#a week since the finale if i see one more person be like but the ending is just to avoid picking barchie or bughead i will kill you

[orimuraa]

꒰♡꒱ Dear. My darling - OT7

(synopsis) ༊*·˚ it was so painful for enhypen not to miss youೄྀ

ot7 enhypen x fem!reader ༊*·˚ HEAVY angst ༊*·˚ main character death ༊*·˚ enha dealing with your death ༊*·˚ death, crying, mentions of sickness ༊*·˚ wc 1.8k

jiji’s note: i’m so sorry for the heart wrenching angst. i’m in a mood rn and this is what came out of it. pls do not read if you have trouble reading about loss of a loved one. if you are struggling with something like this, my inbox is always open <3

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧

𝑳𝒆𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈 - 이희승

wow. you were really gone. it’s been weeks since you left this cruel world and heeseung hasn’t been able to realize that you really were gone. you didn’t deserve to leave. you were the purest person on this earth and heeseung was the luckiest man on earth to have you. you were so, so, so strong up until your final breath. you had fought so hard to stay awake everyday and heeseung was right there with you on your hospital bedside. you had asked him, “when i leave, promise me that you won’t miss me too much okay?” and he wanted to promise you that and so much more. that it would be okay. that you would make it out well and healthy. but you both knew that that was just a fantasy too far out of reach. the doctors had told you and heeseung that your condition had only gotten worse and your days were limited now. heeseung took a whole month off of work just so he could stay by your side every minute of the grueling days. the sound of your labored breathing was like a stab to his heart each time he heard it. your were in so much pain and he couldn’t do anything to fix it.

the day you left him, a part of soul left him as well. you were his everything. he treasured you so greatly and to think that he wouldn’t be able to see you anymore hurt like hell. he hadn’t realized he was crying until he felt his tears drip onto his pants. how could he keep his promise to you when all he could think of was just missing everything about you? but he was determined to live till the day that you and him would be able to reunite with each other without any pain or care in the world. he knew that you were doing so much better now that you were free of your pain and that you would always be with him. always.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 - 박종성

it took a long three days for jay to finally realize that you were gone and that you weren’t coming back. the world had been so cruel to you and it resulted in you having to stay in the dreaded hospital for your last days on this earth. the hospital was the place you had despised most. knowing fully well that your illness was incurable, you had told jay, “promise me you won’t be too sad” how could he not? the love of his life was bound to this hospital bed and the life in your eyes was slowly fading away. the bright smile you always wore had become a rare sight nowadays and jay’s heart was shattering with each and every awful day that passed. on a cold afternoon, you took your final breath on this world with your loving boyfriend right by your side, whispering how he would find you in every lifetime just to be with you again.

jay didn’t know how long he cried for but what he did know was that his tears couldn’t bring you back. he knew it was selfish of him to wish that you were somehow still alive knowing that you were probably free of any pain you were in when you were on earth. he hated how he couldn’t keep his promise with you. he hated how you wouldn’t be there to brighten up his world anymore. when you left, you took jay’s soul away with you. you were his everything. how could he live without you?

𝑺𝒊𝒎 𝑱𝒂𝒆𝒚𝒖𝒏 - 심재윤

jake dreaded every passing day, knowing that your condition was only getting weaker and weaker. a couple months ago, you were diagnosed with an illness that was incurable. that was jake’s worst day of his life. now, in the final days of your life, he was here with you, right beside your bed. he made sure that your hospital room looked nice and neat just the way you like it and he never left you alone. everyday, you would tell him just a little bit more how much you loved him. he knew the reason. he knew it was all because you were slowly fading away. he could see it in the way your eyes never twinkled anymore, and the way your smile was never quite full. every little word that came out of your mouth was filled with so much pain. he also knew that the best thing for you was to just be able to rest. to be free of this cruel and awful world that had cursed you, the purest of angels. you deserved nothing like this, yet look where you were now. stuck to a hospital bed, slowly and painfully losing your life.

the day you let go, jake couldn’t accept the fact that you were gone. his friends had to come and pick him up from the hospital just for him to attempt to run back in, saying you needed him next to you. the truth was, he needed you next to him. he cried himself to sleep every night since that day, missing you more and more as the time went by. jake knew that you wouldn’t have wanted him to be this miserable. he could just imagine you wiping his tears for him and telling him not to cry too much for you. but how could he not when his light in this dark world just went out? he couldn’t bear thinking of what life would be like without you. he just couldn’t.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒏 - 박성훈

sunghoon felt like his heart was just ripped out. seeing you take your last breath in that god awful hospital room was so heartbreaking for him to witness. the way your eyes had so much pain in them but the smile you tried to put on for him is something he could never ever forget. why did you have to be cursed by this world? why was it always the purest of people? you were nothing but an angel to this world yet you still got sick, limiting your time with sunghoon.

exactly a month after your death, sunghoon wrote a letter to you. he wrote it because he wasn’t sure how else to cope on this day. he wanted to let you know that he was trying so hard to be strong for you, but it hurt so bad. he missed you so much. the way your eyes would crinkle into little crescents when you smiled, and your warm, infectious laugh, he would never be able to experience this ever again. he held so much guilt in his heart for not being able to keep your promise to him. he promised to you that he would try his hardest to move on just like you wanted for him, but he just couldn’t. he didn’t know how to cope with anything at the moment and he certainly had no plans of moving on. he just couldn’t keep his promise.

𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒐𝒐 - 김선우

seeing your brightness slowly fade into darkness was sunoo’s nightmare. he hated how he had to watch the brightest person ever slowly get consumed by the dark. your illness was a mystery to the doctors and it had been a surprise. it happened so suddenly and sunoo had no idea how to handle it. he stayed with you everyday and made sure that your were never alone, knowing deep down that these were probably his last moments with you. on the day of your passing, sunoo cried and cried and cried. he felt so helpless and heartbroken that he was afraid he would never do anything else in his life except cry. cry for you. you would’ve never wanted him to be this devastated but it was something you couldn’t control. he knew that if you ever saw him now, you would break down at the sight. he was a wreck since you left him. he wasn’t sure how to move on or just move to the next step from there. a part of his soul died the same day you did, leaving him with half a soul, and a broken heart.

𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒘𝒐𝒏 - 양정원

you were so young. you didn’t deserve anything that happened to you. the doctors had diagnosed you with a sickness that was limited your days on the earth after an accident you had. jungwon never left you alone and always made sure to be with you every second you were awake, savoring his last few moments with you. it was supposed to be any day now where your body would give out and jungwon would lose the one person in life who made life worth living for. before you passed, you had told him, “i want you to be happy when i’m gone. i don’t want you being stuck on me and not moving on. please promise me that” and at the time, he was willing to do whatever you wanted since it would be your last wish, but now, he hated the idea of moving on from you. there was no way he could ever let you go.

𝑵𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒂 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒊 - 西村 力

having to deal with your passing at such a young age was so hard for ni-ki. you had gone down with an unknown illness and the doctors said that your days were limited now. ni-ki was with you every step of the way up until your death. he loved you so much and he just couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. the day you had passed away was the hardest thing ni-ki ever had to go through. you were such a bright and bubbly person so him seeing you so lifeless and low made his heart break. you would always re-assure him that you were doing fine and just a bit tired, but ni-ki saw right through it. he knew how much you were struggling because you still had so much you wanted to accomplish in your lifetime. you and ni-ki had once shared your dreams for your futures to each other and it now pains him to realize that you would never be able to love out your dream.

a week after your passing, ni-ki and his hyungs went to go get flowers to honor you. jake had told him that maybe he just needed to write a letter of closing to you. to let you know how proud he was of you for fighting so hard for so long. he had so much he wanted to say to you but the realization that he would never be able to talk with you again really struck deep. he knew he had to recover for you, but he would never move on. he promised himself that he could never love again. he felt that he would be betraying you even if you wanted him to move on after you were gone. but god, he would miss you so much. but at least now, you were in the stars.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧

i'm sorry for the heavy angst :( it was rlly hard for me to write as it just reminded me of my grandma's passing but funny enough, i think this helped me get out some emotions i didn't know i needed to. if you're ever struggling, i want my inbox to be a safe space for everyone to just come and vent if needed. i want to be a safe space for people in need. tysm for reading everyone. feedback is very appreciated <3

[neuvilletteswife4ever]

So I have sent a request in the queue right now, but I have another (possibly good) idea:

Gender neutral reader, but they're sadistic and able to escape and elude the Harbingers for prolonged periods

They leave little notes behind that mock them and the Tsaritsa, all the while leaking their secrets; they effectively toy with Harbingers and constantly remind them of their weaknesses and soft spots (i.e. Childe and his family, Arlecchino and the House of the Hearth, etc.)

Of course, they'll get caught eventually (and probably receive the ass-beating of a lifetime), but they never learn and soon they'll subsequently escape again

Eventually the Harbingers seemingly finally have enough and attempt to keep the reader in their grasp forever...

...only to find them dead via head smashing by some sort of heavy object

WOAHH I LOVE THIS WTF???

Warnings: Escaping, sadistic, humiliation, kidnapping.

YANDERE FATUI HARBINGERS X READER

It had been a week since you had escaped and the Fatui Harbingers were already going insane. How could YOU escape from them? Your entire purpose is meant to be with them and obey!

After having all of your loved ones killed, tortured, kidnapped you couldn't be with them anymore.

SOMEHOW you found a key to unlock the chain on your ankle, Arlecchino had forgotten it due to an emergency at the house of the hearth.

It was probably the biggest news on Teyvat that you had escaped. Your "bounty" (I think that's what it's called) was 10 million mora.

Gosh...and obviously, you couldn't go outside because of the people looking for you. Who wouldn't want to be get such a large amount of mora AND be noticed by the Fatui Harbingers? It's a one in a life time opportunity!

However, after being tortured for so long, it seemed like you were a new person. A complete new person from when they had kidnapped you. You became sadistic, you had a weird kind of PLEASURE in seeing others in pain, distress, humiliation. While you did think it was weird at first, you kept seeing Dottore (when you were still kidnapped and in their grasp, the Fatui Harbingers would always take you with them because you weren't allowed to be alone) in the lab TORTURING and HUMILIATING his test subjects. So, you learned that it wasn't THAT weird. We all have our weird fetishes, RIGHT?

To make the Fatui Harbingers more in distress, to torture them, you decided to MOCK them and humiliate them even more.

When you were with the Fatui Harbingers, Pantalone gave you his money (because he's rich) to spend. He wanted to spend money on his darling, to spoil them, in an attempt to gain their trust. That NEVER worked.

So you had leftover mora to buy food, clothes in an attempt to disguise yourself, and lastly, hire a person who can deliver letters for you.

You were staying in an old cabin in the snowy woods of Shneznaya.

The first letter sent was for the house of the hearth. Reminding them how EVIL their "Father" was, and that they shouldn't trust her.

The second letter was for Tartaglia's siblings, Tuecer, Tonia and Anthon. Telling them how "Evil" Ajax was, their brother, rather known as Tartaglia, the Eleventh Ranked Fatui Harbinger.

The third letter was for Scaramouche, mocking him of how utterly pathetic he was. Telling him that it was so embarassing to hear that the Electro Archon, his own mother abandoned him. Absolutely humiliating the shit out of him.

More and more letters came, you knew how stressed and humiliated they were. How hurt they were.

Arlecchino found out about the letter that you sent and she was FURIOUS. How could you possibly try and get the House Of The Hearth to go against her? Their own Father!

As for Tartaglia, he was not pleased to hear about this letter.

You found a weird sense of joy in their humiliation, pain and hurting their feelings.

But little did you know that all the pain would come back to YOU...

(ill continue this soon)

[f4iry-bell]

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄 | 𝟏

pairing: popula!jameson hawthorne x nerd/goodgirl!reader

summary: who would have guessed taking an unwanted picture of her could lead to that tense moment? more than that, who would have thought it would get his attention to make a deal? and guys like him drain a person inside out when are interested in you.

warning: jamie being a slight jerk, very little. little over the top reader(?)

series taglist: @clarissaweasley-10 @whatsamongus @sheisntyou @emelia07 @elysianwayy77 @lyra-kane @bewitchingkisses @zenikswaffleshop @off-to-the-r4ces @jamcarven (lmk if you want to be added!)

a/n: IM SO EXCITED TO WRITE THIS WHOLE THING, YAY. a lot of jerk jamie in this fuc guys. sorry;(

word count: 1.5k

masterlist | series master list

“Did you just take a picture of me?” The tone and how sharp it was so surprising to the two boys to her side, one with the camera, and one with a stupid smile.

“Maybe.” The boy who was holding the camera didn't take her frowned brows, and dagger throwing eyes at him seriously. No one really takes her seriously, most of the time she is just invisible but definitely not today.

“Delete it.” She demanded, taking a step closer.

“Aw, don't want others to see your pretty face?” The boy holding the camera teased her, and then turned to his green eyes friend with a stupid smirk.

“I said, delete it.” she demanded again, this time more serious and firm than before.

“Or what?”

“I'll sue you. I'll take you to court, but before that I would like to formally inform the student body for violating my privacy, and I'm pretty sure you'd be dealt with by the faculty.” She didn't blink once, she adjusted her glasses after ending her threat.

“Woah, now let's not go there, princess” the green-eyed boy took a step forward with his hands in front in defense. “We don't want trouble.”

“She's bluffing.” The idiot with the camera said.

“She's not.” The other guy said without taking his gaze away from her face. And he is right. She's not bluffing.

The idiot was looking at her face, scanning to see what the other guy was seeing. “Alright, I'll delete it. I was just taking random pictures of the campus anyway.”

She was waiting for him to do it, but he didn't do it, yet. “Do it, right now.”

“I'll delete it later.” He said.

“Delete it now, Cory.” The green-eyed spoke, she almost thought he was a decent guy. Almost, until he spoke again. “We don't want our front row princess to tell on us to her teacher, now do we?” His lips curved up to a stupid, irritating smirk.

Her face could have sworn it was hot as hell from all the anger if it was possible. Cory finally deleted it, and showed her. “There, happy now?”

She didn't reply, just turned and walked away from them. She could feel as though her skin was being burnt because she knew that a pair of beautiful green eyes was staring at her as she walked away.

Two weeks have passed since this incident. Jameson has forgotten about it or so he thought, he did see her in class and think about how different she was that day from how she acts in class, she almost speaks to no one other than the professor to ask for doubts or questions. He wondered if she even has friends, with her introverted personality, and quick to try and sue anyone who would want to be friends with her? Or the real question is, does she want to be friends with anyone at all?

Yeah, she probably hates everyone. But why is it taking psychology? Maybe that's not her major, he wondered what her major would be. It's definitely not psychology, because he can't imagine her as a psychologist. Maybe she majors in business, but then again, why would she take psych?

Why are his thoughts filled with her and her life? She is no one. She is just some girl passing by, a girl who happened to be more than just what she shows. He knows that, Jameson knows how to read people. Even before his psychology classes, he was not as good as his brother but he is good, and he can read her, just a little more time with her, and he'll have a master degree on her.

The next couple days Jameson skipped psychology classes because he couldn't help but stare and observe her, it was getting ridiculous to the point that even Dean who sleeps in class noticed it. For two days Jameson spent psychology class hours on the rooftop, he has done this on Heights Country High, why not in Yale too? But today was different, the door’s latch was already open, and the door was about 4 inches open.

He pushes past the door and saw someone standing near the edge, at first he thought this was a suicide attempt, but the person was calm, quiet, looking everywhere with a notepad on one hand and a pen on the other. The person was a girl who wore her hair up in a ponytail, her skirt was moving in the direction of the wind, he knew who it was. He could never forget her back profile.

“Well, well, well. If it isn't my favourite front row princess.” He regretted speaking out of the blue because it scared her to the point she jerked up, she could have fallen.

“Fuck!” She yelped.

“You know how to curse?” He teased her.

“Yes, asshole. I’m not 2.” She rolled her eyes when she turned to see who it was.

He smiled. “Never thought I'd see the day where you'd skip classes. Or are you stalking me?”

“Last I checked, I was here first. So, are you stalking me?” she asked.

“I've been here for a couple days, princess. What are you doing here?” He answered and asked the question out of curiosity.

“What are you doing here?”

“You first.”

“No.”

“I'll figure it out on my own.” He said and started to observe, she was writing something down before he interrupted her. He can't figure it out, it's too vague, maybe if she gave her notepad he could get something.

She was quicker than him, she somehow figured that he was about to snatch her notepad from her, and was on her guard.

“Come on. How about we make a deal, yeah? You tell me why you are skipping class and hanging out with yourself on the rooftop, and I'll owe you one.” He tried.

“How do I know that you'd actually keep your word?” She raised an eyebrow, rolling her eyes.

“A Hawthorne never not keep his word.” He said it out proudly. Something to be proud of from that name.

“Right, you're a Hawthorne.” She added. “Why are you so determined to know why I'm here? You get nothing out of it, and yet you're saying you'll owe me one.” She was questioning whether or not to agree to this deal. Having Jameson Hawthorne owe you one is a vid deal.

“I'm a man of mysteries. I also tend to like mysteries. And you, princess? One hell of a mystery. I figured that much two weeks ago when you threatened to sue my friend.” He smiled, taking a step closer. “So? What do you say? Deal?” He asked.

She sighed. “For my journalism class, I have to write about something new…something that is ‘not in my bubble’ as my professor worded it, hence the rooftop.”

Jameson’s face was pulled together in confusion. “Still a bit vague. Are you going to try to fly?”

She rolled her eyes which made him smile. “No. Just looking at people from a different perspective. I don't think I can go out of my bubble but I can always observe people from different angles and be them for a while to write a different story. Sounds a bit stupid but it'll work. And I'll get an A.”

Jameson noticed how her eyes sparkled when she said ‘I'll get an A.” It made him smile even wider.

“That's still not doing what your professor asked.” He pointed it out.

“But it's not the same repetitive story as before. It's new, so.” She shrugged.

Jameson was quiet for a while. “You said you can't go out of your bubble. Is it can't or won't?”

She just glared at him as if he lied about something. Ironically he only told the truth.

“See? You don't even try, and say you can't.”

“It's not easy for me, okay? If I do new things out of the blue, people will stare at me, look at me weirdly or bully me too. I can't just step out of my bubble like that. Even if people are nice, it's me. I'm awkward, and just stupid when it comes to socialising or anything that's not just academics, and some extracurriculars that I do.” She let out a quick sigh before shaking her head.

“So stupid. I don't even know why I'm telling you this.” She murmured.

