#YOU BITE HER FOOT LIKE THE APPLE????

[spacedace]

Bruce is grateful for the fact that Damian has made friends, he is.

He's happy that his son has met children his own age at school and befriended them. That he is growing from that prickly, unhappy, scarred child he'd first been when he'd come to live with Bruce. That his friends are even normal kids - baring Jon, who is still normal enough despite being the son of Superman and occasionally a super hero himself - with no links to anything strange or dangerous or illegal.

"Oh, sup B."

He just wished that his son's friends were also just a little less...feral.

"Hello Elle."

Elle Nightingale gave him a little wave with the lemon she was holding - or as best as she could considering the space she was working with - and smiled cheekily at him. Bruce felt a headache budding behind his eyes.

"I thought Alfred banned you from the kitchen?" She shifted a bit, nudging a bottle of milk - farm fresh, courtesy of the Kents, passed along via Jon as thanks for looking after him for the weekend. Bruce wished he'd had the foresight to expect that Jonathan Kent staying over for the weekend would mean that Elle, her cousin Billy and their friend BL - the children refused to say the girl’s real name, likely to spite Damian, and thr initials had been a compromise to calling her Box Lunch - would take it as them being permitted to stay over for so long as well. Damian had just given Bruce a an unimpressed look when he'd expressed his surprise at the sudden influx of twelve year olds in his home. As if Bruce was disappointing him at being so foolish as to think his entire pack of hellhounds wouldn't be invading enmass.

"Just getting a snack." He assured her, not wanting her to being the wrath of Alfred down upon his head. The hellions liked doing that, for some reason. "I don't suppose you could tell me what exactly you're doing in my fridge." Bruce tried, looking at the girl curled up in what should have been a deeply uncomfortable position between a few shelves of the large appliance.

Elle grinned. Her canines looked a little too sharp in the odd light of the fridge. Bruce really had to stop thinking of his sons friends as demonic hellions, he was starting to impose impossible features on them when he was sleep deprived.

"We're playing hide and seek." She made direct, unblinking eye contact with him as she brought the whole lemon to her mouth and took a bite out of it like it was an apple. "It’s Day's turn to seek." She added, lemon juice dripping down her chin as she swallowed her bite, rind and all.

Well at least she was getting enough vitimin C.

"Right." He nodded, deciding that it wasn't cowardice that led him not wanting to get involved. No, it was just...good parenting. Letting the kids be kids. It was a sleepover, and Damian was actually playing a game! That was something to be encouraged! Bruce wasn't fleeing from this particular group of children's brand of chaos at all. "...could you hand me one of the fruit cups Alfred made earlier?"

Elle obliged on the condition Bruce didn't tell Damian about her hiding spot and returned to happily eating her...whole lemon...as he shut the fridge door on her.

As he returned to his office he glanced out one of the manor's large windows long enough to see Billy stick his head out from the top of the twelve foot tall topiaries out on the front lawn, checking to see if Damian was about. Bruce shook his head, kids and their ability to climb impossible structures never ceased to amaze him. Billy should be careful not to keep trying to peak for Damian though, he was going to end up getting found that way.

[simp999]

Lazy Day.

Knuckles The Echidna (movie/tv series) x reader

Sypnosis: Imagine being the first person to help knuckles finally truly relax.

Series: Knuckles (tv series)/ The Sonic Movies

Wc: 1.1k

Themes: Fluff, comfort, can be seen as platonic or romantic.

Note: Takes place in episode 1 of the Knuckles series

Masterlist

“That’s it, I’m gonna be late for work. You two,” Mrs. Wakowski gestures towards Sonic and Tails, “keep away from Knuckles.” 

“Roger that!” Sonic salutes dramatically, and Tails follows suit,

“Noted, Mrs. Wakowski,”

Mrs. Wakowski manages to phone another friend to give her a ride to work, still fuming, while Sonic shrugs and figures he’ll spend time with Tails. They leave the house to go for a walk- it was a beautiful day after all. Sonic picks up baseball gloves and a ball on the way out of the house, and Tails swishes his tails in excitement when he spots the objects, setting foot out of the house.

A few minutes later you walk in through the doors, a few bags in hand. 

“Hellooo!” You call out.

With no response, you raise a brow. Usually, the trio greets you. You then remember Mrs. Wakosky having work, but that still doesn’t explain the other three. You shrug it off, unloading the groceries on the countertop. You wash a bowl of grapes, walking around with them on the search for your favorite echidna. 

You first check out the workout room, but he’s nowhere to be found. Then, the couch where you’re expecting to find Sonic and tails, but still nothing. Eventually you make it to the attic where Knuckles resides, a grape being tossed into your mouth.

“Knux?” 

He grunts in response, not bothering to turn his head towards you. You tilt your head at him, raising a brow. Then you finally ask him what’s on your mind;

“Knux, what are you doing on the floor?”

“I have been grounded.”

You think for a moment, then chuckle.

“Hun, that doesn’t mean you have to lie on the ground. I expected you to be the type to still train or work out while grounded,”

“I cannot go to the workout area,”

“Are you making up excuses? You? Surely you can still do pushups-and sit-ups,” you teased. 

He swiftly sits up, exclaiming; “You are a genius!” 

You giggle as he sets off to start doing pushups, doing them at an ungodly speed. You always were impressed by his strength, praising him often. Although he claimed that your praises meant nothing, you couldn’t help but notice the way he smiled and sped up whatever exercise he was doing at the time.

You watched him for a little while longer, eating your grapes before getting an idea. You stood next you him and he paused his now one-handed pushups, looking up at you, 

“What do you want?” You knew he didn’t mean to sound rude, so you smiled and replied, “I was just thinking- what if I sat on your back as an extra challenge?”

You’ve done it before, he was the one to ask you to do it last time. 

“Excellent idea! Though, that is no challenge for me.” 

He got back into pushup position, and you quietly sat on his upper back, attempting to balance. Once he counted 10 more pushups, your hand hovered in front of his mouth, grape in hand. He froze for a second, analyzing it, before taking a bite and humming. From then on, you offered him a grape for every 10 pushups. It seemed like a good way to keep him going, as he seemed to speed up.

Once the bowl of grapes was finished, you encouraged him to take a break. It wasn’t easy of course, but you got him to hold off on pushups until you came back with a bowl of other fruit- peaches, apple slices, and mangoes. You came back only to find him doing sit-ups. You sighed and he told you between soft grunts- “I am not doing pushups, like you asked.”

“Well- yes, but the whole point was to give you a small break. How about let’s pause for a little and spend some time together instead?”

He squinted at you, glancing over at your soft smile- one he couldn’t resist. You grabbed a few pillows and blankets from around the house while you got Knuckles to pick a movie that he’d be interested in. When you came back, he hadn’t chosen one, claiming that he only wanted to watch something you would enjoy. Very sweet and all, but you wanted to make sure he didn’t just get up and start working out halfway through the movie. So, you picked three movies of varying genres, and he picked the action one out of them- the one you already assumed he’d like most.

As it played in the background, you asked him what had gotten him grounded. 

“The blue hedgehog wants me to ‘relax,’” he answered with air quotes.

You nod, humming, focusing on the movie. After you’d gotten all snuggled up in the blankets and pillows, he sat a few feet away from you.

“You don’t have to be a stranger, y’know. Come on, sit closer,” You muttered in a low voice, not wanting to talk over the movie too much. He contemplated for a moment, sitting much closer to you now. You offer him an apple slice, holding it to his lips. 

It doesn’t take long before he’s asking you about the movie and why people are doing certain regular human things, you enjoying his short excited comments. He punches the air and kicks his feet when he’s excited over a scene in the movie, too adorable. 

Eventually, he gets tired out and you feel a weight on your shoulder. You smile at the scene before you- you’ve never seen him so calm and peaceful. You’ve seen him happy, you loved playing games with him and the boys, but this was different. Seeing him sleeping was something unusual, as he rarely slept around others. ‘This must mean he feels completely comfortable,’ you thought with a content expression.

You lean back, putting the plate of snacks aside, and his head falls to your chest. As it rises and falls, he snuggles into you in his sleep. You begin to gently pet his fur, taking a moment to press a soft kiss to it. He wraps his arms further around you, tugging you impossibly closer, then loosening his grip. 

It doesn’t take long for you to follow him into dreamland, soft snores emitting from you. Your hand still on his quills, head resting on the pillow behind you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Hours later, Sonic, Tails, and Mrs. Wakowski come back home only to find knuckles relaxing in your hold.

“Huh, I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. He does always seem to calm down around them.”

“I knew they had a thing for eachother!”

“Sonic! Shh, let them rest,”

Tails quietly closes the door, letting the two of you relax in eachother’s arms.

.

.

.

April.26.24

[comfortless]

If it's not too much trouble or boring to write, may I ask for more König taking care of sick reader? Thanks :)

(The anon that asked for the other sickfic and that is sick again 🥲)

König brings you breakfast. Tries, at least. There was an attempt made to ensure that the plate of hastily thrown together food and the big mug of lemon tea look nice together. Warm bread and your favorite jam, butchered on the plate with the butter running off to the other side of it entirely. He’s not a chef, and breakfast isn’t quite his forte; König much prefers you cooking in the mornings and the lazy way he can drape himself over you as you do so.

But… you’re ill and look so somber and adorable tucked into bed, wearing one of his shirts and hardly able to keep your eyes open when you’re presented with food. To think this poor little angel would have to suffer so… He momentarily sets everything aside, tells you in a quiet tone of voice that everything around the house has already been handled, so all you need to do is focus on taking care of yourself. No. Actually, he can help you with that too.

Despite any protests, you find yourself seated in his lap, one large hand gently caressing your cheek as a digit prods at your lips. There’s an expectation of compliance. He knows what’s best, or, has himself convinced that he does.

“You have to eat,” he chides, bringing the bread right up to your mouth. Apple butter for the first bite, some other sticky confection on the next. And as frustrating as it might be when all you would like to do is curl back into bed and nurse your aching head with the comfort of a cool pillow, König does not let up until every crumb on the plate has been cleared.

There’s a dollop of jam smattered across your bottom lip from being hand-fed like a disobedient pet. Then, a warm tongue grazing over it and a mouth leaving a trail of kisses up to the peak of your warm cheek. “Messy little thing,” he huffs against your temple. “And your tea..?”

Thankfully, he doesn’t try to scald your mouth feeding you that, too. His hands find your hair instead, then massage at the nape of your neck as you sip away at the bitter drink. There’s a rumble in his chest as he tries to soothe you, humming a song his Oma used to sing to him as a boy until your eyes shut and you relax against his chest in sleep.

If or… when you do try to leave the bedroom, you’re met with a horribly doting brute. He isn’t entirely sure what else he can do to console you. He isn’t one to sit about on his phone for hours on end, but his search history is assuredly a mess by now. You’re not given the chance to walk even a foot past the threshold of your shared room before you’re picked up and toted about like a bride on her wedding day with no warning.

Medicine is pressed into your mouth by his hand while you’re sat on the countertop, trying to assure your weary, giant nurse that you’re fine. He could stand to relax a bit. König is nothing short of a tense, anxious nightmare when he’s worried about something, especially something as important as you. It’s no surprise when you find yourself lying back on the couch with his face buried into your chest as you stroke at the top of his head, the overgrown buzzcut prickling the tips of your fingers. He smiles in his sleep, babbles something like a wish as his hands twitch to squeeze at your sides.

“Just… stay right here.”

[missmeinyourbones]

LOVE’S A GAME, WANNA PLAY?

cw: slightly suggestive, reader referred to as “girlfriend,” aged up characters (as always), i love annoying u megumi

You're gonna be the death of him, Megumi is sure of it. 

And he’s aware of how much of a loaded statement that is. Given his immunity to stupidity thanks to the daily antics of Yuuji, Nobara, and Gojo, his tolerance for games is pretty high. 

But you’re different, you always have been. Because when Megumi gets annoyed with you, it's not in the way he does with his idiotic friends. He doesn't want to strangle you or tell you to shut up, he doesn't even want you to leave him alone. 

If he didn't know any better (he doesn't), he’d almost think that you purposefully pushing his buttons turns him on. Certainly, something that doesn't happen when Gojo trips him in the hallway or locks the car door as he’s about to open it. 

Maybe it’s simply because you’re his girlfriend, or because he’s used to being a stick in the mud. Whatever the reason, Megumi always finds himself giving in to your games. 

“Pretend I’m a random girl at a bar coming on to you.”

Seeing you out of his peripheral, he dryly snorts at the odd request. He barely looks up from his phone when he responds with a casual, “Didn’t know you were into roleplaying.”

With a dramatic sigh, you pluck his phone from his hand and place it on the table. He looks up at you through wispy eyelashes, your hands are on your hips and trouble is written all over your face.

“It's not roleplaying,” you retort. “It's a test, and you better pass.”

His eyebrows raise in interest at the buzzword. Not one to give up a chance to prove himself, he bites.

“And how do I pass?”

You shrug and it lights a fire inside of him. And when you lean over the couch where he sits and hover next to his ear—Megumi realizes he’s already lost, and the game hasn’t even begun.

You take your role very seriously, voice sickeningly sweet as it purrs in the shell of his ear.

“Hi handsome, can I buy you a drink?”

He does his best to control the pathetically rapid beating of his pulse. “No,” he swallows. 

“Oh come on,” your tone is teasing, enticing. “Just one drink, on me,” your pointer finger finds his jaw, tracing its sharp angles as you watch Megumi shiver at the touch. 

He stammers with a growing blush, “Hah, I don’t know—”

A slap to his shoulder pulls him from his flustered trance. When he furrows his brows in confusion at the quick turnaround, he’s met with a killer glare from you. 

“You’d let her touch you like that?!” you gawk in dramatics. 

Oh, right. This is a test.

With a mere lingering touch of your fingertip, Megumi had already forgotten the task at hand. You were tricking him. This wasn’t supposed to be a caress from his lover, it was one of calculated malice. 

He clears his throat, “No, I’m letting you touch me like that.” 

“I’m not me right now,” you remind him. “I’m a random girl who is absolutely not your girlfriend.”

With understanding, he nods and straightens his posture where he sits. You back up from him, ready to enter the scene once more. 

“Try again.”

This time is different. You sit directly next to him on the couch, far closer than he’d let a stranger sit, but he can smell your citrus shampoo and it makes his insides jump. But if you’re not supposed to be you, then he should move, or maybe tell you to move, or—

“You here alone tonight?” you finally speak up, turning to give him your best sexy eyes. 

He’s more prepared this time, more confident in his lines now that he knows you’re playing dirty. “No, m’with my girlfriend.”

“Well, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?”

You take a sock-clad foot and rub it slowly up his calf, expecting him to kick you away at the innocent game of footsie. Instead, you watch like a hawk as Megumi adam’s apple struggles to swallow a hearty breath.

You can’t help but smile as you point an accusatory finger. “What was that?!”

“What?” he shies behind the collar of his sweatshirt. 

“You’re nervous!”

“Because it’s you!”  

With both of you now worked up for different reasons, Megumi eyes the playful pout on your lips. He grabs your wrist before you can childishly turn and sulk away.

The look you shoot him doesn't read impressed but still brings a soft grin to his flushed face.

“One more chance,” he asks, though it's more of a statement than it is a question. 

After a moment of thought you sigh, and Megumi smiles a victorious grin as he prepares himself to absolutely nail this final run-through of your stupid, silly, pointless game. 

He’s confident. Ready for any curveball you could throw at him. He watches you, stoic, as you saunter your way over to him. He patiently waits for a light touch, a feathery giggle, a lame pickup line of some sort. He’s ready, he can handle it. 

And like the anomaly you are, Megumi is proven wrong once again when you drape yourself across his lap and look him dead in the eyes with a crude tongue.

“You gonna fuck me or what?”

“Oh my god.”

He sucks in a harsh breath at your unexpected vulgarity. You laugh loudly into his neck and Megumi shakes his head at your antics. He’s grateful you're laughing, both that the sound is tickling his ears and the results of his test are the cause of the noise. 

“You’re supposed to push me off,” he feels you playfully whine into his skin, “be disgusted by anyone who’s not me.”

“I am,” he insists, a little too quickly. “But it is you, and I’m not that imaginative so sue me if my girlfriend climbing on my lap and touching me doesn’t make me a little nervous.”

The confession is practically muttered into your hairline, and his shyness makes your stomach flutter with pride. No matter how long you’ll be loved by Megumi, flustering him will always be undeniably rewarding.

“Fine,” you huff. “You passed, barely.”

