#also. god they’re so TENDER I will CRY

[dean-smiths-suspenders]

JENNA I JUST FINISHED THE FIC

@bloodydeanwinchester you will be paying for my therapy bills

[keisins]

gojo satoru x reader. fwb!au. angst to comfort/fluff

kind of a sequel to this

You’ve been ghosted.

To be fair, you had kind of expected this. Key work: kind of. You try to not let your heart constrict itself into an organ of loathe, depression and hatred for the past 3 weeks.

Unfortunately, the agony still sits on your granite kitchen counter three weeks later. It’s in the box of his stuff he had the nerve to leave behind, along with all the thread-like semblance of hope you had for your future together. (How foolish of you, really.)

The kitchen itself, however, is empty. The living room you’re standing in — also empty. Your family and friends who came to help you move your stuff to your new apartment left a few minutes ago. They’re on their way there first to pick up some food before all of you move more heavy boxes into the place. And you’re grateful.

Grateful that you have people in your life that don’t ghost you, even if you can count them on a hand. People that care. That are consistent in your life. That aren’t curse-bound.

God, you hated him for the first week. Hated how even though you tried to make his habitual appearances not a part of your routine, you find yourself missing the white hair that tickles your neck when you search for a fresh set of pajamas, the clingy hands that harbor not-so-innocent touches as you put on skin care, and even sometimes, in the morning when you didn’t have the heart to kick him out the last night, the most amateur brewing of coffee you’ve ever had because who needs coffee when you have Gojo Satoru to keep you energized.

You shake your head to rid your thoughts. You take a deep breath in, ready to say goodbye to the place, goodbye to the memories, ready to let the box be discarded away just like he has done to you.

And just as you almost let go, you feel it.

You feel him. You don’t turn. You can’t. Because it cannot be real. You know what’s real and it’s not tender kisses and hands intertwined, it’s a job in a new city, in a new position. Life is not Gojo Satoru, it’s a new apartment.

Yet, there in your old apartment, you come to life upon hearing his voice.

“I see you’ve changed the place.”

His joke comes soft and light, as if to not scare you. Because he has to know that you are livid. He keeps his distance. Though, everything in Satoru is compelled to hold you. He thinks your name must be carved into his bones, with the way it urges his joints to reach for you, always always drawn to you.

You still haven’t turned. Still in shock, because this has to be a hallucination. Some sick joke from the universe, maybe. He calls your name, but before he can close his mouth, you turn around and ask harshly, “What are you doing here?”

Tears are already brimming at your eyes. You find yourself looking at him for the first time in a long time and it makes your heart ache. You could hear him out, but there is something in you that doesn’t want to. You had been raised with impatient needs, always in a rush to satisfy the ones who claimed to love you. Love is patient, love is kind, and you want it so bad to not be love.

A moment of silence passes by as Gojo bores into you, until his heart caves and takes a big step toward you, tests the water by taking your hand in his.

And you cry, weakly shrugging away, before he’s pulling you into the warmest embrace of your life.

“I’m sorry.” He catches sight of the box on the counter and can only guess what it could be. He’s been so selfish with his love for you, that he had forgotten about the treachery that so greatly tries to seep through his infinity. Gojo hadn’t accounted for it, didn’t ever in his life think he could feel afford to be humbled. But, as he stands there with you falling apart in his arms, he feels intimidated. “I’m so sorry.”

“I hate you.” Are you okay? How have you been? Where did you go? He hums softly, still caging you with his arms. You dare to ask, because to love is to be vulnerable, “Where were you?”

He holds you tighter, his eyes threatening to drop some tears of their own. He laughs and you can hear how watery it is when he tells you, “A box.”

You pull away, brows furrowed as you look up at him. He wipes away a falling tear on your cheek before pulling you into him again, desperate for you to not see him cry.

“I’ll explain later… Just let me hold you right now.”

[onmyyan]

Marcos Delmont NSFW ABC'S

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Giggly and fucked out, he'll lick you clean before flopping down on top of you, likes to put his whole weight on you like a human blanket, once he catches his breath he's all over you, checking for any sore spots, kissing along the flesh with a certain tenderness.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Unashamedly proud of his dick, and fun fact, he's one of those rare men who actually knows how to take a good dick pic, on you however, he's very very fond of your tummy, big or small something about the soft, warm flesh there makes his brain go fuzzy, likes to bury his face in your stomach and just melt.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He's a freak and loves to make a mess of you both, multiple rounds are the minimum around here which means more often than not you're both covered in his cum, prefers hitting it raw for many reasons but the number one is getting to see his cum drip off your perfect body like a claim over you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Oh he's dirty but has no secrets when it comes to sex with you, he's open and willing to try anything once meaning he flaunts his freaky bits a lot, case and point, he loves to film you two, all different angles, likes to wink at the camera cuz he knows you two are gonna watch them someday.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Community Dick 🗣️🤚🏼

Nah I'm playing but he does have the most experience out of all the Delmonts, meaning this certified munch knows how to play your body like a guitar.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Whatever positions let him see that bulge in your tummy, don't get me wrong he looooves hitting it from the back, the way you arch into him, but getting to see himself inside of you, turns his brain off, likes to press his hand against the bulge to make you cry out.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He's somewhat in the middle, its lighthearted but at the flip of a dime he can get real serious about your pleasure.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Carpet does match the drapes, likes to shave designs into it, currently has a heart.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He tries to be romantic, really he does but he's so nasty it comes off as lustful, although after he cums he's extremely clingy, needs that skin to skin more than oxygen, very romantic in that post haze.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Total fiend both before and after you, but can you blame him? Everything you do turns him on, you've caught him many times and he grins like it was his plan all along, likes to huff your panties while he does it, lots of moans of your name.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Crying kink, god he loves getting you so worked over you can't help but cry those pretty tears for him, teases you for crying like he wasn't just edging you for three hours, Filming also turns him on like nothing else, has dozens of files of you two,

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

If he can get it in he will, he has no shame and will pop a bitch in public if they had anything to say about it, loves you anywhere anytime but his favorite place to tear your guts up in is his secret little base he has to himself, has fucked you over every surface in the warehouse .

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

The breeze could blow on his meat and suddenly he's calling you coming to wherever you are at the moment and begging on his hands and knees for pussy,

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Will never truly put you in harms way, he's kinky but if he feels like there's a real risk of danger it ain't happening

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

m.u.n.c.h he's fifty-fifty on preference but he adores going down on you, and makes it a game between himself to see just how often he can make you cum on just his tongue, very very skilled with that pinky muscle in his mouth, and when he adds his finger in the mix? you're done for.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough is your go-to, even if he tries to slow down he gets so lost in you, in the pleasure it ruins him, he controls the pace but you control him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Oh yeah, he's all about a quickie, anytime anyplace remember? loves to make you cum in this almost frantic giggly way, the thrill of doing it somewhere risky makes it all the more sweet.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Very willing to try things out and experiment, he can't help his curiosity, how far he can push himself in the name of your pleasure, how far he can push you, it's all very addictive.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

4-6 each round lasts a minimum of an hour and he won't stop till you've came.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He will use toys occasionally but it gets to his head and he'll start competing with it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

This mother fucker is an absolute monster when it comes to teasing you, he will go on for hours nipping, sucking, and loving on you, there's no end in sight, even when you're in tears blubbering about nothing, he won't stop.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Very loud, he's a moaner and a curser, lots of grunts of your name and chuckles of disbelief, he can't believe how good you feel, how right it is to be inside of you, lots of whining towards the end.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Will cum on the spot if you spit in his mouth

7.3 inches

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

HIGH Lord have mercy he needs it all the time will be on his hands and knees if it meant a crumb of poonani

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not quickly, he gets more energetic than anything, ready for more rounds or to play some overwatch with you between his legs

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 22

chapter 38:

1. “"Right, so, your stylist?" Marlene asks, settling in as they continue to sway. "The one who looks like a fucking goddess? Yeah, so get this, she says we're friends…"”

james and marlene gossip sesh <3333333

2. 😧 MCGONNAGAL??????????

3. wait i think mcgonnagal is good. i’m pretty sure she’s from the phoenix. i’m not sure. i’m hopeful. i’m so hopeful

4. aww huey is kinda sweet. i like that’s he’s reg’s breath of fresh air when it comes to talking to the hallows

5. reg, i understand your anger, but please don’t make one of the only good sponsors feel bad

6. jealous james >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

7. “"I like your tea," James offers. "Maybe I'm biased, but it tastes better than anyone else's. What do you do to it?"

Regulus hums and lightly says, "I spit in it."

Without missing a beat, James replies, "Ah, that explains it."”

😭😭😭😭😭

8. “"Would you—" Regulus chokes on another relentless giggle, gasping a little. "Wait, would you actually drink my tea if I spit in it, James?"

"Love, I would let you spit directly into my mouth," James announces with absolutely no shame in his tone whatsoever.”

😭😭😭😭 james i love you

9. awww i love that barty is the most consistent part of reg’s life. i love barty

10. 😬 riddle is unconvinced in their love story. i- yikes

11. okay, right, mcgonnagal is good. thank god

12. dorcas wants to keep marlene out of the war, but only one of them has had a pov so far, so i’m not hopeful

13. oh shit marlene sounds hot

14. also, to add in, i’m so fucking glad there’s like no homophobia (that we know of) in this world

15. i do NOT want dorlene to be a tragedy in this universe

16. 😟 she gave back the ring. AHHHH

17. oh no. shit shit shit shit shit what did riddle do

18. “Riddle didn't even grant the liberty of leaving bodies behind for them to bury.” 😟😧

(but also, orion and walburga were dicks, so like, i’m not sad, just scared)

chapter 39:

1. aww regulus finally invites james in for tea

2. “On the day he accidentally kills a bee while tending to his flowers, he goes through the five stages of grief in less than an hour, which has nothing to do with the bee and everything to do with Vanity.” STOP! THE VANITY MENTION HURTS TOO MUCH

3. “When Regulus wants more time with him, he adds bagels, which James has now unconsciously been Pavloved into thinking of as his favorite food for that very reason.” STOP THATS SO GAY

4. sirius being dramatic about james and reg liking each other is TOP TIER in this fic, in the most realistic, aggravated, obnoxious, and completely loving way

5. BWAHAHAHHAHA JAMES GETTING A PIGGY BACK RIDE FROM SIRIUS IS GOLD

6. oh shit, (i’m not the best comprehensive reader, but i should have figured this out sooner), but from sirius’ perspective, he has to do the back and forth with remus his whole life. he doesn’t have the knowledge that i do, that a war is coming and they’ll finally get a chance to live together. he thinks he only gets to see remus once a year for two weeks at a time. this- this shit is heartbreaking yall

7. “”I watched him stand to his feet and tip himself into a river of blood in an act so tender that I'll never again be able to look at him with anything less than pure love. Every other member of the Black family, including you, fought and clawed their way home to their family, oftentimes to a family that never truly made them feel loved at all. Regulus? He fought and clawed through that arena, the entire time, for James. He's far more gentle than anyone gives him credit for."”

y’all, i’m crying over this. this is so lovely. effie is right, and i’m crying over how right she is

8. 😒 i know what’s coming. riddles a bitch. a right bitch. he’s gonna announce that previous victors are competing and i’m PISSED

9. so far, all three potters offered reggie food. they’re so hospitable, i love them

10. “He hasn't forgotten what it is to long for James. He still knows what it is to want him so badly that he'd be willing to kneel at the altar of James Potter and beg; he'd drop down on his hands and knees and crawl if that's what it took, if that would prove his devotion. He is the manifestation of longing built up with nowhere to go, and he craves, he yearns, he covets.”

both of them are so down bad

11. omg reg is so horny. his inner monologue is literally only like “”””“rip my clothes off please, read my mind and rip my clothes off”””””

12.AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I KNEW IT WAS COMING! BUT IM SO MAD!!! FUCK RIDDLE

13. effie is a queen. she is a godsend. and i’m so upset right now

14. not effie making them promise not to volunteer, and immediately james and sirius arguing over who’s gonna volunteer for her

15. i’m seething. i’m pissed beyond belief. i’m so angry it’s indescribable. my babies are going back into that arena. honestly, fuck riddle

[crazyfandomluver]

I present my Posally aus and headcannons. Enjoy =D

Sally going to Olympus, or going to someplace where both Zeus and Poseidon are present in the same place, and the two brothers get into an argument. It goes live on HephaestusTV, for the channel ‘Two idiots attempt to insult each other’(The name is a work in progress). Sally gets tired after some time of it, grabs Poseidon by the ear in the middle of the argument, right when they’re at each other’s throats, and drags him away, and he does nothing to stop her. The other gods are beyond shocked and confused at how much Sally has the most powerful god wrapped around her finger. 

