#but writing pre-game mark hurts

[slushycoookie]

Put A Ring On It ~ Miguel O'Hara x AFAB! Reader 18+

★Word Count: 2.6k ★Content: You and Miguel try out some cock rings, praise kink, role switch between you and Mig, oral sex, vaginal penetration ★A/N: Starting off my sex toy series with something "light"! I hope you all enjoy it, took me a lot longer to write this. If you all want to be tagged for next ones, let me know! Dividers by @/rookthornesartistry

Masterlist | Commissions

You've been staring at him for the past ten minutes.

Miguel noticed right away when you kept idling by the hallway to the living room, wanting to ask him something but proceeded to do anything but that. He was curious but wanted to play the game a little bit longer. So he continued to read his book.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore when you approached him, hands behind your back.

“Took you long enough.”

“Be quiet.” You muttered as he chuckled, putting his book to the side so you have his full attention. “I wanted to ask you something…”

“Clearly,” Miguel says, brushing off your glare.

“This is serious.” You're trying to persuade him, even though he would do whatever you ask.

“Okay, well tell me.”

Immediately you show him a bunch of mini packages filled with rings- not the rings worn on the finger. These were of silicone material and in different colors. Miguel immediately knew what these were. “Can we try these out?”

“The cock rings?”

“Yeah! I got a bunch of different sizes. And you're a pretty girthy guy so I gotta make sure they fit.”

Miguel was holding back his ability to blush at how forward you were. He wished you would return to stalking him from the hallway, “If they don't fit, you have to take them back?”

You shake your head, “No, but don't worry about that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Miguel.” You shimmy, getting antsy about not receiving a yes or no answer from him.

“Okay. I guess it's good to test them before we… use them.”

“Yay!” You jump with joy, saying you'll be right back as you suddenly disappear. A silence loomed over him as he wondered what he had gotten into. He didn't have much time to regret if he wanted to as you returned with the rings wrapped in a towel and a bottle of lube.

“Get hard.”

Miguel laughs, “I know we've been married for a few years but I can't just get hard on command.”

“Your little friend says otherwise.” He facepalms at the small imprint in his pants. It was the cock ring talk, that's all.

You sit next to him, ring in one hand and some lube in the other. “Let me know if it gets too tight, okay?

He nods and watches you slick up his length before placing the ring on it. Currently, it was loosely placed around the base of his cock. The ring looked a little funny since you had chosen pink out of all colors.

Miguel didn’t get to laugh about it with you when your lips pressed along his neck. He immediately tilted his head to give you more access. Your soft lips left an invisible mark on his skin. His hand clenched around nothing while the other was on the small of your back. Nostrils take in your natural scent, ready to be absorbed by you.

A tightness formed around his cock. He glanced down at the ring fitting against his shaft and blinked.

“Does that look…bigger to you?”

You look down, “Oh yeah. The website said the rings do that.”

“Ah.” Miguel shifts, trying to tear his eyes away from how big he is. He was usually big but now he's huge.

“Does it hurt?”

He grunts when you run your thumb around the tip, collecting some pre cum. “No. Not at all.”

“Good.” You give him a reassuring kiss but he pulls you in for a deeper one, hand inching down to the curve of your ass. It lasts for a second as you pull away, “Miggy, we got a few more to do.”

“I'm sure they all fit. I trust your judgment.”

You dodge his advances, your index finger on his lips. “You get some after we're done.” He sucks his teeth but obliges, not wanting to ruin your plans. “Now, think of something nasty. You need to soften up again.”

“I don't know what that is.” He rolls his eyes.

“Don't be difficult.” You flick his shoulder, “Remember that time Peter explained to you in detail what Mayday's vomit looked like when she was sick?”

Miguel held his face in his hands, “Please don't remind me-”

“Like I'm talking the color, down to the texture of the vomit.”

“Okay, okay I get it.”

You glance down and he isn't as erect to your satisfaction. So you slip the cock ring off to grab the other one. Another simple ring, in a different color, black, with the same silicone material.

