#((I'm just picturing her slumped somewhere

[ashtheketchum]

A new family Part 4

A/N: Before we start the new chapter, I wanted to thank you again! I never expected so much feedback, but it makes me incredibly happy. :D <3333 (Picture from Pinterest!)

(H/C) = Your hair colour

Warnings: Mention of death, typical twd content

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Taglist: @in-this-minute @alialiclouds

Masterlist!

__________________________________

PoV (Y/N):

Rick, Glenn, Tdog and Daryl headed back to Atlanta to look for Merle. I didn't really like the idea, but once Daryl had made up his mind about something, you couldn't just talk him out of it. So we let him do that.

"Do you think they'll find Merle, Mom?" (D/N) asked quietly, visibly nervous. Sighing, I shook my head and I looked at her. A sad smile adorns my face. "I don't know…" I then told her. (D/N) had a depressing look on her face. I stroked her head lightly before looking at Daryl, who was packing everything and getting his crossbow ready. I had to suppress a smile for a moment when I saw him quickly put on (D/N)'s necklace.

"Why don't you go and wish Daryl good luck?" I then asked (D/N) as my eyes went back to her. (D/N) looked at me uncertainly for a moment, but then nodded and ran towards Daryl. They spoke briefly before (D/N) just nodded slightly and walked away again. I looked at it briefly, (D/N) didn't seem sad, but not happy either. However, I didn't want to ask Daryl about it because he was already on his way.

<Time Skip>

Lori, Carl, Shane, Dale and the others were all sitting around the campfire together. They talked, ate together and laughed together. However, (D/N) was sitting in our tent and she was staring at the ground. Was she really that worried about Daryl? Because I didn't want to leave her alone, I also stayed in the tent, but I had gotten us food beforehand. "Honey, is everything okay?" I asked her as I took a small bite of my food. (D/N) mumbled under her breath for a moment before shaking her head.

Sighing, I put my plate down and I looked at her worriedly. "What's the matter? I can see it.” (D/N) tensed her hands before shaking her head. "I'm a bad person, Mom…" she then said. Her words surprised me for a moment and at first I thought I had misheard. But this was not the case. My daughter actually said that she was supposedly a bad person. “What makes you think that, honey?” My voice was a little louder than before. "I… I don't want Merle to come back… he's just not good for us…" She then admitted quietly.

Her confession made me sigh. But at the same time, a certain fear was building up inside me. Sure, when children grow up in a world like this, they quickly get used to it, but I still couldn't accept it. My daughter would probably wish Merle dead, whether she wanted to or not.

"But you know he's Daryl's brother…" I then said quietly. (D/N) nodded immediately and picked up her water bottle to take a sip from it. "I know… but I still don't like Merle…" Her words made me smile briefly. "And then what do you want to happen to Merle?" Hopefully I didn't ask this question so obviously that (D/N) would think I trusted her to want someone dead. Actually, I didn't believe that either, but I had to have confirmation. "That maybe he was found by other people and left with them… or he ran away…" (D/N) then murmured quietly.

Her words immediately made me relax and my shoulders slumped. "Oh, honey…" I sighed softly again. I gently pulled her towards me and I hugged her tightly. I ran my hands through her (H/C) hair. "You're not a bad person for hoping that Merle is somewhere else… you just want to feel safe…" I assured her quietly. (D/N) nodded briefly before smiling at me and giving me a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you Mom…!"

Before I could answer her, we suddenly heard a loud scream. I immediately pushed (D/N) into the tent and I put the blanket over her. "Stay calm! And don’t move…!” I whispered to her before going out and closing the tent again. Then I immediately watched as some of our people were eaten by the walkers. They had made it to the quarry and were attacking us. It had caught Amy and many others.

I quickly grabbed my knife, which I had gotten from Shane, before running over to help them. I stabbed the walkers in the head and pushed a few away so they would leave our people alone. However, out of the corner of my eye I saw a walker at my tent and I immediately heard (D/N) calling for me. She probably thought it was me, but her words only drew the walker closer to the tent. "(D/N)!" I immediately shouted loudly. I ran as fast as I could to my tent to help her, but the walker was already scratching at the tent. (D/N) screamed loudly and cried loudly as I got closer and closer to the walker. On the way I stabbed a few walkers in the head before I was behind the walker.

Before I reached him, however, an arrow was fired and it hit the walker square in the head. Breathing heavily, I looked around as the walker now lay still on the tent. Before I could even find the rescuer, I pulled the walker away and I tore open my tent. "Mom!" (D/N) immediately whimpered loudly and hugged me tightly. She cried into my shoulder as I rubbed her back. "Everything is fine…! I’m with you now…!” I assured her. "Wha´ the hell is goin´ on!?" I heard someone calling.

I turned to the voice and saw Daryl running towards us. He pulled the arrow out of the walker's skull and then looked at me and (D/N). (D/N) was still breathing quickly and clutching my clothes. Daryl understood immediately and grabbed my arm to pull me up. I picked up (D/N) and looked at him confused. “Stay behind me!” He ordered us and started walking.

I followed Daryl as he walked closer and closer to Dale's RV. Sometimes he would check on us to make sure we were okay. (D/N) could now walk on her own, but she still held on to me tightly.

Tdog, Dale, Glenn, Shane, Daryl and Rick looked after the walkers all night long. In the morning everything was destroyed and we took care of these undead. Just a few people got bitten. Glenn and the others agreed that our people should be buried, even if Daryl wasn't happy about it. He wanted to argue again, but I gave him a sharp look and he remained silent. "Stupid idea…" He just mumbled, but more to himself. With a pickaxe, Daryl stabbed the walkers' heads to make sure they really wouldn't get up again. I made (D/N) look away and stay with Carl.

Meanwhile I went to Daryl. Somehow I was nervous, but also very tired, last night was just too much. When I was a few meters away from Daryl, he looked up at me. Sweat ran down his forehead and he looked at me with slightly narrowed eyes. "Wha´?" he asked. His tone actually gave me the reason to leave again. He sounded pissed, but he was probably tired too. And then he had to swing that heavy pickaxe around. "I… wanted to thank you… for saving (D/N) yesterday…" I then murmured quietly.

I looked down uncertainly, but then raised my gaze again because all the walkers were below me. Daryl hummed quietly before continuing to swing his pickaxe. "No prob´…" is all he said. It seemed like he wanted to say more, but I didn't want to force him to tell me. "If you need help, you can ask me…" That's all I said before I walked away.

I could still feel the redneck's gaze on my back, but I ignored it.

PoV Daryl:

Seeing (D/N) and (Y/N) almost die took me a bit by surprise. Even though they were both very annoying, they were mother and child. I sighed quietly before I went back to my work. "The lil´ one and ya r´safe with me…" I then muttered to myself.

Next Chapter ->

[abitohoney]

Imagine telling sevika "I‘d still love you without all those gorgeous muscles, you know that right?“ when noticing you‘ve been complimenting them a LOT lately

Thinking about this scenario I just picture that soft expression she has when talking to Silco about Jinx and relating it to her relationship with her father. 😭 Want to hug and hold her SO BAD!

AN: This got a little... angsty I guess? Nothing too bad. Just different than my normal vibe. Or maybe I just felt angsty while writing this, idk. I've been feeling kinda down in the dumps lately, particularly in the past several weeks or so, and I think it's starting to show in my writing, unfortunately. (It's certainly been a huge hindrance to writing in general. Output has been near zero, hence the lack of posting much beyond just little HCs, imagines, etc.) But hey, this is SFW, which is unusual for me! Still tossed it below the cut due to length.

I certainly would still love her all the same without those delicious muscles of hers. There are hundreds of reasons I'm crazy about her, and I imagine the rest of the Sevika simps feel the same. She's an incredible woman.

Sevika oozes confidence. She's clearly proud of her body (As she should be! She looks AMAZING at 40). She's got those toned abs and delightfully large bicep of hers on constant display. Not to mention those tight pants that hug her deliciously muscular legs. 🤤

However, she is human. I'm sure that somewhere beneath her cool, confident exterior there's bound to be some self-conscious feelings, some worries, some doubt. Especially if you've been so frequently pointing out her glorious physique. Sure, it's gonna feel great to her at first. She'll feel high as a kite that her favorite person finds her so amazing and attractive. But at some point, you gotta believe she's going to think about what she might look like in 10, 20, 30 years, if she ever gives up whatever strict regime she has to stay so fit. You can't possibly expect her to maintain that figure until she takes her last breath. It's unrealistic and unfair. I certainly wouldn't expect her to. So she probably wonders, what would you think of her then?

Weak. That's how she feels if she ever lets her emotions- her vulnerability- show. So she bottles them up. Keeps them buried deep inside where no one can find them. Covers them up with layers of hardened muscles, a stony expression, and a personality to match. ------------------------X------------------------ Post-workout routine with Sevika, you once again find yourself openly ogling her sweat-slick body. All those delicious muscles of hers just glisten and flex as she wipes herself down with a towel. Sevika catches you staring and that frown she tends to wear curls into a small, crooked grin. Realizing you've been caught, you speak your obvious thoughts aloud, "Janna, your body is so unbelievably sexy." You step closer to her and run a hand along her arm, paying special attention to her bicep. "So strong," you whisper, almost in a trance as you give the hard muscle beneath your hand a gentle squeeze. Your eyes drift back up to her face, just in time to spot that sexy smirk of hers deteriorating into something entirely different. Something... pained. Not wanting to let you read the thoughts plaguing her mind, Sevika turns away. Says nothing. Just hopes you can't see how her expression falls into that rare, soft, but dejected look. Like she's carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. But not even those broad shoulders can carry so much. And they'll only weaken with age, she thinks. And there's that awful word again. Weak. Despite her efforts to hide her feelings, you can spot that sudden change in her demeanor a mile away. The way her shoulders slump, her head drops just the slightest, her gaze goes distant, eyelids heavy over those gray eyes that threaten to expose the storm brewing behind them. You know that look. And you know exactly what's going through her head. So you cautiously step closer, knowing the subject matter is touchy with her. That really anything relative to her feelings puts her on the defensive. Slowly, you slide your arms around her waist from behind and gently pull her closer until your chest presses against the damp, heated skin of her back. You can feel how her body tenses at your touch, the physical affection. But you persist, with care. You rest your cheek just below her shoulder and just hold her, giving her a moment to adjust. Once you feel her start to relax, you finally speak. "You know I'd still love you even without all this muscle, right?" You ask softly. You don't truly expect her to answer. She hates talking about this 'shit' as she'd call it. And that's fine. You just want to let her know how you feel about her. To reassure her she's got you by her side. No matter what. "Your muscles are only one of the many things I love about you, Sev. I hope you know that," you continue on as you pull her closer and tighten your embrace. "Even if they fade away someday, you're still going to be the most gorgeous, charming, and amazing woman I've ever met. I'll always-" you give her a good squeeze for emphasis, "-love you." Sevika still says nothing, but when you press a chaste kiss to her back and feel her human hand slide over yours where it rests on her stomach, you know she's heard you. When she gives your hand an almost imperceptible little squeeze, you know she understands. When she finally turns to face you and pulls you in close, her lips tugging just the slightest at one corner while she peers down at you, you know she believes you. And when she bends down to capture your lips in what is most assuredly the sweetest kiss she's ever shared with you, you know her love for you is just as strong.

[nar-nia]

3 a.m. - part 2

You hadn't even noticed that you had fallen asleep, but you woke up to the sound of giggles.

"Shut up, or do you want them to hear?" someone hissed, but you were too groggy to figure out who.

"Who cares, they decided to sleep on the couch. Someone should take a picture!"

"Heeseung will kill us if he finds out."

"Then we'll just threaten to tell y/n about his little crush on her and we should be good."

"Riki!"

You stirred, letting out a little groan. "Can you guys shut up for a second? 5 more minutes at least."

"Shit, you're awake?"

"Yeah, I'm awake," you groaned. "Anything else is impossible, why are you all so loud."

"Did you hear what we said?"

You pried your eyes open to squint at the boys, who in return had their own eyes ripped open. "No? I know you talked, that was enough."

Jungwon sighed, his shoulders slumping down. "I'm sorry we woke you up. Could breakfast make you happy again?"

"It could."

Only when you tried to get out of the blankets did you realize the hand that was swung around your hips, and the soft breath against your neck. Right. Heeseung had insisted on sleeping here with you. And it seems like he kept his word. You felt heat creeping up your neck and cheeks, a blush spreading on your face again as you tried to free yourself from the embrace. Heeseung, still asleep, seemed to have other plans though, his arm only holding you closer. You were just about to call someone to help you, when you suddenly felt a pair of lips against your neck. You froze, eyes ripped wide open as you begged your body to not blush even more, but to no avail.

"Did he just-"

"Shhh." Jungwon pressed his hand against Rikis mouth, effectively shutting him up. Your eyes met. "Do you need help getting away?"

"Or do you prefer staying like this," Sunoo grinned, high-fiving Riki.

"If you keep making comments I'd rather run away," you hissed. You didn't really know how to feel right now. Embarrassed? Happy? Shocked? Fact was, you didn't mind the embrace. You didn't even mind the kiss, if you ignored that Heeseung did it while he was still asleep and the group of people that stood around you. Especially that group of people. "Can you leave?"

"She's getting kissed by our oldest and suddenly she's getting rude," Riki grinned after he wrangled himself free. "You were more fun before."