“Who’s Sally Jackson???” 

“Just the most powerful woman in the world who also happens to be a mortal.”

Sally showing Poseidon all the mortal things, like restaurants, dancing, parties, movies, making food, etc. Poseidon spends most of his time in the ocean, and he’s surprised and new to all of this. He’s a little self conscious about it, but he allows Sally to show him everything, and he makes mistakes pretty much every time. But he doesn’t get frustrated too often, because he has a love of his life, soothing him and urging him to try again. 

Poseidon is sleeping(for/with Sally because gods don’t need sleep) and suddenly wakes up from a nightmare from past trauma about being eaten by his father. He immediately tries to act tough. Sally assures him that she is not his family, and he doesn’t need to hide his himself from her. She pulls him into a tender hug and Poseidon lets himself cry/be weak in front of her

“Gods don’t get therapy, Percy. The truth is that there’s a lot of screwed up things happening in their lifetime and they’re just expected to move on and forget about it without help. But as you know, sometimes it can be hard to get away from trauma.” “Even for the gods?” 

“Even for gods.”

Poseidon realizing he’s in desperately in love as he watches Sally light up into someone for littering and leaving their trash all over the beach. As a king whose subjects are being killed by plastic, whose ichor is laced with oil due to his form representing the state of his domain, he appreciates seeing someone who protects the sea when he cannot 

Sally loved to steal Poseidons shirt. He has like, only one or two, and Sally often steals them all. So he tried stealing one of Sally’s shirts, and it was too small on him. He realized this too late and he’s trying to take it off without breaking it. This is when Sally comes in the room, who promptly starts laughing her head off. Poseidon turns red and eventually realizes (because he’s a himbo and we love him for it) that he can just teleport away to a different part of the room, and he does, and the shirt falls to the floor. He waits for her to stop laughing, and just stands there, shirtless, tapping his foot every now and again, looking like a red tomato with a pout. She looks up after gaining control of herself for a moment, and sees his face, then immediately breaks into another fit, knowing that she was the only few who he’d let laugh at him like this

“…. You done?” 

“… No🤣”

Percy is a pet dog that Sally got for her and Poseidon who Poseidon makes immortal. There is no forbidden child, Poseidon doesn’t have to leave because he can split his conscience without others noticing, and also there’s no rules against having relationships, just the kids. They live happily together because is that too much to ask for? (At least until Sally dies if she still decides to not join him. But I think she would in this au)

Poseidon comes to visit Sally every now and again when Percy is at school or at camp. They’ll watch movies together, cuddled up on the coach, with Sally already having seen most of them, but willing to watch them again, and with Poseidon enthralled and entertained by all the shows he hasn’t seen yet. He died on the inside when he saw Disney’s’ Hercules. 

“Poseidon? What’s wrong?”

“… literally EVERYTHING is backwards…”

Poseidon taught Sally how to defend herself, even sometimes letting her use his trident since as a mortal, she can’t unleash the power within it. 

~*~fin~*~ @posallys

[gingerlurk]

Lovers' Crest | Chapter 15: Lovers Break

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: All things must break.

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), post season 3, ANGST, I'm sorry, flashback, Reader's f'd up backstory is in play, implied trauma, bad relatives, canon characters present.

A/N: I'm so nervous about posting this chapter. Pretty sure I lost readers when it first went up on AO3. But I promise there's a happy ending in store, it's just going to hurt for a little bit. Thank you for reading, you're so great.

--

After a particularly long session of exploring each other’s bodies and pleasures, you sleep deep for an age, swimming in dreams of him. Voice and hands and tender kisses everywhere. Eventually though, you break the surface and blink awake, stretching a hand out to Din’s side of the bed. Your fingers caress the cold covers. 

It’s not uncommon for him to rise before you wake; he’s the restless type. Still, right now, it unsettles you.

With the will of worlds, you get up to dress and stumble some minutes later into the bright cockpit while rubbing at crusty eyes. The first thing you clock is an unfamiliar nav path on the instruments.

Something about it makes your stomach churn.

Stepping up behind Din seated in his pilot chair, you snake your arms around his chest and lean over a pauldron-clad shoulder. He reaches a hand up to link gloved fingers with your own. His fully armoured state of dress just adds to the hot and unhappy roiling in your gut. 

You’re going somewhere. Somewhere important.

‘Hey,’ you say, clearing your throat some.

‘Hey,’ he responds. He tugs on your arm to get some purchase and turns in his chair to face you, settling his knees on either side of yours. ‘Good sleep?’

‘Oh yeah,’ you reply, hands now resting on his chest. ‘I think my brain shut off entirely after you… did that thing you did…’ 

He chuckles, coaxes you into his lap so you sit side-on and he can loop his arms around your waist. One of your own goes across his shoulders, the other fingers at his chest plate, toys at the edge of his bandolier. He presses the forehead of his helm into your cheek, murmurs, ‘Mm, well when you have trouble sleeping, I now know what to do.’

You huff a light laugh. ‘You’d do that on request, would you?’ you say, meaning it in jest.

But he goes quiet. He raises a hand and runs it through your hair, draws circles behind your ear. For a long moment, he holds you so tender you could cry. ‘I think you know by now that I would do anything you ask, cyar’ika,’ he whispers.

You shiver, feel a pulse of pleasure over your whole body. But that now familiar sharp pang again, gods always so intrusive, makes you straighten up and hasten to change the tone.

‘We’re going somewhere?’ you say, gesturing at the control panel now behind him. Din’s head tilts up and leans back a little to look square at you.

He holds your gaze for another long beat, studying. You do your best to look passive, curious. He just keeps staring.

Now anxious, you prompt, ‘A job?’

A reverie of some kind lifts, he gives the merest shrug as he twists you both around to the front of the ship. He holds you against him with one arm and reaches for the navigation pane with another.

‘No, not a job,’ he murmurs. ‘I have received a summons to my Covert.’

You frown. ‘To go back to Mandalore?’ you ask.

He shakes his head.

‘No,’ he says again, any playfulness that was between you now gone. ‘They’re here.’ He points to a planet in a system you don’t really know.

Still uneasy in this terrain, traversing this subject that is essentially Din himself, you puzzle over how to ask for more.

‘What, uh…’ you trail off immediately.

He doesn’t make you flounder about though. ‘After the battle for Mandalore and the defeat of Moff Gideon,’ he intones, ‘we Mandalorians began a journey to become united as a people.’

You nod along, having had this recent history lesson already.

‘Many settled on the home world, to rebuild. But we are still built to travel the stars. And now, Bo-Katan has ordered my Covert to patrol this system,’ he says, pointing. He tilts his helm back up to you, an air of fate in his movements. ‘There are rumours of a new imperial threat emerging, and we have to be ready.’

‘Imperial?’ you ask, dumbly. You’re managing to stay still where he holds onto your side, but it’s a stormy sea inside you, heart and guts thrashing and slamming against your will to calm.

‘Yes, or remnants. Alliances of warlords and former military leaders,’ he says, a hand circling on your hip as the other continues to move over the panels, bringing up data and field scores. ‘I do not know how serious it is. Or how far off these imps are from action. But… I must go.’

You don’t know what to say to all this. There’s nothing you really can say. He’s not asking your opinion, not raising it as a question. It’s decided. He’s going. You’re trying to process that internally, take it all on faith. Not lay any particular meaning over this. But you’re terrified. You make a sharp inhale just as he moves the hand on your leg up to your arm, stroking there in comfort. You realise you’ve come to be holding the fabric of his cloak in a white-knuckled fist.

You let go, move to stand. ‘How long until…?’ You trail off again, but your brain gives uninvited options to end the sentence. Until you go? Until you leave? Until this is all over?

Raw hope and fear chase one another across your racing thoughts. You hope he takes you with him. You fear what it means. And you don’t know which one makes the most sense. Which one you are truly feeling. Either way, you cannot get your thundering heart to slow down or your skin to stop prickling. 

He doesn’t pause.

‘I was hoping we would go as soon as you were ready,’ he says.

We. Hoping. You were ready.

A hot-cold shockwave cascades over you, shooting pins and needles through your hands and feet. The feeling lands hard – terror-laced panic. The realisation floods in. Something like this. You wouldn’t just be a visitor or a guest this time. You can sense it. The feeling of having sunk too deep into a circumstance you would have no control over. The feeling of being bound, pulled in and held tight. Being crushed under a weight of purpose that was not your own.

The feelings that rear up ugly and intrusive every time you sense Din trying to talk, about you and he, about us. That cause you to dodge, and evade, and distract.

Din speaks up over the rushing in your ears. ‘I know it is complicated, cyar’ika. I know that,’ he murmurs, posture held as if he were in close proximity with a wild animal. ‘But… it will be okay.’

Instead of replying, you edge around him and toward the door, mutter about changing into something more appropriate. He lets you go.

You fuss and fidget over it. Over what to wear. Like it was consequential. Like it mattered. Casting through your meagre wardrobe, you hold one top to yourself, then another. It sends you back to deeply disliked memories of seeking just the right look for whatever Estate function you were to be subjected to in any given moment. 

Eventually, you settle yourself on a wraparound vest with a high, stiff collar. The fact that it hides the love marks and bruises Din has given you is just a bonus. It’s not about being ashamed. You’re just comfortable in this. And okay, sure, presenting a more innocent side to Din’s Covert feels important for some reason. This is for him. 

This is what you tell yourself as you tuff up the collar and turn to stride back to the cockpit to ready for the jump.

The two of you are silent through the journey. When you returned to the cockpit you’d just taken your seat, and he hadn’t turned back to you. It stays quiet as you descend to a parched and wind-pruned landscape, pockmarked with cavernous openings.

You spy a small, sparse settlement or two dotted among the undulations.

Din knows exactly where he’s going and picks a clear, flat opening in the terrain. Harsh, alien light floods into your safe little cockpit, heralding your landing. The Crest settled, he stands and turns to you, towering over where you reluctantly unbuckle your harness. His imposing presence is something you haven’t felt this acutely for a while, all hard edges and brute force.

Get a grip, you try to tell yourself. It’s Din.

He reaches a hand for you and you take it to stand.

‘It’s a bit of a walk,’ he breaks the silence. ‘Is that okay?’

You just nod, follow. Almost in a trance you follow – match his footfalls out of the cockpit, the hold, across the rocky ground away from the Crest. Every step feels like an approach to annihilation. Your anxiety in overdrive, bile rising and heart pounding. An unnamed dread eating you inside out.

Focusing on his steady, clinking gait is usually so calming to you, so you tune into that. It helps for a little, but then a wide yawning cave comes into view and those sure, even steps carry on straight into the dark. You have no choice but to follow, moving closer as Din flicks his headtorch on. 

A winding path opens up into a well-established encampment. Warm light cast over your face and Din’s beskar as you emerge into the space.

The unbearable tension slips away for one second as you hear a pitched ‘Weh!’ and Grogu somersaults over a gathered party into your arms.

‘Baby, hi!’ you say, smiling wide. ‘What are you doing here?’ He grunts and burbles, lets you give him one squeeze before reaching for Din, who takes him from you with trembling hands. You hadn’t noticed he was shaking.

That’s when you take in the rest of the room. Several Mandalorians are gathered around what you understand to be a typical armourer’s forge.

The Armourer is in fact there, in deep conversation with a slightly shorter woman standing next to her. At Grogu’s exclamations, they turn and your jaw goes slack as you recognise the other helmet. 

Why would Bo-Katan Kryze be here?

You do the only thing you can do, you turn to the Mandalorian at your side. ‘Din, what’s--?’

‘I don’t know,’ he says immediately, not returning your gaze. He lowers the child to the floor and straightens to approach the two imposing figures, stops in front of them and raises a deferent arm to cross his chest. Grogu follows at his heels but you stay riveted to the spot.

‘I was summoned,’ Din says. ‘But apologies, Lady Kryze, I did not know you would be here as well.’

Bo-Katan gives you each a nod. ‘I came to return Grogu,’ she says. You almost relax for the barest moment, but she continues. ‘And to bear witness.’

‘What--?’ you and Din say in unison but you’re interrupted by the Armourer moving suddenly. Her sure footsteps echo in the space, hushing all present.

She strides around to stand in the space between you and Din, looks from him to you, back again. Addressing Din, she says, ‘You remain together.’

‘Yes,’ Din’s reply is instant.

‘Do you continue to couple?’ she asks and your mouth falls open, eyes wide. What the--?

‘Yes,’ Din once again replies without hesitating.

You’re gobsmacked. Indignant. Why would he just out and say that? To everyone here?

‘I see,’ she says, she looks back at you. The unmoving façade of her helmet gives you the feeling of being a piece of dirty iron that she somehow must shape into a good and useful thing. The Armourer continues to speak, but you know she’s not talking to you.