Jameson was quiet for a few seconds. “I'll tell you what. I said I owe you one, right? How about this; I help you get out of your bubble. I'll help you socialise and all that stuff, stuff that are not you. I'll help you with them.”

“When you owe someone it's up to them to decide what it is.” She said with a little sass.

“I know, princess. But think about it. It's a good one. I'm just suggesting, it's up to you.” He took another step, now only two feet away from her with his hands extended in front. “Deal?”

She bit her lips out of frustration.

Jameson chuckled. “Take it or leave it. Don't need to kill yourself over it.” But he wanted her to take it, so bad.

She let go of her bottom lips, and relaxed her shoulders. She passed the pen to the other hand, holding both the notepad and pen in one, she spoke “deal.”

Her soft palm met his and shook gently. The touch shouldn't have sent goosebumps to Jameson but it did.

[dairy-farmer]

I've got this Brutim/Brudick idea I wonder if you've written before. So we all know how Bruce could be invasive and controlling to his kid's personal life. At one point he crossed Tim's boundary, boy is offended and Dick is all in to backing Tim up against Bruce. Dick has been there done that, more than happy to fight for Tim's freedom, as Dick has been secretly frustrated in Tim's stead since the younger was outrageously lenient and forgiving with Bruce, and yet Bruce still fucked it up.

The kick in this is what if Bruce actually pulled back? Like they managed to hit him where it hurts and he eventually gave in, agreeing to all their terms? Tim then gets to move out, "taking a break" from being his Robin, and Bruce must remove all his means to spy on children without their knowledge and consent. Dick doubted Bruce will follow through with it any longer than a week, but he's happy enough that Tim finally got to move out from Wayne manor.

Things went smoothly for them, they found no hidden camera, no tracker, no uninvited drone nor interception in their communication during solo mission, warning them of possible threats. Bruce didn't even get to know where Tim lives now! In the beginning, he will have to go through Dick first if he called on the phone and wanted to talk with Tim. Dick has this schadenfreude as he waits and sees when Bruce will snap, so he will have even more justification to keep Tim away. Dick kind of tries to fix his own trauma from his past with Bruce through Tim like that.

But weeks turned into months and Bruce hasn't folded. At one point, Tim randomly utters that he missed Bruce while hanging out at Dick's place. And as a good brother, what else can Dick do but suggesting them paying a visit? The boy's face brightened up more than when Dick showed him his new apartment.

So together they gave Bruce's a head-up and drove back to Wayne manor. The way Tim jumped to embrace Bruce gave Dick an itch inside. They had a family dinner, where Bruce gracefully received whatever of their life updates that they are willing to reveal to him (Tim did it more enthusiastically than Dick). Right when Dick slyly commented that Bruce seems to do better, the man also sheepishedly admitted that he has been getting therapies. He worked with this psychiatrist, picked up that hobby...hey, there's that countryside farm he came twice a month just to pet the animals! Tim wow and ah at all the new experience Bruce shared, while Dick just sat there in shock. All the years before Dick has begged Bruce to seek help and it never got through. When Bruce caught words that Dick was getting therapies himself, all the man had to say is that's a waste of time and Dick has risked leaving a trace of sensitive files behind his back. Though the delayed anger didn't hit him until Dick returned to Bludhaven again.

On Tim's side, he didn't tell Dick how he has been anxious since the communication shutdown with Bruce. Back then he can always rely on Bruce watching out for him, filling in for him what he ought to miss. He's still doing fine on his own, that's true; but whenever he walks home alone at night, or when he's about to sleep, this anxiety will creep up with the knowledge that Bruce or his tools as the extension is no longer watching after him. Whenever Dick came over as they agreed to search for possible tracker and chip, only to find nothing, Tim would bite his lips and hide his disappointment. Dick doesn't know Tim searched his apartment and his computer almost everyday by himself; on occasion where Tim passed out of drunkeness or exhaustion, he would even search his body the next day for biotracker! He always knows before Dick that Bruce really pulled back.

Tim also made the extra effort to "spy" on Bruce, naturally without Dick's knowing. He started with asking Alfred on the phone how Bruce's doing, nothing too strange. Then he started listening in Oracle's network, while carefully covering his trace. It's basic detective works really, it didnt take long for Tim to get in on every new things Bruce picked up to get better as he has promised. And however Bruce has wronged him before, Tim felt like he then has the heart to forgive Bruce.

Though it surprised Tim that during the visit, Bruce didn't take the offer of him moving back in. Bruce said he was right that both of them need space, and encouraged Tim to take the time for self-exploration like Bruce does now. Tim has no other choice but to agree, like how he has no other choices but left some of his "tools" back in the cave and the manor before he left. More than to spy on Bruce, Tim starts to leave behind clues and holes in his privacy for Bruce to find. His new address on a piece of paper he meant to give Alfred, but forgot on the coffee table. An "undeleted" pathway in the Batcomputer that linked to all the camera in Tim's new home. Records of Red Robin and Nightwing's communication lines that somehow got picked up by Oracle's intranet. Tim even submitted the wrong email address in his new period tracker app, so Bruce will accidentally receive a pop-up on Tim's ovulation as well! I just like the idea of Tim trying to make Bruce relapse into his old pattern of obsession, while Dick is fighting with his inner monster on the side.

That's all I have for now, have a great day! ����

!!!!! dick being so angry with bruce and funnelling his anger through using tim as a proxy stand in for all the hurt and anger he's felt towards bruce because of his invasiveness and refusal to stop, respect boundaries, or get help. dick thinking he's punishing bruce and getting back at him by using tim only for bruce to actually TRY to get better, to actually seek out therapy and TRY to improve for tim's sake. and dick being so conflicted about it because he's wanted bruce to do those things FOR yeaRS but he never did, not until he took tim away from him.

and tim, it wasn't even his idea to close bruce out. he'd always taken a sort of comfort from all that bruce did and so him deciding to try and make bruce break by giving him all these ways to invade his privacy, trying to stop him from getting better and to relapse.

tim sabotaging the thing dick has wanted for years, dick being angry that bruce is doing the thing he's wanted for years but he's doing it for tim and bruce trying to be better but struggling, now even harder because tim is trying to get him to slip up because he misses him.

[princess-of-morkva]

to find you again

Arthur Pendragon was ten years old when his world finally began to make sense.

It was in his fifth grade, when his class went on a week long camping trip. He didn't know, at the time, what compelled him to sneak out of the tent in the wee hours of the morning, when the first rays of dawn lit up the treetops and his legs carried him towards the shore of a lake. It's surface was shimmering in morning light, and he could feel his breath halt, afraid to disturb the serenity of the sight that felt so otherworldly. It may have been some divine compulsion or simply his innate, childish desire to explore that made him go further, then, until his rubber flipflops were left on the shore and his bare feet touched the water.

There was a hand then, that rose out of the water, translucent and not entirely present, an image out of mist. There was a hand, and then another, and then the head and the body — a figure arose from the lake, smiling at the little boy that intruded her realm.

"Hello, Arthur." She spoke, and her voice didn't carry through the air like a human's would, rather, it sang with the wind, hit the ears like tiny drops meeting the water. "It's good to meet you at last."

He stared at her, for a long moment, before answering.

"How do you know me?" He frowned at her. Father told him not to talk to strangers, and this might have been a very pretty woman made out of mist, but she was still very much a stranger. Still, he didn't step out of the lake, for his curiosity was much greater than his father's teachings which felt so far away at the moment, and there was no one around to see anyway.

"The world speaks to me. I can't leave this lake, but I can see far beyond it." Her answer was not an answer at all, Arthur thought. His confusion must've been evident, because she smiled at him again, and there was a mischievous hint in the corner of her lips that made her look not so much like a spirit in a lake but a living and breathing young girl, but the next second it was gone and Arthur was left to wonder if he imagined it entirely.

"Why can't you?" He asked.

"It's were I was put to rest." She spoke the words so evenly, as all of the things she previously said, that it took Arthur a few seconds to catch the meaning of it.

"Does that mean you're dead?" He asked, hoping not to offend her with it.

"Not exactly. I'm here, aren't I?" Once again, her answer gave more questions than it answered.

"There are ghosts." He said. Arthur wasn't sure there were, actually. His father didn't believe in such things.

"I am different from ghosts."

"What are you then?"

"A guardian."

Arthur nodded, as if it made perfect sense. It didn't.

"Do you have a name?" He asked. It was only polite to ask for a person's name when first meeting them. Than again, lake-guardian-spirits could have entirely different etiquette.

"I was called Freya, once." There was a small smile, again.

Arthur nodded musingly.

"It's a pretty name."

She hummed.

"Do you often speak to people?" He never heard of such entities as her. It couldn't have been a common occurrence, surely. But wouldn't that be lonely? Having no one to talk to?

She shook her head, and there was a wistful look in her eyes.

"I haven't spoken to anybody in centuries." That couldn't have been nice, Arthur thinks. If she could speak to him, why didn't she speak to others?

"Why'd you speak to me than?" Freya didn't answer immediately, pausing the flow of their measured back-and-forth. It almost looked like she was unsure, but her features were still so calm, it was impossible to tell.

Then, she asked. "Do you have dreams, sometimes?"

It was a silly question. Everybody had dreams. Arthur understood immediately though, it wasn't the regular kind of dreams she was talking about.

Because the thing is, Arthur did have dreams. Ever since he was little. He remembers dreaming of white towers and battlements, of bright red banners and capes. Of metal clanging and laughter and a weight of a sword in his hand, on his hip. Of familiar faces he could never quite place. Of raven curls and bright blue eyes, especially often.

He never told his father about them — he'd call such things foolish. Arthur didn't think they were.

Arthur looked at Freya and nodded. There was a glim of relief in her eyes, he thought.

"Would you like to see more?" She asked, offering him her hand. Not solid in any common way of the world but in that moment, more real than any other thing around them.

Arthur didn't think twice before grasping it.

-----

please tell me if you'd like to see more of it because i love the thing in my head so far

where is merlin in it? he's gonna be there. with a twist. it's a reincarnation fic but with a twist. it's also very merthur. or as much as it can ever get with my aromantic ass.

also it's modern au but i still haven't decided on a more specific setting- should i do college au? i'd be horrible at it even though it would make sense thematically- i haven't been outside in years how does society function? how do i write it?

can you see i love freya? i love her very much

[lokigodofmyheart]

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Words: 4.479.

Summary: Tony and Y/N have a friends with benefit situation. But what happens when someone wants more and the other don't?

Warning/Content: angst, fluff.

A/N: This is my first time writting a Tony x Reader. Dividers by @cafekitsune <3

Fury was on her, wanting the reports from last mission. And obviously, the only person who hadn’t finished yet was Stark. Somehow, Fury thought that if someone could make him do it, it would be Y/N. And that’s how she ended up in his lab. 

Tony was sitting in his chair, doing absolutely nothing with a glass of whiskey in his hand. He looked at her with his usual smirk “What’s bring you here, Y/L/N?” 

“Have you finished your report from the last mission, Stark?” She asks, walking closer to his desk. 

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his messy hair “No, not yet. Why?” 

“Fury needs it. And he’s been waiting for it for two days now.” Y/N knew how Tony was and how much he hated to make those reports. In the end, she always ends up finishing for him. 

Tony rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his glass “I'll finish it, but not right now. I'm in the middle of something.” 

“Yeah, I can see it.” She glares at him, before she starts going through the giant amount of paper on his desk.  

Tony stops put his glass down on the desk and looks at her with a small smirk “Are you really here to talk about the reports?” 

“Yes.” She finally found it. 

“And are you sure that's the only reason you're here?” His smirks didn’t flatter. 

Y/N grabs the file in her hands “Yes.” That’s all she said before she turns around without looking at him and left his lab. 

Tony watched as she walked away from him, without any further comment. Obviously, given their situation, he found it a bit weird. 

The next day, Y/N was in her room when she heard a knock on her door. She open it, seeing Tony standing there.  

“Yes?”  

The man leaned against the doorway, with a small smile that he saved just for her when they were alone “I need to go to the mall, buy a few things. Wanna tag along?” 

Her face turn to an apologetic one “Sorry, I’m not feeling very well...” 

“You feel sick?” He asked her and she could noticed the worry in his voice. 

“No, not. Just a small headache, nothing major...but thanks for the invitation anyway.” She gave him a small smile. 

Tony was a bit reluctant to believe her but didn't want to press further “Yeah, ok. Rest well.” 

“Thanks.” She gently closes the door. He stood there for a few seconds, worried, before he walked away. 

The next time something like that happened, it was after movie night with the team. Everyone said good night after the movie ended, leaving just the two of them in the living room. Y/N slowly got up from the couch “I’m going to bed too.” 

Tony quickly got up too, grabbing her arm gently and smirk “Why don't we go to mine?” 

Again, the apologetic expression crossed her face “I’m on my period. Sorry.”  

His smirk dropped slightly as his grip loosened and his hand fall from her arm “Oh...” 

Y/N gave a small apologetic smile “Night, Stark.” 

He nods “Night, Y/L/N.” 

Tony thought it was just a coincidence, but he noticed that she looked like she was avoiding being alone with him. It had been more than a week since they had sex and every time he tried, she just had some short of excuse.  

He waited until she finished her training and cornered her when she was leaving the room. “Y/L/N, we need to talk.” 

Y/N stops and look at him “Sure.” 

He looked around to see if anyone was around and he crossed his arms “Have I done something to you?” 

“No.” She made a confused face as she looked at him. 

He studied her features for a moment, before he spoke again, a little lower “You've been avoiding me lately...” 

“No, I’m not.” 

Stark stepped closer to her “Then explain why you're avoiding spending time with me alone.” 

Y/N gave him a small smile “I’m not. Really.” 

“Then why did you always have some sort of excuse each time I ask you to hang out just the two of us?” 

She looked at his face and could see that he was somewhat hurt by her actions “I told you, I wasn't feeling well one day, and the other one I was in my period.” 

He didn’t really believe her “What about the other time at the lab? You came, got some paper, and were gone in a second. You didn't even try to engage with me.” 

“I was busy with the report you didn’t finish. Fury needed that.” She explains and hoped he would buy it. 

Clearly he didn’t. “Like you care about the reports. I think you're avoiding me.” 

“I’m not, Tony.” She says with a gentle voice. “Why don’t you come to my room later, and we can...talk.” She smirks at the last word. 

“Alright, I'll come...” He said, before walking away back to his room, excited for what he could only assume was going to happen tonight. 

As soon as she noticed he had left, her smirk dropped “Fuck...”  

Y/N didn’t know what to do. Yes, she had been avoiding him. They had this friend with benefits things, and she knew from the start that it was all that was and it couldn’t be more. But she had catch feelings for the billionaire and she didn’t know what to do. 

Later, Y/N was sitting on her bed with her laptop in her lap finishing another report for Fury when she heard a soft knock on her door. 

“Come in!” She says without moving from her spot. 

Tony opened the door and walked in, a smirk on his face “Hey, sweetheart.” 

She smiles looking at him “Hey.” 

He walked to the bed, sitting down next to her, he was wearing just a tank top and sweatpants “So, you wanted to...talk.” 

Y/N chuckles softly, closing her laptop and putting on her nightstand. Tony leaned against the headboard, and pulled her onto his lap “You know, the way you were acting today had me a bit worried for a second. I thought I'd done something to upset you...” 

“You’ve done nothing.” She smiles. 

He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him, his lips next to her ear “Good, I'm glad...” he began peppering light kisses on her neck and began to kiss down her neck, and to her shoulder, his hands slowly running up and down her waist and thighs. She just froze, she didn’t know what do to. Yes, she wanted sex with him, but her heart was screaming at her. 

Tony felt the tension in her body and he pulled away slightly, worried “You okay, sweetie?” 

“Yeah...” She tried to mask it with a smile, but Tony could notice on her voice something was wrong. 

His hands came up to cup her face, keeping her looking at him “You feel a bit tense. Talk to me...” Her smile slightly drops and that worried him even more “Y/N, what's wrong?” 

“I’m sorry...” Her voice was almost a whisper “I don’t think I can do this anymore...” 

“It's okay. We can do this another time.” He says with his hand rubbing her side to comfort her. 

“No, I didn’t mean like that.” 

Tony frowned and looked into her eyes “Then what do you mean?” 

Y/N sighs, before she spoke again “I can’t do this...” she points between them. 

His heart ached a bit at her words “You don't want this anymore?” 

“I'm sorry...” she says, getting off his lap and sitting by his side with her hands in her lap. 

He stayed sitting on the bed, looking at her, trying to hide the sadness that was building inside of him “Why? I thought...I thought things were good between us...” 

Y/N looked at him and she could see the pain on his face “It is...was...I swear it was.” 

“Then...why are you ending this? What changed? What did I do, huh?” he was trying to stay calm, but it was hard. He wanted answers. 

“You did nothing wrong.” She smiles sadly at him. 

“Then why? Do...do you not want me?” He let out a shaky breath, his eyes met hers again. 

“I do. And that’s the problem.” Her voice was low as she spoke. 

That made Stark was more confused now “Why is that a problem? I want you too.” 

“Because I want more.”  

There was silence. He took a few seconds trying to gather his thought before answering her with a frow on his face “But, we agreed from the start that-” 

“I know.” she cuts him “And that's why I'm ending this.” 

Tony et out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair “Y/N, I care about you, but that's- I can't give you what you want...” 

“I know.” She says and he could hear the sadness on her voice. He hated knowing that he was hurting her with his words, but he couldn't give her what she wanted.  

After a few minutes of silence, he spoke again “Do you regret us?” 

“No.” she smiles, looking at him, still with a hint of sadness “Never.” 

He reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers “Me neither, sweetheart...” 

Y/N looked down at their hands together “I mean, we still can do the friends part.” 

Stark chuckled sadly, bringing their intertwined hands to his lips “Can friendship really be enough?” 

“It has to be.” She whispers. 

He sighed, hating the way this conversation was going “You know I care a lot about you. I just...I don't do relationships anymore, not after...” 

“I know.” She squeezes his hand slightly “And that’s why I’m not asking for it.” 

“This suck, you know. I'm losing someone I care about, and I hate myself for it.” he ran a hand through his hair frustrated. 

Y/N was feeling her eyes filling up with tears, and she blinks, trying to fight it “Believe me, this is much harder for me.” 

“It's hard for both of us, okay?”he said a bit harshly before immediately regretting it “Fuck...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap.” 

She shakes her head, not wanting to cry in front of him “No, it isn't. You care about me when I...I fell in love.” 