"I could kick Riki out." Jungwon looked at him. "But other than that I'm sorry, this is our eating space too and we're hungry."

"Fine," you sighed, moving yourself out of Heeseungs embrace. "I'll never sleep on your couch ever again."

"I'm sorry," Jungwon said, right when Heeseung let out a mumbled "Don't go, baby."

You froze again, but you weren't the only one.

"Baby?" Jay whispered, all of them staring at you.

"Don't look at me like that. Nothing happened, I just didn't want to sleep alone." By now you were sure that your whole body was covered in a deep red blush, and you really wished the ground would just open up and swallow you. But your wish didn't get fulfilled, instead you had 6 pairs of eyes staring at you. Not even Riki grinned anymore. And then it was like a dam broke, and everyone started talking at the same time.

"Should we just tell her?"

"Do you like Heeseung?"

"I never want to hear him say Baby ever again."

"Okay," you sighed. "Can we take this somewhere else please? I really don't want to wake him up."

"I think Jungwon should do the talking," Jay chimed in, the others nodding in agreement. Okay, this was weird.

"Why… what is there to talk about."

Instead of an answer 5 of the guys went back to making breakfast, while Jungwon grabbed your wrist to pull you to his room. "What is going on?"

"Sit down please."

You followed Jungwons order, but his serious tone made you feel nervous. You tried to figure out what you had done wrong, but apart from sleeping on the couch with Heeseung you couldn't come up with anything. Was that the problem? Did that broke some kind of rule? But it wasn't even your choice, Heeseung had told you to lie down and you couldn't have really said no, so-

"Do you like Heeseung?"

"What." You stared at him, completely thrown out of your train of thoughts.

"I really shouldn't be doing this but- do you like Heeseung."

"As in like a friend, or…?"

"No."

"Oh." You avoided his glance, instead playing with the hem of your shirt. "No?"

Jungwon looked at you for a second, before he sat down next to you and grabbed your hands. "Y/n. Let's be honest for a second please."

"I'm sorry." You took a deep breath. "I know I shouldn't. And I know that there won't be anything coming from it so I'll just ignore it."

Jungwon was quiet for a second, which only made you more nervous.

"Maybe I should go."

"You should tell Heeseung."

"What do you mean?"

Jungwon smiled, a small action, but it still helped to ease your nerves. "It's not my place to say. But you should really talk to him. And for the rest… you'll figure it out."

He stood up, giving your hands a reassuring squeeze. "I'll call him to you. Don't worry please, it will be alright."

You didn't know if this calmed or stressed you more, but you couldn't really escape now. Especially not when Heeseungs head lurked through the door.

"Jungwon said you wanted to talk to me?" He pushed himself through, eyes focused on you. "Are you okay?"

You just nodded, your nerves too big for you to be able to say something right now. You felt like your heart was exploding in your chest, and to be fair - you weren't sure if you should really tell him. If you should open yourself up to heartbreak. Because that would surely come, right? There wasn't really a way this would end differently.

"Are you sure?" You hadn't even noticed that Heeseung had come closer, now sitting next to you. You tried to avoid his glance, but something in his eyes kept you captivated. It was like they were begging for you to say something.

"You called me baby," you blurted out, your own eyes widening in shock just after you did it. Did you really just say that?

"I-" He took a deep breath. "When?"

"This morning," you mumbled, now able to avoid his eyes. "I tried to stand up and you called me baby."

"Oh." Heeseungs cheeks turned a deep red, one that spread all the way to his ears. "Did I make you uncomfortable?"

You shook your head. "The boys heard. That's why Jungwon said I should talk to you."

"Ah."

"You also- You kinda…" You took a deep breath. "You kissed me."

"What?" Heeseungs eyes were ripped open, and his face got only more red. "I'm so sorry - what?"

"Don't be. You were asleep anyway, so… It's okay."

"It's not. I shouldn't just kiss you against your will."

He seemed in distress, so you grabbed his hand, squeezing it softly. Seemed like now was the moment of truth.

"What if it wasn't against my will."

"What?"

You sighed, nerves spiking again. Now you really had to let it all out. "It was unexpected, but I didn't mind the kiss. I would have preferred it if you were awake during it though."

Heeseung was speechless, his mouth opening and closing without a sound coming out. Your bravery disappeared within seconds, regret taking over. Why did you have to say something? Why couldn't you have just ignored it? It was dumb, you knew this would lead to nothing so why did you have to open your mouth-

"I like you."

"What?" Now it was your turn to stare. Did he really just say that?

"I like you. More than a friend… I'm sorry."

"I like you too," you barged in as Heeseung made a move to stand up, your hand pulling him back. "More than a friend."

"Are you sure?" What kind of question was that? You couldn't help but giggle, suddenly feeling a lot less tense.

"Yes, I am sure. I have been for a while."

"Why haven't you said anything?"

You looked at Heeseung, trying to put your thoughts into words. "I guess I was just scared. Scared of rejection and then also the whole idols can't date thing…"

"I was scared of rejection too," Heeseung admitted. "And I'm so happy this fear didn't come true."

"Me too." You smiled at him, once again squeezing his hand. You were glad you had talked about it, but you were also unsure how to move forward now. Would you go back to normal now? Would you move forward with this? Were you supposed to say something?

"Would it be okay if I kissed you for real this time? With both of us being awake?"

Your smile only got wider. "I'd love that."

Heeseung let go of your hands, entangling one of them in your hair instead to softly pull you closer. His other one was placed on your hip, while yours were placed against his chest. It already felt intimate, and even more when his lips finally met yours. Your eyes fluttered shut, your whole body melting against his touch. You could have stayed here forever, Heeseung holding you like this, but the sound of a door interrupted your peaceful moment.

"They kissed! I was right! They kissed!!!"

"Riki," Heeseung sighed, breaking apart from you. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," you grinned. "We should have expected this."

"Yeah," he giggled, his forehead leaning against you. "Maybe we'll meet at your place from now on."

"Oh come on, they're not that bad. If Jungwon hadn't forced me to talk about you this wouldn't have happened."

There was another commotion in the hallway, a bunch of voices talking over each other. You and Heeseung looked towards the door as it slightly opened, revealing six faces looking at you.

"Are they still kissing? I waited so long for this, I- oh."

"Hey Sunoo," Heeseung sighed, staring at him.

"Hi." Six faces started blushing, suddenly mumbling how they really needed to be somewhere right now.

"On second thought… let's meet at my place," you grinned, just in time as Heeseung pulled you in for another kiss.

this is part 2 and the last part of this little story. you can find part 1 here <33

i hope you liked it, if yes i would love it if you'd let me know! i love hearing all of your opinions.

taglist: @en-chantedtomeetyou

permanent taglist: @maeum-your @suneonu @hoonsmarsbar @soobin-chois @sjyuniverse @taekbokki

[starryeyedjanai]

Fake title ask!

I’m A Dirt Road

bestie, I did not mean to write 1.3k about this. But it happened anyway, so here you go:

I'm a dirt road

The government uses NINA to wipe everyone’s memories of the last few years and replace their memories of the Upside Down with mundane events where the party and the older teenagers don’t really know each other outside of school. And Steve and Robin are the ones who help bring them all together.

Because after a couple months, Steve starts having dreams. Weird dreams and nightmares that feel real. He’s waking up with feelings in his chest that don't make sense, for people that he doesn't remember. He’s grasping at straws, trying to piece together what the hell is happening to him and he runs into Robin, who’s only a few weeks out from her starting her freshman year of college. And he feels like he knows her.

She brushes him aside because she only knows him as King Steve who lost his crown after being hit in the head too many times, so of course she doesn't believe him when he says they know each other.

But after she brushes him aside and sees his shoulders slump, she feels it deep in her chest that something is off about this situation. She watches him walk away and instinctively calls out, “Hey, dingus?” and when he turns around all perked up, she knows something weird is going on. She knows him. Somehow, she knows him and forgot.

So they hunker down and try to piece together what they can and turns out, she’s been having dreams too, but she just thought they were pre-college nightmares. But they’re the same ones Steve has, of this dark, cold place that has a, “Red sky,” they both say at the same time. It’s so weird.

“There are others,” Steve says, sure of it. There have to be. "I feel like we’re missing a group of people. And-" he cuts himself off.

“What is it?” Robin asks, the tight feeling in her chest returning, because she feels like she knows what he’s going to say.

“I feel like I should be mourning someone,” Steve says, running a hand down his face. “We lost someone. And I don't remember who.”

Robin feels it too. She feels like there’s a weight in her chest that shouldn't be there. She’s felt it since she woke up in March with a killer headache and missed school for a couple days because of it. She didn't know what to call the feeling, but she knows now that it’s grief.

Anyway, they find Dustin wandering around skull rock and ask him what he’s doing there and he tells them about the dreams he’s been having and surprise, surprise. Same dreams! And Dustin found a partially destroyed polaroid in his bedroom after tearing the place apart trying to make sense of what he was feeling and it was of him, Mike Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, and some kid Dustin doesn't know dressed up for Halloween and he didn't remember taking that picture.

So he knew something was up, so he went looking in the place where it feels like something important happened. So with Dustin’s help they rally together Mike, Nancy, Lucas, and Erica, who insists she has to be a part of this after eavesdropping on the conversation.

It still feels like they’re missing a bunch of people and Dustin figures it has something to do with the kid whose name none of them can remember. They scour through old yearbooks and pictures, but can’t find anything, not even a name.

It’s Steve who runs into Hopper, who’s a mess, drinking and angry all the time again. They bump into each other and they both stop short and Steve takes a leap of faith and pulls Hopper into a tight hug and Hopper crumbles, falls apart. He tells Hopper about the group - the party, he says and doesn't know why - and their dreams, says he has a feeling Hopper has been having dreams too.

And Hopper has, because he’s lost two daughters now. And he can feel it, in his heart, that she’s out there somewhere, but it doesn't make sense. His only daughter is gone. He didn't have another, right?

They work with Hopper to track down the kid in the photo and Hopper finds a police record of a domestic disturbance that he doesn't remember happening involving a 'Joyce Byers' and he knows it’s them, the Byers family, they’re involved in this too. So he tracks them down in California somehow and convinces them to come to Hawkins, a town Joyce insists they’ve never been to.

But she also feels it, and her kids feel it, that something isn’t right, so when a sheriff from some random town in Indiana calls her and tells her he has a police record of her family in Hawkins, she believes him somehow.

So they make it to Hawkins and the reunion is tearful, even though Joyce is sure she’s never met these people. El, no, Jane - why did she think of her as El? - and Hopper hug each other and everyone is teary eyed about it for some reason.

It’s the kids who unlock some memory in El, Jane, and she’s convinced she has some kind of power, some kind of something that can fix this. She can take them to the place where they need to be, she’s sure of it.

So she leads the way, takes them to the place where he died, Steve realizes. It’s where he died, whoever it is that’s carved a gaping hole in his chest, in all of their chests.

There’s still debris from the earthquake that happened a few months ago here. But she leads them to a crack in the ground. It’s red and pulsing and alive.

And none of them know what the fuck is going on, and this isn't normal, but it validates every one of their fears that they’re not all just making shit up, some group psychosis or something.

Steve is relieved to see it, weirdly enough. Because something in him is telling him that the person who they thought died here didn't.

So maybe it takes months of Jane, El, practicing honing her powers, maybe Robin and Nancy reluctantly go to college and the kids go back to school, Will and El enrolling in Hawkins High.

Maybe Hopper finds a house that was abandoned after the quake for Joyce, Jonathan, Will, and El to live in. It’s a little worse for wear, but the banks aren’t running to collect a mortgage on it right now at least. And Will finds a drawing on the wall in his bedroom after they move in. It’s one he drew. How is it one he drew?

There are so many unanswered questions and Steve is going out of his mind waiting, waiting, waiting for Jane or El or whoever she is to be ready for whatever it is she’s preparing for.

He keeps visiting the place where it happened. He doesn't know why because he knows whoever the guy who died, or didn't die, was- he doesn't think they were very close. But he remembers feeling terrified and still being able to laugh with him, he remembers the ache in his heart later. He doesn't remember his face, but he remembers blood. He remembers telling him not to be a hero and remembers being angry at him for not listening.

He remembers, but not enough.

And when the time finally comes, months later, when El channels her powers and the crack in the ground splits open more, when Steve insists he’ll be okay if he drops into it, he finally sees him again.

He’s crossed over into this place, the place from their dreams, cold and red, but it’s like taking a breath of air so cold he’s choking on it. He walks down the path, down the road, looking.

He finds him.

Perched on top of a van, picking notes on a guitar, is him.

Steve’s shoes sound loud on the gravel beneath his feet and Eddie’s head whips around toward him when he hears him coming.

He smiles.

“I was wondering when you’d find me.”

[cricketnationrise]

Congratulations on 500!!! 🎉🎉 Extremely well deserved!

How about Zahra, 9:37pm, somewhere in England (I leave where exactly entirely up you)?

I'm on ao3 as hwaelweg 💙

for you my lovely, I have a lil date night moment for Zahra and Shaan. hope you love it, and thanks for being AMAZING and screaming about books with me 💜🦗

want your own ficlet? my followers can submit prompts based on these guidelines through January 31, 2024

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

9:37pm, london

Zahra looks around from her perch at the bar. The pub is all dark wood and the smell of decades of smoke sunk into the furniture. It’s the most stereotypical English pub she could ever have pictured, and she’d never admit it out loud, but she fucking loves it. There’s classic rock playing quietly over the speakers, often drowned out by the laughter of the group of students in one corner. A pair of old men, who look like they might be part of the architecture, are putting away more Guinness than she’s ever seen in one sitting. Someone’s playing darts near the back, for fuck’s sake.

