø yesterday to meet him at Ozzies, he emphasized that Blitzø should be big for this, which of course made Blitzø's mind spiral into multiple different scenarios. . . 

The four of them…together.

Fizz and Blitzø…

Stolas and Asmodeus…

He had a dream about this once….

But he doubts that's what Ozzie and Stolas wanted with them. 

Fizzarolli shrugs. “I mean, I live here so I was going to be here anyway.” 

“We asked you both here so we can establish some rules for playdates.” Stolas says.

Fizz smiles. “Ohh, so it's your fault we're here.” Fizz says to Blitzø.

“Shut up.” Blitzø tells him. 

“This isn't just for Blitzø. It's so that everyone can understand the rules…and caregivers can know how to manage stuff if the other caregiver is gone for whatever reason.” Stolas explains. 

“Brat.” Fizz coughs. 

“Spoiled.” Blitzø snaps back. 

“Jealous.” Fizz scoffs. 

“Purse dog!” Blitzø shouts.

“Asshole!” Fizz shouts back.

Blitzø flicks Fizz on the forehead. 

“Ow! Hey!"

“Okay, that's enough!” Stolas says. “This meeting is to help you two. This is not an excuse for you to act like children.”

“Funny, I recall you calling me a child multiple times.” Blitzø says. 

“And here you are proving my point.” Stolas says, arms crossed. 

Asmodeus picks up a chalkboard and sets it on the table in front of them. “Stolas and I have made this board so we can set some rules to follow while you're here. We want to go through them with you both to make sure we're all on the same page.” Asmodeus explains.

Fizz and Blitzø look at each other, then back at the caregivers. 

“This is because I bit Ozzie, isn't it?” Blitzø asks.

“No.” Stolas says.

“Well…” Asmodeus hesitates.

Stolas gives Ozzie a look.

“No, not at all.” Asmodeus lies. “Has nothing to do with that.” he laughs awkwardly. 

Fizz and Blitzø give each other a look again. 

“Right.” Blitzø rolls his eyes. 

“Anyway! The rules!” Stolas says, summoning chalk for them to write on the chalkboard.

The top of the board had ‘House Rules’ written on it. 

So they're a household now? Was that weird? Seems like it should be called a club or something…

“Alright, I will start.” Stolas says. 

Stolas talks as he writes: “Rule Number one (#1), No fighting, arguing, or name calling of any kind. If you have a problem, talk it out.”

Stolas hands the chalk to Asmodeus so he can add to the list. 

Ozzie takes it and writes it down, then reads outloud: “Rule two (# 2) No cursing, or any type of foul language or gestures.”

“Well, that's just bullshit.” Blitzø says. “The birds are prohibiting fowl language?” He jokes.

Stolas gave Blitzø a look to be sure he knew that the owl didn't find his comment funny. 

“What? I'm not small! It's okay!” Blitzø says. 

Asmodeus hands the chalk to Blitzø.

Blitzø gives him a confused look. “What do you expect me to do with this?"

Ozzie answers simply. “You both are part of this, too. You should have a say.”

Blitzø rolls his eyes. “Giving me a false sense of control? I don't need it, I'm fine.” He hands the chalk to Fizz.

“That's not what we're doing!” Asmodeus says. 

“Sure seems like it to me. I'm not a kid, Oz. I don't need you to patronize me.” Blitzø says. 

“Blitzø, we're not.” Stolas says. “We're doing this together because everyone needs to be involved for it to work.”

Blitzø doesn't respond or listen, what was the fucking point? 

They don't honestly care about his opinion, they just want to keep him in line. 

…but can he blame them? 

He looks over at Fizz and what he was writing…

Fizz was adorable when he did anything, and he proved that further by sticking his little tongue out while he was writing on the board.

“Be nice to yourself and others.” Fizz wrote. 

“That's a great rule, Fizzarolli.” Stolas says. 

“Thanks.” Fizz smiles. 

Stolas continues writing: “Rule four, bedtime is Nine O'clock, nap time is Three O'clock.”