The moment he heard those words, his heart ached even more. He wasn't sure what to say to that... so for a while, he just stayed silent, fiddling with her fingers. His jaw was clenched as he tried to control the emotions coursing through his body...he felt like a terrible person, knowing that he could not return her feelings. “I...I wish I could give you what you want. I really do...” 

“Me too...” 

Tony let out a shaky breath and squeezed the hand of hers that he was still holding. Even though he knew it probably wasn't a good idea, he pulled her a bit closer to him, resting his head on her shoulder “We can still be friends, right?” 

Y/N rest her head on his “Of course.” 

For a while, he let himself just feel the comfort of being close to her. But then he pulled away, reluctantly letting go of her hand and getting up from the bed “I should go...” Y/N just nods, not trusting her voice to answer.  He looked down at her for a moment before leaning down and placing a feather-like kiss on her forehead. Part of him wanted to pull her into his arms and never let her go, but instead, he straightened up and without another word, he walked out of her room. 

“Night, Stark...” She says, holding back her tears, knowing that after he left, they would never be this close again. 

“Goodnight, Y/L/N.” He said without looking back, knowing that the sight of her sad face would tear his heart even more. 

Tony walked down the hallway and into his room, walking straight to the mini fridge and grabbing a bottle of liquor. He sat down on the couch but didn't open the bottle just yet. Instead, he buried his head in his hands and let all his bottled-up emotions flood out of his every pore for what felt like hours. He sat there for hours, trying to get himself under control. But the mere idea that the one person he was closest to in the Tower was no longer his... that he had no right to touch, kiss, or hold... he grabbed the bottle of liquor, taking a long sip, as a single thought echoed in his mind ‘You're a complete idiot, Stark.’ 

Y/N stood in her bed, bringing her knees to her chest and finally letting the tears fload after Tony left until she eventually cried herself to sleep. In just a few minutes, Tony finished the first bottle and opened the second, the words she said earlier echoed in his mind. I fell in love. 

The first week had been rough for both of them. They were avoiding each other, which mean they were avoiding the kitchen, the common room, the training room. While Y/N was more quiet than usual and saying she was suffering from allergies to justify that sometimes her eyes and nose were red, Tony just was in a incredible bad mood all the time. The team watched the whole situation with worry and confusion. Everyone knew there was something wrong with Tony, usually when he was in a bad mood, he would go around the tower, annoying and trying to get a reaction out of everyone. But now, he was practically avoiding any interaction. 

-- 

Tony was in the kitchen, enjoying the silence with a coffee in his hand, when Clint, Thor and Steve entered and stopped in front of him. He let out a tired sigh, knowing that wouldn’t be good “What do you all want?” 

Thor studied his face, before speaking “I know that look.” 

“What look?” 

“That look” Thor points at him “The same one I had when Jane broke up with me.” 

Tony rolled his eyes, annoyed with the direction the conversation was going “I don't know what you're talking about. I'm fine.” 

“Yeah, Thor.” Clint started “That would imply that Stark was dating someone.” 

“Yes, thank you for that useless addition, bird brain.” Tony rolled his eyes as he leaned against the counter, taking a sip of his coffee “So, are you all just going to keep staring at me, or you have something to say?” 

Steve spoke this time “What's going on, Tony? And don't say nothing, because we all know that you're not fine.” 

Stark groaned, his shoulders slumping a bit “Just...it's nothing, alright? Can you just leave it be?” 

This time it was Clint who spoke “No, because obviously something is happening. Or had happened.” 

He took a deep breath, trying to control his temper “Can you just drop this? I just...I don't want to talk about her.” 

“Oh, so it is a woman?” Thor ask curious. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose “Damn it, yes, Thor. It was a woman, okay?” 

There was a moment of silence, Thor and Clint sharing a knowing look while Steve just stared at him “Well, what happened?” 

Despite himself, Tony’s voice trembled a bit when he spoke “She...she told me she wanted more. And I couldn't give her what she wanted. So we...we just ended things.” He took a gulp of his coffee to try and hide the turmoil he was still feeling “It's done, alright? It's over, and there's nothing that can be changed. Can we please just drop it?” 

The three of them study him, before Steve spoke in a gentle tone “You love her” It wasn't a question. 

Tony didn't even try to deny it this time. He let out a shaky breath and nodded, his eyes downcast “Yeah. I do.” 

“She loves you, right?” Steve asked “Since you said she wanted more, I thought...” 

He nodded and chuckled bitterly “That's the funny part. She does. But i made it clear from the start that I couldn't give her what she wanted. And we agreed to keep it casual. But...she said she still fell in love with me. 

“Arrangements can be changed.” Thor says. 

“It's not that simple, Thor.” Tony let out a tired sigh “What she wants...a serious relationship, commitment, all of that...I can't give her that.” 

“Why not? What are you so afraid of?” Steve was the one who spoke this time. 

“I'm not...” he starts to deny but stop mid-sentence and let out a frustrated breath “I'm not afraid.” he paused for a moment, looking over at Steve before continuing “I'm...I'm a mess, alright? I have demons that still haunt me, nightmares that don't let me sleep more than a few hours. I can be a dick in general and I...I haven't done the whole "relationship" thing in years. I can't get involved in that again.” 

“Don't you remember the last time he dated Pepper?” Clint says to Steve “He looked like hell after they broke up.” 

Tony rolls his eyes “Thanks a lot, bird brain, for remind me about one of the most painful times of my life.” 

Thor nods, agreeing “Yeah, you were just a little worse than you are now. The only thing that took you out of the misery was Y/N moving here and you becoming friends.” Steve and Clint looked at Thor. 

Tony groaned, realizing Thor was absolutely right. He never said it out loud, but deep down, he knew that the only reason he hadn't completely lost his brain after the whole Pepper situation, was Y/N. Having her around, being her friend, helped a lot during those dark months. He rubbed his eyes, suddenly feeling the exhaustion again “What's the point of this conversation, guys? Even if I wanted too, it's too late now. She ended things because I didn't want to give her more than what we had.” 

“The question here is simple: Do you wanna give her what she wants?” Barton asked him. 

Stark looks at him for a moment, before answering slowly and honestly “Yes...I do.” 

Steve puts a hand on his shoulder “Then talk to her. I'm sure she'll listen.” 

He chuckled bitterly “It's funny that you think it's that simple. We ended things weeks ago and we've been avoiding each other ever since. You really think she'll want to talk to me now?” 

“If you’re talking about who I think you’re talking...she’ll listen.” Clint says. Obviously, after Thor made that comment, Barton and Rogers realized who he was talking about. 

And if everything couldn’t get worse, Y/N walked into the kitchen to get some water just in that moment, but she stops seeing Tony and the guys. She knew if she turned back, it would be suspicious, so she walked to the fridge to get her water “Hi...” 

Tony’s body tenses as soon as he saw her, his heart starting to pound hard on his chest. He quickly stands up from where he was resting his back against the counter, his eyes fixed on her. “Hey...”  

The three other Avengers made some lame excuses and left them alone. Tony stayed in his spot against the counter, watching the other members of the team leave the kitchen. Silence fell between them as they both stood a few feet apart from each other. 

“So... how’s it going?” Y/N spoke quietly, trying to make some small talk. 

“Like crap...” Tony didn't want to lie or pretend to be fine, and he knew she wouldn't believe it anyway. So he decided to go for honesty “How about you?” 

“Same.” 

He didn't like the tiredness in her voice, and he hated that he was responsible for it “You're not sleeping well either, right?” Y/N just answers with a head shake. He sighs softly, his heart clenching at the thought that she was suffering with the situation between them as much as he was “Same here...” 

“What a duo, huh?” She gave him a sad smile. 

Despite the situation, he chuckled softly “Yeah...” there was a moment of silence between them before he spoke again “You're avoiding me...” 

“I am...I needed a bit of space.” There was a minute of silence before she spoke again “You're avoiding me too...” 

He looked down for a few seconds, ashamed with himself “I...yeah, I know. I just...I didn't know if you wanted to see me...or if you would want to talk to me...” 

“Tony...” she walks closer to him, putting her water aside “I'm not mad at you or anything. I was sincere when I said we could still be friend.” 

As she walked closer to him, he looked at her face carefully, noticing the dark circles under her eyes. He clenched his jaw tightly as a wave of guilt washed over him. “You're not sleeping.” it wasn't a question, it was more a statement of his realization. 

Y/N rolls her eyes “Have you heard a word I said?” 

Despite everything, one thing he had missed the most was her eye-rolling, and he felt a tiny sense of relief as she did it now “I heard you. I also notice that you're looking like a zombie. You should be sleeping.” 

“You should be too. And not drinking.” 

He chuckled bitterly “Yeah, well. I sleep better after I drink. It helps with the nightmares.” 

“...they came back?” Y/N’s face softens, she knew about his nightmares. 

“Yes, a couple days after...we ended things.” He looked down, avoiding saying the word 'break up' because he still didn't want to believe that's what really had happened. 

“Are you okay?”  

Tony lifts his head, his eyes meeting hers. As much as he wanted to lie and say that he was fine, he wasn't able to do it “No, I'm not...truth is, I haven't been okay at all since you end things with me. I'm...I'm a mess, really. I drink every night, I can't sleep more than a few hours each night, and...and I miss you. I miss you so damn much.” He paused for a moment, closing his eyes and trying to control the emotions he was feeling and the words he was saying, but he continued “I know I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be telling you all of this. I have no right...but I do miss you. I miss our nights together, our movie nights...and most of all, I miss talking to you, having you by my side...and I can't lie and say I don't miss being with you...” he laughed bitterly “Hell, I miss us...I should have never let you go...I should have...I should have said yes. I should have said yes to everything you wanted. But I was scared...” 

“Scared of what...?” She asks without looking away from him. 

“Scared of committing, scared of being in a relationship again, being trapped...terrified of ending up like I did after Pepper broke up with me...” He let out a strangled breath “I was so goddamn terrified of losing myself again, of having my heart broken again, that I ended up pushing the only person who was willing to be with me, away. And what the hell was the point since I end up breaking my own heart anyway...” 

“You said 'was'...” she spoke quietly. 

Tony looked at her again, his eyes going wide in realization of what he said. “Yes...”his voice was barely above a whisper, but he didn't look away from her “I said 'was'...” He could see the look on her face becoming almost a hopeful one. “I was terrified...” he repeated, as he moved so he was standing right in front of her. He hesitantly reached out his hands to touch hers and she did not pull back.  

A tiny sigh of relief escaped his lips as she let him touch her, her hands so much smaller than his. He gently laced their fingers together, rubbing his thumb on the back of her hands and Tony took a deep breath before continuing “I know what I want...and I want you. I want us...everything. I wanna take you out on dates, I wanna sleep with you and see you pretty face when I wake up. I want to watch silly movies with you, and laugh at your silly comments. I wanna be with you when you're not feeling well...I want everything. Hell, I want to marry you, I want a family...I want a future and I can't see one without you on it.” he paused for a moment, but continued in a soft whisper “And the most important thing...I want to make you happy. I want to make you smile and laugh every single day. I want to give you everything I have, everything I am...hell, I want to give you the goddamn moon if that's what you want. But most of all...I want to give you my heart...because you're the only one I trust with it...” 

Y/N didn’t answer, she just cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. The moment her lips brushed against his, he groaned loudly before cupping her face with his hands and pulling her even closer, the kiss becoming more and more urgent and frantic as he let out all the pent-up feelings and emotions through it. She parted the kiss, but didn't pull back “Are you sure?” 

Tony rested his forehead against hers, his eyes still closed and his breathing becoming more ragged as he tried to regain control over himself. He opened his eyes and looked at her face, one of his hands moving to brush against her cheeks “Never been more sure of anything in my life, sweetheart.” 

He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead before continuing “Y/N Y/L/N...will you be my girlfriend?”  

Y/N smile and nods “Yes.” He let out another breath of relief, a huge wave of happiness washing over his entire body.  

They stayed in that position for a few seconds before he leaned in to kiss her again, this time the kiss was gentle and unrushed. “God, I missed you so much...” 

“I missed you too...” 

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace, her face resting on his chest and his face buried in her hair. He took a deep breath, relishing in the feeling of having her in his arms once again, and the realization that it wouldn't just be a fling. It was real, it was more than physical desire. He cared for her, he loved her, and she was his “I love you.” 

Y/N smiles “Say it again...” 

Tony smiles at her request “I love you.” he says, gently pulling her face away from his chest so he could look directly in her eyes “I'm in love with you...And I plan on saying it every damn day for the rest of our lives.” 

[l0stfoster]

For Cursed Tulsa AU: aksjsjak there are soo many things I want to ask about but first I am SO intrigued by Dally in this AU. So like him seeing ghosts is from his mom and I'm assuming he couldn't see them before he got shot/was rescued so was him 'dying' kind of like the catalyst for him unlocking that power? Did his mom ever tell him about the ghosts and he just thought she was hallucinating or did she never even try to bring that up? Does he know that his powers are from his mom or did he just wake up and was like "I guess that just happens now"?

AND THE AFTERMATH OF HIM JUST. SEEING THEM NOW.

Do the ghosts ever try to interact with him? Can they even? Since he apparently saw the Curtis parents and his mom so like did they try to speak to him ever? Or was it more just ominous staring?

And speaking of which - I'm pretty sure Dally isn't telling anyone about what he's been seeing. Is it just because he doesn't know how to bring it up or does he even understand exactly what's going on? Will he ever tell them? Or is this a secret he's taking to his grave?

Sorry for rambling lmao (expect more of this in the future) but all of this is genuinely SO INTERESTING AHH

Absolutely keep rambling Lunar I love these

His near death experience and sort of ‘rebirth’ was the reason his ghost seeing stuff finally unlocked, yes— however, that’s more in a manner of he finally became aware of it.

He assumed she was just hallucinating, and she never told him about it, both in a selfish way and in an attempt to protect him. Her thought was that if he didn’t know, then he couldn’t possibly channel it— the only issue is that if he had been seeing the ghost since he was a boy, it would’ve driven him down the same path of psychosis and mental unease she had experienced. While his mother had been able to see it since she was young, Dally’s mind had sort of blocked out the whole thing as it was due to how she behaved in correspondence to what she could see. To an extend, he’s always been able to see ghosts, but in the same way he’d blocked the Curtis’ out, his mind blocked the ghosts. It was only after actually encountering Death that this subconscious barrier shattered.

It takes a few weeks of living with it and one really bad hangover after drinking to try and block it out before he knew how to for there to be that oh moment. His mom wasn’t fuckin’ insane, she was seeing ghosts— and he’s doing the same thing she was doing, drinking to ignore it.

The ghosts are aware that he can see them once he acknowledges or reacts to them, after all if he didn’t give them the light of day, it’d just seem like another human overlooking them due to not seeing spirits. They can’t physically interact in most cases, beyond toying with items and things of that sort. The few he does interact with he has sort of ‘befriended’,, but it’s mostly just ones tied to spots that he can walk by, ask if they’d seen anyone from the gang, get an answer, and keep going.

The Curtis parents didn’t really get a chance to try and speak to him, all they’d really manage was his name or something else of a similar nature before he’d panic and block them out. His mom didn’t speak when he saw her, she just watched. Stared at him with dead eyes as he stared back in horror.

Y’know, he never knew that she died.

Dally hasn’t told anyone yet, but I think if anyone were to find out willingly first it either be Johnny or Two. Johnny’s the boy of death, he’d have to know something about seeing all of this. Two’s his best friend, he knows he can trust him.

..I think the person who would find out despite Dally’s unwillingness is Paul. Witches are pretty spiritually tied, are they not? And he’s not stupid, he’s heard about spiritual medium related things; Dally sticks out like a sore thumb when you know what signs to look for. He just won’t bring it up, since it’s.. yknow. Dally

[anastasiareadsnwrites]

Can you do one for Anthony x Male reader where reader is an open minded writer with more…… scandalous erotic melancholia and decides to show Anthony he can please him better than any woman.

Be Wherever You Are (Anthony Bridgerton x Male! Reader)

Author's note: Hiya, it's been awhile and I know this came out late as well as the Benedict fanfic as well but I am working on finishing the series I have out for the mothers of the Ton. Please if this wasn't to your liking request another one or point out some tips for future requests. Thank you so much for requesting!

Summary: As days passed on with your writing you couldn't help but notice that some of the men in your story had basically described the man you were starting to grow close with. Being the bold person you are you couldn't help but make your move

Warning(s): NSFW, 18+, bold! reader, sexual tension, describing muscular bodies, Anthony gets a little jealous, scandalous yearnings, oral sex, Anthony! recieving, Reader! giving, more to be added.

The MAIN Masterlist

The Bridgerton Masterlist

The crackling of the fire was the only sound in the dimly lit study, casting flickering shadows across the grand room. Anthony Bridgerton sat behind his desk, his brows furrowed as he poured over a stack of papers-estate matters, no doubt, the weight of responsibility ever-present on his shoulders. The world outside these walls saw him as nothing but the proper Viscount, the head of the Bridgerton family, always in control, always composed.

But you had come to know him differently.

Leaning against the door frame, you observed him quietly, the air between you thick with something unspoken. It had been weeks since you'd grown closer, you conversations no longer confined to polite society. In your stories, in the stolen glances, in the unguarded moments, you'd both begun to unravel before each other.

The flames in the hearth case a golden hue on Anthony's sharp features, highlighting the tension in his jaw as he worked tirelessly, ever the perfectionist. Yet, you could see it-the weariness in his eyes, the subtle sag of his shoulders. He was a man in need of something more than duty and tradition.

And tonight, you were bold enough to give it to him.

Stepping into the room, your presence commanded his attention instantly. He didn't look up right away, but you could sense the way his body tensed, the way his feathered pen faltered ever so slightly. Without a word, you moved closer, your footsteps soft against the Persian rug, until you were standing across from him, just a breath away.

"You always surround yourself with work," you said, voice low, carrying the weight of the moment. "Don't you tire of it?"

Anthony finally glanced up, his dark eyes locking onto yours, the flicker of something dangerous lurking in them. He didn't answer right away, his gaze trailing over your form with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

"What I tire of is being questioned about matters that don't concern you," he replied, his voice measured but with an edge that betrayed his frustration.

You smirked, undeterred by his attempt at resistance. "Is that so? And here I thought you might enjoy the company of someone who sees more of you than just the Viscount."

His lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze hardening-but you knew better. Beneath his facade, you had already seen glimpses of the man behind the title. And tonight, you would see even more.