She’d love the place even more if her goddamn fianceé was here with her, but she of all people understands an unconventional working schedule. Especially when the Claremont-Diaz family is even tangentially involved. If she had a nickel for everytime she dismissed that little annoying popup in Outlook that says “Send during normal working hours instead?” she’d be set for life. 

“Another round, dear?”

“I—” A buzz from her phone interrupts and she glances at it, heart giving an excited little wriggle when she sees Shaan’s name pop up. (Well actually he’s saved as “Shawn S” in her phone—a preventative measure against overly-curious June, never-me-a-boundary-he-didn’t-try-to-cross Alex, and too-smart-for-her-own-good Nora. She’ll change it once Ellen’s second term ends and she doesn’t have to interact with those assholes in person on a regular basis. (Shaan had laughed so hard he cried when he found out—Zahra had hit him with a pillow.))

5 minutes. See you soon, love.

>move that perfect ass srivastava >i miss you and stuff

“Sorry about that,” she says to the bartender, a no-nonsense older woman. She runs the pub with kindness hiding an iron fist and Zahra liked her from the moment she sat down. “I will take another round, and can I also get a whiskey ginger?”

“Jack Daniels okay?”

“Yeah, that’s perfect.”

Another burst of screaming laughter covers the tinkle of the bell above the door, but the chilly gust of air at her back makes Zahra turn around. The smile that stretches her mouth at the sight of Shann is soft, loving, and completely involuntary. Thank fucking god Alex isn’t here right now. He’d never let her hear the end of how sappy she looks right now. (Alex once tried to high-five her for locking down that suave motherfucker and Zahra had given him a look that made him hide behind Henry.)

“Everything sorted then?” she asks, tipping her face up to meet Shaan’s. He kisses her quickly and sits on the stool next to her.

“Yeah. I finally got a hold of Gavin so that Alex can “sneak out” to the V&A with Henry tonight.”

“Thank god. Now I won’t have to listen to him freak out about the logistics of proposing anymore.”

Shaan just raises an eyebrow as he sips his drink. “He’ll just bother you about wedding details instead.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“I am sorry I kept you waiting tonight.”

Zahra tips her head onto Shaan’s shoulder. “I’ve done it to you enough times. I get it.”

Shaan slings the hand not holding his glass around her waist. Zahra can feel the warmth of him even through their layers of clothing and slumps a little further into his space, utterly trusting him to keep them both upright. They stay like that for a while, not talking, just basking in the fact that they are together and free of their charges for the night. So often they are only in the same country because of some international policy issue. Zahra lets herself sink into the moment, reveling in the rare chance to just sit quietly at a bar with the man she loves.

“This is a good spot. Cozy. Quaint,” she eventually says, gesturing vaguely at their surroundings.

“I’m glad you think so. It’s one of my favorite pubs in London.” He hesitates, eyes distant, then drops his voice and continues. “Arthur and Catherine used to sneak out and come here on dates, actually.” 

“Oh?” Zahra sits up so she can look at him properly. He doesn’t talk about the time he was Arthur’s equerry that often, and she doesn’t want to miss anything. From what he has said, she can tell it was a similar relationship to the one she has with Ellen. Close friendship, fierce protectiveness, and a hold-nothing-back, bantering sense of humor—closer to family than employee and employer.

“They’d put on casual clothes and ballcaps and make a break for it when her mother got particularly overbearing. I followed discreetly—”

“Of course.”

“To make sure they had a back up plan. And then once Catherine got pregnant, they stopped pretending they didn’t know I was there and invited me to join them. The three of us spent many a late night here, just talking.”

“Sounds great.”

“It was. I—I miss him a lot. But it’s been a pleasure to watch Henry grow into himself. He’s more like Arthur than even he knows.”

He falls silent again, and Zahra smiles at the soft look on his face. He really is disgustingly handsome, people should be absurdly jealous of her life. She kisses the side of his neck, unable—unwilling—to hold in her affection any longer.

“Take me home?” she asks. “I want to not be wearing clothes with a zipper any more.”

“I’d be delighted, Ms. Bankston.”

[workingforitallthetime]

lmao i said rule 63 bc line didn't interest me and then @ooohordie said "what if they were con artists?" and now i'm obsessed. 1.5k, nsfw.

Will practically tiptoes in the door of their room, strappy sandals dangling from her hand. It’s almost as if she doesn’t expect Ryan to be waiting up, sitting in the chair by the window for so long that he didn’t notice when the last of the sunset light disappeared.

“How was your evening?” In the dark, he can’t tell if Will startles at the question.

If she does, her voice doesn’t reveal it. “It was nice.” She kneels by her open suitcase to tuck her shoes inside. “There were oysters.” They don’t scatter their things around a hotel room. Sometimes they have to leave in a hurry. “A whole tower of them.”

Ryan pictures Will and Gabe at a cafe on the edge of the water, the lake lapping gently at the shore while the sun sets over the Italian hills that surround them. Will looking up at him from under her eyelashes, Gabe entranced. Probably in a linen shirt that someone else picked out for him. Some kind of nice fish on broad plates in front of them, cooked in butter. Maybe an expensive white wine. Ryan’s stomach growls.

Will twists the switch on the antique lamp next to the dressing table. The light through the milky glass shade turns the corner of the room golden. It doesn’t reach all the way to the high ceiling, or over to where Ryan’s sitting. It’s still dark enough by the window to see the view without a glare from the cavernous room. Tiny lights wink in the distance as the boats on the lake sway gently, anchored for the night. 

Will arranges herself on the fussy little cushioned stool in front of the dressing table. In front of the oval mirror, she tilts her head one way and then the other as she takes out her earrings. The mirror is flecked with age, intended for status rather than function, like the other antiques that fill the room.

Ryan crosses the room. Before Will can lift her hands, he unhooks the clasp of her necklace and lets the strand of pearls slither down into her lap. Will catches the necklace and adds it to the little black velvet bag with the matching earrings. She’s had the pearls since before Ryan met her. Probably a gift, somewhere along the way. A useful one. Pearls give a certain assurance of class.

Will removes the hairpins from her french twist one by one, dropping them onto the dressing table. Ryan rests his hands on her bare shoulders. “How was Gabe?”

The mirror reflects a considering expression on Will’s face. “He’s sweet.” She pulls one last hairpin and her hair tumbles over Ryan’s hands.

“I mean,” Ryan says. He sweeps Will’s hair to one side and takes the zipper pull at the back of her dress between his thumb and fingertip. He repeats himself, more weighted this time. “How was Gabe?”

Will tips her chin up to meet his gaze in the mirror. A smile plays over her lips. “Such an overprotective brother.” 

“Sister dear,” Ryan purrs as he pulls the zipper down slowly. “I’m just looking out for you.” As the zipper opens, the bodice of the dress slumps downward, exposing the tops of Will’s breasts.

Will’s black dress has served them well. An investment, once when they were flush. The expensive fabric can go to any party, any dinner, stunning without being memorable. If Will wants to be looked at, men remember the way the dress clings to her willowy figure. If she doesn’t, she’s got a knack for fading into the background, just another girl in a little black dress. In a pinch, she can pass as the help.

Not tonight. Tonight Will intended to be looked at, and Ryan’s certain that Gabe obliged. Just like Gabe looked at her sunning herself on the deck of the Perreault family yacht, the strings of her bikini untied to preserve the uninterrupted plane of tanned skin from her neck to her waist, and asked her to dinner.

Meanwhile, Ryan was ingratiating himself to Gabe’s father. They talked about golf and boxing and the family shipping business as the lines snapped and the breeze off the water ruffled their hair. It wasn’t difficult. It never is. Men like Yanic like their sons to have friends like Ryan. It reassures them that their pampered little rich boys aren’t soft.

Nobody ever mistakes Ryan for soft. But often they mistake him for rich.

Will stands, letting the dress pool around her feet. Ryan runs a finger over the knobs of her spine down to the triangle of lace at the back of her thong. It’s one of her only expensive pieces of lingerie. Saved for occasions like this one, nights when she has to look the part all the way down to her skin.

Will flicks the dress off one foot, leaving it in a heap to the side. It will survive. It always does, just like them. She turns to face Ryan, wearing nothing but her high-class panties, lace curling toward her hipbones.

Once a billionaire in a golf foursome Ryan had charmed his way into told him that a woman’s breasts should fit into a champagne glass. He might as well have been describing Will. Ryan thinks of it every time he sips a cocktail from a perfect little coupe.

Will perches on the edge of the dressing table, teasing. “What do you want to know?”

“Did you fuck him?” Ryan kicks the stool out of the way and steps between her legs. 

“Of course I did.” Will rolls her eyes. She tugs the hem of Ryan’s undershirt out of his trousers and slips her hands underneath, running her palms up his chest. 

Ryan lets her strip the undershirt over his head. “Was he good?”

“Hmmm.” Will touches his shoulder, walking her fingers from freckle to freckle. Ryan’s freckles are the reason they always pick a vaguely Irish last name. Will probably doesn’t have an Irish bone in her body, but people are always ready to believe that a doe-eyed girl like her is a nice Irish lassie. “He was…” Will's eyes cut to the side, considering and rejecting ways to end the sentence. “...Inexperienced,” she concludes. She giggles. “I think his hands were shaking.”

Ryan cups a hand around her breast. “Did he like these?”

“Seemed to like the taste.” Will’s lips twist in a half-laugh. “Spent enough time with them in his mouth.”

Ryan frames her chest with a thumb and forefinger. “He didn’t even leave a mark?” It’s disappointing. Will’s perfect tits always look better with the evidence of Ryan’s teeth imprinted there. What a waste for Gabe to fuck Will and not even leave behind a bruise for Ryan to press on.

“I told you he was sweet.” She twists a hand in Ryan’s hair as he bends to put his mouth to her breast.

He scrapes his teeth over her nipple, and Will gasps. “No marks.”

“I know.” Ryan sucks a kiss against her skin, stopping before the pressure of his mouth bruises.

He hooks a finger into the lacy string over her hip instead. Will props her hands on the tabletop behind her and arches up so he can slip the underwear down her thighs. Ryan handles the delicate lace with care even though he wants to rip and pull, let the strings dig into Will’s skin until they snap. Someday they’ll have money to burn and he’ll be able to ruin her fancy lingerie, sink his teeth into her, fuck her in a bed that they’re not going to get kicked out of as soon as somebody realizes they’re not paying.

That’s incentive enough to keep Will’s smooth skin and her fanciest underwear pristine for Gabe.

Will opens her legs to him and Ryan slides a finger between them. “Were you this wet for him?”

“That’s for family only.” Will’s laugh stutters into a moan as Ryan presses the heel of his hand against her clit. She tips her head back. The tanned column of her throat accentuates the long line down her breastbone, over her flat stomach, all the way to where Ryan’s working his fingers inside her. 

“That’s right.” Ryan yanks open his belt one-handed and shoves down his trousers. He takes Will by the hips. She cries out when he thrusts into her, and then reaches for him, wrapping her legs around his waist and crooking an arm around his neck.

Ryan kisses her roughly, his tongue scouring any taste of Gabe out of her mouth. He presses his forehead against Will’s. “I’m being so nice to Gabe,” he murmurs, punctuating nice with a snap of his hips. “Letting him fuck my little sister.”

Will’s body tightens around him, inside and out. “Such a generous brother.” She ducks her head and her sharp little teeth sting his neck. The mirror rattles in its frame and the hairpins scatter across the dressing table as Ryan fucks her harder, deeper, better than Gabe ever will. Her fingernails dig into his back as her voice goes high and breathless against his ear. “Best brother I’ve ever had.”

[beepersteeper]

A Love Dream - Continued

This is a continuation of the story written by @kalindraancunin called A Love Dream. In which Lúthien and Astarion tiptoe on the razor edge of love but are both too bogged down with their own baggage to truly see what is in front of their noses. This continuation watches them release their inhibitions and start what I hope is the beginning of a wonderful journey of healing and love together. kalindraancunin let her fic be a group project as they put it and I would love to do the same. if you want to write what their adventure looks like after this FEEL FREE just @ me I'd love to read it~

*This fic does include slow-burn smut at the end so use your own discretion.*

The song that they start to play is Cannon in D.

“I think I'd like that." Lúthien licked her lips and sighed, releasing a breath she wasn't aware she was holding. “You start, and I’ll jump in; let our stories meet somewhere in the middle.”

“Seems fitting.” he smirked, letting his eyes linger on hers as he flexed his hands before resting them gently on the weather-worn keys. He begins playing on the left side of the piano, letting his fingers traverse the keys.

Lúthien closed her eyes and felt the music coming from Astarion’s lithe fingers as they danced across the keys. She opened her eyes and then set one hand next to his and began introducing the lighter sounds from her side of the instrument to the deeper ones he played.

Astarion chuckled when their pinkies grazed each other, casting a glance at her and rocking his shoulders forward slightly, playing the music with more feeling. Lúthien felt her ears flush, and she moved her face to her side, shying away from his gaze but still adding her other hand to the keys to continue playing. It felt like they were finally talking freely to one another in a language that only they could understand. A language that carries no innuendo or wordplay. Their duet evolved into a passionate dance, each note a declaration of their growing care for one another as the camp around them began to disappear while their tadpoles squirmed, reaching for each other and sharing the feelings the song brought to their hearts.