‘Have you removed your helmet in front of her?’

‘… No.’ 

‘Has she removed your helmet?’

‘No.’

The Armourer tilts her helm, then turns back to Din, taking several steps toward him. He squares up to her. And even though they’re standing right there talking about you, it’s like you’re not in the room. What the hell is happening here?

She sears Din with her appraisal. ‘But you have removed your helmet in her presence,’ she says, not a question. ‘Haven’t you.’

Din pulls back a little. The air in the room fizzes with layers of tension and you know you’re parsing only the very surface of it all. The Armourer strides back to the forge and picks up a terrifying looking hammer. Bo-Katan has steadily edged around the two Mandalorians facing off and come to stand just by you. 

A long, tense pause before Din finally speaks again. 

‘Yes,’ he murmurs, rushes on. ‘But she has not seen my face. The Creed says—’

‘I am aware what the Creed says. You twist the truth, Din Djarin,’ the Armourer replies, with a menace in her words that unnerves you. She holds the hammer in a distinctly combative stance. ‘You twist the Creed.’

But Din seems calm.

‘I do not believe I do,’ he says, broad shoulders square again.

The Armourer starts, stance affronted. Another penetrating gaze sweeps over the still and watchful Din. She seems to read something specific in his words. ‘What do you speak of?’

‘I have been reading the texts of the Creed from its original source…’ Din says into the vast space. ‘And more than a dozen different translations.’ He unhooks a datapad from his belt and holds it out to her.

He continues, ‘You told me not long ago that you were uncertain what Mandalore’s new age meant for us, for the Creed, what it means now to follow the Way. You said you were seeking answers for the good of our people.’

She looks at the device warily. ‘Where did you get these texts?’ she asks.

‘The old library, in the royal city – I… when we were last on Mandalore,’ he says, gestures to the woman beside you. ‘Bo-Katan told me of it, suggested I go there to seek the literature. I filled this datapad,’ he holds it out to her. ‘It… may illuminate answers for you, as it did for me.’

The Armourer puts down her hammer and takes the glistening tablet. She curls it against her chest, considering him hard. You don’t know how he is withstanding all this scrutiny.

‘I shall study these,’ she decrees. ‘Be on your guard Din Djarin.’

Din nods, starts to turn back to you as if dismissed – thank gods – but the Armourer is not done.

‘Our business here is not yet concluded,’ her voice booms in the space and rings in your ears. Din stops, turns back. ‘It may be that you have revealed hidden truths about our Creed here, spurred by your connection to this individual,’ she raises her helm to indicate at you. ‘But you know one thing remains absolute.’

A taut bowstring stretches across the expanse of the cavern making up this Covert’s inner sanctum. Every figure in the space stands tall and readied. The air simmers so hot you wonder why you haven’t burnt up on the spot.

‘She is not Mandalorian,’ the Armourer says. ‘She does not walk in your world. And until she does, we must consider her an outsider. This will not do as we prepare for conflict, for war.’

Something passes between her and Din. 

‘It is time,’ she states.

‘Now?’ he asks. You can’t read his tone. His voice is only just above a whisper, gravelly and soaked in emotions. You’re just not sure which ones. He glances at you. ‘I thought we would have more time.’

‘Now is not a time for uncertainty, or waiting, Din Djarin,’ she intones. He just nods, acquiesces. ‘We must be sure.’

He shoots you one long, yearning look before turning back to her.

‘Very well.’

You can barely breathe over the panic constricting your chest. You once again turn to the Mandalorian next to you and utter a broken, ‘What--?’

Bo-Katan pulls off her helmet and looks hard at you.

You swallow, force yourself to ask, ‘What does that mean?’

‘It means you can be with Din. The Armourer is allowing you to take the vow, live the way of the Mandalorian, and be one with him,’ she says, in a tone that suggests you might be happy with this explanation.

You don’t have time to process any of that before the Armourer’s voice rings out loud and firm.

‘Din Djarin, will you pledge to be made one, when you are together, when you are apart. Will you share all, and raise warriors?’

The words hang in the air before drifting down over the vast expanse now yawning wide between you and him.

‘Yes,’ Din states. Says nothing more.

The Armourer’s helm swivels to where you’re stood shaking like a leaf. She simply says, ‘Will you?’

‘Din?’ you say. ‘I don’t understand.’ He doesn’t turn to you, doesn’t move. The Armourer, however, levels you with a look. You will the deepest breath you can; it’s not much.

‘Din,’ you try again. ‘Can we… talk?’

Bo-Katan, at your side, whispers, ‘That isn’t how this works. The question has been asked. It must be answered.’

You ignore her.

‘Please,’ you can’t keep the begging out of your voice now. ‘Can… we just go somewhere and talk, Din?’

He still doesn’t turn. It’s like he’s frozen in time, on a precipice. 

A memory rears up white hot in your mind’s eye. The shapes and shadows of the Crest’s cabin swim into view, the two of you are entwined and bare.

‘It wasn’t the first time he tried it you know,’ you’re saying. 

‘Who tried what, love?’

‘My Uncle, tried to get me married off.’

Din had asked once how you had come to be at that prisoner of war camp where you’d first met. Far away from home. You’d evaded the question. Not now. Not yet. I’ll tell you someday.

But you’re sprawled out and so content and relaxed right now. Din has his head resting on your stomach, where he’d laid it after dragging a series of delicious climaxes out of you. Neither of you have moved save for hands reaching. His own hold your sides and tug you close. Yours burrow into soft curls and stroke wherever’s in reach. Somehow, like this, feeling his hair and breath tickle your skin, eyes covered and mind sated, it’s not too painful to cast back through those old memories. 

‘It was just after everything… everything with Torre,’ you say, barely a whisper. ‘He’d said to me, Now child, I am not angry with you. In fact, sweet kin, I am thrilled you have deemed yourself an eligible candidate to be made one within a union. I am merely disappointed you nominated such a worthless companion as a simple house spy.’

You’re putting on his old affectations, trying to mock rather than shrink.

‘He said, Cherished flower, if you have deemed yourself so ready, I have a much, much more worthwhile co-mingling with which to engage your attentions.’ 

While you talk, Din slowly lifts himself and moves up, until he can loop an arm under your head and wrap the other around you, pull you in close. He leans over you a little. Like he’s trying to shield you from a thing that happened countless years ago.

You just nuzzle into that perfect space between his neck and shoulder. Breathe deep, try to picture the curves and lines of the face hovering above you. You’d traced fingers over it so many times, over aquiline nose, thick brows, plush lower lip. Kissed his closed eyes. You should be able to tell what he looks like by now. But it’s a monochrome sketch. Not satisfying.

‘What did you do about it?’ he asks, pulling you back to your tale.

You smile at the framing of the question. To him, the way he sees you, you wouldn’t have stood for it. Would have fought. Would have killed the fucknut suitor where they stood. Whoever they were.

It feels so delicious that Din sees you that way.

‘I fucked it up,’ you admit. ‘Couldn’t keep up the proper good graces long enough for the general’s son to be even a little charmed by me.’

You feel Din smirk against your hair. ‘I doubt that, mesh’la. I’ve seen you in that world, like royalty.’

You hum at the comment, choosing to take it as the compliment intended.

‘Actually, I got incredibly drunk. I passed out over the entremets,’ you say, enjoying his huff of laughter.

After that disastrous dinner was the first time you’d run. You’d come close to a thing you feared and dreaded, a binding of your will to another. Found that, in the face of it, you’d rather lose everything but your own sense of self. So you ran, thinking you’d slipped away unnoticed in the dead of night, too young then to understand how futile it was. The illusion of your independence had been shattered when you’d returned sometime later, greeted by your Uncle with a simple, ‘Do you have it out of your system yet, dear flower?’

He’d tried again. And again. Each time, you blew it to hell, packed up and tore off. It was almost a reflex. And each time you’d slouched back, he’d carried onto the next match. You thought his patience was infinite. Naïve as you were.

But the final straw was a horrendous dinner at which you’d said some insanely inappropriate things about the political party your suitor was a member of and significant donor to. To be fair, you only spoke up after he – ignoring you for the entirety of the event – explained to your Uncle how a wife was a fine instrument to foment an advantageous social standing. 

That was when your Uncle had told you to go, and to not dare come back until you would ‘accept your place and station in this Family’.

You give Din an abridged version of the story. Leaving out the part where you’d cried, begged, said you’d already given up your lover for the Family. You didn’t want to go. The scene – your exile – had played out in the same room he’d announced the more recent deal he’d made with you. The one he’d given you no choice in. And your family had stood and watched it happen both times, exactly the same. 

You give him the short version and say you left under orders to come back only when you were ready.

‘You outlasted him there,’ Din murmurs. ‘He had to engage me to find you.’

Your turn to smirk, though sadly. 

‘I did some outrageous things while away from that place,’ you say. ‘I think, subconsciously I was trying to get his attention, from all over the damn galaxy. “Come and get me, Uncle, I dare you.” Shocked me to hell and back when he actually did. But… well, it was naïve of me to assume it wasn’t just another proposition into unwanted wedlock.’ 

A long, quiet stretch. 

‘For me, marriage has always been a tool,’ you whisper into the air between you. ‘Either a means of control, or a weapon. Both. I’ve never seen a happy union.’

He just strokes your hair, and says nothing.

The walls of the cavern reform around you, pulling you from the memory. Nobody has moved an inch. Din still stands facing the Armourer by her forge. Grogu’s by his side, looking uneasy. Bo-Katan is at your shoulder, giving you a tap on the elbow, a subtle ‘you still in there?’

One more try. Ignoring the indignant rustles of armour and weapons from the rest of the present company, you stride forward and stand to face Din head on. You just need to get him to leave this place and talk. You’re ready to talk now.

But, when you look up into the face of the helmet you know so damn well, your insides run ice cold.

For the first time since meeting, you truly cannot get a single read on him. Not his thoughts, or emotions, or intentions. An expressionless mask simply stares back at you. He is the blank wall you’d accused him of being some time ago. 

You feel unmoored. Tilting into a depth you can’t fathom. Stripped of volition. 

Only one thought penetrates the blind panic surging along with the bile and the tremors. One word. 

No.

It’s when the harsh outside light hits your face, blinding you after the darkness within, that you realise you had turned on your heel and run from the room. Run from them. Sprinted from that terrifying proposition. 

From Din.

You turn back to the opening of the cave, no one follows.

Your feet continue to carry you. There’s nowhere for you to go but away. It’s what you do. It’s all you ever do. Blow it to hell and run.

Run away. 

--

When the frigid paralysis had eased and the reality of the past few minutes started to set into his bones, Din sensed some part of himself had left his body along with you.

It had all happened so fast. He’d frozen, disconnected. Watched himself stand stock still as you tried to talk to him, felt paralysed as you looked up at him with terror and tears in your eyes. Felt himself shatter as you flew from the room.

Bo-Katan had tried to order him to go after you, implored him. But he was outside of himself, senses blurred and sunken. The only decision he was capable of was to return to his ship.

But the Crest sits quiet and morose. 

The hull is sealed, and Din knows you aren’t inside.

Grogu, however, babbles a string of hopeful sounds from beside him. Din just stares up at his lonely craft, before stalking toward it.

‘Forget it, kid. She’s not here.’

‘Beh?’ begs the baby.

‘I said she’s gone!’ he rounds on the child, who gives a cry of shock.

Din exhales. ‘She is gone, Grogu.’ He looks at his ship again, its emptiness yawning wide. ‘She’s just gone.’

--

Prev | Next

I made myself so sad writing this that I had to skip ahead to work on the fluffy, happy ending. Which WILL happen, once these two figure their shit out.

Hope you stick with me, thanks so much for reading.

[rrr-is-gay]

I’m crying again about how goddam romantic RRR is. Ram and Bheem immediately fall in love and are just inseparable from that moment on. They love each other!!!!!

The pure relief that washes over Bheem when Sita tells him about Ram’s backstory and mission, like “thank god, now I can love him openly again.” In spite of EVERYTHING RAM DID TO HIM, Bheem couldn’t deny his heart. He was just so in love with Ram, he couldn’t hate him.

And before that? Ram’s breakdown??!!! I’ve never seen so much agony as Ram crying alone in his room about having to arrest Bheem. He doesn’t just cry, he screams, he fits, he punches concrete out of the wall. He hates this decision so much. His love for Bheem is so powerful, but his trauma just takes over.

His choice to finally face and heal that trauma is also romantic as fuck because he does it by handing the rifle over to Bheem, clasping their hands together just like when they first met. He’s finally allowing the revolution to be a community effort, not just his tortured individual responsibility. Bheem taught him the value of finding and loving your people. Ram taught Bheem the value of resisting tyrannical rule. They’re a perfect match.