Ozzie: “Rule five, drink at least one bottle of water, and eat two meals every day.” 

Fizz avoided everyone's gaze once that one was said out loud. 

“Fizz?” Asmodeus asks. 

Fizz looked up at him, but didn't respond. He only grabs the chalk and writes: “No lying and always keep promises.” With a smile. 

Stolas patted Fizz's head and praised him for helping. “You're doing great, Fizz.” 

Blitzø sighs, it's like the fucking circus all over again. 

He knows Fizz is perfect. Do we really have to keep reminding everyone?!

Stolas added: “Rule seven: Always listen to those who are taking care of you. Whether it's your caregiver or someone your caregiver put in charge, unless it goes against your boundaries.” 

Ozzie: “Rule eight: No hitting, biting, or harming anyone or yourself in any way.” 

…

Blitzø knows he's a screw up too. 

Do they really have to keep reminding him?

Blitzø suddenly felt very overwhelmed, so he excused himself from the table. 

He doesn't even know if they noticed something was wrong. It was all a blur to him. 

He doesn't know what to do,he just knows he can't break down in front of them…so he locks himself in the bathroom and tries his damn hardest to just breathe!

He's okay…he's fine…

Calm down…

Please calm down…it's not a big deal!

No…

It didn't matter what Stolas said last time…

He was too much for them!

No!

He wasn't good enough to sit there with Fizz and Asmodeus and Stolas!

They're so great! So perfect! 

And he was… 

Please just stop thinking! You're so good at that most of the time!

Why was he here?

He shouldn't be here!

‘You're a miserable failure. This is why no one likes you!’ 

‘Fizzarolli! We've sold out! You make me so proud, son.’

‘You think anyone would pay to watch you act? You're only good for one thing! Why do you think I keep sending you out with them?!’

Blitzø shakes his head. That's not true…that's not true!

‘I don't care if you want to or not, you're going with them, and you're going to do what they paid me to get you to.’ 

‘At least we know you're not completely worthless!’

Blitzø was suddenly on the floor, face covered in tears. 

Shit…this was not how today was supposed to go! 

He fucked up!

...again! 

♡

♡

It's so late, so I'm not tagging anyone. But if you want to post one, do it!

♡

♡

@todayimfour @trophyxtissues2 @abby5577 @ask-dusty-boy @im-not-paying-my-taxes @stormy-is-hyperfixated @attagirljessy @legeufygeuber100 @thatswhat24 @hinata-chan-utaitelover @nostalgic-woodwind

[aziraphales-library]

Hiii! First of all I wanted to thank you all for the amazing work that you do. Your suggestions are always on point. Now, for the question, I was wondering if you know any fics that are similar to secondhand smoke. Maybe about Catholic guilt and/or coming out? Thank you :))

Hello! We have a #religious guilt tag you might be interest in. Here are some religious conflict/coming out fics...

Cappucchino Readings - A "Good Omens" Univeristy AU by Jelly_Jenkins (T)

When Aziraphale took the job at the campus library, he didn't think anything of it. Of course he was excited to make some extra money and such, but he never expected to get out so much more.

The Day You Eat of It by K1ngB (E)

It all started as it will end... at a summer camp (with strangely religious undertones). In Aziraphale's mind, the best part of summer was those two weeks spent with the children. Just as eager to absorb new information and experiences as he was to teach the next generation same as he was at this same camp nearly ten years ago. A lot has changed since then, namely the amount of blatant proselytizing but some things always stay the same. In Crowley's mind, he gets to see the apple of his eye for two weeks every year, and he'll be damned if he doesn't make the most of it. He sustains himself on the discreet glances, the creeping blushes, and the inevitable banter of his favorite camp counselor. He is prepared for the long game and was nailing it if he was being honest... And then he got caught wanking in the showers and it's all downhill from there. or Summer Camp Counselor AU. Crowley is a sappy pining fool and Aziraphale has no idea what's going on.

search terms by Vagabond (M)

Aziraphale expects it to be a quiet night working in the university library when a flashy red haired, foul mouthed, panicking student needs to find credible sources for his paper and can't figure out how to use the search. Little does Aziraphale know that meeting Crowley will lead him on a path to self-discovery, and give him the family he didn't realize he needed. From a prompt on tumblr: College AU - You’re REALLY GOOD at using the right search terms for the academic databases and I’m on a deadline.