You took another step closer, leaning over the desk just enough for the firelight to catch your face, your eyes meeting his with unmistakable intent.

"I see you, Anthony Bridgerton," you whispered, "and I think it's time you let someone else take control, if only for a little while."

Anthony's eyes narrowed, but not with anger-there was something else there. A flicker of uncertainty, perhaps even desire, the kind he was used to suppressing. The air between you was electric, charged with the weight of things left unsaid.

"Take control?" he repeated, his voice tight, almost mocking, but you could hear the strain behind it. "You overestimate your influence."

You smiled, the kind of smile that made your intentions clear without a single word needing to be said. Slowly, you moved around the desk, not breaking eye contact with him for even a moment. You could see the tension in the his jaw, the way his fingers gripped the armrests of the chair just a little too hard. He was trying to maintain his composure, to keep his distance, but the fire in his eyes betrayed him.

"Oh, Anthony," you said softly, standing beside him now. You let your hand rest lightly on his shoulder, feeling the solid muscle beneath his jacket. "I think you've been in control long enough."

His breath hitched, just for a moment, before he converted it up with a scoff. "This isn't a game."

"No," you agreed, leaning down to whisper in his ear, your lip just barely brushing the edge of his skin. "But you and I both know you're tired of pretending."

You could feel the way his body stiffened beneath your touch, but he didn't pull away. His hands remained on the armrests, knuckles white, his chest rising and falling in measured breaths as if he was trying to will himself back into the Viscount's rigid armor.

"I am not pretending," he finally said, though his voice lacked it usual conviction.

You straightened up, your fingers trailing lightly from his shoulder down the length of his arm before you leaned against the desk in front of him. The firelight danced in your eyes as you watched him, letting the silence stretch between you.

"Really?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "Then why haven't you stopped me?"

Anthony's jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked away, his gaze settling on the fire burning low in the hearth. He was fighting it-fighting you-but you knew you had already won. Slowly, he turned his gaze back to you, his eyes dark and unreadable.

"This is highly inappropriate," he said, though the words came out softer than they should have.

You leaned in, your face inches from his, daring him to push you away.

"Is it?" you whispered, your breath mingling with his. "Or is this exactly what you want?"

For a moment, you thought he might argue, might stand up and walk out, but then his hand twitched on the armrests, his fingers finally relaxing. His breath was shallow now, and when his eyes locked onto yours again, all traces of resistance were gone.

"Show me," he said, voice barely more than a whisper. "Show me that you can give me what no other woman can."

Your smiled widened, knowing that this was the moment everything changed. You stepped closer, your hands brushing over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath the fabric of his waistcoat.

"As you wish, Anthony," you whispered, your lips hovering just above his. "But remember.... you're the one who asked."

With that, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was both fierce and gentle, a collision of control and surrender. Anthony tensed at first, as though this was something he wasn't used to-being on the receiving end-but then, slowly, you felt him relax under your touch, his hands finally reaching up to grip your waist.

The kiss deepened, and for the first time, you could feel him let go. The walls he had built around himself, the armor of his title, the expectations-it all began to crumble as he allowed himself to be vulnerable, to feel something more than duty.

You pulled away just enough to catch your breath, your forehead resting against his. His eyes were dark, filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty, as though he couldn't quite believe what was happening.

"This is only the beginning, Anthony," you whispered, your voice low and full of promise. "I'll show you want it feels like to be truly wanted...and to let go."

As you hovered close to him, your hands still resting on his chest, you could feel Anthony's breath starting to steady, but there was something else-something weighing on his mind. His eyes flickered with a sudden sharpness, as though he had remembered something important.

"I saw it," Anthony said, his voice low, almost husky, but laced with something more-a challenge, perhaps. "The draft on your latest story. You left it open on the desk last time you visited."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued, though you didn't pull away. "Did you now?"

His lips curled into a faint, almost teasing smile, but his eyes were serious. "It's funny how your protagonist...how he reminded me of someone."

You let your hands drift lower, fingers tracing over the fabric of his waistcoat, but you didn't break eye contact. "Is that so? And who might that be?"

Anthony's breath hitched as your hands slid down to his belt, your fingers working the buckle with practiced ease. You could feel the tension in his body heighten, but he remained still, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Someone who spends his days pretending he doesn't want things he shouldn't," Anthony murmured, his voice rough as you undid the belt, the soft clink of metal filling the room. "Someone who think duty can replace desire."

You chuckled softly, your fingers now teasing at the buttons of his trousers, working them loose with slow, deliberate movements. "I suppose you could say that the protagonist is inspired by someone," you whispered, your voice full of wicked amusement.

Anthony's breath grew shallower, his chest rising and falling as his trousers loosened beneath your hands, the fabric slipping from your fingers, revealing more of him. "And what is it that he wants?" Anthony asked, his voice barely more than a whisper now, but the question was heavy, loaded with meaning.

Your hands paused, fingers lightly brushing against the bare skin of his hips as you leaned in closer, your lips grazing the side of his neck. His pulse raced beneath your touch, and you could feel the weight of his anticipation hanging in the air.

"He wants," you murmured, letting the word linger in the space between you, "to be freed from the chains he's put on himself...to be claimed, to be wanted, in ways no one else dares to want him."

Anthony swallowed hard, his body trembling ever so slightly beneath your touch. You could feel his control slipping away, his composure cracking as your fingers dipped lower, brushing against the heat of his skin.

"And who is it that claims him in the story?" Anthony asked, though his voice was strained now, almost as if he already knew the answer but needed to hear it from your lips.

You leaned in, your mouth hovering just over his, your breath hot against his skin. "Someone bold enough to see him for who he truly is...and who isn't afraid to take what they want."

With one swift motion, you undid the last of his trousers, letting them fall to the floor, freeing him completely, your hands grazing along the edge of his bare hips. Anthony gasped, his control faltering completely as his hands gripped the arms of the chair, his head falling back slightly as he surrendered to the moment.

You stood there for a moment, admiring the sight of him-the usually unshakable Viscount, vulnerable, exposed, and at your mercy. The firelight flickered across his bare skin, casting shadows that dances with the unspoken tension between you.

"Now tell me, Anthony," you whispered, your voice low and commanding. "Is this where your story ends, or is it just the beginning?"

The weight of the moment hung in the air, heavy and electric, as you glanced up at him, meeting his gaze with a look that spoke volumes. He was waiting, teetering on the edge of control, the authority he wielded in every other aspect of his life slipping further with each passing second.

Without a word, you got onto your knees in front of him and leaned forward, your lips brushing against his length, teasing him, barely touching at first. Anthony's entire body tensed, his grip tightening on the arms of the chair, his breath catching in his throat.

You smirked, pleased by his reaction. You had him exactly where you wanted him-no more pretense. Slowly, you parted your lips, your mouth enveloping the tip of him with gently pressure. The heat of him the taste, filled your senses as you moved, taking him in inch by inch, your tongue swirling against his sensitive skin.

Anthony's head fell back against the chair, his eyes fluttering shut as a low, guttural moan escaped him. His hand moved as though to stop you-his last attempt at control-but it faltered, fingers curling into the armrest instead his resolve crumbling.

You moved with purpose now, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm, your lips and tongue working together to bring him pleasure. Each time you pulled back, you teased him with just the tip of your tongue, before sinking down again, deeper this time, letting him feel the full warmth of your mouth. His hips shifted involuntarily, his body reacting to the sensations, even as he tried to keep himself still, tried to maintain some semblance of composure.

But it was no use. Anthony's breaths came out in ragged bursts, his body trembling as you continued to work him over, the wet sounds of your mouth filling the room, mingling with the crackling of the fire. You could feel the tension in him building, the way his though tightened beneath your hands, the way his muscles quivered under your touch. He was losing himself in this moment, and you loved it-loved seeing him like this, vulnerable and at your mercy.

You paused for a brief second, just long enough for Anthony to groan in protest, his eyes snapping open, dark with need. "Don't...stop," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper, his control slipping with each word.

You smiled, your hands lightly stroking him as you spoke. "Who's in control now, Viscount?"

Anthony didn't answer. He couldn't His mouth opened, but the only sound that came out was a low, needy moan as you took him into your mouth once more, your hand working in tandem with your lips, faster now, pushing him closer to the edge.

His breathing was erratic, his body moving with you now, no longer able to hold back. You could feel him getting closer, the way his muscles tightened, the way his moans became more desperate, more raw. You pushed him further, sucking harder, faster, your tongue flicking against the most sensitive part of him, until-

"God-" Anthony's voice broke as his body tensed, every muscle tightening as he reached the peak of pleasure. His hips jerked involuntarily, his hand gripping the chair so hard his knuckles went white as he came, his release filling your mouth in hot, pulsing waves.

You didn't stop until he had given you everything, your mouth and hand working together to milk every last bit of pleasure from him. Only then did you pull back, swallowing and licking your lips as you looked up at him, a satisfied smile playing on your lips.

Anthony sat there, breathless, his head still tilted back, chest heaving, his eyes closed as he struggled to regain some semblance of control. For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire and the sound of his labored breathing.

You stood slowly, leaning in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "I told you....no one could please you like this."

Anthony's eyes opened slowly, meeting yours with a mixture of awe and vulnerability. For the first time, he looked at you not as the Viscount, not as the man always in control, but ask someone who had been utterly, completely undone.

And he liked it.

Anthony's chest still rose and fell with the remnants of his release, but as the silence settled over the room, something new flickered in his eyes- something darker. He watched you, his gaze sharp and intense, but not with the softness of vulnerability that had been there moments ago. Instead, a shadow of jealousy clouded his expression.

You hadn't even had time to fully stand before Anthony's hand shot out, gripping your wrist with surprising strength, pulling you back down toward him. His gaze bore into yours, his voice low, edged with suspicion.

"Tell me," he murmured, his tone filled quiet intensity. "Do all the men in your stories end like this? Growing 'close' with you like this?"

The question hung in the air, thick with jealousy, his fingers tightening around your wrist as though he were afraid you might slip away, just like the words he was too proud to say aloud. You could hear the accusation in his voice, see it in his eyes-the doubt, the possessiveness. Anthony Bridgerton, the man who had always been in control, was now desperate to know if he was special...or just another conquest.

A slow smile spread across your lips, and you couldn't help but tease him. "Of course they do," you replied, your voice light, dripping with playful mischief. "Bold men who know what they want always find their way into my stories-and into my life."

You felt the shift immediately. Anthony's expression hardened, his grip on you tightening further. His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as the weight of your words sank in. For a moment, you wondered if you had pushed too far, but then something changed in him- a flash of determination, of possessive need that eclipsed his earlier vulnerability.

Without warning, he stood, towering over you with newfound intensity. He was no longer the man caught off guard by his desires. He was the Viscount again-dominant, commanding. In one swift movement, he cupped the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, guiding you back down to your knees.

"If that's how it is," he growled, his voice rough with jealousy, "then you can show me how much better I am than any of them."

Before you could respond, Anthony's hips pressed forward, guiding himself toward your mouth. His movements were deliberate, demanding, as if he wanted to erase any lingering thought you might have of anyone else. There was no hesitation now as he thrust himself between your lips, his hands still gripping your hair tightly, setting the pace.

You moaned around him, the sudden shift in power igniting something deep inside you. You liked this- liked the way Anthony took control, the way he used your mouth for his own pleasure, his jealousy fueling the intensity of the moment. Every sound you made only seemed to spur him on, his hips moving with more urgency, more need.

"That's it," Anthony muttered, his voice thick with satisfaction as he watched you, his eyes half-lidded, dark with lust. "You like this, don't you? You like being used."

You didn't answer with words-you couldn't. But the way you moaned, the way your hands gripped his thighs as you eagerly took more of him into your mouth, told him everything he needed to know. You tongue swirled around him, your lips tight as you sucked harder, wanting to please him as much as he wanted to claim you.

Anthony's breathing grew heavier, his head falling back slightly as his hips rocked against your face, the muscles in his body tensed with the building pleasure. He groaned deeply, his hand tightening in your hair, his voice husky and filled with unrestrained desire.

"Better than any woman," he rasped, his words punctuated by a sharp thrust of his hips. "None of them could ever do this...none of them could ever make me feel like this."

The praise sent a surge of heat through you, and you responded by taking him deeper, your mouth working faster, more eagerly. Anthony's moans grew loader, more desperate, and you could feel him edging closer and closer to release. His grip on you was almost bruising now, but you didn't mind-you reveled in the way he lost himself in you, the way he surrendered to the pleasure you gave him.

"Look at you," Anthony muttered, his voice thick with lust. "My perfect thing. You'll never leave me wanting for anyone else."

You moaned in response, the vibration of your voice making Anthony curse under his breath, his bucking wildly as he reached the peak of his pleasure. His fingers gripped your hair tighter, his whole body tensing as he came, his release hot and heavy in your mouth. You took all of him, your hands steady on his thighs as you let him use you until he was spent.

When it was, Anthony stood there for a moment, chest heaving, his hand still tangled in your hair. Slowly, he released you, his fingers brushing your scalp softly as if he realized he had been rougher than intended. He looked down at you, a mixture of pride and satisfaction in his eyes.

He pulled you up to your feet, his fingers tracing along your jaw, his thumb brushing over your lips, swollen and slick from the intensity of what had just passed between you.

"Better than any story," he whispered, his voice low and possessive. "Better than any fantasy."

[demonvampire180writes]

Come find me on the Archive

The week is finally coming to a close. It’s been an agonizingly long six days since Buck has seen his boyfriend in person, and his heart aches for him. His skin misses the lingering warmth of every touch and the smell of his shower gel after a long, hot bath. Buck misses those bright blue eyes that crinkle at the corners with every smile and the deadpan delivery of dumb jokes. In short, Buck just misses Tommy.

After a final inspection, Gerrard dismisses the A shift and Buck shoots out of there like a rocket, barely taking time to shove his change of clothes into his duffel before he’s side stepping through coworkers just so he can get to his Jeep that one second faster. Because the faster he moves, the sooner he gets to see Tommy.

As he runs, he places his hand over his heart; the tattoo is through the peeling stage and the redness and swelling have both gone down. It’s still fresh enough that the lines are dark, and strong, but it doesn’t look like he just stepped out of the shop and decided to go sunbathing and got sunburnt either. He’s unspeakably happy, and as each day went by, the more he wanted to see the older man, to show it off. It took days and days for the nerves to calm down and, now that he’s finally going to see Tommy, all he can do is shake with anticipation.

Tommy’s going to love it, he just knows it.

Just as he’s throwing his duffel into the passenger seat, his phone nestled into its holder on the dash, it begins to ring with a video call. Buck grins so wide his face hurts as he answers it, Tommy’s face too close to the camera as usual. “Tommy!” Buck breathes, leaning back against the seat.

“Hey babe. How’re you?”

“I’m just getting off shift.” Shyly he adds. “I can’t wait to see you.” Tommy pulls the phone back some and Buck swoons at his affectionate grin. “I missed you.” He finishes.

“God, I missed you, too. A week is far too long to not see you.” Buck’s heart pitter patters. “Are you coming over right away or do you need to stop home first?”

Buck is shaking his head before he even finishes speaking, feeling his heart grow three times larger just hearing the man’s smooth baritone over airwaves. “I can’t wait a second longer. I’ll be at your place in…” He glances quickly at the clock on his dash, turning his eyes back to his love promptly, “...probably an hour?” It’s 6 PM on a Monday so crosstown traffic will be atrocious. And he took a car this time.

Tommy winks, lips quirking michievously - his pupils dilate a bit and a shudder runs down Buck’s back. Don’t get distracted. “I’ll be waiting for you. So how was your shift?” As Buck starts the vehicle, they fall into easy conversation. Before he knows it, Buck is pulling into Tommy’s driveway, their conversation not having lulled once the entire drive.

He’s up and out of the seat almost before he’s turned the ignition off, and the front door swings open, Tommy standing behind it with his arms held wide open. Without a second thought Buck walks right into his embrace, wrapping himself around his man like a koala around its favorite tree. Tommy leans into him and presses a kiss to his hair, his strong arms hugging him tight enough that Buck can barely breathe. And he’d rather not be anywhere else.

“Hey.” Tommy mumbles, refusing to pull away.

“Hey.” Buck replies, turning to nose the side of his boyfriend's neck, inhaling his scent until it’s all he can smell. “Missed you.” He says it again to ensure there’s no confusion.

“Missed you too.” He presses another kiss to his hair before running a hand through it, tugging softly at the little curls at his nape. “Glad you had a good shift.”

“It’s better now because I get to see you.” Buck looks up through his eyelashes, batting them like he thinks he’s cute or something. Apparently Tommy thinks he is because he plants one right on his lips, his own mouth curved up in an exasperatedly fond smile. “How was your day off?”

“Oh, you know.” Tommy pulls away and Buck whimpers, bottom lip jutting out almost subconsciously. Tommy says nothing but pulls the younger man through the doorway, closing it behind them, and lacing their fingers together as they traverse the foyer and hallways into the kitchen. Tommy plants Buck down on one of the island stools and makes for the fridge. As he pulls it open and grabs out two beers he says, “The usual. I worked on that car I’ve been trying to restore, didn’t get very far because my God is it a beast, and did some chores. Really I spent most of my day lamenting that you weren’t here in my arms, yet.” Buck’s face flames and he has to duck his head in his embarrassment.

“Dammit Tommy, really? You’re gonna make me giggle like a little girl over here.” He chides, secretly loving when Tommy casually slips in some mushy bullshit. It makes him feel loved. It makes him feel like the tattoo was, in fact, a great idea. He doesn’t see Tommy shrug but he can sense it, like he senses the shit eating grin he wears as he sets down his drink in front of him, having popped the top off on the bottle opener mounted under the counter. Then there’s fingers lifting his chin, forcing him to look up and he inhales sharply at Tommy’s slight frown, his blue-grey eyes intent.

“Evan, I’m not joking. I missed you so much this week. We were both so busy at work, and we hardly had time to Facetime each other. There wasn’t even time to visit you at the station for meals or breaks. I-” He takes a deep breath, grounding himself, and seems to force the words out. “I never thought I could miss seeing someone in person that I talk to on the phone every single day. It physically hurt me to not be able to touch you; to hold you.” He leans in to press a hard, lingering kiss to Buck’s lips, tilting his chin upwards with those two fingers like he had done the first time he took Buck’s lips. When he pulls back, Buck’s heat is in his throat and his brain is in a fog. It takes all his willpower to look away from Tommy’s lips and into his eyes as he says, “Knowing you were coming over tonight, I could only distract myself for so long before you were the only thing I could think about.” He pauses. “Though, now that I’m thinking about it, you’re all I think about anyway.”