Instead of kissing his neck, your hands go under his shirt, stroking the hairs of his happy trail. He lets out a low groan at your teasing. Your eyes stare back at him with a glimmer of lust. And he knows you'd want to go all the way if you didn’t have a goal in mind.

“You're doing such a good job for me.” Your cooing words unexpectedly make him shiver.

“Don't say that…”

“Say what? The truth?” Your hand glides up to his pectorals, a thumb across his nipple while you still gaze at him. “My wonderful husband is doing a great job trying new things. You don't usually jump to explore new options. I'm proud of you.”

As you speak, your nails drag against his taut muscles. Your other hand gently gripping the curls in his hair. Miguel sighs your name and that familiar tightness comes back around his cock. His shaft stood tall and proud, the ring closed around him perfectly.

“It doesn't hurt right?”

“No.” He takes in a deep breath. Not at the tensity around his length but at the urge to pin you down against the couch. All because you praised him.

You notice his change in demeanor, “You sure? Don't act all tough now.”

“I'm fine.” He insists, “Are we done now?”

“No. We got one more.” You hold up an oddly shaped ring in a dark purple color, “This one has a vibrator attached to it.”

The push to get him to soften his cock works as you take the ring off, replacing it with the one that vibrates. He notices your face light up with excitement and he wanted to grab the back of your neck, wrap your pretty lips around his dick. Coat it with your saliva as it presses against the back of your throat. Almost making you gag if you weren't an expert in sucking him off. God, he hoped you would let him get what he wants.

You didn't need to do anything this time. His cock raised once again while his mind filled with obscene thoughts of you. Grabbing and fucking up into you in desperation. Feeling your wet cunt easily take him in as you beg for him to not stop.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask with a smirk.

Miguel gazes at you with hunger in his eyes, “Thinking about fucking you.”

“We’re not done yet…” That excuse falls on deaf ears when he reaches over to grab you. A shriek escapes your lips as you're now trapped under his arms, flushed along his chest.

“We are. You said this is the last one.”

“I did-”

“Then why can't I fuck my beautiful wife?”

“I didn't say you couldn't-”

“So let me.” A talon comes out, gently pricking your lower back. He grins at your back arching a little when he hits your favorite spot. Your hands digging into his shirt. “You don't want me to rip off your clothes, hm?”

You squirm, escaping his hold to shirk off your jeans and underwear. Before you took your rightful place, you grabbed a little remote and turned on the cock ring. The vibrations were sending a pleasant feeling along his shaft but it wasn’t enough to send him over the edge.

He smelled your arousal wafting in the air, getting him harder if possible. Miguel beckons you on top with the look in his eyes. So you oblige, smearing more lube on his dick before sinking yourself.

“Ooh…” Your walls involuntary squeeze him once the vibrator hits your clit.

“That's it…” He lets out a shaky breath, hands on your sides. “That's it, baby.”

Miguel thrusts up into you, your hands on his shoulders. The vibrating ring makes you whimper, forcing him to grip your sides with restraint. You sounded so pretty for him with a twinge of desperation. The lazy rise of your hips before you sunk back down was driving him insane. He unknowingly held his breath while watching you.

“You like that? Does that feel good?” Your nod fell short as you cried out from another thrust.

“M-Miguel...”

“I got you.”

With his occasional thrusts and the ring still vibrating on your sex, your breathing was getting heavier. Faster. He knew you were close as he rolled his hips into you. Making you incoherent. Unable to get back that pleasant, dominant aura you radiated. Now, you were at his mercy. He felt you trying to pull away, to escape the impending doom of your climax. Instead, Miguel held you close to him for your release. When you cried into his shoulder, your walls molded around him perfectly. He held the nape of your neck, keeping you still as he thrust up into you. Shaking your entire body with his actions. For his cum to coat your walls and the vibrating ring.