Opposites Attract by Pal456 (M)

The Eastgate family hated the Crowley family. Hated them so much, that their children were not to spend any time together. That never stopped Aziraphale and Crowley being drawn to one another time and time again even though their families would pull them apart. As years go by, Aziraphale tries to do right by his parents in order to take over the family business one day, but it seems like the Almighty might have a different, ineffable, plan that brings the two together every chance they get.

Out of Suffering Into Love by Slow_Burn_Sally (E)

Aziraphale is a sexually repressed man who grew up in a religious household. Crowley is an artist with a sordid past. Both of them are afraid to love and be loved.

One and the Same Fall by ElliottRook (E)

Aziraphale Fell is a UK student attending an American Catholic school on exchange, an escape from a strict, conservative family. Anthony Crowley is a juvenile delinquent on his last chance, sent to live with his uncle and attend a school that promises to shape him up. When they cross paths at St. Bernadette's, they nearly instantly become friends, and nobody likes it--not the teachers, not the old-money students, not Aziraphale's family--but it's the best thing that's ever happened to either of them. Hanging over their heads, though, is Crowley's plan to flee the moment he comes of age, and what will happen after they're no longer trapped in the same gilded cage.

And the one you mentioned...

secondhand smoke by PaintedVanilla (T)

you're second hand smoke, second hand smoke i breathe you in, but, honey, i don't know what you're doing to me mon chéri the year is 1990, and anthony crowley is looking for a church in london that might be tolerable. the one he winds up attending isn't exactly such, but he decides to stick around for one reason. said reason happens to own a bookshop that crowley begins to frequent, much to the surprise and delight of anathema device and newton pulsifer, who seem quite convinced that crowley could use something else to focus on besides gardening, their campaigns, and visits to tadfield.

- Mod D

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 29

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 3.6K

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

In the days that passed, you often wondered how you were going to get through this—how you were going to heal from everything that had happened. More challenging still, was the question of how to find the will to want to heal. Azriel wanted you to live, not just survive. And you weren’t quite sure what he meant by that. To live means to continue with breath, although he didn’t mean it like that. He wanted you to thrive, to be alive, to feel the weight of the world as a companion instead of a burden. Yet every day you felt like you were failing. The progress you made—bathing more regularly, engaging in small pleasures like gardening and reading—was often undone by a moment of panic or a flash of anger. Every time you retreated into the safety of your shell, Azriel would be there at the entrance, extending a hand and gently coaxing you forward.

After seeking your permission, as well as Nesta’s and Cassian’s, Azriel moved back into the House of Wind. Initially, he claimed it was due to some upcoming meetings, but when no such meetings materialized, you realized he had moved back to be closer to you. He took up residence in the room across from yours, the same room where he had lived before he was gifted the townhouse. His room, like yours, was adorned in dark woods and muted tones, but Azriel’s choices leaned toward blacks and grays.

Six months passed, and under some gift of the Mother, you started to feel more like yourself again—the self that existed before Kai had died. You still lacked the courage to return to the barn where he was murdered, but at least you were becoming more comfortable walking in the streets near the site with Azriel. You ventured out more often, now two to three times a week, and began attending nightly dinners. On the nights you couldn’t bring yourself to join, no one made a fuss; they simply left food outside your door. You were healing, though the process was slow.

On one of your better days, you found yourself standing in Azriel’s doorway as he stood in front of the mirror, unbuckling one of his siphons and slipping it onto the table. You leaned casually against the doorframe, one shoulder supporting your weight as Azriel worked to unclasp the other.

“Where have you been?” you asked, crossing one bare foot over your ankle.

Azriel peered up from under his lashes and curls, resting his forearm on his thigh to get a better grip on the straps. “Windhaven,” he responded.