It takes all of Buck’s self control to not leap from his seat and tackle this man to the ground and take what he pleases. It’s not that he doesn’t want that, in fact he’s so pent up he can cry, but he refuses to let that be the foundation of their interactions. That was Buck 1.0 and Abby taught him that that isn’t what he has to be. Every relationship since has taught him more and more that, while sex is great, there’s more to intimacy than just that. Like getting permanent body modifying art without discussing it with your significant other first. Instead, Buck keens pitifully and whimpers as he wraps himself once more around his boyfriend, pulling him in snuggly between his legs and burying his head into his stomach. Tommy snorts and wraps his large hands gently around Buck’s necks, thumbs rubbing circles over the taut muscles there. He doesn’t stop, or pause, even once, until Buck pulls away.

“No wonder everyone keeps accusing me of having it down bad for you.” He huffs, eyes hot.

“Down bad?” Tommy asks with a confused, raised brow.

Buck pats his boyfriends stomach and replies, “Don’t worry about it old man. You wouldn’t get it.”

Tommy gasps, “Excuse you, Evan, I am not old. I’m only forty.” He tugs at Buck’s hair. “I’m not even old enough to be your Daddy.”

“Oh yeah? Says who?” Buck asks with the most lascvicious grin on his face, unable to keep from poking the beast. Tommy lunges forward but before he can tackle Buck, Buck is out of his seat darting around the kitchen island.

The next twenty minutes is spent with Tommy chasing Buck around his house with peels of laughter rolling out of Buck in waves he cannot stop. Eventually it ends with Tommy tackling Buck onto their bed with the younger man on his back, panting and Tommy bridged over him, curls a tangled mess. Both men grin at each other and Tommy leans in to meet Buck halfway in a kiss. Moaning, Buck rolls his hips, his libido choosing that moment to rear its head. He can feel Tommy responding to the motion but, at the most inopportune time, Buck’s stomach screams out with hunger - reminding him that the last full meal he ate is close to ten hours ago.

Startling, the two crumple in laughter, realizing what just happened. Tommy lets his full weight flop on top of Buck, and Buck relishes as he buries that perfect, somewhat crooked nose, bury itself into the sensitive flesh of his neck. They stay, giggling, like that for a few minutes before Buck’s stomach makes his hunger known once again. “I think that may be a sign.” Tommy huffs, nuzzling him deeper. “Shame.” Buck can feel the disappointment against his thigh and he can’t agree more. Tommy brushes his lips against his skin and sighs, “We’ll be picking up where we left off, later.”

“D-definitely.” Buck mumbles, running his hands down Tommy’s spine, grabbing his ass, and squeezing until the man yelps in protest. “So. Are we making dinner or going out?”

“If we stay in, I can promise you we’re not going to be leaving this bed to get as far as dinner.” Tommy assures him.

Buck guffaws and shoves Tommy off, laughing as he lands with a whumph on his back, grinning like the loon he is. “Dumbass. What are you hungry for?”

“You.” He replies, deadpan.

Buck rolls his eyes and thwacks him softly in the stomach with the back of his hand. “I’m clearly dessert. I mean what do you want for the main course?” He’s sitting up now, willing the heat in his stomach and groin to get the message that personal time isn’t on the books right at this second. His body needs nourishment if they’re about to marathon the next seventy-two hours they have off together. A delicious shudder runs down his spine, but he manages to shove those thoughts away.

Tommy’s head lulls his way and, once again, in the driest, most deadpan way he can muster, he replies, “You. You are the appetizer, main course and dessert. You’re a one stop dinner shop to me, Evan.”

O-o-o-o-kay then, so much for putting those thoughts away. Grunting, half in resignation and half with building desire, Buck heaves himself on top of Tommy, straddling him. “If I pass out, Thomas Kinard, I’m blaming you.” And the next instant he’s on him, bodies making magic with every movement.

Buck is standing next to the bed, shirt in hand. They’d gone two rounds before his stomach had protested loud enough that they had to call it quits. Tommy’s currently showering, Buck went first to make sure showering is all they did, but a second later the door swings open and he’s standing there in all his bare chested glory, hair dripping, curls awry. He uses the towel wrapped around his neck to start drying his hair, eyes roaming Buck hungrily, though more sated than he was an hour ago, when his eyes stop and his mouth falls open. The towel he’s using drops, draping limply around his shoulder and his mouth is agape.

“What is it, babe?” Buck asks worriedly. He glances down at his own body, not seeing anything to call for alarm. Then it strikes him. Slowly raising his head, he carefully follow’s Tommy’s sightline and confirms just where he’s looking. How did he forget? Actually, how had Tommy not noticed mid coitus? (Well. Actually. If he had, Buck wouldn’t have been doing a very good job he thinks to himself.) “O-oh. Um…” The weeks earlier anxiety spikes. All the confidence he’s built vanishes in an instant and his body starts to shake. He pulls the shirt he’s holding up a little further, even though it’s not really blocking anything, creating a barrier between his boyfriend’s eyes and his new art. He feels laid bare, and not in a good way. This was a stupid idea. He wants to cry - he feels the heat prickling in the back of his eyes, the way his nose tickles in anticipation of tears.

Tommy strides forward, reaching him in three long steps, and reaches out to place his hand over Buck’s heart. Buck, unintentionally, flinches and Tommy doesn’t fail to notice. He pulls his hand back as if burned, looking hurt. He doesn’t reach for him again as he says, “Evan. Is that new?”

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to flinch.” He apologizes quickly, feeling smaller than an ant. He looks away from Tommy, shuffling his feet. “Y-yeah. I-it’s new.” His throat clogs. He’s going to pass out. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid Buck. How could he have thought this was a good idea? It’s too soon and now Tommy is going to leave him, just like everyone else. Tears really do begin to fall now, Buck unable to stop them at the thought of Tommy leaving him. “I-I know it’s too much, and I-I-I know it’s t-too soon, so if you n-need to step back from m-me, I get it.”

“Evan.” A warm hand presses over his heart again. “Hold on just a second. I know you tell great stories, but it’s easier for me to understand if you start from the beginning. What do you mean it’s ‘too soon’? What’s too soon?”

Buck sniffles far too loudly as he wipes at his nose, the dopamine from their romp in the bed not twenty minutes before evaporating into dust. He’s unable to compose himself and, in fact, starts crying even harder when Tommy brings him into his arms, one hand still pressing against his tattoo. “This. All of this. I know it’s stupid but… I just… I love you so much Tommy and the thought of losing you brings me to my knees.”

“Honey. Baby. Why would you ever lose me? I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

“You say that now,” Buck snuffles, “but everyone gets sick of me eventually. And then I do stupid shit like getting a tattoo that I hope will be my good luck charm in keeping us together. Forever.” Tommy pushes him back and his hands clamp down, hard, on his shoulders.

“Evan. Look at me.” He doesn’t. “Dammit, Evan Buckley, look at me.” There’s a growl in Tommy’s voice that Buck has never witnessed before, and he can’t help how his head snaps up to look him in the eye. Tommy’s expression is hard, harder than Buck can ever remember, and his heart stutters. Tommys is pissed at him. Of course he is. Who wouldn’t be pissed when someone does something this big without talking about it. The tears come faster and he can feel snot pooling along his Cupid’s bow but he doesn’t even bother trying to swipe it away anymore.

To his total surprise, Tommy does it for him, using the towel he’d been drying his hair with before, not caring that he won’t be able to use it again until it’s washed. “I’m still not understanding. This tattoo is… You got it for us?” Buck nods miserably, still sniffling. 

The longest silence Buck has ever suffered through follows, though logically he knows it was likely only a few seconds, when he hears a sniff that isn’t his own. Lifting his eyes, his chest seizes, noticing wetness in his man's eyes, his baby blue-greys glistening with his own unshed tears. “T-Tommy, oh my God I’m so sorry. It doesn’t have to mean anything for us. I can tell people I just thought it was cool. Oh God, please don’t-” He doesn’t even finish the sentence before Tommy’s mouth is crashing over his and his face is wrapped up in hot, calloused hands. Buck opens his mouth in a gasp but doesn’t get it out because Tommy’s tongue is shoving past his lips, tangling with his until neither of them can breathe.

When they finally pull away from each other, Tommy rests his forehead against Buck’s as he breathes, voice wet, “Oh Evan, you stupid, stupid man. I don’t even know how to convey to you just how much I love you. How much I love everything about you. Just how much I want to spend forever with you, too.” He sucks in a breath through his nose, calming himself. “I have never loved anyone as much as I love you, Evan. I’ll never love anyone as much again. And I’m sorry you ever had to doubt yourself, or your actions. I promise that I will do better showing you that you can be who you are, no matter what.”

Buck whimpers, his knees going weak. Tommy catches him, holding him up without disengaging their heads. “You’re perfect, Tommy. You already do so much for me. You don’t need to change. It’s my fault. It’s just my stupid insecurities.”

Tommy shakes his head. “No, Evan. You’ve been through so many bad relationships, romantic and familial, and I knew that, yet I still didn’t try hard enough. I will never let you feel this way again. I shouldn’t have let it happen in the first place.” He tilts his head to press a kiss against Buck’s birthmark, squeezing him into a hug with one arm around Buck’s shoulder and the other around his waist, wrapping him in an embrace he never wants to escape from. Buck doesn’t respond, choosing to instead grab Tommy’s hips as best as he can, leaning his head against his shoulder and letting himself be surrounded by his calming scent.

When Tommy finally lets go, he grabs Buck’s chin and rubs soothingly along his jaw with his thumb. “Now, you’re going to let me finish getting dressed, and then you’re going to tell me all about this.” He pats Buck’s chest. With a watery chuckle Buck nods his ascent, finally loosening his grip on the shirt he’s kept a death hold on this entire time.

The two sit in Tommy’s living room on the couch, Buck with his shirt off facing Tommy who’s sitting with one leg cocked, the other draped over the edge. His eyes roam over the scene - a hyper realistic helicopter with its blades blurring as though in motion facing towards what could only be LA’s muted skyline. In the background of the otherwise greyscale ink is a fiery red sunset with hues of orange, and red, and pink, the glaring sun sinking behind the fluffy grey clouds. Although “LAFD” isn’t anywhere in the image, if one looks closely enough they would notice a tiny “217” inked on the front of one of the building outlines, as though nothing more than an address. Another one, more in the background, shows “118”.

The picture takes up the entirety of Buck’s pectoral and Tommy is in awe. His fingers trace the delicate linework and a lump the size of a gumball catches in his throat. Buck did this for him. For them. This man, this beautiful, glorious, golden retriever of a man wishes so much that they’ll last that he marked himself. Trying to clear away the emotions Tommy chokes, “It’s stunning, Evan. I don’t even have the right words for it.”

Evan looks at him, shy. “So… this is okay?” He puts his hand over Tommy’s, squeezing.

He doesn’t even have to contemplate the answer, replying, “Nothing has ever been more okay in my entire life.” He pecks the tip of Buck’s nose. Trying to shake off the too heavy emotions he jokes, “So, when I called you that first day… You weren’t denying me seeing my hot boyfriend shirtless… You were keeping this little surprise to yourself?”

Evan shoots him a crooked smile, heat coloring his neck the prettiest red. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you.”

Tommy snorts, flicking the end of his nose with his free hand. “And I’m guessing your whole family knew?” Buck nods. Scoffing the pilot says, no heat in his words, “And Howie managed to keep it a secret? Damn, I see where his loyalties lay.” Evan rubs at his nose but grins. “Evan…” He pauses. “Thank you. Thank you for making me the happiest man I’ve ever been, and probably the happiest man I’ll ever be. Neither of us can say for certain that we’re going to be forever but, more than anything in the world, more than me hoping you have Daddy issues,” he snorts that cute little snort he does when he’s taken off guard, “I hope we are. Evan Buckley. I love you and you’re mine. Now and for the foreseeable future.” He leans in to press his lips to Evan’s forehead, heart swelling with pride.

Tommy doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve this, but he will never take it for granted for as long as they both shall live.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

[garbagequeer]

haha guys it’s not that im pushing for heteronormativity i swear i just think it’s problematic to have more characters come out late in the game other than the designated gay side characters haha not because i think main characters shouldn't be gay or because it makes me uncomfortable when gay characters don’t come with a designated partner and instead of staying confined to their part of the story experience desire in many directions it’s just because it is queerbaiting! to make new characters gay! somehow! or fetishistic! or something! but it is not okay! but i swear im not pushing for a heteronormative story i swear it’s just that i think it’s cowardly to not make the characters end up all in their respective monogamous relationships and instead portray a more realistic idea where they can be with more than one person and their relationships can change during their lifetimes and they still hold love for each other in a way that is not limited to traditional romantic models haha. because you know you can’t end the story without telling me how your characters straight marry each other and have kids haha that’s just a cop out to avoid a real ending even if you tell me your characters’ lives to the day they died. yeah no it’s not heteronormative to consider classic endgames the only form of closed ending because i would support the designated lesbian and gay ship also getting married and having kids haha. what do you mean your story has been poking fun at the concept of endgame the entire time dont be silly haha

[myimaginationplain]

imagine: professor utonium mentoring dexter vs professor membrane mentoring mandark

[zemnarihah]

my best friend has been very distant w me lately and i asked today if she wanted to hang out and she said she probably couldn't bc it's her brothers birthday but she would let me know if she could and i have her location and i just looked and she's at her boyfriends house rn....

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available. 

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community. 

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company? 

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists. 

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom 

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

-

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits. 

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don’t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people. 

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it. 

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

[joonie-beanie]

Doctor's Orders | [Wriothesley x Reader]

Summary: “Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.” In which a simple tea time turns heated, and you get caught up in the consequence of Wriothesley not listening to his doctor. Content: Smut, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Aphrodisiacs, fem!reader Word Count: 7.9k

Sigewinne is evil.

You would have never suspected that such a tiny, cute body could contain so much malevolence. (Although, Sigewinne would personally argue that you’re confused, and that the word you’re looking for is actually benevolence. But, you digress.)

It all starts a few weeks into your employment at the Fortress of Meropide.

You’d spotted a job listing for a “personal assistant” in passing one day, and had immediately become interested thanks to the very generous salary listed on the paper. Seeing the job was located in Fontaine’s unofficial prison had, of course, caused you to have some second thoughts about applying, but at the end of the day, money is money.

Which is how you’d found yourself down on the ocean floor, waiting with a few other candidates outside the Duke’s office.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t nervous—waiting there to meet the head honcho of the prison. That when he stepped out to call you inside for your interview—all tall and beefy and scarred—your heart didn’t nervously flutter inside your chest.

…but to your surprise, he’s actually much softer than he appears.

“So,” he says, sitting down across from you at his desk. He folds his arms and smiles at you. “Why should I hire you? ”

Having been through this process before, you had immediately rattled off your qualifications and experiences. A few of which Wriothesley had proceeded to comment on and inquire about further. But it wasn’t until he asked—

“What benefit will I receive from picking you specifically?”

And you’d responded with—

“Errand girl.”

“What?”

“I can run errands for you. I’m sure the guards can be slow, going back and forth. But if you’re my direct employer, I can do whatever you want. Drop documents off, check in on things…pick up more tea.”

—that Wriothesley finally makes up his mind.

“Hmm. Very convincing.”

The next day, you receive a letter with the terms of your employment, and your official start date.

So, since then, you’ve been working for Wriothesley. Which is actually kind of…nice.

Your job mostly consists of going back and forth between the prison and the surface, so that Wriothesley can stay in the Fortress and better monitor his domain. The autonomy the job grants you is very rewarding, and in the same breath, Wriothesley also feels rewarded by how you take care of things without him needing to ask more than once.

Safe to say, the two of you get along.

…which Sigewinne notices.

You, of course, meet Sigewinne on your first day. Wriothesley makes a point of introducing you and showing you where the nurse’s office is located, in case you get hurt, or need to drop something off.

The human-like melusine enthusiastically welcomes you, and, at first, you see her as…someone sweet, and caring. A treasure of the prison.

However, over time, your opinion of her slowly starts to change.

Because she keeps looking at you. Specifically, whenever you’re standing next to Wriothesley.

“Why is she doing that?” you ask him one day, nudging him gently with your elbow. He immediately looks up from his meal, over to where Sigewinne is waiting in the lunch line, her pink eyes boring into you.

“She’s probably just double checking that you’re healthy,” Wriothesley responds, paying her no mind. “I often catch her staring at me, too. You must be growing on her.”

Despite his reassuring words, you can’t help but feel a little…put off…by the look in her eyes. Like she’s plotting something.

The second weird thing you notice is when you walk into the infirmary to drop off some herbs she’d asked for, and find her drawing. At first, you assume she’s doodling, since she seems kid-like a lot of the time.

But instead, when you lean over her shoulder and look, you see that she’s writing words. A big, black “DO NOT DISTURB”...with pink hearts and a few flowers drawn around it.

“What’s that for?” you ask her, forcing a smile.

“Oh! It’s just for a project I’m working on,” she responds, swiveling in her chair to face you. She happily kicks her feet, her eyes darting to the herbs you’re carrying with you.

“Ah, are those what I asked for? Thank you!”

You hand her the small bundle of dried flowers and grasses, watching as she immediately turns and places them on her desk next to some string, and cheesecloth.

“You’re welcome,” you respond, taking a small step backwards. “If that’s all, I’ll keep working on the rest of the tasks on my list—”

“Wait,” she says, grabbing your wrist. You instantly freeze, your eyes going wide as you turn back to face her. There’s a serious look on her face.

“How do you feel about Wriothesley?”

Her question makes your heart skip—heat rising on your skin.

“What?”

She doesn’t bother elaborating or giving you context, just waits for you to respond. You cough a little, feeling awkward, and wondering what kind of answer she’s looking for.

“Well…I mean. I think he’s a good boss. He’s friendly, and devoted to his job. He runs the prison well.”

Sigewinne nods, but doesn’t comment. Just keeps…staring.

Feeling pressured, you force yourself to think of more to say.

“Um…he’s deserving of his title and the respect he garners. I…enjoy speaking with him? Like when he invites me to partake in tea breaks. I dunno…he just kinda reminds me of a big, fluffy puppy. He looks scary but he’s actually pretty…cute, y’know?”

Finally, Sigewinne smiles. She takes your hand in her tiny ones, giving it a squeeze.

“Thank you for answering my question. You can go now.”