Megumi beckons your head to rise with a slight buck of his shoulder. You comply without restraint and a sweet peck is placed on your lips.

“Thanks,” he quips.

Another kiss is returned to him, and before you know it, you’ve slowly been guided onto the top of his lap and now straddle his hips with an intensity that could only be linked with pure need. It’s slow, not rushed or sloppy, but desperate and calculated in all movements. Every flick of the tongue, every exhale into one another’s mouths, every whimper and whine and subconscious grind of your hips. 

You pull away for a moment to linger above your lover’s puffy lips. His breath is a bit short, but he lets you tease him for a few counts. 

Your mouth turns upward in a sultry smile, “Do you want a reward?”

Megumi just barely closes the space between your lips as he whispers down your throat. 

“No,” he smirks, before flipping you off of him and onto an empty cushion to his left, “I have a girlfriend.”

[dreamtofus]

Broken Tension

Author's Ramble: i kinda did a spin on it cus it was hard to imagine daryl doing anything ever (im delu). anyways i'm literally struggling but i guess writing is like a fresh breath!! i actually write poetry but im insane so i'd rather post my stories for crazy people rather than my beautiful knotted strings of words. (guys someone tell me if second person present or third person past is better)

Prompt: Daryl x Reader smut but the kids interrupt (there's no smut sorreee)

Summary: You and Daryl seem to have something going on and try to take it upstairs, only to find a surprise awaiting you

Contains: Slight mention of alcohol, pretty gender neutral I think , Carl and Judith mentioned

Word Count: 435

The stairs creek with pressure as your hands intertwine, leading him up the stairs, a light jog set in your pace. You recall the moment previously shared with Daryl, only to feel the apples of your cheeks warm in response. You're grateful the hallway is dim.

Flushing your brain for the recent memory, you had found yourself grabbing his neck to push him closer, protected from Deanna's partygoers by a sturdy green bush. The rough pebbles and debris poked your knees, but how could you mind when Daryl was compressing his rose lips against yours? When the two of you decided the lack of privacy was suffocating, you wrapped his hand in yours, leading to your house.

Your foot lands on the final step of the wooden planks, resulting in a whining screech. Your back hits the wall as a large chest presses you against the wall. He's sloppy, messy, sensual, and maybe slightly buzzed. Once you press away he takes the hint, leading you to your bedroom.

The wide knobby oak plank door is pushed open by a sturdy hand. You follow him, only to hit your nose between his lower shoulder blades. Taken aback by the sudden halt, you look around him to meet a surprising duo.

Judith smiles sweetly at you, while Carl adorns a jackass smile.

You take a stride away from Daryl and into the room.

"Hey, what's up?" You smile bashfully, like a child caught in the act of something forbidden.

A flustered red adorns the apples of your face.

Carl slightly wiggles his eyebrows, slowly giving you a sly smile as his eyes slowly dart between you and Daryl. Judith doesn't suspect anything, much to your relief. Daryl situates himself against the door frame, biting the side of his thumb.

Judith casually looks up at you, "We left my books here. Sorry..."

"It's quite late. I'm sure your parents would like you both home soon." Your lips purse into a tight and awkward slight.

The little girl nods and collects her books, you pat her back when she walks past you. Daryl shifts, allowing Judith to exit with Carl on her heels. Carl doesn't miss the opportunity to wink at Daryl (getting a shy grunt in return), before closing the door behind him.

An idle moment of silence passes between the two of you, allowing the sound of the front door shutting to be heard. You pace towards Daryl and cup his face between your hands in a schmaltzy manner. You lean into a slotted soul kiss as his hands find the waist of your figure.

Tags: @kdogreads

[rorywritesjunk]

Let's be one another's present tense

Buggy 'rescues' you from an abusive situation, and after a less than stellar introduction, he has you audition for his crew to keep you safe. You want safety, security, and joining a circus seems like the best idea. Rating: R-ish for now. Warning: First chapter has bruises and talks about abuse (not from Buggy), though Buggy has his explosive moments. There's an asshole much older ex-husband in this story. Swearing. Nose bonks. A/N: This has been sitting in my head as I worked it out for an Anon's request. I have been really intrigued by this and wanted it to be just right. Also, it gave me the chance to ask my circus obsessed friend about different routines and we bounced some ideas off each other. This is also a touch different than other things I've written, which is why I've been taking so long to work on it and get it posted. Enjoy! Title comes from "Crater Lake" by Lady Lamb.

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 (NC-17) + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13

Chapter 1

“So we have a deal then?”

“Yes… yes, we have a deal.”

The clown pirate grinned at the old man sitting across from him. Buggy cheerfully cut a chunk out of the apple in his hand with his knife, tossing it into his mouth before he suddenly slammed the knife down onto the table, letting it stick into the wooden table top. The old man jumped while you flinched as you stood beside him. The bartering to keep the town safe from Buggy and his crew had finally finished and now it was just an uncomfortable time to be in the room.

Buggy looked at you and winked before he retrieved his knife, turning his attention back to the old mayor. “That your daughter there? She’s cute.” 

“No, she’s my wife.” He replied; Buggy had just taken a bite of the apple only to spit it out across the desk at the man in mock surprise. The man did his best not to react while you covered your mouth with a look of disgust on your face.

“Wife?” Buggy chuckled. “You have one foot in the grave and you’re married to someone who looks young enough to be your daughter?” He shook his head. “And people think pirates can be disgusting. They don’t really care what their local politicians are up to, do they?” Buggy took another bite of the apple, giving you a once over before he grinned. “Throw her into the deal.”

“I-I suppose we-” The mayor started but you cut him off.

“No, I’m not going with some disgusting pirate like you!” You snapped. “Who knows what you would do to me!”

Buggy locked eyes with you in that moment, the playful attitude gone and replaced with something you couldn’t quite figure out. He stood up and approached you, knife in one hand and apple in the other. The mayor just sat and watched, trembling in his seat, refusing to do anything to protect you. The captain smiled at you as the knife cut into the apple; you could hear the fruit cracking from the force of the knife, saw the juice spill over his fingers, soaking into his gloved hands.

“What did you say about my nose?” He asked, voice eerily calm as he tossed the bit of apple into his mouth. 

“I didn’t say anything about your nose.” You spat as you looked him up and down, crossing your arms. “Though I doubt I could say anything about it that you haven’t heard before.”

He smiled at that before raising the knife up and throwing it into the wall behind you. You turned to see where it landed but his hand was on your throat, backing you up to the wall and next to the knife. Buggy held you there for a moment, the smile disappearing as his hand tightened its hold on you. 

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you.” He murmured as you grabbed his hand with yours, trying to pull him off you. Buggy suddenly smirked and let go of you. “You’ll fit in with my crew. Though, I should warn you, every time you mouth off I cut off a bit of your tongue.”

You rubbed your throat, breathing heavily as you turned to your husband. “You’re… you’re just going to let him take me?!”

“He’ll destroy the town if I don’t!” The mayor wailed. “I can’t allow that to happen! Sa-Sacrifices have to happen!”

“I’m not a sacrifice!” You exclaimed as your hand went to where Buggy was just touching you. You felt… weird from that, never having been touched in that manner before. You were used to aggression, pain, fear. His touch was… strong but there didn’t seem to be malice, but more of a performance. He caused you discomfort but there wouldn’t be a bruise left on you from him that you could tell. You shook your head and looked back at Buggy. “What do you plan to do to me?”

“Target practice, maybe.” Buggy shrugged. “I got this new thing I wanna try where I cut off a volunteer’s clothes with my knife throwing, y’know. Getcha right where the seams of your clothes are and see if I can cut through them.” He looked you up and down as he reached out to touch the fabric of your blouse. “Though, this is nice fabric, I don’t know if I want to risk damaging it.”

You slapped his hand away before turning to slap your ‘husband’. He recoiled at your touch but you didn’t care. He had no issue giving you up to some dirty pirate like this. Sacrifice? You were not some animal to be led for slaughter, you were a person, and you would take out Buggy and his crew even if it killed you. As you turned to face Buggy, he was already at the door of the office, but a hand was in front of you, holding a small red ball. With a squeeze, red smoke burst out of it and everything went dark.

~

The rope around your wrists was tight, scraping and irritating your skin. You were groggy as you came to but you were on a soft surface, fabric rubbing against your cheek almost comfortingly as you tried to get your head to stop spinning and for the nausea to cease. It took a few minutes for you to recall what your last moments were. Slapping a hand, your ex-husband, and some kind of smoke. 

Oh shit you were captured by a pirate. A clown pirate with a bright red nose who was sensitive about it.

You moved your tongue around in your mouth, relieved that it was still whole. He didn’t cut it out yet, but was that empty threat or was he really going to do it? And what was he actually planning on doing with you? Stories often went around about pirates and what they were known to do to their prisoners, and you had heard many of them to give you some idea what to expect. Would he kill you after he was done with you, or would he kill you first and toss you into the sea to be food for the fishes and sea kings?

Heavy footsteps were approaching your room. You shut your eyes, hoping whoever it was would see you were asleep and would leave you alone. 

Except that was expecting too much. 

“Get up.” Buggy said as he walked over to the bed and grabbed the rope, pulling you into a sitting position. You glared up at him and he smirked, patting you on the cheek just enough to emit sound without the sting of a slap. “Rise and shine, cupcake. We need a new freak out there and you gotta earn your keep.”

“I will do no such thing.” You snapped as he pulled you up to your feet. Your body was still feeling the effects of the smoke and when you stood up you were off balanced, falling into him. To your surprise, he caught you, steadying you on your feet before he led you out of the room and down a walkway to another. You didn’t want to follow him, choosing to let your legs give out and falling to the floor. He stopped and turned to look at you.

“Really?” He shook his head and picked you up, slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “You haven’t even had one performance and you’re already acting like a diva.” 

“Excuse me?!” You wriggled around, trying to get him to drop you, but he laid his hand over your back, steadying you as he walked. “Put me down now!”

“You seem to think you can tell me what to do, cupcake.” He chuckled as his hand slid from your back down to the top of your ass. Without warning he gave you a pinch, causing you to yelp in surprise. “You may have been that loser mayor’s wife, but here? You’re just another freak like us.”

He set you down in a chair and stood behind you. There was a mirror in front of you with lights all around it. You didn’t want to be looking in the mirror right then, seeing the bruises on your face, the black eye that was healing, or the cut on your cheek that was scabbing over. You shut your eyes and took a deep breath. What was this clown playing at?

“Now, we both know I didn’t do that to your face.” He murmured as he put both of his hands on your shoulders and leaned down towards you. “That old man did, didn’t he?” He touched the cut and you jerked away. “Weird, he seemed scared of you back there.”

“He was scared of you.” You hissed as you opened your eyes to glare at him. Buggy put his hand on your other cheek and you flinched, jerking backwards and nearly headbutting him. “Don’t touch me!”

“Cupcake, I just gotta do your makeup.” He told you calmly as he moved just in time from getting a bloody nose. “Cover up your battle scars, y’know. Can’t have the audience thinkin’ we rough up our performers here.”

You jerked again in your seat, trying to get out of reach of him. You didn’t want him touching you, speaking to you, or being near you. You didn’t want to go home but you didn’t want to be here. Why did this happen to you? 

“Red lipstick would look wonderful on you, y’know.” He murmured as he leaned forward, looking at your face. “Or maybe I just throw you out there and let me and Cabaji practice our knife act on you.” He grinned. “I don’t want to waste makeup on you if you’re going to start crying out there.”

“Fuck you!” You spat as you threw your head forward, colliding with his nose. He reared back, swearing loudly as he clutched it while you slumped in the chair, dazed. You didn’t think it would do anything but he fell to the ground on his ass, stomping his feet in pain from the hit.

“Agh, you bitch! Why there?!” He shrieked, covering it with his hand as he tried to breathe through the pain. “Fuck, is your head a cannon ball? It felt like being hit by one!”

You lifted your bound hands to your head, rubbing your forehead. You could say the same thing about him, but then again you didn’t make it a habit of headbutting strange men. Your head felt a little rattled from the attack and the sharp pain in your forehead was throbbing.

“I didn’t think I’d hit your nose!” You shot back as you shut your eyes in pain. “Fucking asshole!”

He gave your chair a kick before getting to his feet, cursing you, headbutts, and noses before storming out of the room and leaving you by yourself. Your head was still hurting and you wondered if you were going to have a new bruise to add to the collection, but at least this one was from self defense, and you'd do it again to him if you had the chance. 

“Fucking clown.” You sighed as you leaned back in your seat. You needed to figure out what was going to happen next.

[stcverogers]

TOP GUN FIC RECS 7!

top gun fics that i’ve been reading and obsessing with over recently

this is extremely important and i take this very seriously out of respect for the community. please do remember to read the rules for the respective blogs before interacting with or reading them.

F: fluff A: angst S: smut

𖥻 - series /multi part

masterlist

JAKE 'HANGMAN' SERESIN

F: it's all about you by @bussyslayer333 the four times jake knew that his girl was the one he was going to marry, and the one time he made her his wife.

F: next thing you know by @disturbedbeautywrites you and jake met at the hard deck. in the blink of an eye, you're happily married with children you adore.

F: one man's loss is another man's gain by @sebastianstangirl01 jake would never thank rooster for anything other than leading his wife to him.

F: dad's shirt by @stargazing15 you and your daughter get jake a shirt for father's day, though she's more excited to wear it than him.

F + A: oh deer by @wkndwlff jake loved you, that he was sure of. out of fear of ruining your friendship, he kept that a secret. when you're in a car accident and jake almost losing you, he had to let you know.

F: i think there's been a glitch by @folkloreslovechild jake can't help who he is when he's around you.

F + A: 5 times hangman got older + 1 time he got wiser, too by @folkloreslovechild jake had always loved you, he just never realised it.

F: jake and his sweet wife by @fireinmoonshot

F + A: always a bridesmaid by @sugarcoated-lame when the dagger squad arrived at rooster's wedding, he had given them a stern warning to stay away from his baby sister. of course, jake is never one to listen to what bradley bradshaw has to say.

F: and i know when i need it i can count on you by @carnationworld-writings jake will do anything to help alleviate some of his pregnant wife's pain

F + A: you again by @ereardon you and jake were once in love, till he decided that you needed to break up. years have passed and you've both achieved your aspirations. will this then make room for both of you to rekindle that lost flame?

F: apple pie and you and i by @honeyhenry jake realises how fortunate he is when he's surrounded by the people he loves most, his family.

F: reunions by @gigisimsonmars you and jake haven't been together long and a pregnancy scare creates uncertainty about your relationship.

F + A: beach day by @harvestleaves jake's main concern will always be his girl, even if it meant skipping out on showing rooster up at dogfight football.

S + A: stay by @sere-sins jake never spent the night, but you needed him. so he'll stay, even if it's just for today.

A: pink light by @sushiwriterhere jake seresin, in all his blonde haired glory, had you wrapped around his finger. you loved him like the earth loved the moon. he didn't.

A: past the texas line by @allbark-no-bite jake will do anything for you, there is no line he wouldn't cross.

F: let me walk you home by @fireinmoonshot jake thought that tonight was finally the night that he would make a move on you. much to his dismay, you were preoccupied the whole night. he settles on walking you home.

F + A: the worst best man by @youvebeenlivingfictional jake seresin was already an insufferable man. pit him as best man while you've the maid of honour for a wedding, you were sure to be on the verge of pulling your hair out.

F + A: hung the galaxy by @creativeashproductions the last time you stepped foot in the city of angels, you had become a runaway bride. this time, you’re happily together with a fiancé you love dearly.

F + A: would that i by @uselsshuman jake, the ever loving partner, will always be there to clean up your accidents, no matter how big or small.

F + A: the olive theory by @eternalsams on every person’s 24th birthday, they will receive an envelope detailing who their soulmate is. you’re disheartened when the contents of the letter doesn’t describe jake.

BRADLEY 'ROOSTER' BRADSHAW

F + A: i don’t know, blame the air force? by @gretagerwigsmuse you are hopeful in getting your end of year bonus, only to find out a big chunk of it was going to the defence budget. it didn't help that you were dating a military man.

F + A: days like this by @sometimesanalice when you've had a terrible day, bradley is there to cheer you up

F: a little bit of courage by @callsignmeiga you and bradley have reached the point in your relationship where he's ready for you to meet his found family.

F: all of the girls you loved before by @wannabeschyulersister all of the girls rooster's loved before made him the one you've fallen for.

F + A: do you want me? by @ash5monster01 rooster assures you that he wants you as much as you want him.