You nodded slightly, unsure what to say about that. Azriel had been spending more time in and around the war camps, though you hadn’t the heart to ask why. The mere thought of those camps made bile rise in your throat; you could almost smell the mud and filth clinging to him.

“How was your day?” you asked instead.

Azriel gripped one of the leather straps between his teeth, muttering something almost incoherent. “Fine.”

You rolled your eyes slightly as the strap slipped from his teeth, and he hissed in frustration. “Can we stop doing this every night and just let me help from the start?” you asked from the doorway. Azriel always struggled to remove the arm bands, and every night you stood there, chatting with him until he finally asked for help.

Azriel paused, looking up at you through his curls and lashes. “I got it,” he insisted.

“See, but you don’t got it,” you replied. “Since I’ve known you, you’ve never got it.”

Azriel, gripping the strap in his teeth again, garbled out, “If you had any faith in me at all…” Before he could finish, the strap slipped from his mouth. He looked up at you as you caught your giggle in the back of your throat. He merely sighed and extended his arm. “Fine.”

You took a few steps into the room, crossing the threshold as you had done every night these past months. Instinctively, you took his arm in your palm, using the other hand to pull the strap as Azriel looked down at you. “You got a sunburn on your nose,” he noted.

You looked up at him under your brow, quizzically. “No, I didn’t.”

“I’m looking at your nose. It’s red,” he replied.

You felt the siphon come loose in your hand and placed it on the dresser. Turning to gaze into the mirror, your fingers flew to your nose to investigate.

Azriel leaned in, his hands on the dresser as he scrutinized your reflection. “Definitely wasn’t that color this morning,” he said, shrugging.

“You’re seeing things,” you replied, turning away from the mirror.

Azriel did the same, towering above you as he looked down. “Why would it be so bad if you did?”

“It’s not that it’s bad, it’s just that I’m not sunburnt,” you replied shortly.

“Agree to disagree,” Azriel said, his voice teasing as he shrugged again.

“Oh, so now you’re the expert on my skin tone?” you shot back, a playful glint in your eye.

He grinned, leaning closer. “Well, I do spend a lot of time looking at it.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically. “That’s comforting. Why are you home so late?”

Azriel just responded, “I had a meeting that ran long.” And then quickly followed it with, “Why are you up?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Although Azriel knew this. Every night, you had been waking up in fits of screams as your mate meticulously etched away your wall piece by piece, slithering into your subconscious. For the first three months, Azriel would come running into your room to wake you up in a panic. Eventually, he just started checking in on you throughout the night, gently waking you before your dreams could drag you under. On the nights he didn’t get there fast enough, you’d ask him to crawl into bed with you, his presence and body heat calming your shaking. Eventually, he started sleeping in your room with you just to make everything easier. He started out in the armchair across the room, but when you noticed how stiffly he moved the next day, you invited him to sleep in the bed.

Whenever he was gone overnight, your nightmares were worse, but you never told him that. Tonight, when Azriel came home late, you hadn’t allowed yourself to sleep at all, scared of what your mate might do to you, so you stayed up reading until you heard Azriel walking down the hall and scurried out of bed to get to his room.

He slipped off his shin leathers and chest plate, looking over at you as you leaned against the bedpost, one finger tracing the intricate swirls. “Do you want me to sleep in your room tonight?” he asked, pulling the hem of his shirt up and tossing it onto the bed. Your eyes traced his abdomen, the many black intricate designs snaking along his sides.

“Could you?” you asked as he wandered into the bathroom, his wings tucked neatly behind him.

You heard him holler from the bathroom as he turned on the shower, the water hitting the floor with a hissing splash. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“No, no,” you responded as he threw his pants out of the bathroom door. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

You crawled up onto his bed, sliding your feet under the throw blanket at the foot. Your nightgown curled up over your thighs as you rested your head on your knees, your fingers absentmindedly picking at the fur.