I love them so much, I cry every goddam day, I can’t stop thinking about how loving and sweet and tender and fearsome and strong and courageous they are. And HOW IN LOVE THEY ARE!!!! And HOW SEXUALLY CHARGED THEIR BOND IS!!!!!!!! They kiss and fuck and tickle each other and suck each other’s dicks and there’s nothing you can say to convince me otherwise! 😤

[starfirette]

daryl dixon nsfw alphabet

❄️ 17+ | masterlist

❄️ I remember staying up past my curfew every Sunday to watch this show. I was convinced that I could audition to be a Walker and make it. I was also convinced that Norman Reedus would see me, a 13 year old in zombie makeup, and be willing to commit crimes to be with me. Anyways here's this. Veterans to this blog May remember my old Daryl fics and I hope to god I've deleted every trace of them so yahoo and tallyho I guess. Requests are open and I'm going to post two of them tomorrow!!!! 🥳

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

It took time for him to warm up to you, but eventually he became comfortable enough to carefully pull you against him. Falling in love with you and warming up to you were two different things for him. The first time you two have slept together he felt awkward and he pulled away, sitting on the edge of the bed and dressing before leaving with a mumble. He returned to find you crying. "You just left," you had sniffed out. It was painful. You'd been through total hell: hoards of walkers, trapped in abdandoned houses, fights with random survivors. But this had you crying. Still naked in the bed, body bruised and hickied, and tears standing your face.

Daryl scrambled to grab you. He pressed a kiss both wet eyes. He laid with you, fully clothed with the night air in his beard and hair. Your naked self curled up against him, but the grasps were chaste and loving.

Daryl felt guilty beyond measure.

It is now custom for every night that he kisses his chapped lips on your body. Soft. Careful. Slow. He eases you back to the earth. Daryl never thought he was capable of being tender until he first held you in his hands. Covering you in blankets or helping you get redressed. Passing you water. Then kissing your forehead before tucking you in for the night. When you've fallen asleep he'll tell you he loves you. He doesn't like to do it often because he feels almost uncomfortable to say it, out of fear that he's going to be rejected. At least when you're sleeping he can say it over and over.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Your tittiesssss. It's a primal urge to love and be loved by a comforting woman. I wouldn't say that he outwardly has a mommy kink. I don't think he'd ever call a girl mommy, actually! But he finds relief at the end of the day by laying on your stomach and sucking your tits into his mouth. Groaning and swirling his tongue around your nipples as your hands comb the knots out of his hair.

He worships them.

"Best pair I've ever seen," he promises, each and every time.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Also on your tits. Massaging the slick seed over your nipples while your lashes catch tears like drops of water on a spiderweb. It's mesmerizing and it's enthralling. It magnetizes on his cock to hear his skin sticking to yours with the semen between them, or to see your pretty breasts glisten in the lanterlight.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

That he was morbidly inexperienced in the area of romance. I think he's had plenty of sex but I don't think it really had feeling. I think that brought him down. All Daryl ever really wanted was to feel loved. It's so much better to fuck while knowing you're his woman.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Again, I think he's fairly experienced. I think he's not exactly happy or proud by the situations he's been in, but he also knows what he likes in the bedroom.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Missionary is likely, however I also think that he likes to stand behind you. Pinning you to his chest so he can look over you and watch your face control and your tits jiggle while your cute pussy keeps him in a chokehold. Actually, I know it's this position.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

When he cracks a joke or laughs then you know all is well in the world. That you and your people are safe; that you won't go to bed hungry; that you'll have a proper breakfast with Daryl come morning before parting ways for 'work'.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

I personally doubt that he bothers to trim or shave anything and idk if I'm weird for thinking it's hot, but 🤷‍♀️🫡

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Very much extremely so 🥳

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

I imaging that Daryl looks so delicious when he's touching himself. He's all alone and he's vulnerable. He's himself without any fear or worries. His mouth parted, maybe he'll even let out the smallest of moans as he thumbs his slit. And he's not afraid to keep going. He will make himself cum over and over until he feels satisfied.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Size difference 😜 or when you're crying. When you're face is just streaming with tears while your cunt and thighs are slick with cum, after hours of being fucked and worshipped. And he's going to keep going. So also overstimulation ☺️

But please. I implore you to turn the tables. Sneak up on him and worship this man. Kiss him all over. Make him feel good. Please. He needs it. Pleasure him and most of all PRAISE HIM. He has a HUGE praise kink that he didn't even know about!

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

MAYBE on a run. MAYBE. I imagine that the minute you two almost get caught by another group or by walkers, he's banned the both of you from fondling while on a run. I think he'd like the idea of having a secret hideout. A place with the essence of just you and him, decorated only for two pairs of eyes.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

His own mind. But sometimes he won't even have dirty thoughts, however, and then you'll whisper the filthiest thing in his ear. Then he can't think of anything else.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Impact play. Aside from clit or tit spanking, just sexy spanking, things like whipping or slapping is a no. It's too personal and he'd never get off on it.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Prefers giving because he's silently insecure. He's meticulous in his tongue strokes. Presses kisses to your puffy lips and licks between them before nuzzling your clit with his nose. His scruff feels so ticklish against you. It makes you squirm. He'll use his rough hands to pin your hips down, forcing you to bear the pleasure he bestows while tongue fucking your tight hole or sucking your clit like a lemon slice. This is what I mean when I say size difference, btw. Man handling might be a better term. I wholeheartedly want Daryl to throw me around like a rag doll and use me the way he needs 🥹

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

I think he typically ends up in a slow and steady jackhammering motion. I can't explain this right. Like a dotted quarter note in music theory...? That's the best way I can start to explain. Like every thrust has to settle for a second before he goes again-he wants to revel in the feeling. But it gets to a point when he's on the verge of cumming that his pace might get uneven. He'll push forward with choppy thrusts that take you higher and higher (deeper and deeper as the wise Kate Bush once said)

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Occasionally he gets in a cheeky mood. He'll probably do this while on watch at a more se the settlement, like the prison or Alexandria. He'll lick his two fingers before shoving them down your panties. Sometimes he'll fuck your throat while he's on watch, trying his hardest to keep an eye out. It's sexy when he grunts and muffles his own cries.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Probably not. Once you two have established a comfortable rhythm, he gets attached to it and he wouldn't want it to change. He'd be a little sad if you ever told him you weren't satisfied with the sex life you two have

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Oh my god he can last forever

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Nope

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

In the sense of "punishments" he might, but generally he gets off on making you squirm or cum

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Can be very loud or very quiet. He typically is good at keeping quiet. It's pornographic when he lets himself make sound. It's all groans and grunting, growling and dirty talking. "Little girl" is his go to sex pet name.

I was heavy stalking the Daryl fanfic tag the other day and saw one where he says "cuntmuffin" and I can't get that out of my mind

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

When Daryl got the hang of the punishment-dom/sub dynamic he absolutely had a field day. He's GOOD at it. Total brat tamer. He's an amazing dom and he doesn't even realize it. He's just naturally in tune with you. He enjoys having someone to love and someone to tease. When he trusts you, the sky is the limit

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

HUNG KING. I cannot even lie, I know that he's gigantic. Long AND thick. The only man whose balls I'd ever fondle 10/10

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He's a horny bastard when he lays his eyes on you. I'm sure when he first met you, at whatever point you joined the group (you may choose but I personally give myself too much credit and imagine I joined straight out of Atlanta), he totally imagined you in all sorts of nasty situations. Watching you with the other ladies washing laundry? He jerked off in the tent, took about 60 seconds. Merle had no clue.

When you first got an attitude with Shane? Okay, he took his sweet time and groaned your name. Edges himself a couple times.

When you opted for a long dagger rather than a shotgun, going for close range kills? Okay, he was in officially in love.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He'd be more than happy to snuggle up and fall asleep, but more often than not he's going to count ammunition stocks or take watch. He can't help but want to contribute morning, noon, and night.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Feeding Alligators 62 - It's My Party

Surprise, motherfuckers! It's a bonus week!

Y'all return to the grove in triumph.

On AO3.

The hollering starts as y’all approach the grove gate. It’s good hollering, for a change. A lot of, “They’re here!”

“Halsin must have already arrived,” Wyll says.

Which means Halsin can also open portals. Apparently not when he’s in bear form in a goblin den, though. Something to do with having to say words, according to Gale, which a bear can’t do very well.

The gate opens, and half the tieflings are waiting for you. There’s some shouts, a couple crying ones, and a lot of relieved body language.

“Thank the gods,” one woman puts it. “Now we’ve got a fighting chance not to get torn to shreds. At least not by goblins.”

Which…what the fuck else is out there?

Halsin did make it. But he’s too busy dealing with y’all’s whole coup thing, and you’d rather not, you know, poke that bear (you say that one out loud and it translates well enough for Astarion to make a face and groan all dramatic). Plus the tieflings are antsy as hell.

Naturally, they gather up their booze and decide to throw a party.

That guy y’all rescued from the goblins, the one with the stupid hat, is there. You spot him looking around; when he makes eye contact with you, his expression brightens and he charges at you through an audience listening to a tiefling woman sing with a pretty voice.

You, reading this as him looking for you specifically, duck behind a tent and scurry into the underbrush—thank fuck them druids let trees and shrubbery grow all over in here. Foppish looks for you for a hot second. Mumbles something with the word “drat!” And the dirt potion actually translates. How fucking twee.

That man is a gabber. You are not in a gabbing mood on the best of days—least not with a stranger.

Parties ain’t your thing. You don’t drink, don’t hook up, and it takes you a fair bit to make friends. So there ain’t much point in any of this for you. Maybe you should just camp out under this bush and wait the whole thing out.

The others seem to be having a great time. Karlach flings herself into dance moves so enthusiastically nonsense that if these people had the internet, she’d be a viral star. You don’t spot Lae’zel or Wyll, but Gale, with several tieflings, tends the cook fire and a bubbling vat of…you ain’t sure. It smells great, though, and you are fucking famished.

So you slink out like you didn’t just crawl out of the foliage, and sidle your way past a wizard tiefling launching fireworks from his hands. Neat. Gale has a smile and a steaming bowl for you. It’s a thick ass stew—potatoes, tender meat, onions, and a load of salty-spice seasonings. He hands you a kind of flatbread, too, fresh off a stone set on the edge of the fire. Fucker steams when you rip off a piece.

Your eyes almost roll into the back of your skull when you take a bite, and the wizard ain’t never looked so pleased with himself.

“You’re a goddamn wonder,” you say. And then Foppish pops up at the edge of the crowd and you have to duck away.

Unfortunately, you’re surrounded by tall rocks. The only place to hide without sprinting and sloshing your hot stew all over your hands is a tent.

A red one.

The pale owner stands outside with a bottle of wine, all but laughing at you.

“Hide me,” you say and crouch behind his tent.

“My dear fellow?” Foppish says.

Astarion looks from the man, over to you, crouched just out of sight.

“And what do I get out of it?” he says because he’s a rat bastard.

Blood, you almost say. Except you ain’t letting him bite you. It ain’t safe, and it gave him ideas.

“My share of the wine?” you say.

He snorts. Sneers. Then Foppish is there, and you ain’t never talked to the man, but he’s looking for you, so now you have to avoid him on sheer fucking principal.

“Ah, excuse me,” Foppish says. “I’ve been looking for, er, your leader, I’m told? A woman from another plane, if you can believe such tales. Quite the tactician, I hear.”

“And who told you that?” Astarion…the word drawl don’t cut it. You heard the man bitch before. And flirt. Whine and complain and even snap at you. But you ain’t never heard a man lace his words with such viscerally dripping condescension quite like this.

“Why, everyone!” Foppish says. “I say, you’re also a member of her band of adventurers, are you not? Is it true she persuaded half of the goblin camp to sacrifice themselves to this new god of theirs?”

You did what now??

Astarion don’t blink. Don’t even move. He’s the picture they put in the old version of dictionaries, the one they chose for “disdain.”

“That was the poison, actually,” he says.

Foppish hums. Jots notes—because he’s carrying around as fucking quill and parchment. “And is it true that she took a vampire as a paramour?”

You tip forwards, slosh the stew over your hand, and bite back a hiss. Only it ain’t fast enough, because Foppish makes a noise. Leans like he’s trying to peer past Astarion and you have to duck back.

Well fuck. He’s gonna find you all crouched in the dirt like a fucking gollum. Add that to whatever bullshit he’s already gathering about you. Fuck you. You just wanted stew. A threat gone, one fucking item off your fucking checklist, and now some goddamn middle ages version of a fucking tabloid reporter is gonna get the gravy—

“Interested in vampires, are you, darling?” Astarion says, because he calls everybody that. And oh. His tone changed. Gone all smooth and buttery the way you remember from the woods, when you kinda lied about being sexually experienced. “I could tell you a thing or two about vampires, you sweet thing.”