F: sweet encounters + sweet tooth by @junkdrawerfics rooster's first time meeting you was with payback drunkenly stumbling into your bakery, screaming for your croissants.

F + A: bad idea by @sometimesanalice rooster sees the girl that had dumped him at the hard deck, flirting with someone who definitely did not deserve her.

F + A: just roommates by @risriswrites you and rooster were just roommates, till you weren't.

F + A: rescue me by @beccaanne814 bradley is left haunted by the events of the uranium mission and seeks comfort in the one person who can give it to him.

F + A: ruffling feathers by @helloheyhihowdyheya yours and rooster's feud didn't just exist in the air.

F + S: baby come close by @bradshawsweetheart you trust bradley with all your heart, deciding that you are ready to take your relationship to another level.

F + A: pick your battles 𖥻 by @intoanotherworld23 your relationship with bradley ended on a bad note, cruel words were spat and feelings were hurt. you're both called back to topgun for a suicide mission and tensions arise.

F: baby on my left, wife on my right by @popcornlover wanting to be carried from the car into the house, you and your daughter pretend to be asleep

F: stuck on you by @teowritesthings bradley gives you the sweetest morning surprise.

BOB 'ROBERT' FLOYD

F + A: my girl by @rlphunter phoenix sets you up on a date, not knowing that you are secretly dating her backseater.

F: fix it by @lovingperfectionsblog bob was not good with women. he also should have known better than to seek advice from womaniser, jake seresin.

F: you gift bob flowers by @peachystenbrough

F: wicked game by @icegirl03 you and bob slow dance in the living room

F: baby, i'm yours by @superhornetbaby bob dials up the endearment when he's drunk

MICKEY 'FANBOY' GARCIA

F: 512 by @bonitanightmxres you've always thought that the guy living in apartment 512 was cute. you finally gather the courage to ask him out.

[brayneworms]

cold as ice, baby | hinata hajime

kinktober day one: fingering

word count. 2.9k

content. MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI, trans!hinata, gender neutral reader, fingering, established but new relationship, kissing, no real power dynamics but hinata likes being in control, biting, reader doesn't get touched but it's implied at the end

♪ freak - lana del rey.

kinktober mlist | regular mlist

Some days, Hajime's self-loathing is no joke.

It feels like the heat in Jabberwock intensifies it sometimes. Sort of... bastes it. Like it's cooking in its own filthy greasy residue and making him feel all oily and gross and hot. So, so hot. Under that stupid sun he cooks, and he sweats, and he feels like they can all smell it on him.

Probably not though. He showers every day, and nobody gets close enough to try.

It makes him feel a little sick, is all. How much he wants you sometimes. He feels gross, barely a step above Hanamura or maybe worse. He feels like he should go to jail sometimes for the way he ogles you. It's a hot island, so sometimes you have so much skin out, shoulders and legs, gleaming from sunblock lotion, slightly tacky from the whitish paste. Or the sea salt in your hair, or the chapstick you'd loaned from Saionji on your lips, apple and cinnamon. Or the swimsuits. Hajime's mouth goes dry.

He does not want to think about you in swimwear. Because then he's not going to stop thinking about you in swimwear, and it'll lead somewhere bad, which is the whole fucking issue, really.

You're so new, the both of you. He's liked you for ages, but you've only been official for a month or so. He can't just pounce on you like a starving lion. Even though he wants to. Even though he really, really wants to.

He watches you sit cross-legged with Tanaka to feed his hamsters, or get a piggyback from Owari with her strong hands on your thighs, or sit down and braid Ibuki's hair into loving little plaits, your fingers skating over the pale skin of her neck and scalp.

And it does something to him. He imagines your hands, smoothing down the tawny skin of his arms, his waist, encircling his ankles, gripping his throat, buried in his hair. He looks at your fingers and imagines them balling up the stupid standard-issue bedsheets underneath you. He sees you stretch out your legs and sees them bent in half, over his shoulders, around his waist like a vice, your pretty eyes clenched shut, your pretty mouth hung open.

Heat pools in the pit of his stomach.

Avoiding you and taking a lot of cold—unforgivingly cold—showers makes for a good temporary solution, but oh look, hasn't he just shot himself in the foot and scored a home goal with it? Because it just means you come knocking on his cabin door looking for answers.

At night.

When everyone's asleep, and you're alone, and he's only wearing his boxers because of this stupid perpetual heat.

"Have I done something wrong?" you ask, your voice all small and hurt, and Hajime wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

"No! Nonono," he blurts out in a panic, and he steps aside to let you in like a moron, like the idiot he so clearly is. It's not the first time you've been in his cabin, obviously, but it's night and you look all soft and vulnerable and he thinks you're freshly showered because he can smell the coconut bodywash you like to use.

But then reality breaks through because you look—honestly hurt, crossing your arms and shifting your weight from foot to foot, avoiding his eye, and then Hajime mostly just feels like a huge piece of shit.

"I'm sorry," he sighs, and pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes in a gesture of weariness. "It's—it really isn't anything you, uh, did. It's me. I'm just... weird."

"Weird about what?" you press, stepping forward. "C'mon, you can tell me. Whatever it is, we can just... talk it out."

You're so sweet. "It's—uh, honestly, it's just kinda really embarrassing. And stupid. And... weird. And I really don't wanna weird you out, or like, make you think I'm... something I'm not, 'cause I'm not, like, the thing that you're gonna think I am but I just—"

"Hajime." Your hands on his shoulders, clamping down. The warm soft skin dimples between your fingers. Hajime's voice dies in his throat. He stares on, cheeks cherry-red, entirely too hot, sweat collecting unpleasantly on the nape of his neck. "I can guarantee nothing you tell me is going to freak me out, or whatever it is you're scared of. And I can see it's clearly... weighing down on you."

You're so nice. Weighing down on you is such a nice choice of words. In reality he probably looks constipated from stress.

"It's just—" His tongue flicks out nervously to wet his lips, and your eyes absently flit down to track the movement, oh fuck, "It's just..." Bad idea bad idea bad idea. "I kind of... I don't want to come on too strong and... scare you off."

Your brow knits; he thinks he sees some sort of understanding fall into place behind your eyes, but it's kind of distant. "Come on too strong how?"

His blush spreads from his cheeks to the tip of his ears, down his neck. "I... ahaha..." The nervous breathless stupid laugh he gives makes him want to strangle himself. "Y-you know. When I'm around you, I..." He swallows hard. "It—I can't help but think about... stuff I shouldn't."

He sees the moment it clicks into place for you; the slight widening of your eyes, the parting of your lips. "A-ah."

Mortification floods him like a tsunami. "Sorry! Fuck, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I never should've—" He's burning alive, he's actually baking like one of Hanamaru's luxury strips of meat that he slowcooks in the oven for hours on end so the whole hotel building ends up stinking of fucking, chicken and stock and rosemary all day—

"Hajime, hey." Your hands squeeze on his shoulders. "Just—breathe for a sec, please, you're freaking me out but not for the reasons you think you are."

Hajime gulps, eyes you nervously, and takes in a few desperate pulls of air. He feels small, like he's actively shrinking.

"First of all. It's not... like, weird, you know, to f-feel that kind of stuff in general," you say, incredibly haltingly like it's very awkward for you. "But it's even less weird when you're actually, you know, in a relationship, and I—I don't want you to feel weird about this, that's all, or about telling me when you're—you know. Because I'd be down. I mean, to help. Assuming that's what you want, I mean."

Hajime stares at you. His brain abruptly throws up its hands, bluescreens, and goes for a smoke break.

"Wha—wha?" he says intelligently. You smile fondly, the kind of smile that reminds Hajime why he fell in love with you in the first place.

"Do you want me to help you out?" you repeat, very clearly, and Hajime buries his face in his hands. Heat shoots through him like liquid lightning, illuminating every pore of his body. He can feel it gather between his legs.

"You don't have to," he mutters, heart thumping against his ribcage.

"Hajime," you say pleasantly. "D'you think you're the only one who's had to hold themselves back?"

It's pure, unadulterated shock that makes him lift his face out his hands to gawp at you, but the moment he does you cup his face with both of your hands and kiss him. He wonders if you can feel the heat of his burning skin on your palms, whether you care, and then your tongue is in his mouth and he stops wondering anything at all. He groans softly against your lips, and finally his useless hands move and he's grabbing, curling a fistful of your shirt in one hand and cupping the back of your neck with the other. He feels like he's been depriving himself of you for so long, and for fucking what? You feel incredible.

He walks you backwards until your knees his the frame of his bed and you're unseated with an undignified yelp. You bounce on the mattress, peering up at him. Hajime swallows hard. "Is this... okay? We don't have to—anything you want, God, anything—"

You put two hands on his waist, just above the waistline of his boxers, and Hajime stammers to a halt. He gazes at you, wide-eyed, brilliantly red. You press your lips to the skin just under his navel and his stomach sort of convulses at the sensitivity, and you keep going, down the trail of hair that disappears behind the waistband of his underwear, kissing over the fabric until you get to—

Hajime jolts and swears. His hands clench reflexively into fists at his side. "Lay down," he bursts out, and then flushes deeper. "Uh... please. If you want to. I—"

You giggle and pry your hands off him, leaving him feeling colder than ever. Hajime watches, mouth dry as you drape yourself lazily over his bed. Your sleep short ride up your thighs, the collar of your shirt dips down, and all the skin is making his head dizzy. He clambers over you a little clumsily, hitting your knee with his with a thud that makes you wince.

"Sorry!" he panicks, hands fluttering nervously over your leg. "Sorry, did that—that was an accident, I—"

"It's okay, it's okay," you laugh, the back of your hand covering your mouth. "Jeez, Hajime. Relax a little maybe."

His flush must be crawling down his chest at this point. "Yeah. Maybe." He glances around. "Kind of hard."

"Is it?" you ask with a pointed glance at his boxers. He groans, but the levity is extremely welcome, makes him feel less anxious. Reminds him it's just you, and you would never seriously laugh at him. Reminds him that he's safe.

"Is it okay if I'm—I mean." He wipes his clammy palms surreptitiously over his thighs. "I feel better when I'm more... in control. Y'know?"

You smile up at him. "That's fine with me. Are you going to boss me around now?"

Hajime laughs feebly, glancing away. He thinks it's a reasonable pretense that the idea doesn't make him ten times wetter.

He kneels between your legs and kisses you. You're so soft, skin warm and pliant and fresh from the shower. He can't hold back a moan when your tongue slips against his, and when your hand slides over his waist again, the pinky finger of your hand grazing the band of his underwear, he finally plucks up the courage to grab your wrist and drag it.

He lets out a choked sound into your mouth as your pliant hand slides between his legs. Pulling back from the kiss, panting hotly against your mouth. "Okay?" he asks hoarsely. "Please, oh my god, I need... only if you want, only if you want to..."

Your hand twitches to life inside the tight grip of his fist, and you skim your fingers over the wet spot of the fabric of his underwear.

Hajime shudders, dropping his head into the crook of your shoulder. "Ah... oh, fuck..." His shaking hand drops your wrist, reprimanding himself fiercely for maybe grabbing you too hard, but you didn't say anything, but he shouldn't just grab you and lead you like you're cattle, he opens his mouth to apologise when you cup his cunt through his boxers and he loses the ability to do anything at all. Anything other than moan into your skin, starting to get salty from the heat and the proximity, and he goes delirious with the idea that he's ruining you a little. Like you've just showered, you'd scrubbed your body all over with lovely scented soap and he's going to undo it methodically, deliberately, and you're going to let him, when it's all over you're going to smell like sweat and him and you'll have to clean all over again.

It's an intoxicating thought, the idea that someone as soft as you would let someone like him mess you up.

Your hand slips under the waistband of his underwear, follows the trail of hair down and finding him soft and hot and dripping wet. Hajime curses as your fingers skate almost curiously over his clit, his folds.

"Oh shit," you curse, mumbling almost more to yourself. "Y-you're so wet."

He makes a high, embarrassed noise in the back of his throat, eyes clenched shut, and his hips rock up into your hand in a gesture that feels inherently needy.

Despite his grossly obvious urgency, you take the time to bring your fingers back to your mouth and press them inside. Hajime watches, slack-jawed, pupils blown. When you take your fingers out, they're gleaming wet, and you grin at him. "You taste amazing."

Hajime is assaulted with all new images; your head between his legs, his hand on the top of your hair or tangled in your hair. Your tongue, soft and skilled against him, dripping spit and cum onto the carpet, and he has to stuff his knuckles in his mouth to stop himself moaning out loud. Sweat drips off his forehead and lands on your chest.

"Y/n," he croaks. "I'm gonna lose my mind."

You smile almost shyly, as if you didn't just have your fingers in your mouth right in front of him. "O-okay. Okay. Just, um... okay, I got it."

Hajime swallows hard. "Y-you're still sure?"

"I'm so sure," you tell him earnestly. And with that your hand glides down, over his collarbones, the twin scars arching beneath his breastbone, down his tense stomach and under his boxers again. This time, your fingers move with purpose. They roll over his clit and down the centre of his folds, parting them, dipping inside just slightly before coming back up. He feels a shivering mix of pain and pleasure as two of your fingers circle his clit, an indication that he's almost too sensitive; he feels like he's on fire, like forks of lightning are emanating from the vertice between his legs, and he lets out choked, high noises against your throat.

Mindlessly, it seems, his hips roll against your head, seeking something more. You take the initiative to prod with one finger, dipping lower from the other before teasing at his entrance. His thighs shake and part slightly for you, and you slip inside without another word.

The breach feels like breathing for the first time; he's so wet and so sensitive that you slide inside with barely a hint of pain, easing in up to the first knuckle.

"Ohhh god," he groans, feeling mindless, feeling weightless. "Ohgodohgodohgod..."

"What should I—"

"More," he nearly begs. "I want you inside."

The word should be embarrassing, but they just aren't. Not in front of you. You get your finger in slowly, inch by inch until your knuckles press up against him and he's clenching the sheets with his free hands.

He almost convulses when your finger curls up like it's searching for something; it presses against a spongey spot inside him and he whines from somewhere deep in his chest, and he hears you swear to yourself as you start moving in and out.

"Nngh, oh—hah..."

Oh he's gonna die. Your fingers are inside him. He's gonna fuckin' die—

One turns to two turns to three, your thumb rolling constant circles over his clit, sometimes catching so sensitively that he has to bite back whimpers. There's the stretch and the burn but even that is okay, feels good after a few moments. He feels distantly really bad that he's not touching you, but he will after, fucking hell he will after, whatever you want him to, he'd kiss the fuckin' ground you walk on for making him feel so good right now. All too soon he feels the familiar tightening in his stomach like a band.

"H-hey," he gasps out. "I think I—I'm c-close, so..."

"O-oh," you say, sounding equally breathless. "It's okay."

Your fingers push up into him, curling almost viciously into that spot inside him just as your other hand taps his jaw and guides his face to yours for a kiss. It's barely more than panting against each other's lips as your thumb presses down hard on his clit.

"Fuck, fuck," he cries. "Fuck, you're so fuckin'—so perfect—'m cumming, shit—"

He sobs out as he cums, alight from the inside out, shaking like he's just been hit by lightning. The pressure is so much that he needs an outlet, his finges pressing bruising marks into your hip and thigh, and he turns his head and bites down almost feverishly on your collarbone.

You tap his arm with a yelp, fingers jerking inside him as he starts to come down. He can feel his release dripping down his inner thighs and he lifts his head groggily.

"Shit," he mumbles eloquently, staring at the teeth mark on your skin. He didn't break skin, thank fuck, but he still feels mortified. "Sorry. Oh my god, sorry. That was—that was a total accident, I..."

"Ah, it—it's okay." You swallow hard. "Was that..."

Hajime shakes his head dazedly. "Amazing," he croaks. "Y-you're amazing." He gets the werewithal to roll off you with his shaking limbs so his weight isn't pushing into you anymore.

You let out a long, slow breath. "Was pretty amazing for me too."

Hajime glances at you with a trickle of amusememt. "Not yet it wasn't."

Your brow scrunches in confusion—but realisation dawns when you feel his hand slide up your thigh. In his eyes is a question, one that you nod hastily to. Hajime grins weakly.

"Good," he breathes. "As soon as I get my breath back, it's your turn." And it sounds like the sweetest thing ever when he adds, a moment later with a twist of that characteristic cockiness that leaps out at the most inopportune of moments: "I can't wait to see how pretty you're gonna look when I make you cum."

[elliesmainhoe]

Happy Mothers Day!!

HBO!Ellie Williams X MotherFigure!Reader

THIS CHARACTER IS UNDER 18 SO THIS FIC IS STRICTLY PLATONIC!!!!!!!