You listened to the splashing from the bathroom as Azriel washed, the warm, soothing scent of cedarwood wafting out. You remained there until he turned off the showerhead with a squeak. He emerged, a towel draped loosely around his waist. You were so comfortable with him now that you didn’t even question it. His hair fell in wet curls on his brow. “Are you worried about tomorrow?”

You were meeting Titania for the first time since Kai had passed away. You had learned that when she had seen you and Caelum in the square, over half a year ago now, she had gone to the guard’s station and alerted them of your name and what was happening. After reporting it up, Azriel immediately sprang into action, searching for you in the city and then using his shadows to follow your path into the forest. You hadn’t spoken with her since that day, out of fear of what it might do to you. But you had finally been brave enough to reach out. She quickly responded, asking to see you, and tomorrow was the meeting day.

“Oh yeah,” you admitted.

Azriel opened the closet door, stepping in as he called back, “Why?”

“I don’t know,” you replied, continuing to pick at the fur. “I think I’m just worried about how she’s going to be.”

Azriel stepped back out, now wearing a pair of loose-fitting black shorts, his hands ruffling the towel through his hair as he walked back to the bathroom. “How so?” he asked.

You shrugged. “A lot's changed. Some pretty intense stuff happened.”

Azriel called from the bathroom, “Stuff that is—”

You cut him off. “Not my fault.” You finished, rolling your eyes.

Azriel reappeared, crossing the room to stand at the foot of the bed. “We’re going to keep saying that until you believe it.”

You rolled your eyes again at him as he chuckled softly. “Do you think you’re worried about what you might find out?”

You looked up at him, as he braced himself between the two bedposts. “I don’t know what more there is to learn.”

“So then what are you worried about?”

You shook your head slightly, “I don’t know. I just feel nervous.”

Azriel gave you a soft smile, “You worry for no reason.”

“I know,” you said, feigning a frown.

“Can we please go to bed? I’m exhausted,” Azriel begged, slumping slightly between the bedposts.

“Yes,” you conceded, sliding off the bed and walking in front of him across the hall. You climbed into your own bed, Azriel following behind you as you lay down, turning away to face the French doors as his body curled around yours, his arm resting on your shoulder. You felt his whole body press against you as your own relaxed, breathing in and out deeply as the faelight in the room dimmed.

After a few moments, you said into the darkness, “I think I’m worried she’s going to judge me.”

Azriel’s eyes remained closed as he slurred out the words, “Judge you for what?”

You shrugged, knowing he could feel it. “How I’ve reacted to all of this. If she thinks I should have done something else.”

Azriel muttered, “Why would she think that?”

“Because she might think I’m doing the wrong thing.”

“In terms of what?”

“Getting better.”

Azriel arched his neck slightly. “You think she’s going to judge you for getting better?”

You turned your head to look back at him, the moonlight just illuminating the soft curves of his face. “Like she thinks that I’m moving on too quickly. That I should be more sad still.”

“Y/N,” Azriel said, resting a hand on your side, “No one is going to think that. They’re just going to be happy to know you’re okay,” he replied.

You nodded, turning back towards the doors as Azriel lay his head back down on the pillow behind yours.

You nuzzled your face into the soft relief of the pillows, taking a few slow breaths as Azriel’s chest rose and fell behind you, pressing gently against your back. In sleep, he reached his arm around, pulling you closer, and you obliged. You had felt conflicted when Azriel had started sleeping in here with you, worried about what Kai or others might think. But Azriel had merely shrugged and noted, “It’s no one else’s business. If it helps you sleep, then it’s all that matters.” He had made it clear that his only intention was to help you find peace and rest.

—

The next morning, you dragged your feet, reluctant to get out of bed. Azriel had already left before dawn, as he always did, heading out early for training but always returning in time to join you for breakfast. When you didn’t appear at your usual time, he came looking for you, finding you still curled up in bed, awake but unwilling to face the day. With a gentle persistence, he helped you up, hauling you from the bed. You finally joined him at the breakfast table half an hour later, barely eating, just pushing a piece of fruit around your plate. Even the flight down to the city was quieter than usual.