The music started like a whisper—the mere thought of accepting love's embrace. With every harmonic progression, it describes a scene of vulnerability. With each chord, it painted a picture of two souls intertwining in a dance of adoration. As the music swells and flows, it carries the tender whispers of endearment, echoing the sentiments of lovers lost in each other's embrace. Like a most cherished memory, it lingers in the air, a reminder of what beauty can be found in the embrace of love. 

The cascade of notes made her heart feel like it was being wrapped in unspoken affection. A few minutes into their composition, their hands overlap, and they both stop playing when their fingers are no longer able to situate themselves without tangling with the others.

Astarion rests his chin in his left hand and rests that elbow on the crumbling wood of the piano. He shakes his head but smiles. A quiet laugh leaves his lips, and he raises his eyes to her face. “I didn't think you meant it literally when you said we would meet in the middle, darling.”

“I'm sorry.” She rested her hand on his thigh. “I didn't account for just how rusty you would be after 200 years.”

His mouth turned up in a playful snarl. Lúthien couldn't stop the chuckle from his response, but she covered her mouth in an attempt anyway. The two sat on that barrel for a long time in thick silence, alternating between looking at each other and avoiding each other's eyes. The tension was broken when Astarion gently reached for her hand, rubbing his thumb over the peaks and valleys of her knuckles.

“What are you thinking right now?” she asked softly, squeezing his hand.

“I can't say it.” He swallows hard and takes a deep breath as his shoulders slump forward and his ears shift as he grits his teeth closed. His eyes are no longer able to meet hers.

“That's okay.” she muses, and she reseats herself on the barrel, straddling it to face him directly.

He turns on the barrel as well, lifting her knees so that they hang over his legs, scooting her body fluidly to him, bringing their bodies nearly flush together, and resting his palms on her thighs. “But...” he pauses to choose his words carefully. “I think I would like to show you.”

Her face burns red. She turns her head and casts her eyes away from him, but her lips betray her when one side curls into a shy smile. One of his hands cups her face and gently pulls it back to look at him. His touch is tender, but too far forward on her face; it’s miscalculated and unrehearsed; it feels real. She moves her face slowly around in his palm, resituating herself in his hand, and feels the little hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She kisses his thumb while she exhales a shaky breath through her nose. Then, in one swift movement, Astarion pulled her to him with a firm hand on her back, crashing his lips against hers. She felt his cold lips tremble against hers as he captured her lips in a soft, hesitant kiss. He leans back, pursing and licking his lips to soothe his nerves.

Lúthien pushed away any doubt in his mind when she pulled herself forward and onto his lap, cradling the back of his head in her hands, feeling the downy curly slip between her fingers. His hands instinctively hold onto the back of her shoulders to support her weight on him, pushing the warm planes of her body against his, igniting something within him that has long since been extinguished. They kiss again, deeper. It is clumsy; all tongue and teeth, and their noses clash uncomfortably, but neither cares. Soft sighs and muffled moans punctuate the charged silence, the only sounds besides the rustle of clothing and the faint crackle of the campfire nearby. The inhibitions melted away, leaving only them at this moment. 

They lean their foreheads against one another and playfully brush their noses together when Astarion traces his fingers down and up her spine before he sheepishly asks, “Do you want...” He trails off, letting her fill in the blank however she feels fit. Me? This? Us? More? The muscles on the side of his neck tense and relax while he waits for a response.

“Yes! I mean, only if you—” She starts being cut off when he kisses her again.

“I do, Lúthien.” he says, smiling a crooked smile. He swings his leg back over the barrel and stands slowly, letting her feet carefully find the ground. “I think more than I've wanted anything before.” 

She reaches up and pulls his face to hers again. Kissing him gently, she says, “Lead the way.”

He giggles, then clears his throat to hide the sounds, and he shakes his head and smiles before whispering into their kiss, “Gladly.” He quietly pulls the keylid closed and laughs louder than he should for the time of night. Lúthien turns to see what he's so entertained by. The keylid is only half intact; the wood has splintered and decayed, and it doesn't even close the entire way down.

“HA” Her hands fly to her mouth, and they look at each other and giggle before Astarion laces his fingers with hers and walks with her back to camp. They see that their companions are still awake and milling about in camp. He takes a step back and puts his finger to his lips, telling her to stay quiet as they sneak around the outskirts of the camp behind the eagle’s bluejay’s nest. They clamber down a matted vine, across crumbled stone stairs, and find a secluded grassy area with a fountain that was probably beautiful in a past life.

Astarion pulls her toward him by her hand. He kisses her palm and the inside of her wrist and rests her hand on his chest, where his heart once beat. Sincerely wishing that it would do so again, if even just for the night. He squeezes her hand tight and kisses her. Resolving to let himself go, let himself be there in that moment with her, his other hand holding the back of her neck and pulling her close to him. Her warm hand snakes under his shirt and rests on his waist, holding him in place. 

Their wonton desire is palpable, but neither is sure or willing to push beyond the place they are. They kiss; their hands explore each other's forms over and under shirts. Caressing their skin in such a way that you wouldn't know they had laid together before. He pulls her hips to his during a passionate kiss, and a hiss followed by a quiet whimper falls out of his mouth when his erection presses against her body. He craved her in a way that he couldn't wrap his mind around. 

“Please...” he whispers through his open mouth. 

With that one word, a switch flipped in her. She pushed her body harder against his, standing as high on her toes as she could. She kissed him, her tongue searching for his, and was met with even more enthusiasm. He bends at the knees and picks her up by her thighs. He falls off balance and falls back. Lightning fast, he moves one hand to cradle her head and the other to brace himself for the fall. They laugh heartily, and she litters his face, neck, and shoulders. He finds purchase in the roundness of her hips and pushes them down while he braces his legs and moves his hips up, meeting hers.

A quiet, breathy moan leaves her throat at the base of his ear. Her stomach contracts, and she grinds her hips forward and back desperately, searching for friction.

“Ah!’ He gasps and pushes his shoulders into the earth below him. His eyes roll back briefly, but he wills them to focus on her, taking in all of her curves, the sounds that she makes, and the way her body naturally responds to his touch. He pushes his hands under her shirt and moves it up her torso, above her stomach, and watches the way her skin flexes as she moves. She sits straighter up, unceremoniously removes her shirt, and leaves it to fall to their side. He clutches her body to his, flips her over to lie down, and follows suit, taking his shirt off and adding it to the growing clothing pile. At the same time, they reach for each other's pants and take them off for each other, awkwardly kicking off their shoes in the process. Kneeling between her legs, they are left with nothing but their shared desire between them. Astarion's lip trembles. He pushes away any thoughts of doubt when he leans down and kisses her. He feels the goosebumps litter her skin from his touch. Her hands caress his sides, avoiding touching his back. He pushes one of her elbows, allowing her hand to touch those damnable scars in the same soft and tender way.

He kisses the column of her neck with wet, open-mouth kisses. Her body writhed in the most beautiful way. Her back arched, her neck opened further, and her hands gripped his skin, pulling him even closer to her.

“Star.” she whined, wrapping her legs around him.

He held her hip to him, pressing his fingers into her skin and dragging his fingers across the soft skin up and down her leg. They dance to the lowest part of her stomach, and he feels her legs shudder with anticipation. His delicate fingers trace a line where her thigh meets her sex. He groans when he feels the heat radiating from that spot.

Lúthien nods and pants, letting her feet fall to the grass. “ooOh” she says when two fingers push into her with no friction.

“Gods.” He pants into her neck, slightly curling his fingers inside of her, feeling her velvet walls clench onto him. He thrusts his fingers slowly further in and almost all of the way out. Doing this again and again, feeling her mound get wetter with each touch. More proof that he needed that this was real. She wanted this. He wasn't just another notch on a bedpost. His hips hitch, and his cock rubs against her thigh, forcing another groan out of his chest. He moves his fingers from where they were nestled to his mouth, tasting her arousal and her want for him. He returns his mouth to her neck and rubs circles on her swollen clit.

Her body shook from his attention. Her hand snakes from his back and around to his chest. Her touch tickles a little as her fingers pass over his stomach and across his hard length. His round, red eyes dart to meet hers when his hips jump further into her touch. Astarion sucked a breath in through his teeth when she wrapped her hand around him and carefully started to pump her fist over him. He captured her mouth again in a sloppy kiss, moving his cock through her hand while keeping his pace with his hand between their bodies.

Lúthien moved her hands to the side and lined him up with her entrance. Quietly asking for him to be with her in the most intimate way. Hoping that he would. He pushes himself upright and gently caresses the side of her face with the pad of his thumb. While keeping his eyes locked on hers, he pushes his hips forward, sinking fully into her core. They moan in unison, and Astarion drops his chin to his chest, taking in this moment of freedom. Freedom to choose, freedom to simply be. Freedom to live again.

She puts her hands on his chest. Fingers splayed as far as they could, touching as much of his skin as she could. She feels his abs flex under her touch when he starts to thrust unevenly and sloppily into her warmth. His cock slips out with one of his thrusts, and they giggle with each other as he pushes himself back into her. She moans into the night air. He licks his lips. She squeezes her hands around his sides. Sweat drips from his nose onto his chest when he grabs her thighs and drives as deep into her cunt as he can over and over, causing Lúthien to become a moaning mess under his touch.

“Please don’t stop.” she begs, slightly digging her nails into his sides. 

His panting mouth smiles. He flips his damp hair to the side before he leans down to whisper in her ear. “I would never.” He wraps his arms under her shoulders, holding her head in his hands and staring into her eyes as he ruts faster into her, wet slapping sounds coming from between them as flesh meets flesh. He watches her pupils dilate and her body go rigid when she screams his name, hands reaching for his frame to find any kind of purchase to ride the high that he had given her. “Yes,” he groans. “That's right, Lúthien.” He pants through an open-mouthed smile before he thrusts in again, feeling her walls pulse around him. “God, I’m gonna c-” He is cut off when she wraps her limbs around his body.

“Don't.” she says, heaving a breath. “Stop.” Her body shakes, still feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm.

His lips flit up as he moans loudly, his fangs glinting in the moonlight. He grunts with every long thrust, his voice getting higher the closer he gets to his end. With one final push, he buries his cock completely into her, collapsing onto her clammy body as he spills his seed into her. “Fuck.” he whispers into her chest, hearing her heartbeat behind her ribs.

After lying in comfortable silence, he withdraws himself and rolls onto his back, bringing her with him to lay on his chest. They giggle as they roll, and he kisses her temple through the stray hairs that were pulled free from the bun she was wearing. They tangle their limbs together and cuddle as close as they can. She holds his hand in hers and plays with his fingers, holding it up to sort of eclipse the moon, tracing the lines on his palm, and delicately touching the calluses from his daggers. He quietly giggles to himself, purely enjoying the raw adoration that still sits between them. She’s still here. She didn't have to stay, but she did.

The cold night seeps into her skin, and it is time to head back to camp. They quietly get dressed together. Lúthien untucks the side of Astarion's shirt, and he sucks on his teeth. “Thanks; I wouldn't want to look like a mess when we walked back to camp.” She shyly smiles and pulls on his hand to start walking back. 

They walk past the old piano, and she sighs. “I'm going to be sad to leave it in the morning.”

“Maybe we can come back and get it once we evict these tadpoles.” he smiles and squeezes her hand. “I'll be right back.” He lets her hand go, jogs to his tent, and grabs the tarp that has been acting as the footprint of his shelter. He passes one end to her and motions for her to cover it. They do so gracefully and gather rocks and fallen tree limbs to hide and protect it from the elements. “Now get some rest, darling. It's my turn to stand watch tonight. I'll see you in the morning.”

Lúthien holds onto his hand as she steps away until she can't anymore, their fingertips hooking into one another until the last moment. She ducks into her tent and quickly falls asleep with a smile on her face. The morning comes all too quickly. She crawls out of her tent and stretches, looking around camp, taking in her surroundings, and seeing Astarion resting with his eyes closed against a wall with his arms and ankles crossed. She approaches him quietly, trying to figure out if he's sleeping or just relaxing. As she got closer, she could hear him humming the melody of the song that they had started to compose the night before. She smiles to herself, basking in the moment before she says, “What are you humming? Sounds pretty catchy?”

“Huh?” He instinctively responds and cracks one eye open to see who is talking to him. “Oh, it is.” he smiles. “An awful pity it's unfinished though.” he tuts before he reaches for her hand, pulling her down onto his lap. “Sit with me a while before we leave?”

“Of course” she sighs and rests her head on his chest, listening to him continue to hum the song.

[kendrene]

for ur road-trip prompts! avatrice + downtime

I'm not sure this is what you had in mind, but I hope you like it.

***

“Do you relax, like, ever?” 

At first, Ava thinks that Beatrice hasn’t heard. She pushes the book First Enchanter Jillian has given her to read aside - some stuffy old treatise about the dangers of fire magic, no doubt written by an even stuffier mage, long dead - and focuses her entire attention on the Templar by the door.

“Did you hear what I said?” 

“I heard you.” There’s a slight change in her posture. Not something Ava would call loosening. She’s never seen Beatrice’s spine be anything less than ramrod-straight. “I’m not sure I understand.” 