You blink at her dumbly, but nonetheless excuse yourself from the room.

Two days later, Wriothesley invites you to his office for tea. And to your surprise, when you walk in, you find Sigewinne waiting there as well.

“Thank you for coming!” she says as you enter the room. You flash her a smile, taking a seat in one of the open chairs around the table.

“Of course!”

“Sigewinne has a tea she wants us both to try,” Wriothesley explains, a fond look in his eyes as he watches the resident nurse flit around—pouring hot water into the teacups that have been set out.

You nod.

“I see.”

“Although, I don’t know why you won’t just steep the tea in the pot,” Wriothesley complains to her, just as Sigewinne places individual tea bags in each cup. “Are we not all being served the same tea?”

She cutely huffs.

“For your information, no we are not. Your and Y/N’s tea is unique.”

“Oh?” Wriothesley leans forward to look into the teacups as the colors from the herbs begin to bleed into the water. “What’s so unique about it?”

“You’ll see,” she responds with a playful look, one that causes Wriothesley to amusedly raise his eyebrows. However, he doesn’t say anything more—simply waiting for the tea to appropriately steep.

“...are you using the herbs I brought you?”

You can’t help but notice the smell wafting from the cup in front of you is a little familiar. Sigewinne nods.

“Wow! I’m surprised you noticed.”

“Ah, so this must be the reason you wanted me to lend you Y/N for a task the other day,” Wriothesley chimes in, his icy blue eyes once again shifting to Sigewinne. 

“Do I get to know what herbs you requested Y/N to bring you, exactly?”

The resident nurse shakes her head, quietly laughing when Wriothesley sighs and deflates back into his chair. 

“It’s meant to be a surprise! I want to see what you think about the taste without knowing the ingredients.”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

Folding your hands on your lap, the office descends into silence for a brief moment, the three of you intently watching the teacups in front of you. Then, Sigewinne finally claps her hands and declares—

“Okay, they’ve steeped long enough. Go ahead!”

“Finally,” Wriothesley happily mumbles, reaching forward to pick up the pristine little plate on which his cup of tea resides. He brings the cup to his nose, inhaling deeply, and then takes a tentative sip.

“Hmm…”

He frowns, his brows pinching as he tries to discern the flavors he’s tasting. 

Curiosity getting the better of you, you take a sip from your own cup—wincing as the hot liquid accidentally burns your tongue.

“So?” Sigewinne prompts, staring excitedly between the two of you.

“It’s…pleasant,” you respond, clearly not as big of a tea connoisseur as the Duke. “It has a hint of sweetness.”

“It tastes like a Rainbow Rose smells,” Wriothesley adds, taking another sip. His gaze slides to you. “Did you pick some for her?”

You shake your head.

“No, I didn’t. Or…at least I didn’t pick any fresh ones. I did go to a vendor and purchase something in a bottle that looked like crushed, pink dust.”

Sigewinne cutely laughs. 

“As expected of you, Your Grace. Yes, one of the ingredients is dried Rainbow Rose petals. Do you like it?”

Wriothesley makes a pleased sound.

“I do. The taste is light, but pleasant—like Y/N said.”

“Good! I want both of you to drink up.” 

Sigewinne finally picks up her own tea, and you can’t help but notice the difference in color when compared to yours and Wriothesley’s. She really is drinking something different…but why?

“Aye aye, captain,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne laugh. You smile at the cute interaction between them, and have some more of your tea as well.

Together, the three of you engage in friendly conversation—catching up about recent topics while indulging in tea and a few different snacks that Wriothesley had pulled out for the occasion. As you drink, you can’t help but notice you feel…warm. A heat that spreads out from your stomach, and slowly creeps into your limbs.

You’ve never felt this way before but…maybe the tea is just extra hot today? 

You glance up to Wriothesley and notice that he’s a little flushed as well. Which is…reassuring? You think. Since you’re obviously not the only one affected.

“Oh! Y/N!” 

Sigewinne’s sudden call of your name draws you from your thoughts, and you look over at her. She smiles.

“I forgot to ask, but are you dating anyone?”

“Sigewinne,” Wriothesley gently scolds. He leans forward and sets his teacup on the table, the cup now empty.

His tone practically says “It’s not appropriate to ask questions like that” without actually saying it. Sigewinne pouts.

“Aww, c’mon. We’re all friends here! I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

Hearing that the melusine considers you to be a friend, you decide to grace her with an answer—ignoring the tingling of the taste buds on your tongue.

“No, I am not seeing anyone,” you inform her with a polite smile. Sigewinne nods happily at your answer, which makes your smile waver.

Is she happy you’re single?? Ouch.

“Okay, good,” she says. “I’d feel a little bad, otherwise.”

You blink in confusion at her words, watching her as she pops off her chair and heads towards the door. Wriothesley raises an eyebrow at her.

There’s sweat beading on his brow.

“Where are you going?”

“Away,” she responds. “To give you two some privacy.”

You and Wriothesley glance at each other, mirroring each other’s confusion.

Your tummy starts to ache.

“Why are you leaving us alone, exactly?”

Stopping just in front of the office doors, Sigewinne turns on her heel to face the two of you. There’s a smug grin on her face. 

“This is what happens when you don’t follow doctor’s orders.”

You frown, raising a hand to your chest, wondering why your heart is suddenly racing. 

What’s this about doctor’s orders?

You glance over at Wriothesley…only to see that he’s frozen in shock—his eyes wide with realization.

His pants feel too tight.

“Sigewinne, you did not—”

There’s an edge to his voice when he speaks, his eyes narrowing. He plants his feet on the floor and prepares to stand and confront her, but before he can blink, Sigewinne has drawn her pistol—a tranquilizing bullet hitting him square in the chest, where a little patch of skin is showing. 

He makes a noise of surprise, and quickly flops back into his chair to avoid falling on the floor—his limbs immediately going numb.

“Sigewinne!” you gasp. You’re not sure what’s going on, but the fact that she’d just shot Wriothesley is…

“It’s okay,” she says with a little sigh. “The effect will wear off in a few minutes. And…I’m sorry I scared you. Let me explain…”

She holsters her gun and smiles at you, trying to calm you down.

“As the nurse of the Fortress of Meropide, it is my duty to look after all residents, including Your Grace. And over the last few months, I’ve noticed him becoming more… irritable.”

“Sigewinne…,” Wriothesley mumbles, but the girl waves him off.

“After observing him for a while, I realized that his stress levels were getting high. And as his doctor, I recommended him a way to manage his stress, but he refused. He insisted tea was enough to soothe his nerves, but that’s simply not true. So…when you started working here, and I saw how well the two of you were getting along, I…got an idea.”

Sigewinne glances over at Wriothesley, noticing how he’s begun to shift his boots against the floor. 

Her tranquilizers won’t be in effect much longer. They never work as well on people Wriothesley’s size…

So, she decides to cut to the chase.

Reaching into her pocket, Sigewinne pulls out the DO NOT DISTURB sign you’d seen her making the other day. She holds it in front of her, and beams at you.

“Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.”

“You…you drugged us?” you gape, completely thrown by everything she’s just told you. She immediately gets defensive, her cheeks puffing.

“I medicated you,” she corrects. “And in the end, I’m only acting as a doctor. This all could have been avoided if Your Grace had just taken care of his own needs, as I’d insisted. Since he didn’t, I could only logically assume it's because it’s his preference to have a partner, rather than going at it solo. So, if you want to blame anyone for this, please blame him.”

“Sigewinne—” 

Gripping the arms of his chair, Wriothesley breathes out a heavy sigh and begins to push himself up. You can’t help but notice his face is much redder now, and you’re not sure if it’s from embarrassment, the effects of the drugs, or both.

Seeing that Wriothesley has nearly regained his strength, Sigewinne hurries to exit his office.

“Anyway! The effects of the tea should wear off in a few hours, but only if you relieve yourselves. Otherwise, it will last much longer. So I suggest you let loose and indulge yourselves. You like each other! Enjoy this time!”

Wriothesley opens his mouth to say something, but his words catch in his throat the second Sigewinne opens his office door. He doesn’t want anyone outside of his office walls to hear him or know what’s going on.

“I’ll hang this sign on the door,” Sigewinne continues, her voice hushing. “So no one comes in while you two are…busy. Just remove it once you’re done, okay? Have fun!”

With a supportive little fist pump, Sigewinne then closes the door, leaving you and Wriothesley alone.

A few long beats of silence pass, then Wriothesley finally sighs.

"I…apologize for this. I never meant for you to get roped in."

You turn to look at him, only to find that he's standing with his back to you, his hand raising to rub at the back of his head.

You can see his muscles flexing as he does so, and you hate to admit that it causes the heat inside you to grow.

"It's…not your fault," you respond, laughing a little awkwardly. "I doubt it's easy to follow directions when your doctor tells you to jack off to rectify your hardass-ness."

Wriothesley glances at you over his shoulder.

"Have I been acting like a hardass?"

"You've been a little snippy at times," you tell him, smoothing your sweaty palms down your legs. Seriously, your clothes are starting to make you feel claustrophobic…

"Not to me, specifically. But I've noticed it towards some of the prison residents."

"Shit," he sighs, rubbing his temples. You continue to watch him, your eyes wandering the expanse of his back. For a second, you don't understand why he won't face you. Then it clicks.

"...are you…hard? Is that why you're not turning around?"

"It's…pretty bad," Wriothesley admits, his shoulder sagging in defeat. "I don't know what all was in that tea but…as an aphrodisiac, it's doing its job."

"Yeah…," you agree, swallowing heavily. You can feel wet arousal pooling on the fabric of your panties. His office has also started to feel like a sauna, but you're not sure if it's the air that's hot, or your body.

However, you're still not willing to breach the topic of "relief" with him. You haven't reached that level of desperation…yet .

So, you think of something else to carry the conversation in the meantime.

"So…Sigewinne said you like me?"

"Ah, you caught that."

He laughs a little, and begins pacing around the room, still careful to keep his back to you. You can't help but notice his stride is a little…impeded.

"If I'm being frank—yes, I do. You've been…a pleasure to have around, since I hired you. Actually, one of the reasons I picked you in the first place was because of how you acted during your interview. Most people are scared of me and therefore talk cautiously. You're certainly respectful, of course, but…you're a bit playful, as well. And I found that quality to be attractive."

"Ah, so I charmed you," you respond playfully. "Remind me to add that point to my resume later. "Managed to woo the Lord of the Fortress of Meropide". That sounds pretty good—"

"And there you go again," Wriothesley laughs. He steps behind the chair he'd been sitting in previously, and then finally turns to face you—the back of the chair tall enough that his lower half is out of sight. 

"Although, if I recall her words correctly, Sigewinne stated that we "like each other". So, is there something you'd like to say as well?"

Your eyes go wide, and you feel more blood rush into your head. Wriothesley smiles, wide enough to show teeth. 

"C’mon now. It's not fair that I praise you and get nothing in return."

You pout.

"To be fair, I didn't know why Sigewinne suddenly asked me what I thought of you…"

"That’s understandable, but still. I'd like to know what you told her."

Wriothesley maintains his playful demeanor, despite the way his knuckles begin to turn white at his sides—a deep-seated need slowly sinking its claws into him.

You sigh.

"I just…told her that you're a good boss, and are deserving of your titles and the respect you garner…"

You trail off, suddenly remembering the last thing you'd told Sigewinne during that conversation. Wriothesley clearly notices there's something you're leaving out, one of his eyebrows raising.

"And?"

You take a deep breath.

"That you're a cute puppy."

He blinks in shock.

"...excuse me?"

Oh god, you wanna phase through the floor.

"I said that even though you look scary, you're really just like a big…cute…puppy."

For a moment, Wriothesley can only stare at you. Then, he throws his head back and laughs. 

Embarrassed, you plant your palms on your thighs and push to your feet, instinctively wanting to run away…only to realize that your legs have gone weak. 

With a distraught noise, you flop back into your chair. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Wriothesley notices.

He coughs, pulling himself back together.

"Well, I've certainly never heard myself described in such a way before. I can't say I totally hate it, but I'm not sure if I agree with the term "puppy"."

You force an awkward laugh, finally losing steam as the arousal inside you begins to cloud your thoughts. Sigewinne obviously wasn't messing around when making her aphrodisiac…you've never felt so horny before that it has literally hindered your mental and physical faculties.

The office is silent for a few tense moments, but finally, Wriothesley heaves a heavy sigh. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his shoulders slumping as he hangs his head.

"You may revoke your good opinion of me, considering how inappropriate it is for a boss to even consider such a thing, but…I think my dick is gonna explode soon, so I'll just come out and ask."

You swallow, anticipating his next words.

"Would you be…interested in having sex?"

Your body shivers in excitement at the idea, the lustful part of your brain screaming at you to jump him already.

"I…would," you admit, managing to keep it together. Wriothesley's entire body jolts impatiently at your words, but he’s able to keep himself grounded. 

"I don't think I'll be able to survive…this without some relief. And…I trust you. So…"

"So we're in agreement," Wrioslethely supplies, waiting for your confirmation. You nod your head. 

"We are."

In the next beat, he's is crossing the space between you, a "thank god" barely making it past his lips before he crashes them into yours.

Immediately, you’re groaning into him—your arms wrapping around his neck and his hands finding the backs of your thighs. He lifts you from your chair easily—your chests pressing together as he holds you close.

You’ve always been acutely aware of how large Wriothesley is, but you don’t think it fully sinks in until now—as he manhandles you with ease, quite literally carrying you with one arm as the other sneaks beneath your shirt and tugs it over your head.

You’re forced to break the kiss as he does so, but the second the fabric has been discarded, you’re tangling your fingers in his hair and dragging him in for another. 

Your action evokes a pleased little rumble inside his chest.

“You taste sweet,” he mumbles, his palm roaming over the exposed skin of your back. The warmth of his skin against yours makes you ache.

“It’s probably the aphrodisiac,” you reply breathlessly, a shiver raking your spine when you feel his fingers toy at the waistband of your pants.

“Hmm, shall we posit your theory?”

Before you can even think to ask what he means, the room is spinning—too many things happening at once. However, it’s nearly impossible to miss the feel of your pants being shucked down your legs.

When everything settles, you find that you’re no longer chest to chest with Wriothesley, but rather, face to dick.

“Wh—”

Your cheeks heat up as you finally digest the position he’s put you in—your ass in his face, and his crotch in yours—his body now firmly planted in a chair as he spreads his thighs and makes himself comfortable.

“Wriothesley!” you say in shock, your palms gripping his legs for support as you attempt to turn and face him. However, you quickly realize with the position he has chosen, you’re fairly helpless to do anything—completely at his mercy as he locks his arms around your legs and grips your ass in his hands.

“Hm?” he responds nonchalantly, one of his fingers slipping under the edge of your panties. You shift a little, trying to glare at him, but only succeed in having his clothed dick poke you in the cheek. He tenses at the sensation, and you feel his cock strain helplessly against the fabric of his pants—begging for more friction.

“I’m just testing your theory, like I said,” he continues, a surprised mewl tearing from your throat as he leans his head forward and nuzzles his nose in the damp fabric of your panties.

“If you think it’s the aphrodisiac making you sweet, let’s see if it’s also having that effect elsewhere—”

Before you can protest, Wriothesley is tugging the crotch of your underwear aside—his tongue licking a hot, languid strip between your folds. You gasp at the feeling, your nails digging into his thighs through the layer of clothes that he wears.

Above you, the Duke makes a pleased sound, repeating his previous action—noting the way your body writhes against his hold. His fingers grip your ass tighter, his brows furrowing as he presses his tongue inside your entrance—your arousal quickly coating his taste buds.

“Yep,” he mutters after a moment, his voice tight and his throat bobbing as he harshly swallows. “You taste…addicting.”

His words have your cunt squeezing around nothing, although he quickly dives back in and rectifies that problem—stretching your walls out around his tongue. 

“Fuck…,” you pant, your head dropping as your strength wanes. Your muscles progressively start to feel like jelly, thanks to his ministrations. Especially, when he moves his mouth to your clit and begins rolling his tongue around it—a whine escaping you as the desire inside of you sears white hot.

And yet, despite the way Wriothesley presses on—groaning into your pussy as he eats you out—you’d be remiss to forget about the fact that he’s currently affected by the aphrodisiac as well, and has his own needs that need to be taken care of.

So, gathering what strength you have, you manage to push yourself up onto your forearms—your hands moving to the waistband of his pants. You frantically work open the button and zipper of his slacks, and then hook your fingers under the elastic of his underwear, tugging the band down.

…only to have his freed cock immediately spring up and smack you in the face.

Your eyes go wide, and in normal circumstances, you’d expect Wriothesley to laugh at the comedy of what has just occurred. However, too immersed in the way your cunt tastes and feels, and the way your body continues to twitch in his hold, he doesn’t even notice. And, too amazed by the sheer size of Wriothesley’s dick as you finally lean your head back and get a good look at him, you don’t bother saying anything.

No, instead you simply part your lips and take the head of his cock into your mouth—sucking lightly, your tongue teasing at his slit. The groan that’s immediately torn from his throat is involuntary—the sound becoming muffled by your pussy as he momentarily stops to savor the feeling of your mouth on his dick—your tongue flattening on the underside of his shaft as you slowly take more of him into your mouth.

Then, he goes back to eating you out with renewed fervor—your eyes nearly rolling back into your skull when he sucks at your clit.

The room quickly fills with the sound of sloppy and messy oral, your head bobbing up and down Wriothesley’s cock. Saliva drips down his length, his pre-cum smearing against your tongue, and you can’t help but moan.

Everything feels so good—from Wriothesley’s tongue on your cunt, to the way his cock fills up your mouth…

“Fuck,” Wriothesley growls. His fingers move to pull at the folds of your pussy, spreading you open wider. You can feel his hot breath on your skin as he moves his mouth back to your clit, where he then stays—his tongue flicking rhythmically against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The pace and motion he settles on is one that you know will very quickly damn you, and he figures this out as well based on the way your thighs begin to shake in his grasp. Your body attempts to jolt away from him—trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure he intends to give—but he leaves no wiggle room. He holds you tighter, enjoying the feeling of your mouth on his cock, and how your efforts slowly start to crumble along with your sanity.

“I…,” you mumble the word around dick, trying to warn him of the orgasm you can feel quickly approaching. Your entire body swims with arousal, your head feeling light. 

“Keep going, sweetheart,” he pants. “Let’s cum together.”