Azriel landed a few blocks away from Titania’s, immediately scanning the streets with a watchful eye. “Can you not go full warrior mode?” you asked, rolling your eyes.

Azriel’s gaze met yours, softening as he explained, “Sorry. This just isn’t the safest part of the city.”

“You forget I was born here,” you reminded him, turning away and taking a few steps into the street. 

Azriel fell in step behind you. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

In no time, you found yourself standing in front of Titania’s place. The daylight revealed how worn down the building was—faded yellow walls with peeling paint, a sign hanging from rusted chains, and stairs that crumbled under your feet as you approached. You used the doorknocker that haunted your memories, the sound reverberating through you. Azriel stood at the base of the stairs as Titania opened the door, her eyes lighting up when she saw you.

“My love!” she exclaimed, throwing the door wide open and wrapping you in a warm embrace, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You knew a red stain would be left behind. She looked down the stairs at Azriel, then back at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh,” you said, “Titania, this is Azriel, a friend who’s been helping me.”

Azriel bounded up the steps, extending his hand to Titania. Her red, pointed fingernails grasped his as she gave him a sly smile. “A pleasure,” she remarked. “Please, come in!”

Inside, the summer heat turned the pleasure house into a stifling oven. With no air circulating, everything felt stagnant and sticky, the scent of bodies and arousal heavy in the air. You followed Titania into her sitting room, where she took an oversized red wingback chair, motioning for you to sit on the sofa. Azriel settled beside you, his eyes flickering between you and Titania, his expression gentle but guarded.

Titania leaned forward, fingers resting lightly on her cheek, gazing at you with a warm smile. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to reach out,” she said.

“I know,” you replied, looking down at your hands clasped in your lap. “I should have gotten in touch sooner.”

“It’s completely fine, my love,” Titania interrupted. “No worries about that. I knew you were safe, and that’s all that matters.”

You glanced up to see Azriel giving you a supportive smile, his eyes twinkling with an unspoken “I told you so.”

“Still,” you continued, “I put you in a very dangerous position.”

Titania shook her head, her expression softening. “You didn’t have a choice. I’m just glad I ran into you.”

You met her gaze, your eyes filling with gratitude. “Thank you. You saved me. Thank you so much.”

Titania’s smile grew, and she leaned forward, her eyes shimmering. “I’m just so glad you’re safe.” She paused, her voice trembling slightly. “How are you doing?”

You bit your lip. “Some days are better than others,” you admitted. “I’m still struggling a lot just day to day, but I seem to be balancing out the good and bad days.”

Titania nodded, murmuring her approval.

“What about you?” you asked.

She gestured around, a hint of weariness in her smile. “Same thing. Different day.”

You chuckled lightly. As you did, the creak of a door and the thumping of little feet caught your attention. Titania perked up, standing and moving quickly to the door, poking her head out. “Oi!” she hollered. Giggling erupted from the hallway—children. “Get over here,” Titania ordered.

Two small girls appeared, one a toddler and the other around third-grade age. The older one had red curly hair and freckles, while the toddler had a single blonde tuft of hair tied with a ribbon. “Where do you think you’re going?” Titania questioned.

The older girl swayed back and forth, glancing up at Titania. “We were going to see Mama.”

“Mama’s working right now,” Titania responded gently. “I thought I told you to stay outside until Mama came to get you. Did you not hear me?”

The toddler reached up, calling softly, “Mama, mama,” over and over. Titania sighed, picking up the child and bouncing her lightly. “Mama is working, my love.” The little one clung to Titania’s bony shoulder, her tiny fingers tangling in Titania’s hair. The older girl peeked out around Titania’s dress, her gaze fixed on Azriel’s wings with wide-eyed wonder as she pushed past and into the room.

“Jesmerle, get back over here!” Titania hissed.

Jesmerle ignored her, her eyes still on Azriel. “Why do you have wings?” she asked, her tiny voice filled with awe.

Azriel smiled, crouching to her level. “Because I was born with them.”

Jesmerle nodded, accepting the answer. “Ohh,” she said, before noticing Azriel’s hands. “Why do your hands look like that?”