“Oh, come on Bea.” The book thuds shut, and a small cloud of dust lifts from the yellowed pages. Ava blinks back tears. “Surely there are things you do in your free time?”

“It is my duty to ensure nothing happens to you, Ava.” Or that Ava doesn’t happen to somebody, but Beatrice is too polite to say. “Besides, I do not mind it.”

Ava lowers  her eyes, pretending to examine the grain of the table she’s sat at. She’s glad that it’s late evening, and the square of sky outside the stained-glass window is pitch dark. Glad that the reading alcove she chose - her favorite in the whole library - isn’t particularly well lit. 

The blush heating her face takes about a century to fade.

“I don’t mind that it’s you watching over me.” Ava breathes out, not meaning to, so close to the surface of the table she can picture the words like another layer of varnish upon the worn wood. There’s another shift, a creak of leather. An inhale so subtle Ava thinks she must have imagined it. She doesn’t look up.

“Anyway,” Beatrice resumes after some time, voice uncharacteristically unsteady, “of course I do things in my free time.” She falters a little over the word free, as though her tongue doesn’t quite know what to do with it. “I train.”

“Seriously.” Ava snorts. “That doesn’t count as a relaxing activity.” Her eyes flick up, just in time to catch Beatrice’s frown. It deepens as she watches, and Ava has to fight the urge to go to her. To reach out, and stroke a thumb between Beatrice’s knitted eyebrows gently, smooth whatever’s bothersome away. She cannot. Ava has no name for the things that flicker in her chest when Beatrice is near, but knows the desires that they elicit are forbidden. “You don’t have hobbies? Wait, are Templars actually allowed to have hobbies?” 

“Ava.” Somewhere at the far end of the library a door opens and they both go quiet. Templars and mages are allowed to talk, obviously, but what they’re doing skirts closer to fraternization. Itcould land them in a lot of trouble. 

They wait in complete silence until it’s clear nobody is coming. Ava slumps in her seat. 

“Fine.” She plucks at the left sleeve of her robe, tugging at a thread that’s coming loose. “Let me rephrase, because clearly we’re not getting anywhere. What do you do if you’re not on duty or training?” 

“I meditate.”

“Beatrice.” Ava says with the tone of someone about to break horrible news. “I’m sorry to tell you, but I don’t think you know how to unwind.”

“Meditation is the getaway to a steady heart and a calm mind.” 

“So, basically if you’re not standing guard or training, you’re falling asleep.”

“That’s not at all what-!” Beatrice sputters, indignant, and crosses her arms. “Alright. What about you, then? What do you do if you’re not-”

“-reading awfully boring books?” Stretching, Ava stands and walks over to the window. Her reflection stares right back, a blackened mirror-image distorted by the imperfections in the glass. “The gardens. I love walking barefoot on the grass right after it rains. And there’s fish in the pond, did you know? Sometimes the cooks let me have a heel of old bread to feed them.” 

It sounded grander in her mind than it does as she speaks of it to Beatrice, but Ava goes on undeterred. Maybe, to someone who could leave the Circle anytime the gardens don’t seem much. They’re everything to her. “Have you ever really walked through them? I don’t mean on your way to the barracks and back. Have you ever really paid attention to how much the trees shake when a storm wind comes in from the lake? Or to what kind of birds nest in the old oak depending on the season?”

“I can’t say that I have.” Beatrice answers slowly, like she’s trying to see the gardens as Ava does. “All of it sounds beautiful, though.”

“It is!” Ava turns around, seized by a wild thought. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

“Curfew-”

“The bell rang not too long ago. We have about an hour until compline.”

“Still-”

“We’ll be careful.” Beatrice’s expression is doubtful, but the moment Ava offers her hand she takes it without question. “I promise.”

//

“What do you think?” 

Ava had decided the moment they got out to leave the well tended gravel paths behind and plunge straight into the tangle of trees at the heart of the gardens. It was the only way, she’d reasoned, to show Beatrice what she meant. 

“It’s pretty, don’t you think?”

This clearing at the feet of the old oak is her favorite spot in the gardens. Even better than the pond, except perhaps early in the spring, when the mallards’ eggs hatch and ducklings bob back and forth across the tranquil waters. 

Beatrice steps under the shadow of the tree, free hand outstretched, reaching to press her palm against the weathered trunk. “I run past this place sometimes, during drills. I never stopped to take it in before, though.” She pulls back, staring down at her fingers as if the tree has left its mark there. “You were right, Ava. Thank you.”

Ava’s fingers, still curled loosely around Bea’s, twitch. She’s surprised Beatrice hasn’t tried to reclaim her hand yet, but is sure she would in a heartbeat should Ava allow her grip to grow too tight. She’s taken care to keep her hold as-barely-there, to trap Beatrice’s fingers the same as she would a fragile bird. Has held her breath whenever their hands bumped awkwardly together on their walk to this place, afraid a sudden jolt, some nervous movement may cause Bea to fly away from her.

“Thank you, Ava.” Beatrice says again, and flips their hands over, thumb stroking at the tender dip of Ava’s inner wrist, her fingers squeezing, Ava finds she cannot breathe.

‘There’s more.” Ava can hear her own pulse in her ears, can feel it reverberate like the aftermath of a spell down her spine and the rest of her. Down her arms, to where Bea’s thumb is idly rubbing, the one place of her body that’s become the axis of her world for the time being. She’s sure that Beatrice can sense it too as it thunders in her grasp and wonders what she may be thinking. Clouds roll in, wrapping around the moon. Darkness shrouds the two of them entire, making it impossible to tell. 

“More?” 

Beatrice is close enough her next exhale is unadulterated warmth on Ava’s cheek. 

She clears her throat. 

“Yeah. Uhm. Let’s sit.” 

They carefully lower themselves in the hollow dug up by the oak’s gnarled roots. Here the ground is soft and a bit spongy, a carpet of dead leaves and sticks and all manner of debris blown in by the breeze. 

“Look.’ Ava points, and Bea’s gaze tilts up, as though Ava’s finger is tied to an invisible string that goes straight to her heart. “I shouldn’t tell you this, since you’re a Templar and all, but sometimes I can’t sleep and I sneak out after curfew to look at the stars.” 

Beatrice bumps their shoulders together. 

“I have a feeling asking you not do that would equal wasted breath.” She lets go of Ava’s hand only to place hers higher up, around Ava's forearm. It’s cold enough that Ava is wearing another layer under her robes, and still it feels like Beatrice is touching her directly. Ava burns hotter than a thousand suns. “Will you try to be careful about it? If Shannon or Mary caught you, it wouldn’t not be too big a deal. But others will not be as kind.”

“I promise.” 

“Okay.” The clouds part, and stray moonlight spears down from above to show that Beatrice doesn’t quite believe her.

“I really do promise to be careful, Beatrice.” Ava repeats. It isn’t as convincing as she’d like and they both know it is a lie.

“Maybe we could make a deal.” Beatrice pauses, jaw working around whatever it is that she’s gonna suggest next. Her lower lip is caught between her teeth, and her dark eyes are pensive the same way they get when Knight-Commander Suzanne presents her with some complicated question about faith. 

Not that Ava has made a whole study of the countless expressions that flit across Beatrice’s face at any hour of the day, filing all of them inside her mind for reference. So that she knows what Beatrice thinks or feels even though to anyone else it seems that she gives nothing away. 

“A deal?” Ava squeezes her eyes shut, hating how badly her voice shakes.

“I could accompany you on these walks.” She opens her eyes. Beatrice looks deadly serious. "Before curfew.”

Ava swallows. 

“Of course.”

“I would need to ask for permission.”

“Uh. Uh,”

“But I don’t see why the Knight-Commander would say no. Exercise is important.”

“Totally, yeah.” Ava blinks, and the full import of what Beatrice is saying finally sinks in. “Wait, you’re really willing to do that for me?”

For the first time that night, Beatrice’s lips curve into a smile. Ava can count the instances this has happened on the fingers of one hand with room to spare. She clutches the fleeting sight to her chest, stores it in the same place in which she keeps the rest. Beatrice smiling broadly after Shannon had complimented her sword form. Beatrice laughing at one of Mary’s quips, a hand raised to cover the full extent of it. 

Beatrice smiling at her - for her - the day Ava had managed to light a candle through her magic without it melting away. 

“I will ask tomorrow.” A loon calls from across the lake, and Beatrice’s eyes track skyward, measuring time. “I can accompany you on your walks and you can teach me how to… unwind.” On the verge of a bigger smile, her mouth quivers. Beatrice swallows it down, and Ava vows to work it out of her somehow. 

Ava nods.

“That sounds fair.” She breathes in, filling her lungs to bursting with air and with courage, and adds. "A little earlier, I could show you the ducklings."

"You could." Beatrice's smile, much like the moon overhead, is in its waning phase. It lingers, however, a sliver of a reflection in her eyes. "I'd like that."

[sinofwriting]

Dinner Gone Awry - Tim Speedle

Words: 685 Summary: Tim really shouldn't have been surprised to get called away. Note(s): I have a taglist! So if you want to be tagged in the future for any of my fics, click here to fill out the form! Also, I'm so in love Speed, my god.

Masterlist | Support Me!

“Shit.” Tim muttered, glancing at his phone that displayed a text from Horatio saying one thing: 911. He glances back up, a sorry expression on his face. “It’s fine, Tim.” She says before he can even begin to apologize. “But,” “Go. Horatio wouldn’t need you unless it was an emergency and you can make it up to me later.”

His brows furrow, he doesn’t want to leave, not when it’s their anniversary dinner, but god did he love how understanding she was about his job. “I will make it up to you.” He promises, quickly standing. Pulling out his wallet he quickly grabs his card and places it on the table. “Use my card, buy yourself whatever you want and I’ll see you at home, yeah?” He tells her, quickly leaning down and pressing their lips together. “Okay.” She murmurs, smiling as she watches as he begins to walk away.

“Text me if you need lunch!” She suddenly calls out, earning a few scandalized looks. “I will!” His near shout and thumbs up earns even more looks and she has to force an apologetic look on her face as one of the waiters approaches the table. Something told her that she’d have to buy herself dinner somewhere else with Tim’s card.

—

“Well, don’t you look fancy.” Delko says, when he gets to the scene of a jet crash. He rolls his eyes, “if this what you call fancy, I feel sorry for any woman you're with.” Both of Delko’s eyebrows raise and Callie who had overheard turns to look at Speed. “I think I have to agree with Delko.” Callie says. “Button up shirt, slacks, and what is that,” she pauses to step closer and takes an exaggerated whiff, “Well, I think I smell some cologne.” He scowls at her, “where’s H?” She smiles at him, “over where the pilot was found, he’s got your kit for you.” “Thanks.” He mutters, before heading over to where the boss is.

“Any survivors?” “Yes, all three on board. One pilot, two passengers.” “A jet for two people?” “I know.” He spots his kit just a foot away from H, but before he can get over to it, H is handing over one of the camera bags. “Anything I need to look out for besides the crash.” “All three were shot.” His eyebrows go up, “Are we thinking unsuccessful murder suicide.” “I don’t know what to think.” “Alright, I’ll start taking pictures.” —

He’s dead on his feet, eyes blurry, and jaw cracking from another yawn when he finally gets to his apartment nearly thirty-six hours later. It had to be some miracle that he hadn’t crashed his Ducati, but he wasn’t about to leave it at the lab.

He slumps against the door as he kicks off his shoes, groaning at how good it feels for them not to be trapped. He considers bending over to pull off his socks, but ends up toeing them off, he didn’t want to chance falling over.

Moving away from the front door, he kicks his shoes and socks away, unknowingly kicking his socks under an end table where he won’t find them for nearly a month. With another yawn, he wanders into his bedroom, unbuttoning his slacks and then pulling both his button up and undershirt off in the same go, grunting when the button up nearly becomes stuck around his head. He tosses the shirts in the general direction of his hamper before stripping off his slacks and briefs, tossing them the same way.

He turns his neck side to side, cracking it with a relieved groan. Eyes half closed, he crawls into bed, not surprised to feel the warmth of another body in it already. He is however surprised by what he feels.

“You're naked.” He mumbles, hand moving up her side to where her fourth rib is before sliding back down to her bare hip. “For me?” His lips quirk up at her laughter. “I think you're a little too tired for that.” “Never.” She hums, “go to sleep, Tim.” “Talk to me until I do?” “Of course.”

[effervescentdragon]

If you're still taking prompts, Galex + galaxies ? 🌌

for @sebsrainbowbicycle

"Why are your galaxies blue, Georgie?" is the first thing Alex asks as the video call connects.

"Fuck off," George says, and there is something around his eyes that the built-in filters on FaceTime can't erase. It's a strain that Alex knows well, if from nothing else, then from his own face. "I just felt like being, I don't know. Underwater."

Alex chuckles. "Wait," he says, almost tripping over his feet as he searches for his own galaxy-egg remote. "Aha!"

He turns on the galaxies and then turns off the lamp. The dark green light makes his face look weird onscreen, pale and washed out, but it's all worth George's eyeroll.

"Is this about that post with Fernando?" George asks. Alex pretends not to know what he's talking about. Badly. He keeps his face in a fake shocked expression until George finally sighs and slumps onto the pillows. "Fuck off."