You feel his cock throb against your tongue, and, dutifully, you do your best to continue sucking him off—your lips once again suctioning around his shaft. Your actions immediately evoke a pleased groan from the Duke, and you feel his thighs tense in your grasp—his own orgasm quickly approaching.

However, despite your best efforts to continue, everything falls apart the second your climax finally crests.

With a cry, you come undone—your body writhing in his hold. You go brainless almost immediately, the strength in your arms wavering, and Wriothesley’s cock stuffing into your cheek—your hot breath fanning over his length.

Luckily, the vulgarity of the entire situation is enough to push Wriothesley over the finish line—his dick painting the inside of your mouth with his cum. And to his surprise, once he’s spent, you actually pull your head back, close your lips, and swallow.

Shit, he thinks. 

His dick is just starting to soften, and yet somehow, it’s also already getting hard again.

There’s a few beats of quiet that are filled only with the sound of you and Wriothesley panting. Then, once he’s caught his breath, he says—

“Let’s get you right side up.”

—and the world spins again.

Honestly, the fact that he can manhandle you this easily is criminal.

“You okay?” he asks, sitting you on one of his thighs. He brushes a few stray hairs from your face, staring at you with a hint of concern.

You nod your head, grateful that the carnal desire you’ve been afflicted with is clearly less, now that you and Wriothesley have both gotten off. But…even despite that, you still feel hot and tingly. Like you want more.

You glance down at his lap.

“Mmm. Seems like you’re in the same predicament as me.”

“Think you can handle another round?” he asks. You meet his eyes, playfully raising your eyebrows.

“I’m almost tempted to say no, and see what you do.”

Wriothesley rolls his eyes, his hands grabbing your waist, and in the next moment, you find yourself slung over his shoulder.

“Hey—!” you protest, attempting to look at him, but he only caresses your ass with his free hand.

“If you have that much spunk left in you, you can handle another round,” he says, carrying you down the nearby staircase, to the floor below his office. “But, I’ll be kind this time and make you more comfortable.”

His boots echo against the metal floor as he walks, and for a second, you wonder where exactly he’s taking you. But, soon after, Wriothesley pushes through a nearby door, and you find yourself in a moderately sized bedroom.

It must be his, you realize, feeling a little silly that you’d never pondered before now where the Master of the prison actually sleeps.

“Here we are.”

Wriothesley gently deposits you onto his bed, and then immediately reaches for his tie. You watch him with bated breath, your heart doing a tiny flip as you realize that he’s finally stripping out of his clothes. He opts to leave on the leather belts encircling his arms and neck, instead focusing the bulk of his time on shedding his suit, and undoing the many buckles on his boots. 

By the time he’s finished—his erect cock once again sitting heavy between his legs—you’re practically drooling at the sight of him.

His lips twitch into a little smile.

“I’m happy to know that you like what you see. However, in the time I spent undressing myself, you couldn’t be bothered to remove what little clothing you have left? C’mon now, are you waiting for me to wrestle you out of them?”

Still feeling cheeky, you flash him a grin.

“Hm, I’d like to see you try.”

Wriothesley immediately cocks an eyebrow, his eyes glinting at the challenge you’ve just issued, and your attitude wavers, realizing what it is you’ve done. You open your mouth to say you’re only teasing—your hands already raising behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra—but it’s too late.

In one swift motion, Wriothesley grabs your ankle and twists you onto your stomach—his weight settling above you as he kneels onto the bed. You shiver when his knuckles brush against your skin—his fingers swiftly undoing your bra.

“You’re just a little brat, aren’t you…” 

He speaks the words fondly, with a hint of amusement, and yet, they still go straight to your cunt. 

“Don’t say things like that,” you respond, instinctively raising your hips when Wriothesley hooks his fingers on your underwear and begins tugging them down your thighs. He stares intently at your backside as he does so, an idea popping into his mind.

“Why? Because you like it too much?”

He discards your panties on the floor along with the rest of the clothes you’d both shed, and then grabs your knees, forcing you to spread your legs, so he can properly settle between them. 

Another blush rises on your face at his words, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. At your lack of response, Wriothesely continues.

“In my understanding, brats tend to like it a little rougher, so…” 

His hands ghost up your thighs, to your hips, and he grips you tightly—forcing your lower half off the bed until you’re propped up on your knees—his cock sitting heavy against your ass.

“...what say we continue like this, hm?”

Bracing yourself on your forearms, you turn your head back to look at him—your body tensing as you watch him fist his cock and drag it downward, between the lips of your pussy. 

His icy eyes catch yours.

“Any objection?”

“...no,” you mumble, your fingers anticipatedly fisting in the sheets. 

Wriothesley nods—

“Good.”

—and then presses the head of his cock inside you.

Immediately, you drop your forehead against the mattress—willing your body to relax for him as he slowly inches inside of you.

His tongue had certainly been enjoyable, but this? Fuck. Nothing compares to the sensation of him slowly stuffing you inch by inch—the girth of his cock positively delicious as he forces your cunt to stretch to accommodate him.

It’s so much that by the time he’s fully seated inside of you, your body is shaking—your breath coming out in quick, desperately little pants.

Seeing your reaction, Wriothesely soothes a hand up your spine, his warm palm settling between your shoulder blades. He decides to start slow—to give you a little more time to adjust to him. 

And honestly, he’d love to take his time in general—to really savor the sight of you beneath him, your cunt swallowing his cock so perfectly, but alas. The effects of the aphrodisiac make him impatient with need, and it’s not long before he’s moving faster—little gasps and whines finding their way past your lips as he begins fucking you back onto his cock.

“Ahh…seriously you’re…so fucking tight,” he curses. His fingers dig into the plush of your hip—his jaw clenching, and his racing heart pumping lust through his veins.

Your cunt clamping on his dick seriously might be his personal slice of heaven.

“Wrio, I—,” you can’t even get the words out, your brain short-circuiting. You can’t think straight anymore—not with his cock rubbing you in all the right spots, making a mess of your insides, and quickly rocketing you towards another—

Wait, no, it’s only been a minute—!

“Fuck! ” 

You choke the word out, your spine curving and your knuckles turning white as your second orgasm of the night is unexpectedly forced out of you—your pussy spasming around Wriothesley’s dick.

The last of your strength officially drained, you collapse forward onto the mattress, your cheek smushing into the covers.

…however, Wriothesley doesn’t allow your lower half to fall along with the rest of you—his hold on your hips keeping your twitching pussy firmly planted on his still-hard dick.

“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” he reminds you, his cock continuing to languidly drag between your walls, drawing out the tail end of your pleasure.

You can’t help but whimper at his words, already feeling a bit oversensitive thanks to two consecutive orgasms. Wriothesley does his best to soothe your frayed nerves.

Leaning over you, he gently tangles his fist in your hair—coaxing your head off the mattress so he can kiss you. 

The kiss is messy, but sweet—the angle of your bodies forcing his cock deeper inside of you, his hips completely flush against your ass.

“You’re doing so good,” he tells you, peppering a trail of kisses against your cheek, and across your jaw. His praise causes you to whimper, a shiver raking up your spine when his tongue drags across your skin—his teeth nipping at the nape of your neck.

His actions successfully get you to relax—your body becoming more pliable in his grasp as he once again begins to move. And soon enough, the wet sound of sex fills his bedroom once more.

Wanting to help him cum (and to feel his seed fill you), you do your best to help Wriothesley along—purposefully flexing the walls of your pussy as he fucks you. However, in doing so, you accidentally start yourself down the path of yet another orgasm…

Feeling the familiar, aching pleasure beginning to build inside of you once again, you quickly stop what you’re doing. You think that a third orgasm honestly might kill you, but…it’s too late.

Wriothesley has already noticed your growing arousal, and decides that he likes it better when the two of you cum together.

So, he sneaks one of his hands between the apex of your legs, and begins rubbing at your clit.

The garbled, desperate cry that leaves your mouth immediately becomes seared in his mind for a long time to come.

“No, Wrio, I…I can’t. I—”

Your words come out jumbled, tears beading on your lash line.

Momentarily removing his hand from your clit, he once again reaches forward and grips your hair—pulling your head back so he can kiss you. His lips swallow up your worries.

“You can,” he insists, his voice whispering in your ear, and his hot breath fanning over your skin. 

“I want you to cum with me, pretty girl. You can do it.”

You give no protest aside from a cute little whine, and that's good enough for Wriothesley.

Releasing your hair, his hand finds your clit once more.

He then proceeds to fuck you into the mattress—pursuing his orgasm with abandon. A groan leaves his mouth at the way your pussy starts clamping on his dick once again—tightening up with each pass of his fingers across your clit—your pussy slick and messy with your own arousal.

Unable to think straight, you can only hold on for dear life—clinging to his sheets like a lifeline. You can’t even process the sounds that are coming out of your own mouth—a damned, desperate symphony moans.

To Wriothesley, it all sounds like a siren's cry—beckoning him closer to the edge.

“Shit,” he pants, feeling his cock throb, and his balls tighten. The motion of his fingers on your clit quickens—your toes curling as the coil of pleasure in your tummy continues to wind—so close to snapping.

Sweat beading on his brow, Wriothesley leans forward, curling his body against yours. His teeth nip at the shell of your ear, his husky voice sending goosebumps across your skin.

“So good for me…,” he breathes, his hips smacking into your ass. His broad strokes deteriorate into needy rutting, and the sensation has you quite literally sobbing—his cock now incessantly grinding into your g-spot.

You can’t take it anymore.

Shoving your face into the mattress, you bite the sheets and scream—your entire body shaking as you cum for a third time, your cunt milking around Wriothesley’s cock.

He curses at the feeling, his face burying in your neck. Wrapping his arms around you, he hugs you to his body—fucking inside of you a few more times before finally joining you in ecstasy. 

His teeth sink into you as his orgasms peaks, a heady groan muffled against your skin as his balls empty—pumping you full of his cum.

It’s not until the intensity of his pleasure has died down that Wriothesley ultimately releases you from his hold—your lower half immediately flopping down onto the bed, and his softening cock slipping out of you.

The Duke takes a moment to simply look at you, and how fucked out you are. Your eyes bleary, skin flushed, and the imprint of his teeth engraved in your flesh.

He grunts at the sight, and settles in beside you—his arm curling around your waist as he tugs you back against him. His tongue immediately begins lapping at the bite mark he’d inflicted, attempting to soothe the sting.

After a few seconds, you begin shaking, and Wriothesley immediately pauses, scared that he’s hurt you in some way.

…only to realize that you’re laughing.

“...puppy…”

He props himself up, glancing at you.

“What?”

“You really are like a puppy,” you giggle, your finger lifting to brush a stray tear from your eye. “The way you bit me, and then immediately started licking at it in apology. So cute…”

You break into another tiny fit of laughter, and Wriothesley rolls his eyes, yet can’t help cracking a smile.

“Well, I’m glad to know I didn’t break you, at the very least.”

His hand rubs against your waist.

“...right?”

Finally getting ahold of yourself, you roll onto your back and smile at him, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek. He immediately leans into your touch, and it makes your heart flutter.

“I’m not broken, no. Just…sore. And gross. And sweaty.”

Wriothesley chuckles.

“Well, I think I can rectify some of those issues. I do have a bathroom, with a tub.”

“Wow,” you respond, watching him as he scoots to the edge of the mattress and gets to his feet. He waits a second for you to join him, but you don’t move.

“My…limbs feel like jello,” you admit, raising your arm and flopping it back down bonelessly for emphasis. Wriothesley rolls his eyes, but nonetheless leans over the bed and scoops you into his arms.

You rest your cheek against his chest, admiring for the first time how soft it really is.

“Whatever shall I do with you,” he playfully sighs, carrying you into the adjacent bathroom. He sets you on the vanity, moving over to the tub and turning on the tap for the hot water. You hum.

“Mmm, I can think of a few things you can do. The first of which is helping me into the bath once it’s ready.”

Wriothesley quietly chuckles. Returning to your side, he takes your hand, and brings it to his lips.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Once the tub has filled, the Duke keeps true to his word—once again carefully cradling you in his arms as he seats himself in the tub basin, before positioning you in the space between his legs.

The steaming water immediately soothes the ache of your body, and you sigh in relief—sinking back against Wriothesley’s body. He lightly wraps one arm around your waist, the other resting on the edge of the tub.

For a few long minutes, the two of you bask in silence, simply enjoying the refreshing feel of the bath. 

…then, you start to notice something beginning to grow—pressing at your back.

“...really? Is the aphrodisiac still getting to you that much?”

“No,” he admits after a beat, leaning forward to kiss your neck. “I think this one is actually all me.”

You roll your eyes, but nonetheless crane your head to the side—allowing him access to more of your skin as his mouth begins to wander.

“I thought I made it clear that my limbs are jello right now.”

“I can work with that,” he responds, and you feel him grin. His hand slowly trails down your stomach, and between your legs.

“I’ll do all the work. You just get to make pretty sounds and feel good.”

His fingers slide between the folds of your pussy, and you jolt as he passes over your overly-sensitive clit. But seriously…how are you going to say no to him?

“What am I going to do with you?” you sigh, echoing his earlier words. His chest rumbles with laughter, and he grabs your chin with his free hand—turning your head so he can kiss you.

“Mmm, I can think of a few things.”

The next morning, you find yourself in a back in your clothes, standing beside Wriothesley just inside his office door.

“I’ll go first,” you say, to which he nods. “I have some errands to run anyway. You can wait a minute and then come out after me.”

“Sounds good.”

The two of you stare at each other for a second, before you finally square your shoulders, and reach for the door handle. 

Before you can twist it, Wriothesley catches your wrist. When you look back at him, you find that there’s a blush on his cheeks.

“So, I’ll…see you later?”

His suddenly bashful demeanor causes you to smile. Pressing onto your toes, you cup his cheeks and softly kiss him. He immediately grabs your waist—deepening the kiss.

“You’ll see me later,” you promise. 

With that, the two of you finally separate, and you disappear through his office door.

Wriothesley takes a deep breath at your departure, combing a hand through his hair as he waits for the right moment to make his own exit.

To be safe, he decides to wait a good few minutes. But finally, he opens his door—preparing to venture into the main area of the fortress, and make his normal rounds.

…however, he only makes it a step before remembering the sign Sigewinne had made.

With a sigh, he immediately backtracks and tears the DO NOT DISTURB sign off of his door, crumpling it between his palms.

When he turns back around, he nearly jumps—Sigewinne standing right in front of him.

“So,” she says, a pleased grin on her face. “How’d it go?”

Narrowing his eyes, Wriothesley only stares ahead, and walks past her. She easily follows after him.

“The fact that you’re out and about this early in the day means something likely happened between you and Y/N.”

“No comment,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne giggle. They pass by a few prisoners as Wriothesley makes a B-line for the elevator to the production zone. Once there, Sigewinne squeezes herself in along with him.

As the elevator begins to descend, only a few seconds pass in silence, before Sigewinne asks one last question.

“As your doctor, it’s my recommendation that you continue to regularly relieve your stress. So, are you going to be dutifully carrying out my orders from now on?”

Wriothesley makes a little face, glancing away from her.

“...maybe.”

Sigewinne smiles. 

That’s good enough for her.

[A Dragon's Constitution] ->

[mickandmusings]

third times the charm

pairing: tyler owens x f!reader

word count: 3.8k

summary: life has a funny way of putting people in your path, and ultimately making them part of your life. but what happens when the one person you never want to see stumbles in over and over again, a disastrous tornado tearing up your path of moving on?

aka: the two times tyler owens enters and, consequently, leaves, your life at the wrong time, and the one time he comes at the perfect moment and finally stays.

warnings: reader is described in a feminine manner; why are we ignoring his bull rider trope? cause i'm not babes xx; angsty mainly, but fluff too; lovers to enemies back to lovers (sorry); this author knows nothing about tornadoes or weather so sorry

shoutout to megan moroney and her banger new album where this title and idea come from :)

-

i.

"What do you mean you're leaving?!"

Tyler shuts the tailgate of his red pick-up with a loud slam, the cowboy hat on his head nearly flying off with the force. Y/N stood just a few feet away, her arms crossed over her torso as her chest heaved in short, shaking breaths. The sunlight hits her just right, and the gold chain around her neck glimmers in the sunlight. It catches Tyler's attention from the corner of his eye-it had been burned into his mind from the moment he'd bought it with a chunk of his earnings from last year's rodeo. The chain was delicate, simple, but the charm had been the main appeal: it was gold, the same shade as the chain, but in the center of the small heart shaped pendant sat a capital 'T'. She'd worn it since he'd given it to her for a birthday present, and it had been the center piece of even their most intimate moments-her bare beneath him with only the glittering jewelry adorning her as he had her unraveling under his touch. Even the thought of it had heat traveling up Tyler's neck, and he swallowed down the feeling, along with all of the guilt bubbling to the surface.

"I'm leavin', simple as that."

"Ty, I-I don't understand. You get bucked off one time and you're giving up?! You've been riding since we were kids, I-"

He turns to her, emerald eyes blazing with an emotion he couldn't put a label on.

"I didn't just get 'bucked off', I almost got my head trampled in case you forgot!" His voice is laced with anger. He's not angry with her, he's angry with himself. After a series of unfortunate injuries in last month's local rodeo, Tyler knew he couldn't ride again, it would kill him. He'd spent the last few weeks in physical therapy and doctor's offices just to make sure the damn bull hadn't left behind more than scars.

It was better this way, he could leave his town behind, and forget about the deep, gut-twisting feeling of failure that sat like acid in his stomach. But leaving his hometown also meant leaving her.

Tyler had fallen for Y/N their junior year of high school, and they'd rarely been seen without one another ever since then. She was sweet and shy to his brash and confident, his biggest supporter-always sitting in the stands for all of his rides-whether he was the talk of the town or stumbling home, his shotgun rider, and the girl who wore his heart (literally and figuratively) on a chain around her neck. Looking at her now, with tears lining under her gorgeous eyes, he wanted to just forget all of his plans and pull her into his arms. He wanted to reassure her that he'd stay here, that he'd give her the life that he'd promised her-apple pie and babies, the perfect picket-fence life she deserved.

"Tyler, you-you can't be serious! W-What about your parents, your plans, hell, Tyler, what about me?!" Her shoulders now moved as she let out shuddering breaths, eyebrows furrowed as she grew frustrated. "Tyler Owens you promised me, you promised me a farmhouse, and a wrap-around porch, a-and babies! And now you're just gonna take off to God-knows-where to what? Storm chase?"