Titania hissed her name and reached for her arm, but Azriel held up a hand, still smiling. “It’s alright,” he said. Titania hesitated, dropping it as Azriel continued. “When I was little, I got burned on my hands, and they couldn’t heal fast enough.”

“Do they hurt?” she asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Azriel twisted his hands back and forth, inspecting them with a thoughtful look. “Sometimes,” he replied softly, “but mostly no.”

“What’s your name?” Jesmerle asked quickly.

“Azriel,” he replied, extending his hand. “And yours?”

“Jesmerle,” she said, shaking his hand with a shy smile.

Titania, still holding the toddler, watched with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Titania, can Azriel come play with me?” Jesmerle asked, looking up at her.

Titania started to reply, but Azriel beat her to it. “I would love to! If Titania is alright with it, of course.”

Titania rolled her eyes, a resigned smile on her face. “Fine. But only for a few minutes, and then he has to come back.” She tried to put the toddler down, but the child fussed, reaching out for Azriel.

Without hesitation, Azriel took the toddler from Titania, introducing himself to the little one who babbled and smiled at him, repeating, “Mama, mama,” which made Azriel grin.

Titania sighed, “Only a few minutes. And then bring him back here, or I’ll come get him.”

Jesmerle gave a half-hearted agreement, taking Azriel’s hand and leading him up the stairs. You watched them go, Azriel asking Titania questions you couldn’t hear before they walked out the front door, the toddler still clinging to him.

“He’s quite charming,” Titania said, turning to you with a raised eyebrow. “Where’d you find that one?”

You rolled your eyes, smiling slightly. “I didn’t find him. He’s just been helping me get back on my feet.”

Titania chuckled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I’d certainly get swept off my feet if I was shacking up with him.”

“Stop,” you laughed, shaking your head. “It’s not like that.”

Titania’s eyes widened playfully. “So you’re saying he’s available?”

“You’re funny,” you said, giving her a mock stern look. “It’s not like that.”

Titania leaned back in her chair, a knowing smile on her lips. “So there’s nothing going on between you two?”

“No,” you replied, shaking your head.

“Are you sure?” she prodded.

You looked at her, a bit confused. “Yes?”

Titania gestured toward the door where Azriel had disappeared. “I’ve seen a lot of males with a lot of females, and I know that look he’s giving you.”

You tilted your head, genuinely curious. “What look?”

“Are you blind, my love?” she asked, leaning forward. “He watches your every move. He’s constantly adjusting to you and where you are to make sure you’re comfortable. Not to mention, he smiles every time you speak.”

You rolled your eyes, though a blush crept up your cheeks. “He’s just being kind.”

“I’m sure he is,” Titania nodded, her smile softening. “But I think he also really wants to know you better.” She winked.

“It’s not like that,” you insisted, though your voice wavered slightly.

Titania raised her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. But I’m just saying, he looks at you like someone who’s pining.”

You looked down at your hands, feeling a swirl of emotions. “No. It’s nothing like that.”

The room grew quiet, the tone shifting to something more serious. Titania’s gaze softened as she studied your face. “You know it’s okay to open up to that?”

“To what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Love,” Titania responded quietly.

“What? No,” you replied, shaking your head.

“Maybe not now,” she conceded gently. “But it seems like this Azriel is making you happy right now, or at least helping you to feel better.”

You nodded, feeling a lump in your throat.

“And if that’s something you want to pursue further, I don’t want you to hold yourself back.”

“Doesn’t that seem a little early?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“My love, it only matters how your heart is healing,” Titania said softly.

You shook your head, trying to reconcile your feelings. “It feels wrong.”

“If it feels wrong, it is for you,” Titania agreed, her tone understanding. “But that doesn’t mean it will feel wrong forever. And when it doesn’t feel wrong, know that it means you aren’t forgetting him. You’re just living on.”

“To live on,” you repeated, the words feeling foreign yet comforting. “What a funny concept.”

“Funny, maybe,” Titania said, reaching out to gently touch your hand. “But also a beautiful one.”

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