Summary: The first mothers day Ellie has ever celebrated and she's going to make sure that it's amazing.

Contents: tooth rotting fluff, happiness, extreme cuteness

Pancakes were supposed to be simple. Key word supposed.

Ellie woke up at the ass crack of dawn that morning, she had set her alarm clock for 6m and had switched yours off- discreetly forcing you into sleeping over time. She'd gathered all the ingredients the recipe had told her. Said recipe having been ripped out of the book they were originally in and found laying near a library a little outside of Jackson.

Ellie had squeezed fresh apple juice as she waited for the first pancake to cook through. A bad habit of Ellie's was losing track of time, she got carried away, squeezing the apple juice lead to her finding cutlery which lead to her cleaning said cutlery which lead to finding the right tray to put the silverware on. Ending up with the smell of burning flooding the kitchen.

She slammed the kitchens door, attempting to stop the smoke from wafting through the house alerting you of her antics and waking you up. She opened the window, the chilly air ventilating out the smell of smoke before she turned off the stove.

To say the pancake was a little crisp would be a bit of an understatement.

Shit. She only had enough for two, one for you, one for her. Oh well... She'll have the burnt one, today's about you anyways.

Take two was a little more successful a bit crisp on the edges but it'll do. She flopped them onto the two blue and white china plates- covering yours in fruit and hers in chocolate, balancing them on a wooden tray with the two glasses of juice before she took to the stairs.

She nudged open the door with her foot as she walked into the dark room, curtains closed and blocking out the ever insistent sunrise from seeping into your bedroom.

Cautiously, she placed the tray on your bedside table quietly before tiptoeing over to you window and drawing the curtains apart- the warm glow of the morning lightening the space.

Ellie watched as your eyes fluttered open. "Fuck kiddo. What time is it?" You grunted rolling over to look at your alarm clock 7:45am. 1 hour and 30 minutes late for patrol. Before you opened your mouth the soft voice of your daughter interrupted you.

"Don't worry Mom... I talked to Maria and she cancelled your patrol today" her hand gestured towards the tray of overlooked pancakes, before she whispered a shy "Happy mothers day mama..."

"Oh sweet girl come here" you opened your eyes as a blur of brown hair launched itself at you, her arms wrapping around you and giggling when you pecked her forehead lovingly.

"I tried to make you breakfast. It's not the best but-"

"It looks amazing kiddo. Thank you so much_ you smiled into her hair, before scooching up the bed- your back meeting the headboard as you move the tray onto your lap.

You took a bite of the fruit covered pancake, and honestly you couldn't tell whether or not Ellie was a culinary genius or you were just a smitten mother. Because fuck it tasted good.

Ellie's doe eyes looked up at you expectantly and with worry and anticipation. "Well done Ellie. This tastes so so so so good. You gotta cook for me more often now kid." You hummed, she seemed content with your answer.

"oh wait I got you something else" the girl said darting off your bed and out of the room before swiftly returning with what looked like... A sketch book? "I uh didn't really know what to get you and I thought you would enjoy something personal... So..." She shoved the sketch book into your hands "here."

You set your food aside, opting to open up the leather bound pad of paper instead. The first page read.

To Mom.

I know how much you like my drawings so I decided to put something together for you. Happy Mothers day.

Love Ellie.

You flipped to the next page and there was a beautiful sketch of you, sitting a the barstool of your kitchen island, glasses resting on the bridge of your nose as you read a new recipe

The next one was of you and Ellie. She had sketched out and traced the photo you both took in the malls arcade.

The next one was of a cartoon giraffe wearing a space suit on the moon.

It went on and on and on for 80 pages, sketches of you, her favourite things, her favourite hobbies, her favourite people it was so so so beautiful.

A single tear dripped down your cheek, "come over here baby" you sniffles hugging your girl tightly "my baby's so talented..." You hummed hands playing with her hair as she smiled joyfully.

"Thank you so much kiddo.."

---------------

I actually celebrated mothers day 2 months ago! But I have baby fever rn so here I am again, healing Ellie Williams mommy issues.

Taglist:@aunslie @lonelyfooryouonly @eywaskisses @daryldixonh0e @kittynnie @lovelyyevelyn @randomhoex @moonlightdivine @haerinwho @mufflaa @mial1l @sarahsmileslikesarahd0esntcare @moonlighting87 @escaping-reality8 @magicalfreakcowboylawyer @hejdevkdbdjsd @dergy @half-of-a-gay @ellieismami @cyberlainn @gollumsmygel @sseorii @kyleeservopoulos @taloulalila @ellieluhme @kiiyoooo @delusionalvioleht @joelscharm @hi2647 @gumdropkoo @coffeeandbookskeepmealive @womaniza @namgification @kimiisims-blog @tayyyystan @abigaillovestoread @whoreshores @kylieeluvstlou @knowitsforthebetterr @endureher @erikaar @lanasluverr @sayah13 @ilovebufflesbians @srryhoneyy @222fine444u

NOT PROOFREAD

[prettyyoungandbored]

I know your requests are closed but for when you have them open up can you please write a part two to this? I loved it and only just found it!

https://www.tumblr.com/prettyyoungandbored/693080581256462336/can-you-please-write-some-more-christian

Here’s to you, to everyone who gave the one shot some love, and to the movie’s 15th anniversary.

Pregnant [Bale!Bruce Wayne]: Part 2

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x Reader

Warnings: Takes place after the events of “The Dark Knight” so major spoilers.

Sequel to this story

NOT MY GIF

ONE YEAR LATER

Y/N opened her eyes, welcomed by the soft touch of moonlight peering through the bedroom window.

She glanced over her shoulder to find Bruce’s side of the bed empty and still untouched, indicating he had yet to come to bed.

She wasn’t surprised nor concerned, having spent years dealing with his Batman patrol. Even after Bruce gave up being the masked crusader and the two settled into Wayne Manor, there were some nights he spent wide awake.

Realizing she wouldn’t get some sleep for a bite, she threw off the covers and padded quietly down the hall into her baby’s nursery.

Damian Wayne was born in August and quickly became the apple of his parent’s eyes. He was the perfect blend of Bruce and Y/N and the happiest baby in the world.

The glow of the nightlight from inside the nursery peered into the hallway, indicating the door was open and that Bruce was more than likely in there. Sure enough, that’s where she found him. He sat in the rocking chair, cradling their sleeping baby boy in his arms.

“Look at my favorite guys,” Y/N cooed quietly. “Was he crying earlier?”

Bruce nodded, giving her a small smile. “I was up anyway. Figured I’d let you rest.”

She took a seat on the foot stool facing the chair, admiring the view in front of her. “I love seeing you with him. It’s my favorite thing in the world.”

“I could say the same about you,” Bruce remarked. “I love watching you walk around the manor holding him.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as her eyes met his. Even after all this time, his gaze made her melt into a puddle.

“Remember when I told you I was pregnant?” she brought up. “How terrified I was?”

Bruce’s chuckled. “It was the greatest thing you’d ever said to me. Besides, of course, ‘I do.’”

The memory played out in her head. “I spent the whole night fighting the urge to put my hand on my stomach. I didn’t want anyone to know.” She paused. “By the time I was about to tell Rachel, you threw me into a closet.”

He let out a small laugh. “I threw you into a closet to save your life.”

“Yes you did. Saved both of our lives.”

Bruce’s smile faded softly as he shifted their focus to their son.

Y/N avoided bringing up his Batman days, knowing that the end of it nearly killed him. It took him a long time to come back from it, and even then he still wasn’t fully back.

“You…” her voice trailed off

His eyes met hers. “What?”

“You’re still my hero. Despite everything, you are and always will be. Bruce Wayne was my hero before I knew about Batman.” She paused. “And as far as Damian is concerned, you’ll always be his.”

The soft gaze on his face nearly broke her. It was as if he’d waited a lifetime for someone to say that to him. His attention shifted to Damian.

“When you told me you were pregnant, I knew right then and there it all had to end,” he said. “My father spent more time fighting for the city and while he was present for me and my mother, it still was his biggest concern. I wasn’t gonna let that happen. Not with what happened to them.”

His eyes met hers. “I will always regret the way it ended. Always. It will haunt me for as long as I live. But walking away will never be something I regret. If it keeps my family safe, that’s all that matters.”

Y/N pulled back her lips, fighting the tears that pooled in her eyes. She knew he didn’t want to end it the way he did. Not when it cost two lives.

“Has it really been a year?” Y/N spoke up, a slight tremble in her voice.

Rachel’s death plagued the couple enough that by the time the one year anniversary had come, they were all cried out. Still, it hung over them throughout the day. The couple made a silent agreement to avoid acknowledging it.

That was until now.

“It has,” Bruce answered. “Still feels like yesterday.”

Y/N exhaled. “I think about her every single day.”

He reached his hand over, giving hers a squeeze as if to say he did too. He still couldn’t bring himself to say it, but he found other ways to express it that Y/N understood.

“Thank you,” he said. “Without you, I don’t think I would’ve survived.”

She squeezed his hand. “I wouldn’t have survived without you either.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too.”

[luveline]

hi lovely do you think you could write something similar to the thing you wrote about peter covering reader’s ears but do it with steve please? 💖

steve protects ur ears from the kids when they're too loud!! the whole gang but the plot of s4 never happened au ♡ 0.7k | fem!reader

Steve's gaggle of kids are amazing. All extremely intelligent, funny, caring and with a fascinating dynamic to them, the familiarly of family. Despite this, you hesitate when Steve asks if you want to go to a movie night he's hosting. 

"I don't know, Stevie," you say over the phone, red plastic biting your cheek. 

"Why not?" 

His disappointment is clear and unbearable. You don't like lying to him, and you don't want to tell the truth, either, so you freeze up. 

"Did something happen?" he asks worriedly. 

You shake your head and then realise he can't see you. "Uh, you know what? I thought I had the dentist, but that's next week." 

"Oh, awesome, so you're coming?" 

"Yeah… I'll be there," you say with a weak attempt at enthusiasm.

And now you're here between Steve and the arm, crushed, the sofa at dangerous capacity. Max sits at your feet with Lucas to her left, the popcorn bowl in her arms. They're laughing about something that just happened in the movie that you didn't catch. Dustin and Mike are arguing, Will sits tamely by Steve's other side. The kids have drifted to their honorary babysitter, and the friends your age have been fighting over the La-Z-Boy. 

Robin had refused to move, knowing somebody would take her seat, and almost peed her pants in efforts. She shouts in exasperation as she finally leaps up and Eddie slides straight into where she'd been. 

There's an ensuing argument, a burst of El's laughter, and it's so happy and you should be happy because you're all together, but your friends are just – so loud.

You watch in mild horror as Nancy reaches for the remote to turn up the TV. 

"Am I comfortable?" Steve asks.

You frown in confusion to realise that you've sunk into his side, shying away from the overstimulation. 

"Sorry," you say, cringing at the sound of your voice in your head. You swallow and that sounds worse. 

Steve pushes his foot under yours and hooks your ankles. "Yeah, you should be.  What do I look like to you, a throw cushion?" 

"You know, I was thinking your mom's taste in decor has gotten worse." 

"You're done," he says menacingly. 

You giggle and he smiles wide, like, wide.  His cheeks apple and his nose twitches with it. He has a cute nose. 

"I'm glad you're smiling," he tells you. 

"Why?" 

"You've been moody all day."

"Have not." 

"Have too." 

"Have not." 

"You're right, you were smiley this morning." 

You usually are around Steve. This had been before everybody arrived for the evening. 

He's watching you carefully, slightly smug, waiting for your answer to his teasing. Bad timing, something unexpected happens in the movie. It's a horror comedy and pretty horrific when it wants to be. The kids have all wound each other up and the surprise has them gasping, an anticipation for a final flinch. You shift further into his shoulder, ducking your head down. 

Steve wraps his arm around your shoulder and it's hardly unusual, but his hand grazes your neck and then he's bringing it to your ear, covering the shell carefully. 

Your eyes move back to his face, startled, and you jump bad when the kids finally scream. 

Steve frowns. 

"Guys," he says without taking his gaze from yours, "I have neighbours." 

"Do you? I thought this neighbourhood was just abandoned has-been golden kids with mommy issues," Robin says, deadpan. 

Steve brings you closer still as he turns to Robin, your face hugged to his chest. "That's too far." 

"Sorry," she says, not sounding sorry but looking it as she sets herself down on the armrest of the La-Z-Boy. 

Her eyebrows rise. 

"Is she okay?" she mouths.

Steve brings his free hand to your shoulder and rubs it, shrugging. He dips his head to yours. 

"Are you okay? Robin's asking." 

"Tell Robin I'm dying of influenza." 

He meets eyes with his best friend and mouths, "Diarrhea." 

"Fucking liar," she mouths back.

He starts laughing. You peek up at him, curious, still overwhelmed. Another gaggle of screams has your eyes squinting closed again. 

He doubles down on his affection and you relax only just. 

"It's too much?" he asks.

You shake your head.  

He tucks you into his side. "Tell me if it is, okay?" 

"Yessir," you whisper. 

He chuckles. "So polite," he teases, words sticky and quiet. If he relaxes under your embrace that's nobody's business but his.

[thisisourlovestory]

Safe and Sound

Finnick Odair x reader soulmate AU

Summary: you are a victor from district 4. The Quarter Quell has just been announced. How will you cope with the turn of events coming your way.

Wordcount- 3.9k

Notes- okay so this has taken a lot longer than I thought it would but it’s here now finally. And I have changed my url so I’m sorry if you thought this was some random person tagging you

Chapter 6

I woke up the next morning sprawled across my bed and tangled in the sheets. I stumbled up and made my way into the dining area, only bothering to wrap a dressing gown around myself so as to not expose my arms. Unfortunately Lysander greeted me much too cheerfully the second I stepped foot in the room, with a wide grin and loud words.

“Good morning!” He trilled. “Sit, sit and eat. You have an important day ahead of you.” I slumped down into a seat and grabbed an apple, biting into the crisp red skin and sinking my teeth deep into its flesh.

“So what did you get up to with the lovely Megara last night?” He inquired as an avox served him a plate of toast piled with eggs and cheese and ham. I judged his choice in food for a moment and then almost snorted as his words registered in my mind. He certainly wasn't being subtle at all I thought as Finnick and Mags entered and seated themselves. I took another bite out of my apple and grinned.

I stepped out of the bathroom in a pair of silk pyjama shorts and a loose top. Megara was sprawled across my bed, shovelling ice cream into her mouth as fast as physically possible. She noticed me and smacked the bed.

“Sit.” I sat. “Now spill. You and Finnick flipping Odair.” I sighed.

“Pass me a cupcake. No, not that one. No, no, yes. Thanks.” I peeled the case off and bit into it, the rich chocolate and caramel spreading across my tongue. “I found out when I first got it.” I showed her my wrist and she inspected it closely. “We were, well we were friends I suppose. After I won that is. I saw his once, it was an accident. I don’t think anyone else really knows he even had one.” I took another bite of my cupcake. “We kinda stuck together for a couple of years. He helped me through the aftermath and the nightmares and everything.” She looked at me curiously.

“So what happened?”

“Annie Cresta happened. When she won everything changed. You know how the boy she went in with that year was decapitated and she lost it?”

“Everyone knows, though the Capitol tries to brush over it.” I laughed quietly.

“Well when she came back she was absolutely broken. She couldn’t function by herself. So Finnick helped her. At first I knew it was necessary, she probably would have offed herself otherwise, but the days passed to weeks and weeks to months. He had just,” I breathed, “He had just left me and gone to her.”

Megara's mouth opened in a shocked expression.

“You would’ve been fifteen?”

“Almost sixteen.”

“And he just, what, abandoned you?” I shrugged.

“Love is weird. It comes and goes at the most unexpected of times and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.” She placed a hand on her forehead.

“Okay, sorry for interrupting. Please continue.”

“The nightmares came back, I spiralled, I spent I think two months here. Doing shows, staying as far away from them as I could. I mainly talked to Effie and Haymitch.” I smiled fondly. “They were really something. Always bickering and picking at each other like an old married couple. They made me laugh a lot, the only thing I laughed at really. Then it all changed again. But that’s not relevant.” I ignored her look and powered ahead. “I stopped talking to anyone, unless I had to, I wouldn’t say a word. I sang at shows but nothing more. And that was my life I guess. Not happy, not sad. It just was.”

Megara unexpectedly leapt across the bed and engulfed me in a hug.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to go through that.” She pulled away. “I can't imagine if I met my soulmate and then had to pretend like they meant nothing to me.” I smiled back at her sadly.