She stops and lets out a dry chuckle. She'd been 'chasing' with him before, vivid memories of him scaring her shitless chasing tornadoes in his truck, only to 'apologize' to her by making love in the backseat after the storm had passed. Through their time together, she, too, had grown to love the storms. Y/N took her camera into the storms with them, more than ready to capture the freakishly beautiful moments of pure disaster before it struck. She'd stand in the pouring rain next to him, laughing as wind whipped hair around her face. He'd snap a picture of her with her own camera that she'd set aside and she'd roll her eyes. They'd been happy, bonded by a mutual love of mother nature's chaos and one another. Now, she turns her back to face him, shaking her head as her bottom lip trembles.

"Ya know, I should've listened to everyone who told me to stay away from you in high school, that you'd just hurt me. I didn't believe them, not one bit, because I know you. You're running because you're scared. You don't have to run, Ty. You've never run from your fears, for God's sake you ride them! What the hell are you thinking?!"

Tears stream down her face, and Tyler feels his resolve slipping. He hadn't thought it through, not really, and now as she stands in front of him, he realizes he's only hurting her more and more. He needed an out, he needed to skip town, no matter who it hurt.

"I'm thinking that I'm a fuckin' failure at everything, no matter what I try! The only thing I'm good at is storms, chasin' them, getting close enough to see something! I fail at everything, Y/N/N, and if I stay, I'll just fail you, too. Over and over."

"Tyler, you've never failed me," she brings her hands to either side of his face, her thumb brushing a cut that still hadn't scarred over from his fall. Her eyes were blurry and her hands trembled. "Please, stay." Her voice was hardly a whisper, pleading desperately.

"You know I can't."

She nodded solemnly, wiping tears so she could take a final look into his eyes. She gave no warning when she launched her arms around his neck, all but hanging onto him like a child. He hugged her tighter than he ever had, and when she let go, he placed a final heated goodbye kiss on her lips. Y/N looks at him, her brain screaming pleas to make him stay, but she simply kisses his cheek before speaking.

"C-call me when you get there?"

He takes one last glance at her, taking her in completely, as if trying to memorize her. His eyes land on the jewelry adorning the spot just below her collarbone, the gold shining in the sunset, knowing he'd never see it on her again-if he ever even saw her again.

"You'll be the first person I call, baby."

Y/N's call never came.

She spent the summer miserable, but refused to take off the gold chain she hid under shirts. It burned her skin in a metaphorical sense, but she ignored it, just like the heartbreak that had festered into deep resentment for Tyler Owens. She'd decided to take off to the local university for a clean start, somewhere new, somewhere his ghost wouldn't haunt her. Things had begun to look up, and she found herself smiling again. The morning before her first day of classes, she almost took the chain off, but couldn't bring herself to do so.

When she spotted his tall figure sitting a row ahead of her in her Intro to Meteorology class, she pretended not to know who he was. It was only fair, he'd done the same to her. For a reason that neither of them could vocalize, they begin to hate one another. Without knowing it, Tyler had become the storm that had sparked her into chasing after danger forever, the one that had left destruction so fatal she wasn't sure if she'd ever recover.

-

ii.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Y/N rolls her eyes and nearly throws her laptop across her dorm room when she looks down at her field partner pairing. The name in bold stares back at her like some sick joke.

Tyler Owens.

She shuts her laptop with a force that could shatter glass and slams her face into her pillow to let out a scream that could have easily been heard four counties over. The universe had to hate her.

With one glance at her watch, she hops from her bed and packs her duffel, her camera slung around her other shoulder. After silently praying that this storm takes her away in one quick swoop, she opens the door to her room and stumbles down the stairs to the lobby, where he was waiting for her outside the double doors. She can already feel her skin flaming with anger when she catches sight of his towering frame, baseball cap thrown backwards over his head.

"'Bout fuckin' time sweetheart, thought the storm would pass before we even got out there!"

"Oh, kiss my ass, Owens."

She rolls her eyes and climbs into the red truck she had once been a permanent fixture in, feeling almost like nothing had changed since the last time she'd crawled into the passenger side. She had half a mind to let down the driver's side visor to see if her picture still sat inside it, but Tyler climbs in the second she thinks about it. The half hour drive is uncomfortable, silent, and laced with tension so thick both halves of the couple begin to wonder if the air supply is getting thin. But as the storm approaches, both of their eyes are locked on the massive twisting figure just ahead of them. Y/N reaches for her camera, focusing the lens as best as she can through the windshield of the truck. She sighs when the view is less than satisfactory. Without much thought, she begins to move the window crank on the door to let down the window.

"What the hell are you doin'?" Tyler's voice breaks their silence.

"What does it look like, Owens? Getting a better shot." Her body hangs halfway out the window, camera leaning out the window as she moves the lens and clicks.

"Get your ass in the truck, I'm not payin' your hospital bills when you fall out and I run over you."

She rolls her eyes and ignores him, almost her entire body hanging out the window.

"Okay, okay, get in the truck, I'll get you closer, Jesus."

She pulls herself back into the truck and rolls the window back up as Tyler moves forward down the muddy path, closer to the storm now building ahead. The wind and rain grow more intense, shaking even the bulky vehicle that could easily withstand even the most treacherous of conditions. The spiraling tunnel only moves at a more pummeling speed, and Y/N's sharp shout fills the air.

"Stop the truck!"

He hits the brake and before the truck even stops, Y/N's rolling out of the passenger side, camera raised as she captures a monster of a storm. Tyler finds himself silent, momentarily distracted-her hair blowing with the force of the wind, the smile drawn across her face, and the long sleeve button down she'd been wearing was slipping down her shoulders, exposing her tank top and-wait-he raises an eyebrow, his heart stopping. Against her neck sat a gold chain he knew too well. It stops him completely in his tracks, shocked that she still wore his initial around her neck. The sound of a roaring train pulls him from his thoughts and sends him leaning out his own door.

"Y/N," he's shouting over the loud winds. "GET YOUR ASS IN THE TRUCK!"

The barrel of wind only gets closer, the fierceness of wind making Tyler's heart race. The girl outside his truck, however, only smiles wider, raising her camera for another shot of the approaching storm.

"I'M FINE, TYLER. WIND'S NOT EVEN THAT BAD!"

Tyler huffs as his voice, raspy from yelling, shouts again.

"THAT WASN'T A REQUEST, SWEETHEART. GET YOUR ASS IN THIS TRUCK!"

She ignores his shouts, only squinting her eyes at the horizon as the wind picks up another notch, making the shirt now halfway down on her arms blow like a flag in the wind. Tyler gives her a minute to comply, hoping this was just a momentary phase of her being stubborn. After five minutes, Tyler cursed and stomped out of the truck over to her. He says nothing, picking her up over his shoulder.

"TYLER! WHAT THE FUCK?! PUT ME DOWN, ASSHOLE!"

He doesn't give in to her retorts, simply swinging her door open and shoving her into the passenger seat. He gets into his driver's side and slings his arm on her headrest, turning to back the truck around.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you have some sort of sick kink where you get off on ruining my life? I had a perfect shot, it-"

"You had a perfect shot of getting sucked into a tornado is what you had, Y/N. You're gonna get yourself killed gettin' that fuckin' close!"

"Like you would care." Her voice isn't even a mumble, and Tyler hardly hears her over the sounds of the storm.

It sends a jab of pain through his heart he doesn't expect, and instead of saying anything, he lets her stew in anger in his passenger seat. When he drops her off at her dorm, she agrees to email him her half of the project, and a week later he receives it.

He opens the email to find exactly what he imagines, the most spectacular shots of a storm he's ever seen. After the report and photos are submitted, the two never speak to one another again. They both graduate under the same Arkansas sun, but lead different lives in the same area of the country. Y/N swears she sees his truck pass her every time she goes out to shoot, and he sees her in every girl that stands in a field with a camera.

Y/N would never admit that she has a burner account subscribed to his livestreams, or that she laughed and smiled as she watched him hoop and holler with his ragtag group of friends, memories of the chases they once went on filling her mind more fondly than painfully these days. And if she had one of the red and white shirts with his stupid cartoon face plastered against it, well, no one would ever know.

When Boone and the rest of his crew would stop for food and rest breaks, if Tyler saw her name plastered in a newspaper or magazine, he'd put it on the counter next to his plethora of snacks. He'd never admit he'd cut her articles out of them and kept them in a small scrapbook that lived in his glovebox, right next to the picture of her that once lived in his visor-only because a magazine cut-out clip of her lived there now, her smiling with a massive twin barrel storm behind her, the gold chain peeking from the shirt was wearing.

-

iii.

"Ty, man, this one's a beaut! She's unreal!"

Boone's voice filled Tyler's ears from the passenger seat, but as Tyler looked out at the horizon, his attention was far from the brunette that sat next to him. He saw her car before he saw her-the same rink-dink, decked out, black Subaru she'd had in college, meaning she was here on her own, not for business.

His green eyes darted to the field across from where it was parked, spotting her instantly as she stood in the tall grass, hair blowing as she brought her camera to her face, crouching down to get the perfect shot. She shook her head when she pulled back from it, enjoying the sight in front of her.

Tyler puts the truck in park and all but barrels out of the door, his boots taking him towards her, but not nearly fast enough.

"Jesus, who's that? And why's she got Ty all in a tizzy?" Boone leans over to Lilly, who gives him an incredulous look.

"That's Y/N Y/L/N, she's a storm photographer, apparently he's got some fan girl crush on her or somethin', he keeps her work in a binder."

"Holy shit! Tyler knows the Y/N Y/L/N?"

Tyler would've blushed and denied Lilly's statement vehemently, but he was too far away to hear. Instead, the whipping winds and the sound of Y/N's delightful laughter filled his ears.

"She's a beaut, huh?" Tyler's voice carries over the noise, falling on Y/N's ears. She takes a breath and turns to face him for the first time in years. She nods slowly.

"Yeah, she's gorgeous. Got some great shots."

Her throat feels dry as his eyes peer down at her. She finally braves a look up at him.

"Um, I'm not studying it or anything, just bored, really. I'll let you and your crew have her."

She gives him a small smile, but he notes it's genuine as she caps the lens on her camera.

"It was good to see you, Ty. Good luck."

"Y/N, wait. I-I need to ask you somethin'."

She pauses her steps, turning back to face the man in front of her. For a split second, he looks just like the younger version that had left her all those years ago-the hat, the belt buckle, but none of that same all consuming fear.

"Sure, go ahead."

"Why do you still wear it? I saw you, that time in college, and when you did that shoot outside of Kansas City, the picture they published of you, it-you can see it real clear."

Y/N stills, pushing back hair that's blowing in the wind as she looks at him. She could say a multitude of things-how she wore it because she'd gotten so used to always wearing it. That she wore it because she wanted to hold onto him the only way she could. She could lie and say that she used it as a good luck charm. None of them would be the truth, and she was sick of lying to him, so she simply told the truth.

"Well, all the best chasers, they carry their first storm with them, right?"

She pauses, realizing how vague that was.

"What I mean is, without you taking me through my first storm I never would've done this. I was terrified of them, and you and that stupid red truck of yours showed me how beautiful they can be, and now I capture their beauty for a living. I never would've had any of this without you, so-"

She shrugs, giving him a small chuckle. The silence suffocates as he looks at her.

"Tyler listen-"

"If you're gonna apologize, don't. I'm the one that should apologize, I left you all those years ago. That was real shitty of me, and I didn't give you a warnin' or a reason why. So, I'm sorry, for all of it."

She nods, giving him a smile. The quiet floods between them again, and she pushes back her hair again before she speaks.

"I-I watch your videos, y-your livestreams. You're still crazy, but it reminds me of when we used to chase, and you'd scare me to death, and then you'd, uh, 'apologize' for it and, sometimes it's like I'm there with you."

He laughs with her.

"I-I've got every newspaper and magazine clippin' you've ever been in. You're pictures they're-breathtakin', it feels like you're standin' in the field right there next to you. I guess that's just because I used to be and memories, ya know?"

She nodded, giving him a sweet smile, one that sends his heart racing. They both turn their attention to the horizon where the storm seems relatively calm, at least by their standards.

"Uh, Y/N? I'm sorry, I promised you somethin' all those years ago, and I never made good on it. I think about that a lot, and-just-I'm sorry."

"I forgave you a long time ago, Ty, we were kids." She pauses, tilting her head as she looks at the storm brewing. "Besides, I don't think I'm cut out for that life anymore, I like life on the road. I mean, where else do you get moments like this? The storms back home are wonders, but nothing like this."

"I agree with you there," he chuckles. His heart pounds, and the words slip out of his mouth before he can stop them. "I miss you though."

She cuts her eyes to his own, as if waiting for him to explain himself.

"You were my original chasin' partner, ya know? Plus, when things got scary, you never flinched, not really. This reporter I've got now? God help us all, can't stand much more than a strong wind."

Y/N laughs loudly before she shakes her head.

"Well, you might be in luck. I hate working for that magazine, I really, really do." She turns to face him, camera pulled close to her chest. "The Tornado Wranglers hiring? I'm looking for a job. I have a portfolio if you need it, references too."

Her statement is laced with sarcasm.

Tyler finds himself laughing now, a wide smile plastered across his face.

"I'm familiar with your work, have it on good graces that you're just what we're lookin' for. Lucky for you, we've always got room for one more, that is, if you'll have us. I gotta warn you, those over there are a handful."

"If they're anything like you, I'm likely to fall in love with them instantly."

Y/N doesn't register the words stumbling out of her mouth until they'd already filled the air between them. Without a word, Tyler grabs her hand, pulling her in closer than people who have a history like theirs should. His calloused fingers reach out to the gold pendant lying on her neck, moving it back and forth between its fingers. It had withstood their time apart-it was scratched and a little weather-worn, but, then again, so were they.

"The clasp broke about a year ago, the rest is all original. Pure gold, willing to sell it for a good offer. The guy at the pawn tried to undersell me, I know what I've got."

Tyler's chest warms, that sarcastic, witty humor he'd missed back in full force.

"Do you take alternate forms of payment?" He pulls her in by her waist with a cocky grin.

"Depends, Owens, what did you have in mind?"

He cocks his eyebrow, giving her a sort of contemplative look as his hands rest on the small of her back, hers around his neck.

"Well, I still owe you about-," He lifts his hand from around her and pretends to count on his fingers. "A billion apologies, we could chase this stunner of a storm, drop these characters back off at the motel, find us an empty field, and I could apologize like I used to...maybe?"

She shakes her head and pulls him in for a heated kiss. They're both smiling so hard its hardly a kiss, but the feelings are there.

"You've got yourself a deal, but I'm keeping the necklace."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, baby." He kisses her head, pulling her back towards his group of friends, who were now whistling at the pair, obviously catching the interaction. "Fair warning, after he finds out just who you are, Boone's likely to fall in love with you."

She raises her eyebrow, pulling away and heading towards the motley crew ahead of her.

"Guess you'll just have to chase me next."

-

taglist:

@fraaaaankiiiiieee

[unknownmads]

CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT INMATE TOJI AND CUTE LITTLE Y/N WHOS SO NAIVE TO BIG BAD TOJI

CW: Slight smut (mentions of his pp🤭)

☆☆☆

thinking about Prison toji who you met when your college has you do a little project in your criminal psychology class. The project was make a penpal get to know them ask why they are in prision, what their lives before was like, do they regret what they did etc. basic questions of course all you had to do was get the most information out of the penpal about their personal lives as you could.

Prison Toji who only signed up for the program because it was part of his latest court order saying he ‘needed more understanding’ so a penpal would give him a friend while they stay safe😭 he ofc hated the idea and thought it was the dumbest shit ever. until he got his first letter, from you (duh).

Prison toji who got mail for the first time and it was a little white envelope with a cute little sticker sealing it. He deadpanned *is my penpal an idiot these letters are for a prison not a daycare* he silently judges examining every detail as he opened the letter. i read the letter taking in every little personal detail you shared with him, your cute little name, how you loved your cat, how you’re new to the city only just moving for school, of course the boring questions for him as well. But at the very end of the letter he noticed an extra little note.

Ps. i left a few photos of myself along with some of my cat! i think it’s only fair since i got to see your photo on the website

Prison toji who grabs the envelope he previously had thrown to the side and pulls out 3 polaroids. One of you and probably your cat you’re dragging it into the photo with a big grin on your face. the second is a photo of your face a soft smile on your lips meant for whoever took the photo but Toji couldn’t help but wonder if that little smile was for him. Until he pulls out the third photo it’s a full view of you, you’re out in the city dressed all out, and Toji couldn’t help but know you chose that photo just for him.

Prison Toji who can’t wait to finally get some alone time so he can truly appreciate your pretty photos. And immediately goes to write you back answering all your cute little questions. Telling you where he lived before, how he ended up there, telling you what he did for work before (Surprise he sold drugs😍), telling you what he does to occupy his time here (he works out he just wanted an excuse to tell you how strong he is), and he asks you some questions.

Prison Toji who has been relentlessly flirting with since you started writing to him, asking if you had a boyfriend, how your school was going, why you moved to the city, how a cute lil thing like you is still single. You had been writing each other for a few weeks now which is a lot less than you think when you know how long mail takes. But your letters to each other are long. answering every little thing each other asks, learning about one another more and more. You had really connected so you finally ask him the big question he read the words as clear as day.

~Do you think i could come pay you a visit? ~

Prison Toji who had to immediately write back answering the most important question first.

~ And doll, you can come visit me anytime id love to finally meet you and see your pretty face in person~

he wanted to be nonchalant.

Prison Toji who was sitting in bed looking at your photos when he was called

“Zenin, you’ve got a visitor. away from the door.”

Prison Toji silently followed standing on the other side of the cell while the guard came in to handcuff him and bring him to the visiting area. Once he was in the room his cuffs connecting him to the table he waited. until he heard the door open again. He felt his cock twitch in his pants as he saw the guard guide you in. You were wide eyed taking in the new environment until they landed on him.

Prison Toji was large, you knew he was tall and muscular thanks to his letters and photo but nothing could have prepared you for the real deal. Eyes widening even more when you fully take him in. seated At the grey metal table his hands on the table as the guard had told him to. his hair poking at his eyes which were staring drinking you in. his lip in a smirk helping you notice the scar on it which you couldn’t really see from the grainy prison photos. His shirt stretched against his muscles showing off a few tattoos hidden along his skin. the view making you squeeze your thighs together to release some of the pressure building.

Prison Toji who took in as much of you as he could as he watched you shuffle into your seat across from him, enjoying how you squirmed slightly within his gaze, his smirk growing into an almost full smile.

“hey doll it’s good to finally meet you.”