"I'll start to think you don't want to talk to me with how many times you've told me to fuck off." George rolls his eyes again. "Plus, not everything is about racing. Maybe I picked green because I want to feel like I'm..." he trails off, looking up at his ceiling.

"Like what? You're in a Matrix simulation?"

"We haven't watched that one in a long time," Alex says. George shrugs.

"Yeah," he says. Alex can see how tired he is, can hear it, but he knows by the way George's eyes are fevered that he won't be getting much sleep tonight. He hums to prevent himself from saying something stupid and unrealistic and above all, unhelpful. I wish I was there. I wish I could hug you. I wish all of this wasn't so fucking difficult.

George says nothing either. He isn't looking at the screen precisely, but he isn't looking away prwcisely either. Alex doesn't know how far to push. George always says There isn't 'too far' and I'll tell you to fuck off if it's too much, but he never does. Never when it matters, and sometimes it matters so much to Alex that he doesn't know how he'd fare if George ever told him to stop outright instead of employing evasive maneuvers worthy of a, well. Win.

"What did your siblings say?" George asks. Alex can't help but let his frustration bleed through in his face and he knows George sees it. Neither of them acknowledge it.

"Nothing special," he says, because he hasn't called his sisters in a while and now he's feeling bad. "Mom called, but I was in a meeting."

"Yeah," George says with that faraway look he sometimes gets. "Tell her hi from me, yeah?"

"Of course," Alex starts and bites his tongue. "I have a picture of Horsie, wanna see it?"

George smiles, nods. Alex hates the modern technologies because he can never be sure if the glint in George's eyes is tears starting to form or whatever software they use to make people more appealing. As if George needs to be more appealing. As if it's possible.

"Yeah," George says, and his voice stays even, and Alex can't see any tears fall from his eyes, and the blue of the galaxies makes him look half-present in reality and half somewhere else. Somewhere Alex doesn't know how to follow. Somewhere he doesn't even knkw if he's welcome. "Show me your zoo, Alexander," he says, and Alex bites back I love you and I'm sorry and minimizes the call to send George the pictures.

[storm-breaker7]

I wondering if you can do a Crosshair Cowboy X Female Reader. Crosshair Outlaw and the reader is a singer at a bar he goes to and he falls in love with her.

Fr kicking my legs and giggling 🤭

Second Round of Whiskey

Summary: After a night of drinking and singing, your drunken self gets taken home by an odd man.

Warnings: pet names, swearing, guns, knives, alcohol, smoking,

A/n: The picture isn't mine. Got it off Pinterest and it belongs to @shyranno do check them out (thank you for reminding me those 2 ppl in the comments). I'm sorry I took forever to finish this, I got the rona and English is a pain. (don't come after me. I know that ppl were broke in the 1850s but... this is my fic >:I)

Edit: Omg- this is my first time writing for crosshair and I was not expecting it to go this well! I can't believe I got this much praise in like 2 hours... Like 😳 you silly goofy crosshair simps this up, what am I saying 🤭 thank you again guys ❤️‍🩹

The wind howls outside but inside the saloon is buzzing with life. The piano practically playing itself, My guitar along with it. Even when the saloons swinging doors collided with the wood behind it, everyone still sang and danced, to sloshed to notice.

Seven figures entered, one miniature and one towering. All of them shuffled past the drunk crowd and took a booth for themselves.

The cool night air drifted in, and everyone hollered as the song ended. There was a pause as me and the pianist figured out the next song. Many of the customers drifted off to find themselves another drink before the next song.

My eyes drifted around as I took a long sip from my glass of water. I locked my eyes with one of the figures that entered just a minute ago. He was a bit lanky but certainly hotter than many of the men that were in this saloon.

I cleared my throat and waited for the piano to start playing. Slowly I joined in, my voice echoing in the large saloon. As the hours passed, many drunk men stumbled out of the saloon and as the night started to get lighter, everything calmed down.

I sighed and sipped away at my whiskey, zoning out. A chair beside me creaked on the hardwood floor and I glanced over to the oddly familiar man beside me.

"Your singing wasn't too bad" He spoke up from behind the brim of his glass. I hummed and smiled,

"I like to think that I'm not the worst out there."

He glanced at me, "Crosshair" I raised a brow at him, and he rolled his eyes, "M' name"

"Ah, had me lost there for a minute" I chuckled, "Nickname that became a name I'm guessing?"

"You could say that" He shrugged, staring at his golden liquor.

"Well... Crosshair," I pause and wave my hand slightly, my name falling from my loosened lips as I introduce myself. He repeated it and boy did it sound wonderful coming from him.

"'S a decent name" He mumbled, quickly downing the rest of his drink.

I giggled -my drinks only just starting to kick- taking another sip of my whiskey, "Where are your friends anyway?"

"What?" He asked sharply, prickling like an angry cat.

"Coulda Sworn they left a while back... why? They leave ya here?" I continue, slumping against him. I threw the last bit of my whiskey down and fumbled as I put the glass down.

He sighed plucking the coin out of my hand before I could even call for another drink. "You've had enough, doll, let's get you out of here."

In a blur I'm back in my room blinking away sleep only to feel a big headache strike me. I groan and fall against my bed again. A few loud bangs echo through the halls of my house and I shoot up out of the bed. Hushed and muffled voices argue from somewhere downstairs.

Much to my regret, the pounding in my head returns but I push it to the side, grabbing my knife as I creep down my stairs. I raise my hand as I whip into my kitchen only to find a barrel of a revolver pointed at my nose.

As soon as it was there it was gone, and I dragged my gaze up from the revolver and to the towering figures crowded in my kitchen. "Who the fuck are you?" I wave my knife toward the men and then hold my gaze on the lean man, 'Crosshair', whom I met last night.

"You let us in" He spoke up, hooking his thumbs on his gun belt.

I rubbed my head, my knife lowering to my side, "I barely remember anything after my second round of whiskey..."

Crosshair hummed, his gaze lowering for a moment, "Well in that case we need introductions... again."

A toothpick rolled his mouth as his brothers each introduced themselves before a girl no older than thirteen came out from behind 'Wrecker' and introduced herself as 'Omega'.

I place the knife on my wooden countertop and pull out a smoke from the opened pack. The flick of a match sounded, in amongst the chatter & banter from the others, appearing in front of the smoke.

Our gazes locked and I gave Crosshair a thankful dip of my head, trying to keep eye contact as I- he lights the smoke. I break our staring contest, seemingly crumbling under his gaze.

I take a deep drag of the smoke, breathing it out my nose as I turn to everyone else. "I'll make breakfast" I announce, shooing them out of the kitchen. I B-line for the cupboard, grabbing the wrapped-up meats and grabbing seven eggs. "Can you start the stove for me?" I ask and hear an audible sigh before his boots clacked on the wood floors.

For the next half hour, I prepared food with Crosshair hovering over my shoulder, my smoke long gone. I hand a few wooden plates to Crosshair and carry the rest out, sending him a thankful smile.

"Ooh," Wrecker started up, "What smells nice?"

"Grandmas recipe" I chime happily, placing plates in front of the others as I go around the table. I handed a plate to Omega, who excitedly took the plate, then tech who smiled up at me as he took the plate gracefully.

Hunter was the first to start and he groaned, taking a moment to compose himself. The others almost had the same reaction, Wrecker almost chocked on the food as he stuffed his face full.

"What is this? It's the best meal I've had..." Tech spoke up a while everything calmed down,

"Oh, it's just some bacon, eggs and a bit of beef sausages. Not the fanciest thing to exist." I shrug, barely noticing Techs' eyes shift to behind me then back to my eyes once again.

I put another forkful in my mouth and continued to chat with Tech. I still could sense my 'shadow' behind me as him and Hunter had some brotherly banter.

The liveliness of the house died down after everyone started to wonder around my house and Hunter decided to check out my barn. Crosshair was still on my porch, leaning on one of the beams as he watched everything pass by.

I smiled and stopped next to him, leaning over the railing. "...Is my cooking not to bad?" I ask, sparing a glance at him.

He hums, flicking the toothpick from one side to the other, and smirked, "I like to think it's not the worst,"

and thats how i met your father

again you poor thing im sorry it took so long for me to reply its just that assessments are at my throat. sorry bbg

[oflightningandstars]

thoughts as I continue reading The Extraordinary Education of Nicholas Benedict!!

I had a bit of a reading slump but I seem to be getting back into it.

Under the read more because potential spoilers

I continue to adore kid Nicholas Benedict

"There's my fair hair, so I daresay I'm bare" (page 126) - Nicholas' penchant for rhymes makes it very very clear why upon reading Constance's responses to the test he was like "yes. she must be part of the team" and then subsequently adopted her

Every time there's a description of reading I get so happy.

"Reading so much so quickly was like having great tubs of information poured into his head all at once. It was bound to knock him off balance." (page 138)

"He had been reading intriguing books about electricity and other forms of energy, about light waves and sound waves and radio signals and many other deeply fascinating things, and he had gotten carried away. His mind was so awhirl with ideas that he found himself picturing the Milky Way inside his cranium" (page 163)

I love the image of information swirling around like a galaxy

The treasure.... so I've gotten to the part where Nicholas has gone out into the woods at night to find the observatory, and when he arrived the door was on the ground and the telescope was gone. He still thinks the treasure might be hidden somewhere in the observatory, but my suspicion is that the telescope might have been the treasure in the first place... We shall see

I'm really sad that John isn't speaking to Nicholas currently; he seemed like a decent fellow. Nicholas feeling lonely but still going out of his way to interact with the younger kids (albeit in ways that make them think he has psychic powers) is heartbreaking but also really nice to read if that makes sense?

As a kid I spent a lot of time wandering on deer trails in the woods, so Nicholas doing the same (especially at night!! I always wanted to walk in the woods at night as a kid) made me incredibly happy. I also loved all of the descriptions in that chapter of the woods at night, I might pull out some of my favorite bits later

And the bluff!!! It was so peaceful and the bit at the end of the chapter that goes "When the alarm clock rang... Nicholas felt startled and disoriented... He had the strangest sensation that he was drifting back down to earth, as if he had been up there with the moon all this time. He knew he had to go back. Back to the orphanage, back to the Spiders, back to that prison cell of a room, back to his nightmares. He stood, dusted off his pants, hesitated. And then he set the alarm clock again, and sat down again, and allowed himself just a few minutes more" (page 185, emphasis mine because ahhhhh).

And then the next chapter is immediately the Spiders causing trouble :(

[kittykatinabag]

Cab driver today asked if I had any plans for Christmas. I told him I don't and he was a bit flabbergasted.

The only thing I could respond with was "I'm used to it"

But that's a lie. I'm not used to it. I'm really quite bummed about missing another year of Christmas. I haven't seen any of my family's faces beyond the occasional post or picture sent. I guess we could video call but I don't like video calling because (probably autistic) reasons.

And I'm fighting the urge to blame myself for not thinking ahead and making plans way earlier in the year. But I was kind of in the midst of a depression slump. Still am, I can feel it in my mind and body. At least the anxiety is not that bad, and when it is bad I know how to control and get through it rather quickly. I just wish those techniques worked with the depression at a more consistent scale.

If there's anything that's settling into a bitter taste on my tongue about this last year and few months, it's that I'm both coming back in one sense with nothing physical to show for it (I don't care about this but this seems to be the lens most people understand the world through), but I'm also not coming back with some big ass trauma like I had after undergrad was done. There's some trauma there, but it's more of an extension of past trauma or a continuation of the constant trauma of living in a capitalistic society/the calamities of this reality. It's nothing world altering in my eyes right now.

That kind of annoys me. If I'm going to fail, at least let me have another god damn mountain to climb up and over. I've done this hike before, multiple times. Part of me wants to be able to shake a manifestation of the last year and few months scream "just let me get hurt, just let me feel the fucking pain!"

That's probably something I should go deeper into if I ever get the will to go back to therapy. But fuck after the shit show that was my therapist here, the thought of not only finding another person but also having to sit through what seems like 6-8 weeks of bullshitting around to figure out if they're actually a decent therapist or not sounds like a waste of everyone's time (but mostly mine).

I don't want to keep blaming my environment for how I've been feeling for the past however many months. But fuck, do I currently hate the dwelling I've been living in. I'll go into the city or somewhere and feel completely fine, good even. Then I'll get tired because walking around outside, it's windy and chilly, lots of people about- the usual. So I get back on the fucking hour tram ride back to this apartment that's in the middle of no man's land, only to get back to a dirty apartment (that I cleaned the previous day, so not even 24 hours of cleanliness), sometimes my flat mate's kid(s) are there and I lose psychic damage every hour they're in the place, and sometimes my other flat mate will have her friends over (they're nice enough on the surface but they're also mostly heavy drinkers, extroverts, and not my crowd 95% of the time). But there's always people here. Even when I'm home alone, it doesn't feel like a good place to just relax. Because by the time evening rolls around, people are back, and my flat mate slams every fucking door when she's back. She was this way at the university dorms too, and I get so fucking stressed when doors slam because it reminds me that for both me and my family, being loud is how we end up being when we're angry and hurt and the sounds of slamming doors is one way that comes out. Also sudden loud noise = stressful in most circumstances. She does this at any time, even at like 1am. It's almost as infuriating as her shit dishwashing skills.

I won't even get into the constant annoyances that is my other flat mate because he is simply summed up by the fact that he's in his early 40s, divorced with two kids from two different women and still single, and is less competent in cooking and cleaning than most of my friends when they were 20. Also he's misogynistic and a functioning alcoholic who does not recognize he's a functioning alcoholic.