“Like I said, love is weird. And why would he want me when he has her.” With that I flopped down in bed and curled up in a ball. “Goodnight.”

“We didn't do anything interesting. I ate a bit then fell asleep. I was tired.” I smiled tightly at Lysander, a glint of challenge in my eyes before my gaze slipped to my plate and I took a second bite out of my apple. It tasted like ash in my mouth. “What's on the agenda today?” With that his eyes lit up and he beamed.

“Training.”

As it turned out, training was in fact the only thing on the agenda. I walked into the room and was greeted by the sight of the majority of the other tributes already showing off. My eyes flicked around the room for a second, Finnick was already bothering Katniss, the girl looked extremely unimpressed at him showing her how to tie a knot in the rope and didn't even try to hide her disgusted expression as he pretended to hang himself. I made my own way over to the survival skills section, I immediately picked up two pieces of wood and began to rub them together to little effect. Just as I was about to give up a shadow appeared above me.

“You have to rub quicker, and lower down.” Katniss took the sticks from me and demonstrated. “See.” I nodded slowly.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” With that she turned and made her way to one of the compartmentalised training rooms, grabbing a bow and a sheaf of arrows along the way. I watched from a distance as she put an arrow through each glowing hologram that appeared. I started as I saw one holding an axe and it immediately disintegrated, a small bolt of fear shooting through me. Were they supposed to represent us? My question was answered as another showed up holding a trident and resulted in the same fate. The closer I watched, I could see more similarities between the holograms and all the people stood watching. Johanna and Finnick were obvious, two appearing next to each other and reacting in sync, Cashmere and Gloss, one with long, sharp nails that none of the others had, Enobaria. A really burly one, Brutus and a couple of spindly ones, the morphlings.

Bile rose in my throat as Katniss annihilated them all. Then just as everyone thought the simulation had ended, a final hologram appeared. Smaller and thinner than all the others and it threw a golden blaze at her which she ducked and suddenly an arrow was lodged in it and it dissolved like all the others. It was clear that it was supposed to be. All the movements of the other holograms had been techniques the corresponding victors used in their games, the weapons they were most famed for using. And the Capitol had simply taken those moves and projected them into the simulation. But for me, the only moves I had back then were throwing that one knife and then my shoes. So that was what they had to use. I stayed frozen in my spot as the others stared at Katniss, contemplating looks in their eyes. I could see the cogs turning in their brains, they wanted her as their ally, who wouldn't to be honest. She was the favourite to win at the moment- perhaps also Finnick- and she would get sponsors upon sponsors. I watched her gaze pass over all of them to settle on me; I stared back at her blankly for a moment before she looked over to Peeta who stood watching her from the camouflage station, his arm covered in detailed paintings of rocks and tree bark. He smiled slightly and turned back to his work.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around to see a grinning Finnick.

“Quite the spectacle she's put on wouldn't you say?” He asked and I hummed in response. “She'd be a good ally.” I shrugged.

“I guess.”

“You guess?” He scoffed. “With an aim like that she could take out all of us in a matter of seconds.” My lip quirked upwards at his words. He didn't know just how true they were.

“I suppose, but if she was your ally, one wrong move and you'd be six feet under. But by all means, ally with the girl on fire; when she decides to kill you- don't say I didn't warn you.” I spun on my heel and strode away from him, my shoulder tingled where he had touched me and I felt a tug in my chest at the growing distance. It was as if the more time we spent around each other the more the- well I suppose the word that the Capitol used to describe it was a bond- the more the bond seemed to recognise us as soulmates and tried to drag us together. It was the only reasonable explanation for why he was talking to me.

I walked with my head down, stepping to the side to avoid bumping into other people. I made my way to a station where the two from district 3 had settled themselves at after struggling to light a fire and were fiddling around with wires and bolts. I sat myself down and picked up a few thin pieces of bronze metal. I twisted them together, intricately weaving them in a complicated pattern so they formed a pin of sorts. I twisted my hair up and stuck it through, the metal scraping along my scalp as I shook my head to make sure it was secure.

“The gamemakers won't be too impressed with that.” Beetee spoke quietly from beside me and I made a face.

“I don't really care. They're the ones hiding behind a forcefield.” His gaze sharpened.

“How do you know that?” I shrugged in response.

“The shimmer in the corners. Makes it look a bit like glass but they don't want us to know they're afraid of us and glass is too noticeable. Next best thing is a forcefield, I mean it uses a lot of the energy in this place. Zaps it like,” I snapped my fingers, “that, but most people won't know how to recognise it at all so they can keep up their pretences without worrying about one of us trying to murder them where they stand.”

Beetee stared at you for a second before a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“A scholar I see.”

“Just curious.”

“Not even some adults back home would be able to tell me that.” Beetee murmured. “You've done your research.” I looked up to the gamemakers.

“Well,” I spoke softly, scratching at my wrist absently,”you never know what they'll throw at you and it's always good to be prepared.” He hummed in assent as Wiress tugged on a loose strand of my hair, babbling nonsense under her breath. I gently extracted myself from her fingers and wished them a pleasant day, a hint of sarcasm in my voice, before I left them to fiddle with their little toys.

I found myself wandering through the huge building, mindlessly gazing around. My eyes flitting over the white surfaces, shining brightly in the even whiter light from the ceilings. All of a sudden I heard voices. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, was that Finnick and Haymitch? Talking to Plutarch Heavensbee? I listened intently, pressing myself against the wall next to the tiny crack in the door to hear better. My eyes gradually widened with each sentence that left their mouths, I couldn't believe it myself, I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't been hearing it directly from the source. They stopped talking and I ran. I sprinted down the corridors and to the lifts, frantically pressing the buttons as I entered and running out just as quickly. I didn't slow down until I slammed the door to my room shut and launched myself onto my bed, clutching a pillow so hard my knuckles started to turn white. They were planning to get Katniss out of the games and start a revolution. A revolution. My mind repeated those words for minutes, my mouth moving to spell it out in disbelief. Slowly the disbelief I felt faded into determination. They clearly hadn’t been about to tell me anything about it, I wouldn’t be included in their alliance. But I could sure as hell help.

Throughout the next couple of days, I woke up as early as possible to train without anyone watching me. I would take my ballet shoes down with me and wear them as I threw knives at the holograms, rise onto my toes and dance around them in circles until my feet were bleeding and bruised. The pain only made me work harder, if I could fight with my feet broken beneath me then I could run forever and wouldn’t feel a thing. On the last day before the games would begin I did the same as I had been. But when I had destroyed the holograms a hundred times over I didn’t stop, I dropped the daggers in my hands and closed my eyes as I spun and leapt. For the first time in years no one was watching me and I could just dance. Even on the train there had been cameras pointed at me but in the interest of not wanting anyone to get mad and try to kill them the gamemakers had left the training room cameraless. So I danced as if I was a child again and my mother was watching me from the door of the house cheering me on. And then I fell. My ankle gave out beneath me and I crashed to the floor. I landed on my side, my arms crossed to hold my head off the floor. I pushed myself up and undid my shoes; pulled them off my feet and stood up. When I fell I had accidentally pressed a button and holograms had appeared again. I reached down to grab the daggers again as they advanced towards me.

“You wanna play?” One of them threw the knife they were holding at me. It skimmed my cheek; I lifted a hand up to touch it. My fingers came away red and I laughed quietly. “Fine, I’ll play.” With that something inside me cracked and I leapt forward. I was like a hurricane as they all rushed at me and I weaved through the gaps leaving bloody footprints wherever I stepped. I rained down blow after blow on them, if holograms could bleed I would have been covered. But they couldn’t bleed and they couldn’t die, they just disintegrated into orange sparks whenever my blade hit home in their rib cages only for more to take their place. I dodged and threw and stabbed until I thought the simulation ended and I stood in the centre of the room. The air moved and in the blink of an eye I spun and struck, the last thing I saw of the hologram was the trident in it's hand. Then I heard the clapping.

I turned around quickly to see Johanna watching me. I quickly stepped outside.

“What do you want?” She grinned.

“Who knew you could fight princess. I’d actually be quite impressed if I didn’t think you’d payed for some poor Capitol bastard to teach you.” A hysterical giggle forced itself out of my throat and for a second an unreadable expression passed over her face like a cloud. I picked up my shoes by the ribbons and let them dangle by my legs as her eyes went to my feet. “Aww did standing up by herself for a moment make the princesses feet hurt?” I swallowed.

“You don’t know me Johanna Mason.” I spat. “You don’t know anything about me so do not make assumptions about things that you do not understand.” She watched me walk away, yelling after me.

“See you later princess.” I ignored her, focusing on not leaving a trail of blood back to the room.

A few hours later, after I had bandaged up my feet, I headed back down for the evaluations. The others were already there and I sat down at the end of a bench. Feeling eyes on me I looked up and locked eyes with Katniss, she stood up and made her way over to me. She sat down silently and I looked at the pin she had on her top.

“A mockingjay.” She looked up at me surprised.

“Yeah. How did you know?” I laughed.

“Some members of the Capitol have them as pets. Ones they managed to catch after the jabberjays bred with mockingbirds. They domesticated them and have them sing all day every day.” My voice turned sharp. “They don’t like being reminded of their failures so they turn them into spectacles.” My head turned as the robotic voice spoke ‘Y/N L/N report for evaluation.’ I stood up slowly and walked past Finnick who was exiting and into the training room. I was greeted by the sight of the gamemakers laughing and talking with each other, completely ignoring my presence as I made my way over to the weapons stand. One of them spared me a glance before dismissing me. They knew who I was and they didn’t think I was a threat. I took a step forward, narrowing my eyes and realised something. The force field was strong if it was concentrated, but it was only being held together by four balls that it was projected out of, one in each corner creating a screen. So it was strong at the outside but where it all met in the centre would be weaker. I grinned at my revelation and practically skipped back to the table with the knives on. I picked one up and balanced it on my finger, I quickly looked around and grabbed a long piece of rope, tying it around the handle. I twisted the end of the rope around one hand and pirouetted, as my head whipped to the front I let the knife fly through the air, right through the centre of the forcefield. It embedded itself in a piece of watermelon and then the wall. I gripped the rope harder and yanked towards me, I caught the knife and raised the dripping red fruit up to my mouth to take a bite as I curtseyed deeply, dipping my head and letting my foot slide as far behind as possible. I smiled sweetly at their horrified expressions. You can almost see the thoughts running through their heads I mused as I walked calmly out of the room, head held high.

I was waylaid by Lysander who dragged me back to the room and made Finnick and I sit until the scoring was announced hours later, I was almost falling asleep in my chair. Yawning widely and eyes drooping until the music sounded and I bolted up. The second Gloss’ photo appeared on screen with a score of 10 flashing under him my heart sank. My little outburst would probably not have gained me anything other than a low score. The rest of the careers had predicatably high scores, Brutus an 11 and Finnick the same. Lysander screeched happily at his score, patting him on the back furiously and I murmured my congratulations. Then it was my turn. My face appeared on the screen and a bright bold number 12 flashed underneath it. I spat out my water in shock and blinked rapidly as Lysander gaped at the screen. Mags patted me gently on the shoulder, giving me a small smile; Finnick leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.

“Congratulations angel.” The nickname shook me out of my trance.

“Angel?” He shrugged and gave me an easy smile.

“Yeah, you looked like an angel on the chariots and you certainly act like an angel, especially with that little girl.” His voice turned serious. “But something tells me you aren’t such an angel as everyone thinks you are.” My lip twitched and I forced it to stay in a straight line.

“Maybe you’re right.” I turned around, my back to him, his eyes searing into my skin as I whispered. “But some things cannot be determined with a passing glance.”

The next day was the day of the interviews. I was slumped in a chair, clad in a silk robe, as my prep team scoured my body. They perfected every imperfection they could find until my skin was like a blank canvas. All the while they chattered, asking me not so subtly about my evaluation score and even less subtly if I had a soulmate- thankfully they didn’t question my insistency that I covered my wrist while they ‘cleaned me up’. I ignored them for the most part until Priscilla began to waffle on about Finnick. I clenched my fists and tried to block her out, waiting for her to finish. But she wouldn't stop, she went on and on about him, his… relationships with Capitol women and then what a shame it was that he might die. My fingernails dug crescent moons into my palms until I felt pinpricks of pain and saw tiny specks of blood beading on my skin. I settled for fiddling with the robe until they left. The girls walked through the door giggling with each other as Quintus turned around to me.

“I understand how you feel.”

“What?” I asked confused.

“You have a soulmate yes?” I nodded slowly. “But he either doesn’t want you or doesn’t know about you.” I nodded again.

“The second.”

“I had a soulmate once.”

“You did?” I mumbled.

“It was about 15 years ago. I had just started working here for the games and she was a tribute.” He laughed slightly and ran his hand through his hair. “She hated me, I tried to get her to run away with me before the games could start but she wouldn’t let the kid from her district die even if it meant she lived. They only lasted 5 days in the arena.” He smiled sadly. “But those last couple of days she was alive and I got to see her were the best couple of days in my life.”

“What are you saying?” I whispered.

“Don’t waste time. Every second with the ones we love is precious.” Just as suddenly as he had begun the conversation he left the doorway, leaving me in silence.

Soon enough Megara came in, laden with bags upon bags containing god knows what. She dragged a chair over and sat down opposite me. She pulled out a teapot and two cups before setting them down on the table ignoring my incredulous look. She poured tea into the two cups added a splash of milk and sugar to one and gave me an inquisitive look. I shook my head, clearing my thoughts as I poured milk into the cup and spooned 3 teaspoons of sugar into the cup.

“So honey, how are you feeling about the interviews?”

“Honey? Aren’t you younger than me.”

“Nope,” she popped the p,” I’m 24.” I sighed.

“They can only go so badly right.” She grinned; took a sip of her tea, placed it down, stood up and walked over to a huge bag hung up on the door.

“I suppose we’ll see then.” She unzipped the bag and I gasped.

Taglist:

@nekee-lilac02 @hinata7346 @bambikitten @the-lonely-abyss @mxacegrey @m-maxie-ie @not-aya @camatchoum @maw1dk @avoxrising @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @somdreamy @thehairington86 @millzluvrs @val-writesstuff @erindiggory @reader-bookling123 @elisa20beth @maxinehufflepuffprincess @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @mystargirl-interlude @ponkaniee @missunicorn @thatonegayloser616 @livibbu @cherrsnut @honethatty12 @miserablebl00d @yourmumstoy @wonderland2425 @fairy-alix @purplelavin @user123453226780536 @littleanubis21 @abbersreads @tenshis-cake

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

My Home Is You Part 1/3

A/N: I am so obsessed with this movie, I've seen it twice. Enjoy. Leave a comment, like, or reblog if you've enjoyed it. Thank you to @kingliam2019 for requesting.

Fandom: The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare

Pairing: Gus March-Phillips x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ for language, Nazi's, canon typical violence, possible spoilers for the movie, and mentions of sexual assault.

Part 2 Part 3

“What’s that?” Freddy points to the lump behind Gus’s coat. 

“Nothing,” Gus shrugs, “shall we.” 

“We shall not,” Freddy shouts exasperated, “it’s moving! Unless you became the hunchback of Notre Dame in the ten minutes I left you, you got something hidden behind your back!” 

“He’s got a point, boss,” Hazy shrugs. 

Gus sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I think the jig is up,” he pushes the coat up and out you pop from behind his side, disappearing behind him with a shriek. 

“Where the hell did you find a woman?!” Freddy looks around, then goes silent putting two and two together, “Oh, I see.” 

“She’s coming with us,” Gus reaches behind him and you grasp his hand, trembling hard at being surrounded by so many men. His touch is warm, and you take a moment to breathe before stepping out from behind him at your full height. 

“Hello,” you whisper, giving an awkward wave. 

Gus lets go of your hand and claps making you jump and his face quickly turns apologetic, “Fuck, sorry about that, love. These are the boys,” he points to each man giving you a quick rundown on his merry band of miscreants. He turns to you with a proud smile, “I never did catch your name.” 

“Let me get this straight,” Freddy puts his hands on his hips, sticking out one finger towards Gus, “you find a random woman hidden in a Nazi garrison, fight your way out with her, and decide to bring her with us, without asking her name first?” 

“Probably did it a bit backward,” Gus rubs the back of his head with a chuckle, “but I’m making up for it now.” 

You clear your throat and they all turn towards you as you say your name, a small smile spreading across your face when they repeat it to you. “Welcome to the team,” Anders bows before putting his bow over his shoulder, “shall we get back to the boat, we got somewhere we need to be.” 