You can’t peek to check, but it’s real easy to imagine the way that man leans in, eyes all sharp and glowing in the refracted light. Flashing the barest hint of his fangs behind his lips.

“I, er, I thank you, my boy,” Foppish says.

“I am not your boy.”

The snap smacks you. Makes you quiet, makes you small, makes you want to disappear.

Seems to hit Foppish kinda the same way. “My good fellow, I meant to say. But I do believe I’m being summoned. It appears word of my talent has spread to the good people here, and I shall have to bid you a very good night.”

The crunch of footsteps beats a fucking retreat. You wait a second before you can soothe your spooked nerves and peer back out. To where Astarion watches Foppish flee with the coldest expression you ever seen on him.

You glance the other way. You might just sneak off without him noticing. You should do just that, actually. But then he turns, spots you, and that coldness thaws from subzero down to a simple glacial.

“All my share of the wine,” you say. “From now until, uh, whenever this ends. You get all of it.”

He does a kind of slow blink. And you watch as he literally resets his face, once again the smug pretty man. He snorts. “Afraid of bards, my dear?”

“The fuck’s a bard?”

And it’s one of them moments where you get to remind everybody that you really ain’t from nowhere around here.

Astarion sighs. “Go ask the wizard, if you really need to know. I’m in no mood for lectures. This ‘party’ is too droll by half already.”

Red sparkles burst in the sky. One of the tieflings—the singer from before—starts plucking away at some kinda stringed instrument, which slowly brings a good chunk of the camp into a makeshift dance.

“This is boring for you?” you say. You manage to stand back up without spilling more of your food.

Most people who ain’t you are party types (Sasha literally stole your book the last time she dragged you to one). He seems exactly the type to be having fun here.

But he takes a slug of wine and his nose wrinkles. “After killing all those goblins, I’d say they owe us a lot more than a pat on the head and vinegar for wine.”

Says the man pilfering pillows from them same people.

“I don’t think they got much to offer?” you say.

And the man fucking rolls his eyes. “Yes, that’s rather obvious, darling. Still. I was hoping for a bit of fun.”

He scans around, body language all casual, but a sharpness to his eyes.

Thing is, you ain’t entirely sure what he means when he says “fun.”

“You ain’t gonna like…stab somebody, right?” you say.

Instead of looking offended, the man turns and there’s a wicked little smirk on his face. “Oh, I’d quite like to stab someone.”

Ah fuck. Y’all just got here and saved everybody, and if he goes and starts some shit and Halsin ain’t even talked to you yet…

“We just got outta a fight,” you say. “We really do not need you doing something to piss off—”

Astarion throws both his hands in the air, sloshing an arc of wine through the air. “Gods below. You really are a bumpkin, aren’t you? I mean sex, dear. Though clearly not with you.”

That…that somehow, for some godforsaken reason, slips between your rips and slices something inside. You make a sound, hope to fuck he didn’t hear it, and you’re so glad you got that bowl to hold so you don’t instinctively curl in on yourself.

He studies you. Then turns back to his observations. His hunt. Taps his chin with one, long finger. “I’m thinking of Lae’zel. She seems rather interested to that kind of arrangement.”

Why the fuck does that hurt? Ain’t no goddamn reason for you to get…get emotional over this. Y’all ain’t a thing. Y’all specifically are not a thing. You ain’t interested, and he’s a bastard, and he’s a grown ass bastard who is well within his rights to go find himself a fuck buddy.

It’s probably a good thing. Give him whatever…whatever he was looking for with you. Build another tie between him and the rest of the group.

It’s a good thing.

Ain’t no reason for your chest to be tight. You ain’t got a pony in the race here.

“What do you think?” he says. “Karlach is literally on fire and I believe Wyll would be too noble at the moment. But I doubt the gith would care overmuch about it.”

It’s fucking stupid for you to feel any kinda way about this. It ain’t your fucking business.

You got to swallow a few times before you can get your voice to work. “I, uh. Yeah. I think she’d be down. She, you know, asked that one time.”

He seems to ponder that, find it favorable, and nod. “Well. With our illustrious leader’s blessing, I believe I’ll try my luck. I do hope you enjoy the party, dear.”

And off he goes, slipping through the crowd after his selected prey.

You watch. Your throat is tight for some reason.

“Oh fuck you,” you say to nobody in particular and suck in a tight breath.

The stew don’t smell so good no more. You find one of the kids scampering by, let them take it (they start shoveling it down the hatch immediately). There’s some crates loaded with wine bottles on the edge of camp. You go over, grab two. You can’t read the labels and it don’t really matter, anyway.

Shadowheart catches your eye. Lifts her own bottle and waggles it, eyebrows raised. An invitation, you think.

But you’re in a ridiculous mood, so you paste on a smile and shake your head. Go about uncorking the wine with a corkscrew left around just for that purpose (and almost impale your own thumb). Then you take your loot and head off into the woods by yourself.

Time to see what all the fuss over wine is about.

***

Notes:

It'd be a real dick move to post this chapter and the following on the regular schedule. So it's bonus week! Next chapter: I'll Cry if I Want To

[fubukiswifenoimnotjoking]

MAJOR ONE PUNCH MAN MANGA AND WEBCOMIC SPOILERS BELOW!!!!

I haven’t sorted my thoughts about the new chapter yet but I’ll prob post about it later, but for now I really want to highlight this major difference between manga and wc

Wc:

Here, Saitama stands in the desolate (unflooded) ruins of Z city, very alone and numb. He’s left to face the destruction of his home with a bitter, cold feeling. It’s one of the most serious moments in the wc for our unserious main character and it’s not fun, seeing him punished just for living in Z city. (Note—it’s assumed he leaves Genos to be picked up after this fight by Kuseno’s drones, or if he does pick up Genos himself then it’s not on screen.)

Now, I wanna juxtapose this with the cover art and final page of chapter 169–

In the manga, Saitama isn’t alone. He and Genos face this together after everything they’ve seen because they’re the only person each other can rely on right now. Another thing, unlike the wc—Saitama focuses on Genos needs first, saying he wants to get Genos fixed up first before they focus on the apartment, where in the wc he didn’t even tell Genos this, he just kinda poetically walked off. (Also, I find it really nice that Saitama is showing concern for Genos even though he forgot everything about Genos’ death and stuff, it’s like a little of his future self’s realization of how much Genos means to him is leaking through.) I mean, the fucking cover art has them painted in such hopeful sunset colors, literally facing the desolation together despite how overwhelming it is.

Not only is this change indicative of how manga Saitama is superior (yes I said it), but it further strengthens their already beautiful relationship (u can take that as ship or not, I see it both ways). It’s a really sweet cap off to the whole omfg-Genos-is-dead-I’m-losing-my-mind-gonna-literally-kill-everything scene.

Does this mean I think their reunion was well done? God no. I hate that Saitama forgot everything, that comes dangerously close to just making the whole thing have no point. I’m at least glad Genos remembers, but he can’t even explain it to Saitama bc it’s so confusing and convoluted (I don’t blame Saitama for being confused lol), and yes, I know Saitama will probably remember later on and it will be a huge relief for the audience while adding to his understanding of his care for Genos, but dammit! I just want them to have a sweet crying beautiful reunion!!! ONE WHY CANT YOU JUST GIVE US SAITAMA CRYING AND TELLING GENOS EVERYTHING???? WHY CANT GENOS BE TAKEN ABACK BY SAITAMA’S ABSOLUTE DEVESTATION AND WHY CANT THEY HAVE A TENDER HEART TO HEART ABOUT HOW THEY DONT WANNA LOSE EACH OTHER???? FUCK!!!!

Point is, I really love this change, it makes their duo even stronger from going through this together and it’s just loads more fun. Hope that was comprehensive LOL I ranted a lot.

WHOOOO this arc is finally over after literal years!!! Lets GOOOOOO!!!

[piripaprika]

kazuha nsfw alphabet

i was going through my drafts / planning document for the alt route of the kazuheizou x reader threesome and i realized i posted the heizou nsfw alphabet but didn't post the kazuha one??? anyways, enjoy

~

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Honestly, Kazuha seems like the type to flop down next to you after fucking you so well you'll cry. He definitely feels inclined to wipe the tears off of your cheek. After laying down and cuddling with you, if you express discomfort or exhaustion then, after a tender kiss, he'll get up to go get you something to drink and a damp washcloth.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Kazuha likes kissing and peppering bites all over the skin. I can see him being the type of guy to open your thighs and rub them ever so gently though. I think he likes thighs and skin.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Kazuha probably likes cumming inside with a long term partner, tbh, although I can understand the idea that he'd be quick to pull out because he doesn't want to settle down anywhere. I also have to acknowledge that he wouldn't want to be an absentee father. If he were with a wandering long term partner then I'm sure he would come to possess a birth control herb / tea.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Panty sniffer. Enough said. I have no doubt that he can smell arousal (he's just like me fr). Okay, this might be a hot take on my behalf, but I believe that a part of him would be partly disgusted but also partly intrigued if his partner came so hard they either squirted or peed a bit. I don't believe he gets off on omorashi, but it would definitely be something that stuns him in the moment.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Mildly experienced but definitely not a lady killer, uses his senses and keen observation to determine what is good more than anything else. Even if a scenario unfolds apprehensively and he isn't the CEO of sex, he would most definitely get the hang of how to proceed as the seconds tick by.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary and the one with your back to his chest. Imagine reverse cowgirl but he's sitting up instead of laying down.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I feel like Kazuha would be a bit goofy, but sometimes he gets really into it and wouldn't think of cracking jokes. If he were to be a tease, though, I think we can all agree that he would make the world's worst puns and cheesy haikus.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I'd figure Kazuha doesn't trim bc it doesn't seem like his type of thing, but he doesn't grow too much hair to begin with so he isn't extraordinarily messy.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Beyond intimate. Kazuha is nothing if not thoughtful and considerate, so he would be so keen on putting his sensitive senses to use. He might even have a hard time getting lost in the pleasure because he's so aware of his partner's presence and his energy is focused on them.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I feel like Kazuha doesn't get aroused for shits and giggles and that something instead has to happen. The ronin probably gets horny when he drinks or reads a scandalous poem. I might be so bold as to insinuate that he...jerks off...to erotica...hah.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dear god

Body worship no doubt. Shibari. This sweet sweet boy probably likes having his face be sat on. He gives me service top vibes. I believe that he would also be open to the possibility of a threesome or an orgy. If I were to diagnose him with something a bit out of the box, though, I'd say that he could be a bit into breathplay and and into experimentalism. Look me in the metaphorical eye and tell me that Kazuha wouldn't read some super out of pocket but intriguing shit and then tell his partner: "I learned something interesting today...".

L = Location (favorite places to have sex)

Somewhere comfortable and secluded when sober, somewhere risky when drunk.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Foreplay, teasing, sexual tension building up, yearning after going a while without seeing his partner.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I can't see Kazuha being into causing his partner physical pain, such as with discipline paddles or welts or open wounds.

I also think he isn't into explicit degradation/namecalling. I really can't imagine Kazuha calling his partner a 'good for nothing bitch slut' regardless of whether he's inebriated or not.

(Side note, if he were drunk, I could totally see him being mocking about his partner being needy. Shout out to that once fic where he calls the reader his 'darling whore' after some drinks. This is the fic!)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

I believe Kazuha prefers to give, and when he receives I feel like he guides a lot. I believe that it isn't difficult to get him off at all, and that once he gets the hang of what his partner likes he adapts to what they need and encourages them to be vocal about what they want.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Sensual, starts off slow and speeds up a bit but miss me with that "thrusts into you at an inhuman speed" shit. I feel like he keeps a steady pace and instead focuses more on other parts of the body to threaten overstimulation :3 Once he's made up his mind about when his partner can cum nothing will stop him from getting there, with consistency and a rhythm being his deadliest weapons.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

I don't think he'd be into quickies.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Kazuha is definitely keen on experimentation, as I mentioned before. I feel that he would also be into risk taking because of the thrill involved. I truly believe, from the bottom of my heart, that Kazuha's mischevious.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

I think he has a short refractory period, so with this he can probably cum 3 times in a session if he takes breaks. I can only really see him getting physically sore if he's fucking a partner in a position where he has to bear all of their body weight in his arms.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

There is absolutely zero doubt in my mind. Listen, the general rule of thumb is that the more someone reads / the more flowery and artistic their nature is, the kinkier and more curious they will be in all facets of their life. Kazuha seems like the type to enjoy collecting little trinkets and delicate things, so I don't really see how this wouldn't carry over to sex.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

The blond's only a tease when the partner is being a brat, but he eventually does give in. He relishes in his partner's satisfaction rather than the control had over them.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Prefers to moan into his partner's ear and be very close to their face. Kazuha will definitely try to keep himself silent by biting into a part of his partner (like the shell of the ear, the neck, even the cheek). I don't believe that he's the breathy type.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

This might not be particularly horny, but I have a feeling that Kazuha is peak 'inappropriate use of vision'. He wouldn't just use his vision in battle; he would, instead, use the wind's grace to get you a fruit from a tree for example. I can also see him being an absolute perv and summoning a gust of wind to upskirt a partner.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Very well sculpted but not ripped. As beautiful as a statue carved from marble. Perhaps from being in the sun, he'd have freckles on his arms and a sunkissed face. Slightly above average dick that, I think, curves to his left. Very sensitive balls--- Kazuha's the type of guy that cries if you lick his perenium and nutsack while you give him a handjob.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

On a scale from one to ten I'd give him a solid six, since there is nothing about him that screams 'WHORE' but there is also nothing about him that leads me to believe he wouldn't be interested in sex. Poets, and creatives in general, are always on the hornier side.