I have had the patience of a deity, but even a deity ends up smiting some people. I'm just surprised and a little proud that I haven't blown up on them. But yeah I might cry when I get back to my parents house to see that the only thing not clean is the cat hair that kind of never goes away fully. And I'm okay with that because it's cats.

[thevalicemultiverse]

Always remember, every time you survive a mission it just pisses off LaCroux a little bit more. Feeling better now?

Alice: . . .I do a bit, honestly. Thank you.

[taechaos]

Silent Treatment

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you.

warnings: slight angst, drugs, arguing, dubcon, cunnilingus, mild degredation

word count: 4.2k

tags: @mwitsmejk @1-in-abillion @kooookie

a/n: the request (contains some spoilers). i'm gonna take a very short break from this couple to write other requests!! hope u enjoy 💗

The shift in the Spring weather is unpredictable. One moment it’s chilly, and the other sunny. Humans can only adapt so much, and it causes an outbreak of common colds. Most people recover easily, handy medicine soothing their sore throats, syrups suppressing coughs, and nose sprays ridding the blockage. You, on the other hand, are not that lucky. With a weak immune system, you’re very careful to not get sick, but there must have been a slip-up because you’ve somehow lost your voice after catching a cold.

You sniffle and cough, but you can’t speak. It’s advised to not exert your vocal cords in cases like these, and that is just so unfortunate for you. The last thing you’d ever want to do is spread your sickness to Jungkook, and that meant not getting too close to him; it meant no kissing. 

A very large white placard is spread out in front of you on the wooden table, and you’re plastering printed images of a specific global issue on it. You’re sitting on a bench with two of your friends as they chatter mindlessly while you work. Jungkook has a project about climate change due in a few days, and it’s supposed to be very important for his final grade. You’ve already written him a script for his presentation along with a stick prop to point at specific pictures. It’s fun, glittery and he’s going to love it. 

“Hey,” Minnie, your friend, calls for you, “we’re going to get some coffee from Starbucks. Want us to get you green tea?”

Soyeon laughs when your eyes light up; it’s your favorite beverage, and it’s supposed to help with your sore throat. They leave with a smile after you give them a hyper nod and you’re alone as you adjust your woolen scarf around your neck. You need to heal as fast as you can so you’re no longer missing your beloved’s affection.

Jungkook has been feeling more inclined to approach you without reason lately, but that doesn’t mean it’s a common occurrence. Getting teased by his friend, specifically Taehyung, about having a sissy crush on a girl like yourself angered him to no end. A hit always got him to shut up, but not for long. He’s walking your way today because there’s no one around to judge him for talking to you. 

You’re tearing a double-sided tape when he sits on your table, carefully avoiding your materials. Your breath hitches as his eyes gloss over your work in progress. “Working hard, I see,” he comments with disinterest. He doesn’t say anything about your efforts, but he’s impressed. The corner of his lip tugs upwards before he leans in for a kiss. You have enough self-control and concern for his well-being over your desires to lean back before your lips make contact. His face is close to yours as he pauses and slightly frowns before trying again. He receives the same results and finally pulls back. 

“You did well,” he frowns at you and speaks as if you’re a child, “I’m praising you.” Your eyes are darting back and forth awkwardly and you don’t know what to do other than sit in silence. You put your hands on his knees as a resort and his frown deepens as he watches you. “I can take a hint, you know. You don’t have to fucking ignore me.” He roughly shoves your hands and stands up before storming off with a scoff. You’re torn between following him and being responsible over your belongings. You can’t let his grades go to waste because of a small misunderstanding, so you decide to text him instead. There’s always a possibility someone might steal his project. Or maybe after he’s cooled off? You delay the message, but somewhere in your heart, you’re satisfied by his reaction because it’s clear that he wanted to kiss you.

Heavy footsteps clomp against the sidewalk before Jungkook slumps on the seat next to Taehyung. It’s an isolated area for smoking students at the back of the campus, and his friend group is no exception to this role. They’re taking drags of cigarettes individually as Jungkook glares at his boots. They’re chunky and a bold black, and his dark outfit paints him as the big bad wolf. It fits, because he’s ready to attack when he’s filled with so much resentment. Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you. It doesn’t make sense, but you also grimaced at him, but then why were you doing his homework? He’s feeling frustrated, and upset all the same.

“Someone’s troubled,” Seokjin points out with a mouthful of smoke. “Kookie?”

Said boy only grunts in response.

“Did the lousy girl finally see you for who you really are and leave you?” Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to mock him with a pout. “Tragic.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tae,” Jungkook spits and sends him a death glare, fire flaming in his fierce eyes. “Go actually talk to a girl or something, and leave me alone. I can’t take your shit right now.”

The low blow doesn’t affect Taehyung in the slightest as he holds up his hands in defence with comically wide eyes. “Relax, tiger.”

“Moving on from Tae’s inability to talk to girls in broad daylight, what’s up with you Kook?” Namjoon butts in, earning a fake cough from the receiving end of the insult.

He pauses for a moment before babbling, “I hate those bitches. My mother for one, couldn’t stand wearing clothes whenever she saw a dude. Moving on from guy to guy, unless they’re a fucking asshole. What do they want? Why are they never fucking satisfied?!”

A moment of silence passes among the huddled friends before Yoongi breaks it with a joke, “Who’s the lucky girl?” It doesn’t land as Jungkook deeply sighs in response. “Did she cheat on you?” he tries again.

“No,” he murmurs.

“Then…?”

“She… I don’t fucking know, she gave me the silent treatment. She leaned away from me too,” he shakes his head with a quiet groan, “it just doesn’t add up. I got mad and left.”

“No way that could’ve ended up badly,” Taehyung chuckles but purses his lips when he’s sent another dirty look.  “How long was the interaction anyway?” 

“Like 30 seconds.”

“Are you coming out tonight?” Yoongi asks and puts out the burning tip of his stick. “Could help you feel better.”

“And we’ve got molly,” Namjoon adds.

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

Alcohol’s effect on a person differs in moods, and Jungkook is usually a horny drunk. Being a sad drunk is a first for him tonight, but he’s just so confused. It made his heart drop when you outwardly refused his advances and anxiety blossomed in his chest, which he has no idea how to deal with. It kicked in fight or flight instincts, and he just… hated the idea of you not loving him, even if it’s momentary. He can’t bear staying in a situation that makes him feel so insecure, and that feeling is supposed to be left in his childhood. You just about brought out the worst in him without doing anything. 

You didn’t do anything.

It’s 10PM and he’s waiting on your usual good night text that he never responds to. It’s so pathetic, and he hates himself for being so used to your affection that it worries him when he’s deprived of it. He’s never doubted your love for him, but his insecurities are churning his gut. It’s an overflow of all of his pent-up emotions, and he can’t handle it.

“Here,” Taehyung pops in out of nowhere, clutching a pill in his hand. There’s a bottle of water in the other as he holds them out for Jungkook to take. “Stop moping and get laid.”

“I’d say the same to you, but you’d probably start crying during sex,” he mumbles and uncaps the bottle before throwing in the pill and washing it down with the water. “Thanks.”

“See that girl over there?” he ignores him and steps behind his miserable friend to point at the owner of the sultry gaze directed at Jungkook from the bar. “She wants to fuck you. Or maybe me, but I’m passing her onto you.”

“How kind of you,” he sarcastically replies.

“Uh-uh, so you’re gonna be in ecstasy in about 10 minutes. Don’t fuck this up.” He slaps his shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen. It’s a lonesome party because not a lot of people are allowed in when drugs are involved. Causing a ruckus, receiving a noise complaint and then getting arrested is out of the question. 

He isn’t interested in sex with a stranger - not today at least -, but he hopes for it to change as he waits to approach her. Maybe drugs will rile him up enough to have fun with someone else and rid his mind of you. It’s an annoying itch on his brain, so he rests his head against the couch to comfort himself with the soft fabric. He’s sleepy from the beer he drank earlier, and he doesn’t know how time goes by so fast when he closes his eyes.

A few minutes must have passed, because he’s starting to feel dizzy in his seat. A smile carves on his face as his mind grows slightly fogged, and he opens his eyes to find the girl quietly chatting with a friend. When she glances at him, he beckons her to come over. She mouths a “be right back” to her friend before strutting in his direction.

“Hey,” she smiles down at him before sitting on the couch. She’s aristocratic, chic and pretty. “Sorry if I weirded you out earlier.” Her voice is sweet like honey, and her words flow out of her tongue so naturally. A dream girl, really, and Jungkook is starting to get horny.

“I don’t mind,” he reassures with a subtle seductive tone, “what’s a girl like you doing with this crowd? You look too innocent.” He wraps a finger around a strand of her hair and twirls it. It feels strange.

“My friend sent me here, told me to watch over someone,” she lowly speaks. “I’m Soyeon.”

“Nice to meet you, Soyeon,” he breathes before crashing her lips with his. His hand reaches down to grip her thigh, tongue poking out to swipe the sticky gloss. It’s flavored, and it tastes of strawberry. When she kisses him back so slowly, innocently, it turns him on so much. His pants feel tight around his crotch as he runs another hand through her soft hair. Compared to him, she’s passionate whereas he’s sloppy. He’s starting to get dizzier, and it feels so fucking good, but he hates it.

There is not a single reason for him to not enjoy this, not when his mood is lifting so high. The hand on her thigh lands on her cleavage instead and she’s so submissive and shy, but something’s off. He groans into her mouth before biting her lip, ripping a whine out of her. Why does she sound so sexy and annoying?  

He pulls away from her before sighing in irritation. “Fuck, I can’t do this.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks worriedly.

“No, just, fuck.” He starts laughing before rubbing his palms on his eyes, “I really want to fuck, but I just can’t.”

“We can just chat,” she softly suggests. “What’s your name?”

“Jungkook.”

He removes his hands from his face when she goes silent. Her eyes are wide and she’s gaping at him… guiltily? “Crap,” she hisses quietly, “I was supposed to make sure you were okay. My roommate is like, super in love with you and asked me to come here.”

He says your name in a question, wondering if it’s you. When she nods, he asks for your dorm instantly.

“She’s in room 124… Why?”

When he stands up, there’s a sway in his posture but he recovers quickly. There’s an involuntary grin on his face as he thanks her ignorantly. He’s out of the villa in a rush, and he has the overwhelming urge to just run. The campus is a bit far away from the house, but he doesn’t care as his footfalls echo in the dark streets. He has so much energy to waste, and with his current stamina, he’s confident he’ll find you before dawn. It’s stupid but it’s fun, and he doesn’t care for catching his breath as the corner stores pass by him in a blur. 

Throughout the two hours of his reckless jog, where he mixed up directions multiple times, his mind is starting to clear up little by little. He’s happy because of what Soyeon told him, and he feels relieved upon seeing the familiar college building. He’s not allowed in dorms at this time, but he’s done this too many times to get caught. Except he was drunk in those instances, and being on MDMA was different. Sneaking past security was tough because he couldn’t bring himself to tiptoe without making so much noise. When they glanced at him, he thought it to be the only choice to just run past them. He’s in the elevator by the time they catch on, and the numbers look wonky in his eyes but he presses the button for the right floor. 

He’s shifting his weight repeatedly in an attempt to contain his excitement; he wants to see you so bad. The moment he hears the ding of the elevator, he’s running past the halls and stops upon seeing 124. He has to squint, but he knows this is your dorm. 

You wake up with a silent gasp when there’s a pound on the door. You clutch your sheets in fear until someone starts to sing your name. “Jungkook?” you mouth to yourself. You stand up and look through the peephole and there’s a man on the other side who’s bouncing on his feet impatiently.

“Open up,” he sings loudly. You’re worried when you swing the door open and yank him inside so he doesn’t wake up any other students. You try to talk but only a wheeze comes out, so you switch on the light to see him instead. The brightness hurts your eyes as you close them for a few seconds. “Well, well, well, look who we have here…”

He starts to circle around you slowly and stumbles behind you. “Sending people to spy on me after rejecting me like that.” His words are slightly slurred and you turn around to face him with a pout. You point at your throat to give him a hint, but his eyes don’t waver from your pleading ones. “What are your intentions, huh?” he weakly pushes you, “Sending me mixed signals. Who- who do you think you are?”

You hold his hands and place them on your neck, trying to communicate with him by mouthing, “I’m sick,” but he only chuckles. He seems sickeningly joyous, but he’s not over his anger. “Still not going to talk to me? What did I even do?”

You deeply inhale from your nose because he’s not paying attention to you. You’re frustrated with yourself until he yells, “WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO ME?” The surge of serotonin, his state of euphoria is crashing down on him the more you ignore him. He had believed the drug would only make him happy, but it intensified his sadness and anxiety just as much when he saw you. It helped him forget you in a social circle, but you confused him so much after he was reassured for so long - coupled with your silence, he’s raging.

“Why are you ignoring me?! What did I do that was so bad that you can’t bear talking to me anymore? You told me you loved me, please,” he chokes and tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “I-I’ll make it up to you, I’m so sad right now. Just say something…”

You’re watching him in shock and a hint of fear from his fluctuating mood. You want to cry at how pitiful he looks, but instead you aim to grab a piece of paper from your bedside table. He misreads your actions and pushes you against the wall. “Stop this. Stop!” He has your arms pinned and he’s trying so hard to intimidate you so you give in. A dry sob leaves you because he's going mad, but then he has a sudden epiphany. “Maybe you’ll love me again if I fuck you hard enough and engrave it in your brain that you’re mine. Yes, yes!”