“After you,” Gus says, frowning when he realizes Anders is already halfway back to the boat. “That’s the spirit Lassen, lead the way!” Gus slings an arm around your shoulder and helps you walk, it’s slow and painful; your foot aches with every step but you keep it to yourself. These men have already done enough liberating you and agreeing to take you with them. The last thing they need is for you to be injured. But nothing gets past Gus. 

He doesn’t ask, just leans down and swings you up into his arms. You gasp, quickly wrapping your arms around his neck. “Wh-what are you doing?” you whisper. 

“You’re limping,” he whispers back, almost like two children sharing a secret, he grins. “I’m not about to let you hurt yourself worse before I can take a look at your injuries.” 

“I’m fine,” you bite your lip looking away, “you’ve done enough already.” 

Gus stops, the others moving around him to toss the rope down the cliff side, “Darling, I know you’ve just spent gods knows how long with the worst creatures imaginable but not all of us are monsters.” 

“I didn’t say you were,” you turn back to him, and catch your breath when you notice how close he is. “I don’t think you’re a monster at all,” you whisper, swallowing hard, “I just don’t want to cause you any more trouble.” 

“Do you know what I thought when I saw you tucked behind that wall crying and holding your ears?” You shake your head, and he grins, “She looks like just my kind of trouble.” 

The first smile in months spreads like wildfire across your face and you nod. “Ready?” Apple interrupts, “We managed a pulley to get her down.” 

Gus nods, lifting you into the makeshift pulley and working with Apple to lower you down. When you reach the ground Lassen lifts you into his arms while Gus and Apple come down and re-wrap the rope around their arms. 

When finished, Gus reaches his arms out for you and Anders smiles, tugging you closer. “I think I’ll hold on to her for a while. Give you a break,” he looks down giving you a conspiratorial wink. 

“Give me back my damsel,” Gus holds out his arms wider, “I’m not going to ask again.” 

“Who are you calling a damsel?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest, and Lassen lets out a joyful cheer. 

“You tell him, honey,” he turns walking with you back towards the dinghy. His glee makes a ghost of a laugh appear in your throat before you toss your head back in delight. 

Apple pats Gus on the back as he climbs into the boat and you look back to see Gus smiling, a full-blown smile just for you and you rest your head on your arm and look back at him. “It’s good to see you laugh,” he mouths, and your cheeks ache from smiling as he sits down and begins to row. 

“Row row, row your boat,” Lassen mumbles under his breath, the lull of the waves and the feeling of safety making your eyes droop. “Oh, the little lamb is tired, no?” he whispers in your ear, “You rest, no one will harm you ever again.” 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you repeat your fathers words aloud. 

“Little lamb, with the way Gus is looking at me right now. You don’t have to worry about anyone hurting you for the rest of your life.” He rubs a hand over your arm and chuckles, mumbling, “if looks could kill.” 

“He won’t always be there,” your words are drowsy as you burrow deep into his arms, letting out a yawn. 

“Ah, little lamb, I highly doubt that,” Lassen chuckles softly, before you feel yourself being lifted into anothers arms. The scent of smoke, cologne, and leather lull you into a deeper sense of calm and you snuggle into his arms. Gus looks down, brushing a knuckle over your cheek and committing your face to memory as you fall asleep, breathing softly. “Take a picture,” Lassen teases, “it will last longer.” 

“Her cell was next to mine,” Apple interrupts, “she was always so nice to me. Tried to patch me up the best she could through the bars. I tried to return the favor, everytime they brought her….fuck I can still hear the screaming.” The men are silent, the waves crashing against the dinghy as they get closer and closer to the boat. 

“Well,” Freddy clears his throat, “she’s safe now.” They reach the boat, helping Gus aboard and watching as he disappears below deck with you. 

“Heaven help the man who tries to take her away from him,” Hayes clears his throat, and the rest climb aboard and continue on toward Fernando Po. 

Below deck, Gus tucks you into his bunk and watches the rise and fall of your chest before he moves towards the end of the bed, and lifts the blanket to remove your shoe. He curses when he sees the bruising around your ankle. He removes the other shoe and has to control his breathing when he sees the same markings; shackles. 

“Never again,” he whispers, grabbing bandages and ointments and applying them to your ankles. The bottom of your foot is no better, and he grabs the tweezers removing several shards of glass and bandaging your feet. “No wonder you were limping,” he talks to himself. He takes the next twenty minutes checking over the parts of your body he can see, treating every little cut and bruise. When he’s finished he walks over to a basin of water and washes his hands before pouring a glass of scotch and sitting down at the map. 

He loses track of the time, his head snapping up from the table when the screaming starts. He pushes the chair out, climbing over the table to grab your thrashing body. He repeats your name over and over again till your eyes pop open, gasping you reach towards him throwing your arms around his neck and letting out a sob. “I thought it was a dream,” you sob brokenly into his skin, almost crawling into his lap, “I dreamed I was back there,” you take a deep breath, “that they were…” 

“No,” he shakes his head, pulling back to put both hands on your face, his thumbs brushing the tears from your eyes. “You’re safe,” he repeats once, then twice, “do you hear me?” 

“I’m safe,” you repeat back, the tears silently streaming down your face. From the stairs, the men stare at the scene before them. “Uh oh,” Freddy shakes his head, and the others turn to him with various questions. “Look at them,” he points back to you and Gus, “he looks at her like he just realized what love was.” 

“I didn’t know you were a romantic, Freddy,” Apple claps him on the shoulder with a laugh. “I’m not,” he shrugs, “but I’m also not blind. That right there,” he points a finger, “that’s love if I ever saw it. You just wait, I bet you ten pounds she goes home with him at the end of this mission.” 

“I’ll take that bet,” Hayes tosses over his shoulder. 

Apple raises a brow, “you don’t think they’ll end up getting hitched once we’re home.” 

“That wasn’t the bet,” Hayes grins, “he bet that she’ll go home with him at the end of the mission. I think we’ll either be dead or in jail so she probably won’t be going home with him.” 

“Never bet against yourself, Hazy,” Freddy shakes his head, “have I taught you nothing.” 

“It’s your deal,” Henry reminds him before shrugging past to go back to the deck, “let’s go, give them some privacy.” 

Their steps recede and Gus rubs the last of your tears away, “do you want something to eat?” 

“Yes,” you nod, moving from his lap and tugging the blanket around your shoulders. When you step down, you quickly look at the bandages around your feet and ankle before meeting his eyes, “thank you,” you whisper, “for everything.” 

“You don’t have to thank me,” he puts the kettle on, “any decent human being would do the same.” You sit down at the table seeing the maps and confidential files spread across the surface. Gus grabs the papers and puts them into a pile before putting down a cup of steaming tea before you. 

“I have a few questions,” you wrap your hands around the cup, absorbing some of the warmth. 

He takes a sip, blowing the top with a grin, “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” 

“What were you doing in the Garrison?” 

“Rescuing Appleyard,” he takes another sip, “we needed him.” 

“For what?” 

Gus puts down his cup, crossing his arms over his chest and your heart beats a little louder at how strained the fabric is over his bulging biceps. You quickly take a sip of your tea, burning your tongue when you meet his eyes, seeing amusement sparkle. “Enjoying the show?” you cough, the tea spilling down the front of your dress. “Shit,” he shouts, grabbing a towel and pulling out the chair beside you to sit down. You grab it and soak up the liquid from your dress, the top sinking lower with each tug. 

When you’re finished you glance up to see his eyes on your chest before he quickly averts his eyes and clears his throat. “Enjoying the show?” you smile softly when he coughs and lets out a strained laugh. 

“Very much,” he turns his head and your mouth goes dry. Neither says anything for a moment before he goes back to the pile and tugs out the map. You take another sip of tea to prevent being parched when he spreads it over the table. “We’re on a secret mission for the English government.” “Come again?” you clear your throat, sitting up straighter. 

He grins, “We are on an unsanctioned, unofficial mission to destroy a ship and two tug boats holding enough supplies to supply the German U-boats for six months. We destroy those ships and we regain control of the Atlantic.” 

“And how do you plan to do that?” 

“Explosives,” he pushes a tin of biscuits towards you, “tons of explosives. What do you think?” 

You sit there for a moment, processing everything he’s said before reaching into the tin and pulling out a ginger snap. You dip it into your cup before taking a bite with a grin, “where can I sign up?” 

[jaeminmp4]

what if we read manga together, then what? (m.lee)

synopsis - you have a love for reading mangas, and you made it your goal to visit your town’s local bookstore to relax after a grueling finals week and to check out the new bungo stray dogs manga that was just put on sale. however, you didn’t think that having a tower display of mangas falling onto you would lead you into having a friendship with the nerdiest (and cutest) boy ever. member - mark lee x fem!reader word count - 3.1k warnings - just some cursing, SOME my hero academia slander but it's not bad i promise!!! genre - college au, fluff, humor, strangers to friends to lovers authors note - wow casually dropping my first written scenario here hehe and it's for your favorite canadian boy, mark lee!! idk i was watching and consuming mark lee content like my life depended on it and it lead to this,, uh monstrosity of a fic, it isn't my best work, but i wanted to put out something before i start procrastinating, hope you somewhat enjoy it at least :D

You definitely weren’t the clumsiest person on the planet, and you knew this for a fact after witnessing your friend Minjeong trip over her own feet and spill the contents of her lunch tray all over the floor. Then when she attempted to get up from the ground, her foot had stepped right onto the apple sauce left on the ground, then she tumbled over again, this time almost hitting her perfect face right onto the tiled floors of the cafeteria. At the time you were too busy laughing at her demise to be of any help. You guessed karma came back to bite you in the ass. Stupid karma.

You had just finished your last exam of the semester and all you wanted to do was rot in your dorm room and sleep until the RA’s kicked you out to go home for break. You, however, didn’t do any rotting or any sleeping. For weeks you had been eyeing up the small bookstore near campus because you knew for a fact that they had just put up a sale for the new volumes of Bungo Stray Dogs and you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see your beloved Chuuya Nakahara. You’d do anything for that red-headed son of a bitch. Which means sacrificing the rest you so desperately needed. You could sleep anytime you wanted now that it was break, but that sale was going to go soon (and you were a broke college student so you couldn’t let this opportunity go to waste), so you needed to get into that bookstore ASAP. You knew that they were closing at 6 pm. But by the time you got back to your dorm room to change it was 4:30 pm and it was a good twenty-minute walk. 

You came barreling through the door of your dorm room scaring the life out of your roommate in the process. You were throwing stuff around the room looking for more comfortable clothes to change into, and to find that stupid discount coupon your literary professor gave your entire class months ago to buy books that would “enrich your mind”. You had scoffed when he turned around after giving you the coupon, stuffing that damned paper into a random pocket of your bag. Now that you needed that coupon it was nowhere to be found. Now, you could go without the coupon but you only had like 25 bucks to your name, and you needed to take what you could get. You were about to give up on your search because you were running out of precious time, that is until your roommate, Yoo Jimin, or Karina as she liked to be called, waltzed up to you with a very familiar paper in between her pointer and middle finger. Your eyes lit up, your hands moving to grab the coupon from her. But Karina snatched it back so fast before you even had the chance to blink. “Hey! Do you even need that coupon? Last I checked the last book you read was your physics textbook but you turned to the first page before nearly bursting out into tears.”, you whined. Karina gives you a dirty look as a warning to shut the hell up, which you do knowing she’s the only one with a coupon.

 “I’ll give you the coupon if you get me a volume of Jujutsu Kaisen.”, she bargained. You give her an incredulous stare, “That’s all you wanted? Okay, that’s fine Rina, but please give me the coupon they’re gonna close in like an hour and won’t be open till Monday, and I need to read something other than a lab report or I’m going to go insane.”, you stressed. Satisfied with your answer and her plan to make you do something for her, she hands you the coupon and blows you a teasing kiss before walking over to her side of the room and plopping onto her bed. Rolling your eyes you scramble to gather the rest of your belongings before running out of your dorm room, the door slamming, giving your conniving roommate her second scare of the day. 

That’s what brings us to present time and your current predicament. You had to run like three blocks to get to the tiny bookstore in your university’s town. It was nestled in between a cafe (which is quite convenient) and an arcade. You stood in front of the building wheezing your lungs out, you attempted to catch your breath so you looked less like a crazed person who was struggling to breathe and more like a normal person getting ready to purchase books. When you entered you had a good forty or so minutes to grab the two volumes, pay, and get out. What could go wrong? 

There were very few people left in the bookstore, only about one or two people that were still perusing the many aisles of books. You knew exactly where the volumes you wanted were located. Gripping the coupon in your hand tighter you walked towards the manga section of the bookstore. This section was by far the smallest section of the entire store and the only place they kept the manga, for obvious reasons. 

You had only taken one step into the section when the strap of your bag decided that latching onto the manga tower was a good idea. Thus bringing the entire display down onto your unsuspecting form. 

You first felt a spike of pain on your backside, and it hurt like a bitch. You looked behind you to catch a glimpse of the cause of the pain and noticed it was that display of My Hero Academia volumes you saw placed right at the entrance of the aisle. Of course, it had to be that god-forsaken manga Chenle and Jisung were talking your ear off about all the time. But like god damn, what were these books made of? You had landed on the ground on your knees in the most ungraceful way possible, and you knew for a fact that you probably had a bad case of carpet burn on your knees. It didn’t help that you looked like an idiot, and it also didn’t help that you were quickly garnering the attention of the other customers in this tiny ass bookstore. Of course, you’d humiliate yourself right when they get a sudden influx of customers. 

You felt your face turn hot in humiliation, and you moved to try to get up to attempt to save yourself from this embarrassment. However, the damn display wasn’t done with you yet and didn’t want to budge. Why was this display all of sudden so heavy? You turn your attention to the people walking over to check out the commotion you created. However, none jumped to your aid. You sighed in disbelief and were about to attempt to get up by yourself again. Before you could, you felt the relief of the heavy display being lifted off of you and you swear to god you could hear the angels ascending down to Earth and singing to you. You turned to look at your savior and you came face to face with the cutest stranger kneeling next to you, his facial expression showing deep concern. He was saying something to you but you were too busy gaping at him like a fish out of water.

He puts one of his hands on your shoulder finally snapping you out of your dazed stupor. The cute stranger’s face had contorted to one of panic, “Did you hit your head too? Do you have a concussion?” You frantically start waving your hands out, shaking your head no, “N-No, I’m fine! Perfectly fine, peachy actually.” you say, your voice cracking by the end of your sentence. The boy next to you doesn’t look convinced but he nods anyway and he lets out a small laugh at the oddity of all of this. You laugh too, one because his laugh is infectious and you couldn’t help but laugh along, and two, you thought it was stupid to think this, but you couldn’t help it, all that was going through your mind was, you didn’t know who to thank for giving you the chance to meet this cute stranger, your incessant love for Chuuya Nakahara or Deku’s silly superhero gang.

Turns out that cute stranger’s name was Mark Lee, an employee of that bookstore. A cute name for a cute human, you had thought. After the whole fiasco, you had gotten an ice pack from him and assurance that he’d be the one to clean up the display you destroyed. You sheepishly told him you didn’t mind cleaning it up yourself since it technically was your fault. But he insisted that a pretty, injured girl like yourself shouldn’t be doing any cleaning at all. That shut you up real quick, a red hue taking over your face. You were just glad he didn’t notice. You ended up staying till the store closed, talking with Mark about different animes and mangas you two enjoyed, and other interests you had.

Karina had texted you a couple of minutes after the bookstore closed wondering where you were. 

rina<3: hey where r u, its been like yearssssss y/n: ive been gone for like two hours max, u’ll survive rina<3: i just want my dose of jujutsu kaisen :/ 

You snicker at the message and shut your phone off choosing to tell her what had happened when you arrived back to your shared dorm. Standing in front of the bookstore, you put your phone into your back pocket. You look up right on time to watch Mark fumble with the keys as he tries to lock up the store for the night. You laugh quietly, who knew the boy who’d come to your rescue was also clumsy, granted his clumsiness was cute and yours was more on the, I’d rather crawl into a hole and die than have to go through that again, sort of clumsiness.

Mark turns around to look at you after he finishes locking up the shop and he gives you a small grin, and you were sure your stomach was a terrarium with the amount of butterflies flying about in there. You barely knew the guy, you seriously couldn’t be forming an infatuation that fast. Right?

 “Y/N, you said you lived on campus right?”, he asked as he walked over to stand next to you. You nodded in response to his question. “That’s great! I live on campus too, it’s sort of crazy how we never really saw each other before though. If you want, we can walk back together?”, he suggested.