I feel like he can be horny, especially in the morning if he had a hot ass dream, but if the partner is walking around in short ass shorts he won't fuck them on the spot. He would, instead, just step behind them and kiss their neck while hugging them around the waist. After kissing and foreplay then he is ready to go. Kazuha is definitely bolder when drunk but when he drinks too much he just gets sleepy instead.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

I think Kazuha's partner falls asleep first because he stays up thinking about what happened and just admiring their beauty.

~

i hope you enjoyed + feel free to send a req / ask! thank you for reading :)

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

hi ari yes! you are welcome

geto canonically (at least i believe so don't quote me) carries a lighter around just for shoko (he makes me want to die he's so sweet and tender) but i love how that doesn't stop most everyone from hcing/drawing him as a smoker god i hate cigarettes but he's soooo hot oh god i should be the cig instea

oh man geto hating himself for making the reader cry... some things never change... i'm in pain again. oh goodness i think. fluff. SPEAKING OF WHICH do you have any fluff recs for suguru? (i've already read all the ones from kissxcore and go6jo though). tumblr search engine fails me every time i try to read

and YES i was fast that's cause i was kind of (really) waiting for this all day and i saw it n howled a little bit wow. never a dull moment on this blog

YOU’RE SO SWEET 🌖 ANON MWAH MWAHHH <33333 it’s not explicitly canon that he carries a lighter around just for shoko, we just see him lighting a cigarette for her in hidden inventory!! with a lighter he brought on his own. personally i think he carries it around just for her tho :33 AND YOU’RE SO REALLL I NEED TO BE HIS CIG. i’m not a smoker either but sadly i fall into the habit of finding smoking aesthetically attractive </3 AND YES :((((( some things never change!!!!! his heart broke a little. imagine finally kissing the love of your life after 10 years of abstinence only to realize they’re crying……… yeahhh. </3

BUT YES SUGU FLUFF!!!! first of all GREAT taste tumblr user kissxcore the actual love of my life (alexis if u see this ily)…… i have a couple sugu drabbles/fics in mind so i’ll link them under the cut!!!!! :3

in no particular order!!! :

black is the colour of my true love’s hair by @/dollsuguru

LIFE-CHANGING FICCCCCC it’s sososo cute and funny and heartwarming :(((( the character/reader dynamic is my favorite Ever (sugu belongs w a silly little reader <333) and there r just . SO many moments that killed me. so much devotion!!!! and love!!!!!! AND HE CALLS READER DOVEEE I LOST IT I CRIED . kairo has some other sugu fics that’re more angsty but they’re Extremely tasty so i def recommend checking them out <33

a thundering first by @/teddybeartoji

THE CUTEST . THE SWEETEST . I GIGGLED AND KICKED MY FEET SOOOO MANY TIMES HE’S SO DANGEROUSLY CHARMING ….. genuinely got flustered reading this fic i am a weak weak individual. and mickey just has a way of writing intimacy and first meetings that Really makes me melt…. T_T they have some other super duper cute sugu stuff too!!!!

tattoo artist!sugu hcs by @/missukiyo

SOOOOOO CUTE AND FLUFFY <33333 i love tattoo artist sugu soso much and these hcs just made me feel that even more 😭😭 HE’S SOOO SPECIAL TO ME uki’s version of him is simply unsurpassed…….. he’s so boyfriend. so reassuring. made my heart flutter severely

an excuse to touch by @/riaki

THEEEEEEEE COMFORT READ EVER :((((((( i remember feeling sososoos cozy and happy reading it for the first time …. riko just has a Way with words and imagery and i eat it up every time!!! this drabble is just too sweet :((( sugu is so doting in it….. soooo bf coded……. i need him bad.

love by @/hayakawalove

ACTS OF SERVICE KING SUGU I CHEERED!!!!!! this is a super comfy super sweet poly stsg/reader fic but the focus is on sugu and his love language :33 I LOVE IT SO MUCHHHH rem’s sugu is one of my favorites ever we always agree on him and his love….. he’s such a giver. and rem wrote this in such a lovely way it’s just brimming w adoration :((( another big comfort read he’s so Mother

teeth; gum; metal by @/mossmudrock

ONE OF MY FAV SUGU PIECES EVERRRRR moss’ writing has me so genuinely insane i clearly remember the breakdown i had reading this for the first time. i don’t know if it’s exactly fluff? but it’s definitely not angsty!!!! it’s just such a lovely soft piece…. and it’s written so gorgeously. so many lines from it are imprinted in my skull <///3

that suspended in-between by @/seiwas

I LOVE THIS DRABBLE SO MUCHHHHH sel also wrote a super super good fwb to lovers sugu fic… that i adore…. but if you’re looking for pure fluffy vibes this one is probably better. i just think sel has a way of making characters feel super grounded and real!!!! and i love her take on sugu sm…. he is so charming in this.

our first i love you by @/sacchariins

i absolutely ADORE this fic… sadly the original account is deactivated but the link should hopefully still work :’3 i just think geto is so insanely charming in this, it’s a college au and it’s just…. super super fluffy and sweet and funny. it’s one of my absolute favorites!!!!! it inspired me a Lot when it comes to how i view college sugu and a no curses au sugu in general… wherever this writer is now i hope they know how wonderful and skilled they are!!! i think abt this dynamic and dialogue SO often.

cinnamon, honey & sage by @/s0ulm8s

I LOVE THIS ONE. as you know i Adore cult leader geto and i especially love when people depict him in a softer way!!!! which is exactly what this is :3 he feels in character and grounded but also soft…. it’s a delicate balance and i just think the author did suchhh a good job. it’s just rlly rlly sweet!!! and the writing is so pretty too…

housemate suguru hcs by @/luvsugu

THESE R SOOOO CUTE AND WARM :(((( housemate sugu my BELOVED this characterization of him is truly toptier. he’s so good. i need him so bad. just so feel-good and comfy i need to live w him….. roommates to lovers is another of my fav sugu tropes hehe

drabble by @/junosmindpalace

this is such a comfort read :’) it’s sooo sweet and tender and also so nicely written. just very very soft!!!! geto taking care of reader’s hair… and being doting and soft…… sniffleeee i love him. i love the way it’s written too!!!! such a nice take on sugu aaa

there r lots more on both tumblr and ao3 that i can’t remember at the moment, but this is a start!!! it’s reallyyyyy difficult to look for fluff in the jjk tags bc it’s literally brimming w smut but . go to ao3 and use lots of search filters and i’m sure you’ll find lots of gems!!!! sugu nation is so talented it’s crazy

[wolfstarhaven]

Do you want to read something that makes you forget you’re reading? Something so lyrical it makes you catch your breath? Here you are then! This is my appreciation post for some bloody talented writers in the Wolfstar fandom!❤️‍🔥

NB: This is my personal list. And holy moly have I spent a lot of time making this list, but there’s no way I can fit all writers I love in one list. There are so many other incredible writers out there! Furthermore, this list does not intend to bring light to lesser-known writers. I know that this list contains quite a few pretty well-known writers within this fandom, but that’s how it is—please don’t come at me! This is simply a list of writers that I, personally, love. Capiche?

accioromulus

(@accioromulus) accioromulus is an old favourite of mine; I can’t even imagine me being in this fandom if it weren’t for them. Writer of my two favourite fics: Hard to find, and Impossible Things. Their writing is just so soft. So beautiful. So all-consuming. I want to live in their writing and never leave!

“Sirius?” Says Remus, quiet. His fingers curl ever-so-slightly into the hair at the back of Sirius’s neck, and Sirius shivers. “What are you doing?”

The pale sunlight is creeping across the kitchen, lazy and gentle, but every inch of Sirius is on fire. Remus’s lips are parted, his chest rising and falling, and Sirius thinks about Remus’s skin under his mouth.

“I don’t know,” Sirius admits, voice ragged. “I don’t know.”

Montparnasse

(@montpahrnah) The god of the wolfstar fandom. This is probably no news for you, but of course they had to be included in this list! Their prose is like a literary orgasm. My favourite fic of theirs is Elucidation Practice, but everything they’ve written is beautiful. To give a taste:

They’re a natural disaster of hands and mouths and hips all the way to Sirius’s bedroom, clumsy pathfinders tearing ineffectually at clothes and shoving each other into walls, Remus’s fingers drumming up Sirius’s ribs like counting the bricks in Diagon Alley, 1-2-3, 3-2-1, taking altogether a very long time about getting anywhere

Aeridi0nis

(@aeridi0nis), writer of fics such as in lieu of beaujolais, station to station, and for your pleasure—all of which are wonderful! Their writing is clever, witty, and beautiful. Ridi has a magical way of writing inner monologues that always has me laughing! They also have a way of making me cry…

“But the answer is this: the answer is that Remus still (still – that precious little word) keeps his toothbrush with Sirius’. His mugs are still in their sink, half-drained and bitter and material, and all of it is still theirs: this place, this mess. Remus is still here. Still, still, still.“

MizDiz

MizDiz made me believe in magic, in Everything's Connected—more than the Harry Potter books ever did. (I’m actually not even really kidding. I finished it reeaallly late one night, and pretty much convinced myself that magic exists, that everything’s connected). Their writing is just that: magical.

“ All of it,” he says, turning his gaze out across the grounds. “Everything in the world—in the Universe—it’s all energy. We’re nothing but energy, and sometimes I can...feel it? I can feel it, almost like a vibration thrumming through my body, and in those moments I can’t see borders anymore. I no longer see objects, I just see pure vitality. And it’s when everything is as one that I can do anything I want.”

Orestesfasting

(@newsom) Another classic writer, having written the masterpieces Light in August, and Born under Punches. Their writing is so incredibly soft, like a summer breeze, like a tender touch. Orestefasting is a gift to this fandom.

The truth is that he’s kept this love on the back burner of his heart for so many years that he’s grown accustomed to the smell and can sometimes almost ignore it completely. He likes to think he’s made peace with the fact that he’ll never know what it tastes like. Still there are times when the pot boils over and it’s like he can feel it physically, the bubbling in his chest, cooking his insides and threatening to surge up his esophagus and out his mouth, scalding everything within its reach

Templeg

The softness. The sweet angst. And sometimes a touch of comedy. Brilliant! Brilliant! Brilliant! Writer of the wonderful: Our Blood, Still Young. Masterpiece!

‘Look’, says Sirius, ‘it isn’t as if- It’s not like this has never happened before, historically. Between, you know, mates. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t mean anything. When I was thirteen I rubbed one off on my bedpost.’ Remus chokes. ‘It doesn’t mean I have feelings for the bedpost. It doesn’t mean I ever had feelings for the bedpost, plus, you know, splinters-’

            ‘OK, STOP’, yelps Remus. ‘Am I a bedpost in this scenario?’

wholesome_gay

( @moonynpadfootforever ), wholesome_gay has given so much to this fandom, in the most beautiful ways. My personal favourite of theirs is the beasts of wanting, but they have written other fics that are incredible as well. Their prose is quite simple, and it goes straight into your heart. Oh, I just love them.

He could see his own breath, and Sirius’s: ephemeral clouds that dissipated before having the chance to touch.

Sirius tucked the cigarette away in his jacket and tapped his fingers on the leg of his jeans. 

“You know I’d do anything for you, right, Moony?”

Sreka

(@smodernlife), Oh, my beloved Sreka. Master of AUs, characterisations, and just. everything. (such as: Au Pif).

And anyways, just because Sirius was engaging and gorgeous and funny and seemed genuinely interested in what Remus had to say, he was still getting married . Remus had a business to run and didn’t have time to do little favors for any pretty boy who batted his eyelashes at him. 