He starts unbuckling his belt and you immediately try to stop him; he’ll get sick! He shoves you again and pulls down his jeans before mashing his mouth against yours. All of your efforts have gone to waste when his tongue forces its way down your throat. There’s no point to denying him now, so you hesitantly kiss him back. You’re so guilty, and he’s so careless as he roughly pushes his hand down your white cotton shorts. You’re wearing a navy blue sweater to match so you don’t get cold in the night, but the shorts are meant to prevent a fever. What’s the point now, then? He hasn’t even read your texts that you only remembered to send before sleeping. He missed a whole paragraph of your explanation and confronted you so angrily.

“I’m going to fuck you all night,” he growls against your lips, “then you’ll remember how much you love me.” Your moans are quiet and hitched as he presses down on your clit through your panties. His other hand is on his cock as he strokes it eagerly, ready to get inside you. “I missed you so fucking much in one day,” he whispers in a croak. Hearing it makes you feel even warmer inside as you nudge his hand to urge him to enter you. “You missed me too, huh?” he takes notice of your neediness. “Shouldn’t have fucking brought it upon yourself then.”

He removes his hand from your shorts and taps your thighs before demanding, “Jump.” You bite your lip in consideration until he taps them harder and you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. Your shorts are relatively short, resembling loose boxers, so when your back is pressed against the wall he only pushes them and your underwear to the side before thrusting into you. A scream gets caught in your throat, and you forget all about your aches as he roughly fucks into you without caring for protection or lube. It stings only slightly, but the pleasure in feeling so full of him outweighs the pain.

Jungkook is moaning and groaning as he bruises your thighs in his hold. Your panting is all he can catch, and though the feeling of you is an amplified sensation because of the drug coursing in his system, he wants to hear you chant his name as well. “Still quiet?” he tuts and carries you to your narrow bed and you cling onto his shoulder while trying to catch your breath after the sudden attack. “Your cunt is throbbing though,” he says as he pulls out of you and drops you on the bed. He manhandles you by flipping you on your stomach and holds up your ass. He finally takes off your bottom clothing, but he’s slightly dizzy as he yanks them off your ankles. He spreads your thighs apart and you’re on your knees with your head against the mattress. “I wonder why that is,” he says before slapping your pussy, making you whimper quietly. “So wet, yet you don’t even make a sound. Some whore you are.” You purse your lips and muster a whine, but it’s interrupted when he pistons his cock inside you without warning. Your sounds are hoarse as he pounds into you from the back, hands kneading your ass to the shape of his hands. He gives it a spank as he moans loudly; the new position makes it feel so much more intense, and Jungkook loves it. His ears finally get to hear your pathetic mewls as he thrusts so deeply inside you that your vision blurs with tears and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. You feel like a doll that can’t speak or move, and he’s evidently enjoying it going by his rushed pace. You’re challenging him with your silence, and he loves proving himself.

All of a sudden however, he stops moving. You look behind you with a pout and he quirks a brow at you. You grit your teeth because you know he's waiting for you to tell him to continue, or rather daring you to do something. A sudden surge of confidence overcomes you and you gently slam your hips against his, fucking yourself on his cock with your eyes screwed shut.

“Yes, baby,” he strains, “show me that you're still my good girl.” At his encouragement, you meet his thrusts faster and you're seeing stars at how amazing it feels. You want to be his good girl so bad, and you arch your back to savour the pleasure. “Your pussy is mine, all mine,” he affirms to himself and stills your hips to turn you around without removing his length. His fingers are digging into your flesh and your tits bounce under the fabric as he rams into you restlessly. Your mouth is open in a silent scream and he can barely make out your pupils, the whites of your eyes stirring his climax at how attractive you look under the poor lighting. “I love you so fucking much,” he cries, “say it back, baby.”

You try to, but you can only dryly cough. “You fucking bitch,” he hisses at your defiance and pulls out of you to pump his length. He’s close to his release, and he pushes up your sweater to see your hard nipples that make him salivate. He crawls to slide his cock between the valley of your breasts and it hurts when he harshly pushes them together. “Stick out your tongue,” he commands in a whisper, and you do so while panting like a dog. Every time he thrusts upwards, the tip of his head grazes your tongue and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s massaging your tits as he stutters between whines, and eventually his load spurts out to land on your chest and cheek with a particularly loud groan. His cum surges down his shaft as he rides out his high with the last slow thrusts. 

“Oh fuck,” he sighs airily and collapses next to you in the tiny space available. You clumsily turn on your side to give him more room and he pecks your swollen lips. He zips his pants back up and you’re still naked from the waist down. You’re staring at each other adoringly in the romantic, fragile atmosphere; another first.

“I love you,” you croak finally. It’s quieter than a whisper, and it makes you cringe at how hideous you sound; it’s painful as well.

His face lights up once he registers your words before noticing the tone. “What happened to your voice?”

“Sick.” You can’t bring yourself to say anything more as you snuggle into his side and he instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Shit,” he murmurs, “why didn’t you tell me that sooner, idiot?”

You slap a hand on his front pocket where his phone is, and he hastily takes it out to see a bunch of notifications from you. “You sent it at night, you’re still the idiot.” You giggle and roll your eyes. “A promise is a promise, though,” he purrs before cupping your bare heat. “I did say I would fuck you all night.” You widen your eyes when his head lowers down to face your sopping wet cunt, and he slowly licks up a stripe over your soaked folds, making you shudder and grip his hair. He’s leaving kitty licks all over your sensitivity, the tip of his tongue lightly brushing against your clit every now and then. Your hips lift involuntarily, and he finally takes your clit in his mouth and sucks on it loudly. He slurps your arousal before spitting it back on your hood, and you can only squeak in response. Your hazed mind only tells you that you want more, and he doesn’t fail to provide.

Two fingers enter your clenching hole, and he’s scissoring your walls as he messily eats you out. The pleasure from earlier returns all too soon and you know you won’t be able to last long. His lids are hooded when you glance down at him and the way he’s looking at you makes it even harder to resist your orgasm. The knot in your stomach picks back up right before unraveling and your moan is raspy as you start twitching under his relentless mouth. He grows gentle and leaves kisses all over your vulva until your body falls limp on the sheets.

After another round of penetrative sex, the two of you fall asleep from exhaustion in your bed. It’s a first for the both of you, and Jungkook decides in his drunken mind that tonight won’t be the last. It feels so intimate when he cuddles you, and you won’t ever forget his love confession.

The next morning is not so pleasant however, as Jungkook wakes up with a loud sneeze and in his now nasal voice says, “God fucking damn it.”

[star-going-supernova]

Everyone talking about Vanessa getting arrested and I'm here like "I think Henry batim should meet Gregory, they got the same 'yes my found family is a group of fictional characters brought to life through deeply questionable means that definitely involved murders in some way, mind your business' vibes"

You’re so right, friend. I never would have guessed I’d be writing Henry BatIM in 2022, but here we are! For anyone who has no idea who that is, lol, he’s a character who I turned into an absolute dad (I know, very unusual for me) who has a collection of living cartoon characters as his children now. Humans were almost definitely sacrificed to bring them to life. 

And big thanks to t.d from ao3 for being like, “I could see Henry and Gregory being related,” and the lightbulb went ding! I just wanted to post this real quick before heading off to a lil birthday lunch! 

Always a Bigger Fish

Gregory steadfastly refused to close his eyes in his last moments. He’d been glaring certain death down all night, and he wasn’t about to cower away only to miss a last-ditch opportunity to make it out of this alive. 

This monster, though, was a great deal different from the animatronics. This one—Afton, Vanessa had called him—was of the human variety. Even if he didn’t much look like it anymore. 

Across the lobby, Vanessa laid crumpled on the floor. Gregory had no idea if she was alive or not, just that she’d taken a hit to the temple that had cracked horrifically, and a small pool of blood was now slowly creating a halo of neon reflections beneath her head. 

And Freddy, his night-long protector and new friend, was slumped lifelessly against the wall somewhere past the turnstiles, near the stairs. He hadn’t run out of power; that implied it drained as it was used, a natural process that Gregory had been preventing from the beginning. But he was shut down, empty, the monster having dug its claws into Freddy’s back to take the power from his battery. 

That same hand was wrapped around Gregory’s throat. Afton hadn’t started squeezing yet, though Gregory had no doubt that when he did, the mechanical joints and cold fingers would crush his entire neck like it was tissue paper. 

“Curious,” Afton rasped. He tilted his head, staring at Gregory. 

He could feel blood dripping from his nose. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he snapped. 

“You don’t even tremble in fear,” the monster continued, ignoring him. “You life is in my hands, yet you cling to your useless defiance.” 

They’d been so close. Insulting close. The exit was right in front of him. The barricade over the lobby doors had lifted; it’d be the work of all of five seconds of sprinting to leave the building. It was just, Afton had been waiting for them. 

“What, you want me to beg?” Gregory asked, hoping his tone implied how much of a fool that made Afton. “I know your type. Actually, you remind me of an old friend of my grandpa’s.”

“Oh?” The way Afton examined him made Gregory feel very much like a pinned butterfly or a caged animal. Like his anger was something to indulge in, almost an amusement. 

“Yeah.” He shrugged and grinned, knowing his teeth were bloody. “My grandpa killed him.” 

The quiet mechanical whirs and clicks coming from Afton’s twitching body fell silent for a moment. So many exposed parts. The fingers resting deceptively lightly on his throat curled, just enough to poke into his skin. But still no squeezing. 

The barricades were up. It was after six. Gregory could see the doors. Afton couldn’t.

“He’s in town, actually,” Gregory said, causal. “My grandpa. I just turned thirteen, y’know. He flew in for the party.” 

Afton’s body was loud; the music was louder. Every monster thought they were the biggest and baddest in the room. He’d taken out Freddy and Vanessa, and Gregory was caught in his claws. What use did he have in looking over his shoulder? 

“You’re a kid killer,” Gregory said when Afton didn’t respond. “My grandpa’s old friend, he sacrificed people. Stole their souls or somethin’. And my grandpa…” 

Afton’s hand tightened the slightest bit.

“Well,” Gregory rasped. He raised his hands to grip Afton’s wrist, tensing. “He took offense.” 

He could see the moment Afton realized they were no longer alone. The moment the monster crouched before him realized he wasn’t the biggest monster in the room anymore. 

“There’s always another Joey,” Grandpa Henry said from behind Afton. Outside the lobby doors, Gregory could see his car. “How about you let go of my grandson, hm?” 

“I could kill you before he acts,” Afton whispered. His hand was a heavy weight, impossible to forget. “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Yeah?” Gregory asked, on the verge of laughing. “Watch me.”

The thing about a human monster—they were human. 

Using his grip on Afton’s arm as leverage to pull his lower half off the floor, Gregory swung his outstretched feet up and jammed his sneakers right through one of those holes in the suit, where he could clearly see pulsing organs. 

His mechanical bits and pieces were old, rusted. There was the slightest jerky delay when he moved and spoke, as if the suit couldn’t quite keep up with his thoughts anymore. 

And so the hand squeezed too slow, and it released compulsively as Afton wheezed out and jerked away. 

Gregory shoved himself away blindly, refusing to turn his back and almost instantly lightheaded with relief. Strong, sure hands caught him up from the floor and lifted him easily to his feet. Grandpa Henry hugged him to his side, glaring at Afton as he tried to stand. 

The familiar, comforting heaviness of something other seeped into Gregory’s chest, in time with the writhing shadows that began to creep into existence. They snaked across the tiles, stained the walls, and the lights above them went out with quiet pops. Like living things, they curled through the air and around Grandpa Henry’s shoulders. 

See, his grandpa had been the last of the sacrifices his old friend had tried. Joey Drew probably hadn’t expected it to work as well as it had; he definitely hadn’t expected a demon to take a stronger liking to the sacrifice than the summoner. 

“Hey, Bendy,” Gregory said, reaching out to catch one of the shadowy tendrils in his hand. His grandpa’s creation might not be in his usual form, the cutesy little pie-cut-eyed trickster, but Gregory had never feared Bendy’s more… eldritch side. It took a demon to make a demon, and there were few monsters bigger and badder than that.

Looked like Afton would only learn that too late. 

“I don’t take kindly to people who hurt my family,” Grandpa Henry was saying to Afton, who had finally struggled to his feet. He sounded so pleasant, so kind. 

It was always the quiet ones. 

“You cannot kill me. Not for good,” Afton said. “I always—”

“That a challenge?” 

Gregory bit his lip to hide his smile. 

“I ask,” Grandpa Henry said, his eyes becoming just a little too bright, “because I love a good challenge. Never tell me the odds.” And he chuckled. Like they were discussing bingo, or how many biscuits one could eat at Thanksgiving. 

“There’s always another Joey,” Grandpa Henry repeated, solemn, in the silence. Afton’s animatronic eyes went half-lidded. Gregory grinned at him from his place of safety. Tiny pinpricks of blood decorated his neck, itchy. “You’ll share his fate.” 

Gregory could feel Bendy’s glee. He let go of the shadow in his hand as Grandpa Henry suddenly strode forward, eyes electric. 

And Afton, well. A simple monster like him was no match for a demon.