You were getting ready to refuse not wanting to waste any more of Mark’s time, at this point, you assumed he was just doing all this to be polite, and if it were you in Mark’s position, you sure as hell wouldn’t exactly be so chipper and willing after having to clean someone else’s mess. But once you glanced over towards him, you were so done for. He was giving you one of those doe-eyed stares, like a cute little puppy wanting something from you. So you folded, like a piece of paper, but like come on, how could you say no to a face like that? That’s how you ended up with an entertaining walk home, an amused roommate, and a new contact in your phone.

Turns out that Jisung and Chenle knew Mark as well. They both had met him in one of their many shared classes (you realize a majority of your friends really enjoy the arts), and they use him as a means to get a discount at the bookstore Mark works at. You wish you had thought of that, but you supposed you already used all of Mark’s sympathy the moment you tumbled down to the ground with his meticulously arranged display of books. Speaking of the bookstore, when both of those two gremlins found out how you two had met they both laughed their big heads off, both boys in literal tears after Mark was finished retelling the encounter. You wish the ground would just open up and swallow you whole but life never wanted to go your way, did it?

You cursed them both out in embarrassment and a bit of anger as Mark sat in between you and the two boys, attempting to cover his small amused smile from you, but it didn’t really work. “Do you find me getting hurt so funny? I’m glad my demise will forever be a joke.”, you lamented. Chenle laughed again, his laugh higher in pitch now, and you had to restrain the urge to reach over the table and throttle his giant head. You felt a slight pat on your back and you looked over to see Mark smiling at you with his cute little smile and you felt your heart melt, “Don’t be too sad, I don’t find it that funny.”

Mark looks at his watch and he looks at it alarmed, he starts hastily getting up from the table you four were sitting at, pulling his backpack onto his shoulders, “Sorry guys gotta go, I promised Donghyuck I’d help him with recording his new cover of some song he found on Youtube.” He turns to look at you, “Catch you later? Heard there’s a new manga coming out soon, maybe we can read it together?” You nod dumbly at his question, Mark sends you one last smile and a thumbs-up before he leaves. His figure moved farther and farther away from the three of you.

Chenle was the first to break the silence. “Have you finished drooling over Mark yet?” You spluttered, “What are you talking about? I was not!” You crossed your arms over your chest as you looked at the boy. He had a shit-eating grin on his face, and you groaned covering your probably red face with your hands. You peeked through your fingers and Jisung was also looking at you expectantly. Okay, so maybe you should have throttled Zhong Chenle earlier.

Being friends with Mark Lee is exhausting, and that’s only one of the many words you could use to describe your friendship, but you didn’t feel like delving more into that territory.

Mark was excitable at times and was always passionate about the things he had an interest in. In your words, he was a huge nerd. So when he found out there was going to be a convention in a town near yours he was practically bouncing off the walls. He had called you at three in the morning with the news, you, on the other hand, answered the phone half asleep mumbling “mhms” and “uh huhs” to his excited rambles.  

When the day of the convention had come, he had convinced you to come along, and even dress up as a character. You decided to dress as Yosano from Bungo. It was a simple outfit really, just a button-up blouse with a black tie, a black skirt, and some black tights. Your hair is adorned with Yosano’s signature butterfly clip. You had to say, you cleaned up nicely. You exited out of your dorm and walked down to the parking area of your dorm’s building.

Mark was supposed to come over and pick you up ten minutes ago but he still wasn’t here. For someone excited about all this, you’d think he’d be the one to come early. You pulled out your phone getting ready to text him, but the boy in question pulled up to where you were standing. Looking up at him you noticed he was dressed up as well, as Ranpo, from his hat, down to his little detective cape. 

That is so adorable. You just wanted to pinch his cheeks at how cute he looked, but you threw the thought out the window. You clambered into Mark’s passenger seat, closing the door trying not to get your skirt caught as you closed it. Mark looked over at you and chuckled, “Hey what are the odds we’re two characters from the same manga?”

You giggled as you playfully hit him on his shoulder, “I literally told you who I was going as ages ago, you literally did that on purpose.” Mark turns to look back at the road as he starts to pull out of the parking lot onto the main road. “Maybe I did.”. he says nonchalantly. You glance at him, “You wanted to be matchy matchy?”, you chirped. He beams at you and nods. You felt those butterflies in your stomach start again, just like all the other times you’ve hung out with Mark, but somehow this felt different. “Any reason as to why?”, you asked slowly. 

Mark sucks in a breath, and you worry you’ve offended him. You start to take back what you had said, but he places a hand on one of yours that was in your lap, and that’s when you notice how clammy your hands were. You were praying to anyone that would listen so that he wouldn’t notice. If he did he didn’t mention it at all but not that that mattered at all because the next few words he uttered nearly knocked the wind out of you, and made you forget the fact that you had gross hands. 

“I like you, Y/N. To be honest, I thought I was being obvious in my feelings for you, but forgive me if I was a little awkward, I’ve never really done anything like that at all.”

You stared at him not knowing what to say, and this felt a little too familiar to your unceremonious meeting, where even back then you had stared at him like he’d grown two heads. Mark was beginning to feel a slight bit uncomfortable under your gaze and started to pull his hand back, “If you... don’t return my feelings that’s fine too! We can forget this happened, stay as friends and we can go back to reading our silly little mangas together.”

You grabbed his hand back and held it in yours. His hand was warm, and it felt nice, and you liked it a lot. “You know, Mark Lee, I like you too, probably a lot more than you think, plus you were quite literally my knight in shining armor.”

“Oh thank god you like me back, I thought you thought of me as some nerd pestering you all the time.”, Mark gushed. You jokingly put a hand on your chin pretending to think, “Welllllllllllll………..” 

“Hey, I was making a joke!”

“I’m just kidding.”, you say, grinning from ear to ear. “So does that mean, you’re my girlfriend?”, he asks giddily. “If you want, I can be.”, you breathed. “Then, it’s official.”, Mark says, while drawing delicate circles with his thumb on your hand.

Mark turns to take another look at you before adding, “I’m glad your clumsy self got nearly crushed by a My Hero Academia display stand.”

“Okay, well now you’ve ruined it.”

[xxx-angie]

"dance with me"

radioapple alcohol, talk of cannibalism, biting, blood consumption, non-sexual make out

1110 words

@lucifersruberduck

alastor sits at the bar and pours himself another glass of rye.

it was angel’s birthday, and charlie insisted on throwing a party for him. it was starting to get a bit late into the night and the radio demon had been drinking all through it.

vaggie and charlie had just started a duet on the piano. alastor taps his foot along to the song, looking around the room. he sees lucifer, who leans against a wall with a cup of apple cider. he watches his daughter sing with a smile.

the deer demon downs the rest of the glass and gets up, heading to the demon king. “dance with me?” alastor holds out his hand for the short demon, who looks up at him with confusion.

“y-you’re asking me to dance? why?”

“it would be fun.” the radio demon shrugs.

the short male lets out a sigh and takes the other’s hand. he finds himself pulled into the sinner’s chest, an arm around his waist. he looks up at alastor, who has a big, genuine smile on his face.

the other demons look at the two in surprise, certainly not expecting alastor of all demons to dance with someone. and definitely not with lucifer.

the radio demon looks up as he realized the music is gone. “why did you stop? come on, i could dance all night long!” he laughs and twirls lucifer around.

charlie nods and smiles at the two as she gets over the shock, happy to see them getting along. she looks at vaggie and they nod at each other, continuing with the song.

“there we go.” he looks down at lucifer and continues to dance with him. “oh how i wish rosie were here. she would enjoy this so much.”

“rosie? is that your wife or something?” lucifer asks before alastor pulls him into a dip.

“my wife? oh no no no no.” he stands up and pulls the demon king back up. “i don't have a wife. but she is a very dear friend, very dear indeed.” he looks at charlie. “and she would love to see charlie like this, so happy with her girlfriend.” he manages to grab his glass of whiskey as they dance, quickly downing it before setting the cup back down. “but even if i was interested in her, i'm not her type anyway. she might be interested in you however.”

“and what would her type be?” the pale king asks as he presses into alastor, back to the overlord’s chest.

“tasty.” alastor replies simply.

“tasty?” lucifer repeats as he looks up at the other.

“though I must admit, her ability to pick them when we met was absolutely atrocious. but it has improved. our last meal together was quite splendid.” alastor gives a light-hearted chuckle.

“and how do you know i fit the definition of tasty?” the shorter looks up at him with a raised brow.

“you have angelic blood, correct? after the battle, rosie let me know that it has a spectacular taste.” he brings the demon king into another dip, one hand under him and the other holding his chin. lucifer’s own arms reach up to grab his waist in an attempt to steady himself. “though i do wish i had tasted it for myself…” alastor leans in close to the paper-pale skin of lucifer's neck and drags his tongue up the side of it.

the short demon takes a shaky breath, his neck feeling cold from the other’s saliva. “t-tell me more about rosie?”

“she knows a lot about the queer community. which was personally quite surprising. she is much older than me yet still knows tons of terms that were made nearly a hundred years after my death.” alastor says.

“like what?”

“i don't remember most, but asexual stuck with me.”

“oh? how so?”

“when i was alive, i never really questioned myself. assumed I would meet the right girl some day. i knew that being gay was a thing, but i never felt attracted to men, so i simply never considered it. I otherwise never thought about sex. but terms like asexual… i never heard it before, but if i had when i was alive, that'd be me. i must admit, i am quite glad there is an afterlife, where I can continue to get to know myself.”

lucifer can feel alastor starting to get a little clumsy and slow. “i never thought of it that way before…”

the sinner sighs and stops, leaning his head on the king's shoulder. “i’m getting tired… mind escorting me to my room?”

the pale demon sighs and wraps his arms tight around the overlord. he easily picks him up despite their size difference and with a kiss on the forehead for his daughter, he carries alastor to bed.

lucifer sets him down on the end. “you need to let go.” he tries to back up a bit instead the radio demon pulls the king onto his lap.

one hand is around his waist while the other tilts his head up. “i’m sorry, sir, but i am really curious as to what you taste like…” he breathes against the other's neck. “just a small bite? i’ll promise not to leave more than a scar~” he chuckles as he looks up at lucifer.

the pale demon is silent for a minute, the look on his face showing he was genuinely considering it. finally, he lets out a shaky “alright.”

alastor smirks as he presses his mouth to the king's neck, then digs his sharp teeth into the flesh. lucifer arches his back and grits his teeth, claws digging into alastor's back. “shit!” he can feel the sinner's tongue running over the bleeding bite mark.

then he drags his tongue over the bite mark with hands tightly holding him in place. he reconnects his mouth the wound one last time before sitting up, lucifer's golden blood dripping down from his lips.

he suddenly grabs the king by the hair and kisses him roughly. the demon king gasps at the sudden action and alastor uses this to slip his tongue into the other's mouth.

and fucking hell, lucifer can taste his own blood on alastor's tongue. he leans in and closes his eyes and stays like that until alastor pulls away. they both pant, a string of each other's saliva still connecting their lips.

“alright, i’ve had my fun. i’ll let you go now.” alastor smiles and leans back a bit.

the pale king nods and gets up, heading for the door.

“by the way…” alastor lays down and curls up on his bed. “you really are quite delicious.” he laughs.

oh this was so fun to write!!

[pursuitseternal]

“Feeling:” angst, romance, flashbacks, comfort… update to “Our Blood is Thicker”

Astarion x Tav (Cordehlia) | E | 4.5K of angsty flashbacks and romantic comfort

Cover art by @marimosalad 💞

Summary: Baldur’s Gate looms before them, where so much awaits them: Cazador, the Absolute, and the source and secret of Cordehlia’s long-lasting hatred of him. Where her love turned to grief, and grief turned to rage.

CW: cuddling, flashbacks, angst angst and more angst, grief, tragic revelations, hurt comfort, two lovesick idiots finally getting closer… while they still can.

Previous Ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

Chapter 15: Feeling…

💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞

She could see the heat rising from it, the City. Baldur’s Gate, a sight she had sworn never to see. Not since she had last ventured this way, heavy with broken heart and the weight of lost souls in her heart.

But fates change, fortunes rise and fall. Now Cordehlia sat on this watchtower wall, the very reason for her anger and hatred and vow to never set foot here again had his arm wrapped snug around her waist. Astarion pulled her into his lap, face turned towards the sun as his crimson eyes watched it set over the sea.

Her heart rapt hard in her chest. There was so much ahead of them, so many battles to fight and enemies to slay. But for now, he just held her as the light faded into sparkles on the waves. His eyes were wide with wonder, and she realized in that moment, he hadn’t seen a sunset near the city for almost two-hundred years. Not since….

“Not since those days of Magistrate have I seen the sun, let alone allowed myself to watch it settle into the Sea…” he sighed, snuggling her closer into his chest, tucking her fiery red head under the dip of his chin. “This is what we always dreamed of, isn’t it… the allure of the city, the chance to be together at long last….”

His voice, usually purring in seduction or acerbic in sarcasm just flowed over her in warm tender words, just as he used to back… back home.

“We are a might bit different now than we would have been,” she replied, a bit sharper, a bit more bitter than he was.

He turned slowly, thick lips smirking as he caught her chin in his gentle hold. “We both have a little more bite now, don’t we, my love?”

Cordehlia ran her thumb over his lips, slipping inside to brush his fang gently. “There is so much ahead of us here. Challenges… danger… blood.” Her voice was distant, so many thoughts swirling behind the shining silver of her eyes.

Astarion smirked against her palm, trying for flirtatious, for a hint of playful seduction to soothe her. “But darling, we like blood,” he teased.

A half-hearted laugh, she pressed closer against his body. Wishing he was warm.

“Cazador will be seeking you back even harder now, my love…” she whispered, worried about even mentioning the monster’s name.

“Let him,” he shrugged, every muscle in his hardened body tightening. Ready to spring. “I am more than powerful enough to take him. With our tadpole, he can’t compel me, can’t force me to…” Astarion swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing against the top of her head, “to do anything.” He finished, so many things unsaid in that silence. “I’ll be free,” he purred, lifting her sweet face up for him to lose himself in. “We’ll be free, Cordehlia.”

She pressed her lips against his, a soft kiss, more affirming and loving that words could say.

He sighed, letting his fingers fall from under her chin. “You really are perfect, every time, my love.” That raking smile twisted his face, more of his taunting, jeering nature coming out to play. “And besides, I can’t wait to hear Cazador’s screams and smell his blood once we finally kill him. All we need to do now is find where this… Rite… is taking place, and,” he arched that left brow, cunning and mischievous, “if we can take a bit of that power and immortality for ourselves.”

“Astarion, always the ambitious,” she shook her head. “Magistrate, High Lord… no those titles are beneath you,” Cordehlia needled back, mocking and whining as if he were a child. “No, no… Lord Astarion, Vampire Ascendant…”

“You must admit,” he let out a heavily dramatic sigh, “it does sound so nice.”

“Hmm,” she patted him on the cheek, “one thing at a time, love. Devilish pacts and profane rites are not like bargaining for a better deal at the fish market.”

Astarion snickered, “That’s your elvish wisdom, is it? I’d prefer power over a nice cut of cod any day. Why don’t more people talk about the wisdom of the vampire?” He faked a pout, like the petulant child she sometimes still caught glimmers of beneath the man she loved.

“Because the extent of your wisdom, Astarion is ‘See a problem, stab the problem, get rewarded for solving the problem.’ That’s not wisdom,” Cordehlia placed a hand on his chest as he started to lean into her, his body winding tight as if he were about to throw her on her back and have his way. But she shoved hard enough to keep him at bay. “It’s the ambition of the vampire, my love. And you’ve always had an ambitious streak in you.”

She gazes at him a little pointedly, a little bitter, just a spark of that anger in her face that he remembered from first finding her once more. “I take it you worry about my ambitions, darling.”

“I have the right to worry.” She kept that hand on his chest. “You’ve hurt me before,” she quirked a brow, taunting, “remember?”

“A low blow, but a valid one,” he sighed, exasperated. “I do remember, and yet…” he forced his face into hers, looking closely. “Why do you look like you hate me… like that day you found me on the beach?”

A shaking, chest rattling breath made her quake in his arms. “Because I vowed never to come back to this city, to never step foot in Baldur’s Gate again after what I went through…. Over you.”

Dexterous, roguish fingers caressed the back of her neck. “Are you going to tell me? Or are you going to show me?”