He inhaled deeply, looked into Sirus’s beautiful, earnest, gray eyes and answered.

“Yeah, absolutely.” 

Wanderingburrundia

(@wanderingbandurria) V always manages to amaze me, especially with their incredible AUs. Nobody does AUs quite like them - it really is like stepping in to another world! (e.g. The Delegate)

He knew that nothing he could say would convince Remo, so he just kissed him firmly, and let Remo cradle his face between his hands, firmly, and undo him completely.

It already tasted like his heart breaking, and yet - even though he wanted to cry, to scream, to beg - all he could do was hang onto Remo’s body and breathe close to his neck, wishing for something, anything, that told him how to keep Remo by his side.

eyra

(@eyra) I loooved the writing in Hollow Places, and I don’t think I’ve ever smiled as much as I did while reading Beneath a Big Blue Sky. And of course, who wouldn’t sell their soul for A Brief History of Dragons? So naturally Eyra needs to be on this list. Their writing is spectacular! Whenever I read their fics I instantly want to move to Yorkshire. Right. Now.

“Your its mum now, Sirius," Remus says quietly, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a soft smile. "Don't let it down."

And for some reason, at that, Sirius feels his throat grow a little tight. The lamb squirms a little in his arms, apparently trying to clamber higher on Sirius's chest to then - and drawing a chuckle from Remus - nose noisily at his hair hanging loose around his shoulders. Sirius smiles, shrugging his shoulder as the lamb's nose tickles at the side of his neck, still sniffing away and taking fine strands of hair between its gummy little lips.

Xylodemon

(@xylodemon) Writer of many wonderful wolfstar fics! I mean, just the sheer number of fics they’ve written for this fandom - it’s unbelievable! And you can always count on quality writing—and be prepared to laugh! It takes some skill to write something so funny! From Truthful:

It wasn't that Remus didn't trust James, it was just that Remus didn't trust James at all. His furry little problem was safe, but the way James' mind worked, everything else would be fair game. Including his inconvenient and growing-worse-by-the-day crush on Sirius. How James had ferreted it out, Remus would never know, but he supposed James wouldn't be bloody James if he hadn't.

dykesiriusblack

( @dykesiriusblack ) Laura is a lyrical mastermind. Every damn time they have me completely mind blown with their writing. I’m sorry I don’t know enough about literature to explain exactly what it is, but it’s definitely something; their prose is like a psychedelic drug, a fever dream—in the best way possible!

Eg. Illicit affairs

Remus was breaking apart at the seams, spilling bloody on the floor everything that Sirius wove himself into – in the lines of his palm, his stomach acid, his marrow, the infinitesimal space between joints. He was everywhere; he was in him. Remus could peel back his skin, dig into the muscle, the gristle of himself, to excavate Sirius like a tiny, piercing glass shard, but he would never get close.

Lunchbucket

(@quoththethestral) I don't understand how lunchbucket does it, there's just something about their writing that's so incredible. It's soft, but also with some kind of edge to it? Also, their fics are always so clever, and often feel kind of grown up in some way. (e.g. Petty (With a Prior), and the BEAUTIFUL Liebestraum)

Remus, in the throes of it, wondered why a word had never been created for the particular feeling — he was so out of his element, lost in some sort of space where he was surrounded by nothing but Sirius, and Sirius’ hands, and Sirius’ voice — terrified but satisfied indescribably, freed but held, these contrasting feelings fighting against each other all at the same time to create a sense of freefall unlike anything he had ever felt before.

aryastark_valarmorghulis

(@aryastark-valarmorghulis), An exceptional writer. There's no questioning that. I’m so so weak for: when we finally kiss goodnight.

Remus blinks, his ears ringing like a spell missed him by a whisker, his heart leaping somewhere between his chest and throat. “Or something,” he repeats, his stunned mind still not grasping the enormity of what Sirius just said but there’s no possibility to read anything different into his words. The clumsiest, truest, sweetest confession just fell into his hands and it’s so precious, Remus is afraid that translating the dizzy love into words could break it.

WrappedUp

(@wolfstarting) Yet another classic wolfstar writer! Always a safe choice if you want some quality writing! My favourites of theirs: Lock it down, and Just what the doctor ordered.

It feels mature. It feels right. It feels fucking wretched. It’s the first time he’s ever been aware of the feelings of another mattering to him at least as much, if not more than, his own.

moonymoment

( @blurryayse ). moonymoment really manages to swing from writing really good quality fluff and silliness (such as in lessen my load and Operation: Toebeans) to writing prose so poetic and lyrical it hurts (such as in ‘tis the damn season).

He’s a forest fire, a hurricane, an avalanche, he’s–

He’s all of these things, but primarily, he is Remus’s. For the night, he is Remus’s.

He’s Remus’s, wrists under his hands, skin in his mouth and between his teeth, every sound that falls out of his mouth like a trickle of sticky chardonnay following a sharp jawline, he’s all of these things. He’s a billion things. He’s a billion noises. He’s a sacrifice to be made.

drowsyanddazed

( @drowsyanddazed ) It was earlier this year that I stumbled upon my dear drowsyanddazed—and from the very first word I was hooked. All her stories are so very very lovely; she’s such a pro at capturing the feeling of (not really) unrequited love: the pining, the jealousy, and the sheer stupidity of our favourite boys. If this is something you like, you should read all of her fics right now!! (e.g losing my mind, thinking about you, and this desperate in love)

The black kohl along his water line is smudged, black flecks of it dusting his cheekbone. His hair is still flying everywhere, whipping across his face. He’s a mess. He’s the blurred edges of a photograph. He’s a heartbeat and stinging lungs. He’s the rattling behind Remus’ ribcage. And Sirius grins at him, tongue between teeth —illecebrous and tantalising and all things beautiful and dangerous— and all the air rushes out of Remus’ lungs in one fell swoop. He’s lightheaded and dizzy and burning.

Here you have ‘em! Now go enjoy!

xx Elliot🌸

[toomuchracket]

Alwaysss up for Christmas delulu think about d word babas first Christmas and they’re just in their own little bubble 😭 and like the fam and Denise visiting

yesssssss i do feel like i neglect baby alex in that au so let's talk about the first christmas after he's born. lyla was seven months old for her first christmas, so she was a little bit more aware and active than her little brother, who's only four weeks old for his. it's also different in that, last time, you all went to stay with matty's family, but this year you're at home and your families are coming over; your parents offered to host, given that you have literally just had a baby, but actually you and matty thought it would be easier for both you and the babies if you didn't have to leave the house lol. they're helping with dinner, but on christmas morning itself it's just the four of you - you snap awake when you hear alex crying just before 7am, but matty's over with him before you can get up, scooping him up like "oh, my boy. what's up? oh, wait, never mind - i can smell it", and he smiles at you and says "go back to sleep, sweetheart, i've got him". you're so tired that you can't even argue, and you wake up roughly an hour later feeling quite well-rested to the most adorable sight - alex lying on matty's bare chest, smiling at his sister, who's squished in between her parents, stroking his tiny hand. anyway, you all exchange merry christmases and kisses and cuddles, and you feed alex while matty and lyla go and make breakfast. then it's time for opening presents in the living room - lyla is so excited to give alex the soft toy she picked out for him, and she's adamant she wants to show him the book he got her (though neither of them can read lmfao), and you and matty both have to try not to cry at the presents the kids got you and the ones you got each other (he def buys you jewellery. maybe fancy earrings that "you could maybe wear on our wedding day, if you like", said in the most tender tone you could imagine. god you can't wait to marry him. anyway). and there are more family cuddles, because of course there are, before your parents get here and keep an eye on the babies while you and matty get a minute to yourselves to a) kiss and b) get ready; when everyone's properly dressed and matty's family arrive, there's more present exchanging, and then your dad starts prepping dinner while the grandmothers take turns cooing over the babies. your mum's like "i know i'm biased because he's my grandson, but alex might actually be the cutest baby boy i've ever seen" - you're like "you literally have two sons of your own", and she's like "yeah, but look at him! those eyes!", and you smile and kiss matty's head like "perfect eyes. exactly the same as his dad's". matty gets all blushy and snuggles further into you at that, and denise is like "it almost freaks me out how alike you he is, matty. but cuter"; he laughs at that like "yeah, his mum's genes didn't really get a look in, did they? but that must mean he'll be exactly like you personality-wise, darling, yeah?", and denise is like "what, not taking any of your nonsense? god, i hope so" lol. matty's perfect the whole day, though, quietly making sure you're comfy and have everything you need, and he sits with alex cosied into his chest during dinner while you get some time to yourself to eat (your dad is content enough to play the "you have a bite, then me" game with lyla the whole time lol) - it's a family effort to get the kids to bed, though, the grandmothers doing bathtime and the granddads doing the bedtime story. you kinda despair at that, because "it's christmas! you're our guests!", but they all say "we love you so much, but shut up and let us do this for you two and our grandkids. have a minute to yourselves!"; matty doesn't need much convincing, and he pulls you to the kitchen to make you a fancy hot chocolate and finish the profiteroles from dessert. you talk and laugh and kiss the chocolate from each other's lips, and matty's like "i love you. and our kids. and our family. today's been perfect, darling. thank you for making it that way". of course, you feel the same <3

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 9

chapter 16:

1. 🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮 mulciber

2. ew. why does mulciber have to be clever?

3. holy shit. james thought reg died, so he brutally murdered mulciber. and kept chipping away even once the cannon sounded. holy shit

4. thank GOD they’re both reunited and hugging right now

5. not the note that sirius put in the canister 😭😭😭😭 “baby”. like, that was so passive aggressive and for what reason

6. oh got it. it’s a code to regulus as a tip to fake a relationship for the cameras

7. awww james brushes his thumb across reg’s cheek to apply salve. but also, that’s such a tender moment

8. ugly sobbing. james just misses sirius

9. AGAIN i will forever cry over what evan meant to regulus

10. god poor sirius. he had another memory lapse. that hurts.

11. (also the way sirius was able to note that ref genuinely has feelings for james because he’d never purposefully show soppy emotions like that to the world. so clearly calling james “baby” was an accident)

12. awww sirius offers to show his scars if remus shows his. that’s such an intimate thought

13. i feel bad that sirius has to do damage control for reg’s grief over evan

14. god, it’s the fact that both of effie and monty’s children had to go through the arena.

15. awww lyall and hope lupin’s love story is so sweet

16. AWWWWW crying again! sirius is going to tell effie and monty all about remus

17. “Remus glances over at Sirius and smiles slightly, because if there's one thing that Hope and Lyall taught him about love, it's that a happy middle is just as special.” 😧😧 what? and i’m supposed to be okay after reading that? like, i’m supposed to be okay?

chapter 17:

1. OMG WHAT??? LILY POV????

2. not the chapter starting with comments about how big lily’s boobs are 😭😭 also, i’m but a simple girl. i am now thinking about her boobs too

3. 😧 lily is connected to dorcas? and knew about fabian and gideon?? ARE WE GONNA GET TO SEE LILY EVANS??

4. OMG SHE LIVES IN THE PHOENIX WHICH IS EQUIVALENT TO DISTRICT THIRTEEN!!! FUCK YEAH (also i hope that this means that dumbledore’s death will be parallel to Coin)

5. lily is a menace and i love her for it

6. NO lily thinks remus is dead! babe, i promise you he’s alive! and he misses you too! everyday!

7. girl this is NOT dumbledores place. who gave him the right to tell that to lily? it’s not his place to say that she doesn’t have anyone left to love. doesn’t matter that it’s true. it’s not his damn place

8. eleven tributes left in the arena. gods i’m so worried

9. NOOO MOLLY!! THIS IS SO SAD

10. i’m still not okay over fab and gid’s deaths. and i’m still curious as to why

11. GIRL WHAT THE FUCK?? molly just started choking dorcas. i get she’s angry, but like, goddamn

12. AHHHHH they were involved in the order of the phoenix!!! that’s why!!!

13. sirius is watching james breathe on screen and is MATCHING his breathing. that really hurts and i can’t pinpoint why, but it does

14. james talking to sirius through the screen hurts so badly. he just misses his best friend. he says sirius is the strongest person he knows. everything hurts

15. “"Another word out of you, and I'll put my hands down yours just to rip your fucking cock off," Regulus hisses” LMAOOOOO

16. wolfstar banter >>>>>>>

17. “"I'd take being something with you over being everything with anyone else," Sirius tells him.” jfc i’m not okay after reading that. that sentence summarizes ALL of wolfstar perfectly

18. WOLFSTAR??? KISS?? OH BOY I AM BLESSED TONIGHT!!

19. dear lord i do not believe in, protect wolfstar in this lifetime and give them a happy ending

[marchtothefuckingsea]

The Hunter - Damon Salvatore

My Masterlist

hurt/comfort, soulmate au, vampire bond soulmate au (if you know you know), x gender neutral reader, no usage of y/n, x vamp hunter reader

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: Probably canon typical violence, blood, injury, etc. Not proofread, and also my first work coming back from about a month of a break, so it’s not my best. I also don’t know much about TVD vampires, so I’ve just pieced together what said birthday person has ranted to me about it (and what I could scrounge up from wherever) lol

Summary: Reader is a vampire hunter, and they’ve made a stop at Mystic Falls. They’re not there for Damon, rather for a careless rogue vampire; but when Damon gets wind of their presence in town, he wants the infamous vampire hunter gone. So much, that he may just take the chance to finish them off himself. 

I ran.

 I didn't know where I was, or where I was going, I couldn't see 3 feet in front of me through the darkness; I just ran. My feet thudded dully on the forest floor, silenced only to my own ears by the layers upon layers of scattered leaf litter and moss. A figure flashed by my right, much quicker than I, and I couldn't help myself from flinching as it came to stand in front of me.

The feral vampire said nothing, an evil grin plastered on his face. This was nothing but a game to him. My life was a sick, twisted game to him. I raised my stake in warning as he took a step closer.

"Stay the fuck back." I ground out, my opposite arm wrapped defensively around my ribcage. It had been bruised, if not broken, I was sure. 

In a flash, he was right in front of me, my arm burning from his long, sharp nails. I drove my stake forward, aiming for his heart. I stumbled forward, met with no resistance, only air. He was behind me, I knew. A fraction of a second too late, I whipped around. Something rock solid collided with my chest-probably shattering a rib on impact-and I flew back into a tree. I wasn't sure if the sickening crack that echoed around was my bones or the tree.

I slid to the ground, gasping for air. Each breath sent a sharp pain into my lungs and I coughed. I tasted blood. The vampire walked towards me slowly; he knew he was winning the game. I shoved myself to my elbows, breathing heavy and labored, wet with blood.  

A swift kick sent me reeling back against the tree, head slammed into a root protruding from the ground. I knew my torso was covered in bruises by now, and I felt the tenderness forming across my skin already. I saw stars, and the next thing I knew, another burning pain. This time, it was across my abdomen, from the bottom of my ribcage almost the the beginning of my hip. I could barely gasp out a pathetic cry. Blood bubbled up in my throat and I struggled onto my side, then onto my stomach, coughing and choking on my own blood. I fell onto my side.

The vampire's eyes were wild now, glinting red in the moonlight. He took his sweet time kneeling beside me, trailing his long nails over the artery in my neck, applying soft pressure, a low growl in his throat. I sucked in a shaky breath, my body going limp. 

-

Leaves crunched quietly under footsteps, and a twig snapped. My eyes fluttered open. I sucked in a painful breath at the dark figure in front of me, kneeling beside me. Immediately, I pushed my hands to the ground. The leaves were sticky and slippery with my blood; god knows how long I had been left laying there, bleeding out onto the forest floor. But why would any vampire let so much blood go to waste? Even the blood of a hunter was still as good as any other.

He reached for me, and I panicked. I scrambled to my elbows, ignoring the protest of my ribs, of the torn open flesh at  my side. A whimper clawed up my throat. 

"Get away from me." I tried to growl out a threat, but it was barely above a whisper, trailing off into another whine of pain.

"I'm not going to hurt you, calm down." I recognized that deadpan voice.

I shoved myself back against the tree, putting as much distance between us as I could. My entire body trembled as I pressed my back against the tree. I held my arms tight against the open wound stretching across my side as if it would help stop the bleeding. His eyes caught the moonlight, and I flinched back, my breath quickening. My eyes shut against my will and better judgment. I was going to die. 

Surprisingly gentle hands worked their fingers under my shirt, and I whimpered softly in protest, pushing them away with feeble hands. I forced my eyes open, and Damon's face was inches from mine. Blood spattered across his face and his white shirt, a scratch across his brow. He truly looked like a vampire. 

"No." I mumbled weakly. "I- I'm leaving. I'll leave." My throat was raspy. I struggled onto my elbows when I coughed. My body shook as I broke down into a fit of bloody coughs, struggling to hold myself up. An arm crossed my chest, pulling me into the vampire's lap and holding me up, allowing me to lie limp in his arms. I was too weak to fight it.

When the coughs finally died down, I kicked my legs weakly against the ground, and began to push against his arm that still held me against him. I knew it was pointless, he was ridiculously strong and if he didn’t want me escaping, I wouldn’t be going anywhere. Whining quietly, I twisted in his arms, falling back when I felt a sharp jab against my lungs. One of his hands found its way to my forehead, gently pushing blood-matted hair out of my face.

“You’re safe now.” He reassured me, seriously. His voice, for once, held no trace of either sarcasm or a threat. I forced myself to relax a little bit at that, until he shifted me out of his lap, lying me back down on the ground. I found myself clinging to him, terrified of being left out here, vulnerable and sure to die. 

“It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere. Just gotta look you over before I move you too far.” Tenderly prying me away from him, I was laid back down on the soft moss and leaf litter. I grit my teeth, all the different wounds on my body protesting. He, for the second time, took the hem of my shirt between his fingers, attempting to pull it up to get access to where the majority of my injuries were. I protested feebly, pushing at his hands. I didn’t want him to see the extent of damage that stray vamp had done to me. I was supposed to be a hunter, I should have been able to handle it. But instead, I ran like any other scared person would have. I was weak, and I didn’t want him to see that. 

He was persistent, and I finally gave in when he grasped my hand in his own, lying it down by my side. My face contorted in pain even as his knuckles only brushed over my bruised skin, and I heard him let out a breath of shock. I knew just about my entire body must have been covered in bruises differing in severity, but mostly nasty ones. I began to drift off again.

“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “Okay.” He was struggling with something, I could see it in his usually stoic face. 

 He brought his wrist up to his lips, but I couldn’t see what he was doing. “Here.” He finally decided. A metallic smell invaded my nostrils, and I felt warm liquid on my lips. “I don’t know if this will heal you all the way, but it should stop you from dying for now.” I finally realized what he was doing. 

As much as it hurt, I forced myself onto my side, spitting the taste of his blood off of my lips, wiping the rest off with my hand. “I’m not going to die with the blood of a vamp in my system.” I spat at him, though my voice was weak. “I’m not stupid.” 

“You’d be stupid to refuse it.” He said, calmer than ever. “You’re going to die if you don’t accept my help.” 

I eased back down onto my side, biting back a hiss of pain. I glared at him through my darkening vision as viciously as I could. He knew I didn’t have much longer, and I did too. “Besides, think about it. If I knew you were going to die, I wouldn’t give it to you.” My eyes drifted shut. “Why the fuck would I want a vampire hunter running around for eternity?” I heard him get to his feet, though it sounded murky and far away.

“Shit.” He cursed under his breath. He turned back. My eyes widened in alarm when he slid his arms underneath me, now carrying me. 

“No! No, no no no.” I mumbled weakly. “No, don’t.” 

“Calm down.” He grumbled, continuing to walk at a brisk pace. “If you want to do this the hard way, then I guess we’re doing this the hard way.” 

I stopped fighting when I coughed, fearing another coughing fit. I stilled in his arms, trying to tamp down the fear that had my heart racing. I knew he could hear it. It wasn’t very long before my eyes fluttered shut again, and I didn’t have any choice but to trust he had good intentions. 

-

I woke up in his arms, my body convulsing. I heard faint cursing, and then I was laid down on the ground. Seizures wracked my frame. My vision was blurred as I felt iron hands hold me down to keep me from thrashing. I tossed my head from side to side, pained sounds clawing up my bloody throat. When my body finally lay limp, I began to cough painfully, blood bubbling up into my mouth. I didn't have it in me to struggle against the vampire as he kneeled beside me, gathering me up in his arms and lying me face down before I could drown in my own blood.

I finally relaxed, gasping for air. He gently turned me onto my back, and his face came into focus as he bit his wrist for the second time. This time, I didn't protest. I sucked from his wrist greedily, the taste of his blood heavy in my mouth and mixing with my own. Laying limp in his lap, I was beginning to feel relief for the first time in what felt like days. Wounds no longer burned. It was easier to breathe. There was no longer a stabbing pain against my lungs. My body still begged for rest, however, and I found myself drifting off again as he hefted me into his arms once more. 

-

I rolled onto my side with a small groan and a sigh, squeezing my eyes shut. I was in a bed, I realized, somewhere I didn't recognize. My eyes flew open when I recalled what had happened, and I forced myself onto my elbows, still feeling drained. Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I stumbled onto unsteady feet, staggering into the wall as I regained my balance. My limbs were weak with exhaustion. I stumbled into the hallway and immediately froze. Damon froze too, before cautiously walking towards me. He approached me as if I were a wounded animal.

"It's okay." He told me. I took a step back, then another, unsure. The back of my legs hit a small table, and I jolted, swinging my head around. I was immediately forced to lean against the wall for support, a wave of dizziness overcoming me at the sudden motion. 

"How are you feeling?" Damon asked me carefully. 

"I'm fine." I lied. "Why did you-" My legs gave out, and I gripped onto the table for support. 

"That doesn't matter right now. You still need to rest." He was beside me in an instant.

I steadied myself on my feet, flinching away from him. "No, I need to go."

"He wasn't alone. His pals are out there waiting for you. You wouldn't make it a hundred feet from the door." He said sternly. I shook my head.

"I'll take my chances." I mumbled, even though my body said otherwise. Leaning against him now, I didn't want to leave the warmth that radiated off of him. I didn't protest when he slipped an arm under my shoulders carefully, walking me back to the bedroom. What looked like **his bedroom, I realized.

I still didn't argue as he put a hand on my chest, urging me to lie back. My eyes fluttered shut. Why was I so trusting all of a sudden? 

"No, no." I mumbled. Something wasn't **right about this. "What did you do to me?"

"What?" He sounded offended.

"Why am I- what did-" Realization showed clearly on his face.

"Oh. That. Uh, the..bond." He stuttered. "You drank my blood…." He trailed off unsurely.

"Fuck." I groaned out, leaning back.

I hesitated before asking. "I thought they couldn't form from one time without some sort of pre-existing..thing…" I trailed off, my gaze shifting to his quizzically. 

"They can't." He answered simply. It told me all I needed to know. We were soulmates.

"Did you know? Before?"

"No. No, not at first. Not the first time. I didn't realize until..." His jaw was taut and he took a deep breath. "Until you were attacked."

"Oh." I breathed out softly.

"I felt your life slipping away. I've felt that many times before, during your life. It never affected me much,-the connection was faint, barely even there- but it- it was so different with you dying in my arms.." His voice was strained, and I found myself gripping his hand tightly. "It was stronger, too. So much stronger." He was frowning, but he glanced up at me and gave me a tight smile, looking down at our intertwined fingers.

"Did you ever have a soulmate before me?" 

Another deep breath. "No." 

"So you're saying, you've been alive for…170 years? And you never had a soulmate as a human?" 

"I guess it was always in my destiny to become a vampire." His voice was bitter. I didn't ask; it felt too personal, right now. It was a story for another time.

I surprised myself with that thought.

"And I was born a hunter." I snorted. 

"Pretty ironic." 

"Yeah." I agreed, blinking and righting my head. 

"You need to rest." Damon noticed. 

"Do you have a guest room or something? Or a couch-"

"I mean…." He trailed off, his tone suddenly teasing. "**Technically, yes. But why sleep there when you could sleep with your soulmate?" He raised his eyebrows and I couldn't help my huff of laughter.

"I know what you're implying, Damon, and I don't like it." My own tone was teasing.

"I should also tell you, there are other vampires here." 

I stiffened, my eyes darting to his in alarm. He was serious. "Do they want me dead?" I asked cautiously. His expression had been worried when he noticed my immediate defensiveness, but now it was amused. 

"Most likely not." His voice was laced with laughter. 

"What do you mean, **most likely not**?" 

"I mean it's just my brother and his girlfriend." He patted my shoulder. 

"Jesus." I muttered, leaning back. 

"Well?" 

"I think I'd feel….safer, sleeping with you." I admitted, somewhat begrudgingly. "God, I hate being bonded already." 

"You'll get used to it, don't worry." He rolled over onto the bed beside me, making me gasp in surprise. His grin next to me made my heart race.

"What are you doing?"

"This **is my bed." He grinned wickedly, wrapping his arms around my form, caging me against him. I didn't fail to notice though, that his grip was faltering, allowing me to put distance between us if I felt the need to. That alone, told me enough about him. I let out a hum, letting my body relax next to him. He tangled his legs with mine as I drifted off. I couldn't help but to nestle closer to him, feeling a blanket of safety settle over me.