She could feel the wriggling of his tadpole, calling to hers, begging to let him enter. She looked into his eyes, forcing them open before she allowed him in her memories. “Perhaps it’s better you know… but remember, I’ve since learned the truth, since learned about your own darkness and suffering. And now, you’ll see why I became all I did. Why I hated you….”

“So long as it’s past tense, your hatred, my love, then hide nothing from me….”

Minds crashed, faced whirred in his vision as he saw her memories from centuries before….

———————————————————————-

It hurt. Unbearable. His parents already gone… disappeared probably from their own griefs. Left and never came back. Swallowed by their loss or to the violence of the City—a cautionary tale for her people to keep to themselves, to quit the alliances and deals their High Lord and Lady had insisted on forging with the powerful Patriars and Council Members of Baldur’s Gate. And now they were gone too. Their line with them.

Of course Father was worried the same would befall her, a constant niggling dread inside her mind as she crossed into the gates of the Lower City.

She kept her eyes down the whole way here… ignoring every vendor along the Southspan, every prostitute and pleasure seeker that stumbled out of the Flophouses and brothels, and every Flaming Fist that didn’t ask for her papers as she made it through Wyrm’s Rock.

Her booted feet hurried all the more at those sultry voices that called to her from those pleasure houses. Every grunt or sigh or ‘darling’ was a slice across her heart.

The reminder she would never hear him again. Never see him again. Never hold him, or kiss him, or taste him, or…

Gods, it was too much to bear. She collapsed against the alley wall. Her world spun, the ground falling out from under her as she shuddered and sobbed.

“Astarion,” she whispered his name into the palm of her hand as she tried in vain to force it back inside. The Magistrates offices were ahead, just around the corner. So close, and yet so far. Their letter, perfunctory and businesslike, detailed the facts of his murder, requesting someone to finish the matters associated with Astarion Ancunín’s death. Someone needed to collect his things, to pay his fines and check his burial.

His grave.

A responsibility falling to her in the aftermath of his parents’ disappearance.

On her, his betrothed.

Well, not betrothed anymore.

It had already been months, nearly a year. Matters had to be closed, fines paid for services rendered.

She shuddered, the sun beginning to fade behind the tall structures of the City. Night would fall soon, and yet somehow it wouldn’t be as deep as her grief, as dark as heart grew now that she was here.

One hand steadied on the wall, willing her body to rise, her feet to walk. She needed silence, someplace quiet and… drawing up short, she realized where she stood, the open maw of the cemetery to her right. It was like her own heart stopped beating the second she stepped foot on the buried dead. It would have to be here… the letter had said.

She forced her stinging, tear-blinded eyes to scan every name.

A chill set in the air as the sun sank lower, as she turned down a row of headstones, her heart aching with each new name. Aching more and more. Until she found it in the back corner of the garden, the grass already grown over the dirt of his grave, little vines already creeping up that carved stone.

His beautiful name above where his beautiful body was laid to rest. She just… wanted to touch him again. To hear his inane giggle. To press her lips against his. To taste the salty tang of his cock one more time….

She didn’t know when she had laid on the ground, or when the sun had set. Didn’t know when the moon had risen or the grass beneath her body had grown cold.

Shivering, she needed to find a warm meal and a warm bed for the night. The Elfsong wasn’t far, she could stumble her way there before she passed out.

But that would mean leaving him.

Saying… goodbye.

She pressed her cold fingers to her lips, squeezing her eyes shut. Imagining they were his elegant fingers, one last time. Reaching for the stone, she pressed her kiss against his name carved for the ages and eternities. “Goodbye, my love,” she managed to say.

Rising to her feet, somehow she made it to the firelight and music of the Elfsong… packed to tightly with bodies, she struggled to make her way inside to the keeper behind the bar. “Saer, I require a room for the night.”

“Full up for another hour yet,” he huffed, wiping out the inside of a tankard. He gave her a salacious wink. “Rooms are in high demand this time of night. But one of my regulars will be done soon, he never stays long before draggin’em off back to his place…”

Her stomach flip flopped. She could have wretched up her guts right then and there.

“No,” she breathed deep and pulled her shoulders back as her father had taught her. “I’ll not sleep in someone else’s mess. I can find other accommodations.”

The barkeep shrugged. “Suit yerself. I doubt it. But I’ll save your place for next, once he’s done. One room in an hour for the pretty, red-head she-elf…” Cordehlia stamped away in a disgusted huff.

A fire in her belly, she bought herself a pie from a vendor, letting it settle uneasily in her stomach as she tried for another room.

Nothing. Not a single spare place to hire out for the night that wasn’t already bought and paid for or used for prostitution.

This miserable city… she cursed it in her heart. Hating every cobblestone, loathing every drunk stranger that scattered before her. This cesspit that took her love. The corruption that sank him into the earth itself.

She would be gone tomorrow, never to return. Take the cold comfort of his possessions and pay his fines and begin to bury the memory of him. As if she ever could.

But at least back with her people, with her Father, she could remember him as he was to her, not as one lost soul trying to find his way in this filth. That was the curse of the elves of course, their memory. That every night she could relive their youth, their love… all their firsts. As if he never left her. Turning back to the Elfsong, she resigned herself to that disgusting fate. At least she could demand clean bedclothes, losing herself in trance to the memories and to her love for Astarion. It was bittersweet relief.

Already she could feel the strength of her memory almost conjuring him. She could almost hear his voice in the streets, almost see his pale face and pretty eyes and wicked smile in the faces of strangers. By the time she had to face the Elfsong barkeep again, she merely passed him her coin.

“I knew you would return, what’s another Elf’s money after all…” he waved her to a stack of laundered sheets by the stairs. First door on the right… it was easy to find.

But then she froze the second she shut the door to the little bedroom.

Was her memory so strong… what her grief so fraught… her heart so broken?

The room smelled like him.

————————————————————————

She could sense his… disgust. His self-loathing and pain and confusion. As if he witnessed his own memories through another’s eyes.

She pulled him back deeper into her thoughts, a new, darker, more jaded feeling overwhelmed Astarion now. Grief piled upon grief.

————————————————————————

“I fucking hate it here,” Cordehlia growled under her breath. It was only to herself, but she liked the sound of vitriol in her voice all the same. She sat in a booth at the Elfsong as she had all day. Waiting. Watching. That human spy was supposed to be here… was supposed to come and give the information needed to fight off those Orcs on the southern border of her people’s lands. Where their camp was… how many their forces made… weapons, spells, war machines… that sort of thing.

All the things she had learned to take stock in, to measure before battle, just as her Father once had.

Once had, until he had fallen to Ketheric Thorm and his Dark Justiciars. But that pain was too fresh. Less than a year ago, now. Not that the Elfsong was filled with happy memories, not this City. Not the one that still made the scars on her heart sore from the last time she entered these sin-slick walls.

Astarion, she kept herself from saying his name out loud.

She would clear off his grave later tonight, once the matter was closed and the deed was done. Never again would she mention him. Her long, elven memory grew heavy under the weight of her sorrows. Orphan and widow.

Orphan—mother dead almost at birth, father, unburied on some cursed lands not far from here.

And widow, well almost a widow. No vows had been made other than the ones they forged wordlessly that night. Her body once touched, her virginity taken long ago. No one had even come close to that once more. Nor would they again.

It would have to be enough. Her heart would never love again.

Not when she was so needed by her people.

Her people had lost a High Lord and Lady, lost their promising young Lord to be next in line. With her Father’s death, they lost their steadfast, valiant hero of a General.

But Cordehlia was neither, neither Lady nor General; she was all that remained to lead in these matters.

No hero, but an assassin. No lady, a weapon. All her silken gowns had been long traded for armor at her Father’s side since Astarion’s death. And now… sharp, cold things were all that remained.

It was all she was now too.

Shaking her head, she scanned the room, piercing eyes peering into every table, looking for her contact. He would be here soon, and she needed to keep her head, slowing her sips of Ithbank. No matter how badly she wanted to drink into a stupor and pass out on his grave.

Maybe she would be with him again then…

“Fuck,” she cursed, slamming the glass down. And then she reached right for the green glass necked bottle of the vintage to take a swig.

It might be a long night of just waiting and watching. If she had to watch one more couple meander up those stairs, groping each other, to return moments later disheveled, she might throw her most precious dagger between their shoulder blades and be done with it.

What good was it, giving that to someone without meaning… closing her eyes, she swallowed again another bursting, dripping mouthful.

But it didn’t matter. Not even laying with him when it mattered most, not even that mattered any longer. These idiots would only live to regret their proclivities. Fools.

Better to have loved and lost than never…

Wait.

Her ears piqued in the din. A giggle. A man’s giggle.

It was familiar. Painful. She gazed across the dim tavern shaking her head to dismiss the thought. No, no. Just her bedraggled mind playing tricks on her. Just the wine resurrecting ghosts.

“Lady Corvus,” a voice whispered, the cloaked mortal sitting himself opposite her. Cordehlia nodded, careful not to smile too broadly at the use of her new title. “Here,” he whispered. Passing a scroll across the table. “Battle plans, maps, estimations of their forces, it’s all there, my lady.”

“You have been of great service,” she chimed in silken tones. Her hand set a small purse within the man’s reach.

“Thank you, my lady,” he nodded under his hood. “This place ain’t for the likes of you. You best be going, best be careful. There are rumors that the Pale Elf is around here tonight.”

She quirked a brow. “And?” She scoffed, “Is he some traitor? Some assassin come to kill me?”

“Not with blade, but he’s known for taking pretty things like you to play with… giving them a little death. Not the kind you deal, my lady.”

Cordehlia jolted at that, flinching as if smacked in the face.

“Don’t worry, my lady, I doubt he would be to your liking. You’re too fearsome, too intimidating to fall for his easy seduction.” The human’s mouth smiled under the hem of his hood before he stood, leaving as quickly as he came, one coin purse heavier than he arrived.

Cordehlia pocketed the scroll, taking a moment to first break open its seal and memorize it. Just in case.

It’s what her father would have done.

But as she prepared herself to leave, taking that wine bottle with her, she heard it again.

That fucking giggle.

And this time, it was no trick of the wine or memory. She paused, turning to search the opposite side of the tavern. Instantly, she froze. One shadowed booth, its occupants obviously intertwined. One man’s head being pressed lower and lower… the other, though he laid deeper in the shadows, was giggling at the nipping caresses.

His pale face was tilted away, but she knew that frame… that tousle of silver hair thrown back in ecstacy. His sharp chin, well cut jaw… his long, lithe fingers pushing that man’s head deep into his lap.

Glass shattered at her feet. Her wine bottle decimated as it slipped from her grip.

All she saw was red. Bloodied crimson at the sight of him.

Not dead.

Not alone. Not grieving and pining and lost adrift.

No. Being pleasured, Astarion the Pale Elf. “Fuck,” she growled, grinding the glass under her heel, pretending that the red wine at her feet was blood.

So blind, so lost to her sadness, she failed to see truth. So eager to give away her heart and soul and body. Little did she know all she gave him was a taste for more.

And not more of her. Not more to serve their… her people.

A fake death, an endless parade of lovers in her wake.

He might as well be as good as dead.

Her hand twitched on the hilt of her blade. Her head cocked to the side as she… considered. It would be quick to draw her knife out. To dampen these floorboards with more that ran red than wine.

But something stayed her fist, something kept that silver blade etched with her insignia of a crow buried inside its scabbard.

The ghost of her love for him couldn’t let that dagger sate its taste for blood. Not his.

“Fuck,” she growled again, striding away for the stables. She would not rest tonight. Ride until dawn. Push herself until that blade did taste blood.

Blood of Orcs and enemies. Flesh separated from bones until they were picked clean in the battlefield.

Enough blood until her body could finally go numb and her ears deafen to the sound of his giggle.

Of his pleasure. With many others.

Astarion’s mind swirled through more visions, half aware of his own feelings, own memories of that dark time.

She hated me… he hissed to himself, a bit in shock. Taken so far aback at the feelings that surfaced in her memories. He pushed harder, searching them, seeing how far that hatred went.

He saw… himself. The wreckage of the Nautiloid burning in the distance. Cocky, threatening on the beach, arms wrapped around that body he no longer knew.

A body he once knew carnally each and every night.

Her memories could have been tinted in red, the wave of anger, of shock and betrayal poured into his heart at the sight of… himself.

He was so cold, calculating. Aloof and mean. He felt it in her body, that longing to put herself out of misery by snatching his own dagger and slitting that beautiful pale throat she once nuzzled against.

How many lips had kissed him there… how many other faces pressed against that beat of his heart in his artery.

But no. Even when her hand did reach her own weapon, those fingers softened as she looked into his now crimson eyes.

“Fuck,” she had thought. Agreeing to let him be her companion. Unable to kill him or turn him away.

So she suffered.

Day. And night. Drawn like a moth to his flame to be so close again. Hating the fact that she couldn’t just be done with his presence. Hating the fact he couldn’t remember her…

But those little changes in him had softened the hatred, drawing question after question to her mind instead.

Why… why crimson eyes… why would an elf lose all his memory, the blessing and curse to his elven kindred… why those scars on his neck and his cold touch…?

She had pieced it out so early on. Vampire. But not so powerful… a spawn then. She had slept with a stake in her bed since that first night. Just in case.

Her love may have still been an ember, fighting for air to burn again in her heart, but her trust had long been extinguished.

He felt that hatred sink deeper again, watching how he had flirted with Shadowheart, playing on this confession of their past. Manipulating her, crafting the perfect tension to make her give him what he wanted.

He was so good at it. Save for the fact he underestimated that burning hate.

But Cordehlia had underestimated that ember of love. The moment he woke her in her bedroll, fangs at the ready, a stake pressed at his side, she had never hated him more. Not since that first night in the tavern when she saw him again… thinking him worse than a traitor.

She had been so close. So close to shoving that stake in his undead heart, putting herself out of that misery, misery she couldn’t endure much longer. It would have been the just thing after what he had done to her to take his life, undead or not.

But her heart won. That voice in her memory, his voice, made her recall his violet eyes and easy smile. His voice had stayed her hand again. It was a voice that long ago had hummed softly as her head rested in his lap, body warmed by the sun and the last throes of her pleasure at his fingers.

It was his voice that whispered to her that these weren’t his sins, that something here was more at fault than unbridled lust and a penchant for manipulation.

He wasn’t to blame.

But he would need to stay alive for her to learn why not.

So she let him disarm her, let him bite her flesh, let his body crush hers as it once had with bone-deep recognition.

And he felt that ember fan alive with love brighter in the memory of that night.

————————————————————————

A deep breath in his lungs, like one drowned breaking through the surface, he awoke. His eyes opened to the real world around them. She clung to him tighter than ever, as if she could knit her flesh to his, make her blood run as his own.

Her eyes stared back, every emotion racing behind her gaze, dripping wet with tears. Relief, anxiety, love and regret, they darkened her face as the sun sank below the waves of the Sea. Astarion kept one arm around her back, the other he moved, cradling her face so gently. His own eyes stung from unshed tears. “You know…” he whispers, voice shaking still from the intensity of those memories, “for all the ways Cazador tormented me, tortured me, stole everything from me… the worst thing he ever stole from me was my memory of you…”

“Cazador can rot in the hells for what he took from me, for what he forced you to do,” Cordehlia scowled. “I… I lost my love for you for so long, I buried it under grief and hatred and blood. And when I saw you on the beach…. When you had no idea who I was to you….” Her voice snagged in her throat the more she talked, until she couldn’t swallow.

He just held her, shushing her softly, still holding her face. His palm collected the warm tears as they silently began to fall. “My love, you never gave up on me. Even when you walked away, even then, you did what you had to, just as I did. I could feel it from then too, even when you found me in that wreckage of the Mindflayer ship, your heart never gave up on me…” he paused, making certain her wet, silver eyes looked right into his. “And I’m so very grateful you didn’t.”

Cordehlia sniffled, a feeble smile on her lips, embarrassed as he brought her very wet face against his own for a kiss.

“Besides, I’m rather looking forward to damning that bastard to the hells at your side. It’ll be so much more fun together,” he crooned. That playful tone made her give tear-streaked laughs as she wiped her nose on her sleeve.

“Together, he’s going to pay,” she added. “In blood…” she couldn’t help but grin again.

“And then we will find a way to be together forever,” Astarion smiled, just a bit more twistedly, a bit more darkly. “I can promise you that.”

💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞

Thank you for everyone who loves these two lovesick idiots. I love hearing your reactions and your predictions.

This really is almost an Alternate Universe for the Pale Elf Quest, and I’m just thankful there are readers along for the ride 💞

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!