A sticky mess pooled between both of your thighs. The two of you holding each other to come down from your high. You didn’t say anything, but Miguel knew you were going to get back at him later.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･

“Please, I’ve been good…” He said while on his knees, hugging your exposed leg as that was the only thing he could do without facing your wrath.

“Have you?” You were unfazed, scrolling your phone as if it was more important than him groveling.

“Yes. I don’t know how long I can take of this, mi ángel.”

“You sure?” Now, you were looking at him, a slight tilt to your head. “I thought you were fine when we made out in your lab earlier.”

Miguel huffed at the memory. All day, you were teasing him. Stroking his dick during your morning shower. Sticking your tongue in his mouth before he left for work and back to his lab. Where you wrapped your legs around him while sitting on one of his consoles. Grinding your hips against his hardened length, with the intent of making him cum under his suit. Only for you to stop, saying you didn’t want to distract him from work. He was in desperate need of you or else he was going to explode.

“I was-am fine.” He swallowed, “But it’s been a long day and I need…” Miguel travels up your bare thigh, feeling the fatty part of your body while looking at you.

“Say it.”

“I need you. Please.” He kisses the palm of your hand when you cradle his cheek and you take mercy on him.

“Okay. You did do well in holding out for me today.”

Miguel can already feel himself getting hard from your praise when he stands to coat your face in kisses. Each filled with relief and gratitude. He doesn’t take over just yet, unsure if you were going to switch things up for him at the last minute. Which you do when your hands gently push at his chest to get him to stop.

“You think you can be good for another twenty minutes?”

He nods with fervor, “Yes, yes I can.”

You kiss his lips to thank him before telling him to stay by the kitchen counter. You disappear for a moment, coming back with the signature bottle of lube and one of the cock rings. When your lips combine, Miguel moans against them, in need for any type of contact. He feels your fingertips glide along his forearm to his watch, pressing a few buttons to reveal his semi-erect cock. Inches from his face, you swiftly coat him with lube, putting the ring around his shaft.

“Don’t cum until I say so.”

Miguel doesn’t trust his voice so he hopes his nod is enough. A knot forms in his chest when you slide down, your lips leaving a wet trail down to his cock. You gaze at his shaft with intrigue, it being hard and ready for you. “Don’t choke.”

“I won’t.” You flash him a look of appreciation before wrapping your lips around him. A shudder escapes him and he grips the counter for dear life. Not focusing on how warm your mouth felt. How easily you were vigorously sucking him off, careful to not slip the ring off and catch in your mouth. He shuts his eyes, trying to focus on not orgasming until you say.

“Look at me.”

It took all the willpower he had to not cum when he looked at you. A mixture of saliva and lube on your face creates a mess. But you didn’t care when you took him in again, moaning amongst his shaft. Eyes locked with his own. So you could see his face twisted in undeniable pleasure. He wasn’t sure if he was going to last five minutes. His body ached for release, but he wasn’t going to defy you again.

Miguel took deep breaths to stabilize himself. The need to coat your mouth with his seed lessened and he kept his self-control. He wasn’t sure how many minutes passed since you started, but suddenly you pulled away with a wet pop. Wiping off your drool with the back of your hand. He honed on your frame as you stood, slowly removing your panties. Only leaving you in the oversized shirt, his shirt while bending over the counter. The shape of your wonderful ass in his view.

He didn’t move. He wasn’t sure if this was another play at him.

You look behind you, wiggling your ass a little. “Come on, big guy.”

Miguel was on you instantly.

With one swift motion, he entered you, letting out a loud groan at how soaked you were. His large hands grab your hips, making sure you don't move an inch. His thrusts were rough, a bit out of sync. He was too absorbed in finally fucking you the way he wanted all day. Hearing you squeal and moan underneath him while railing you to submission.

“Ooh right there…” He notices your back arch when he pounds into that sweet spot, your feet dangling in the air when he lifts you. The palm of his hand sprawled across your stomach while the other was so close to breaking the countertop.

His balls clenched, almost tipping over in his relief. But you haven't told him if he could come yet.

“C-Can I?” He grits his teeth, still trying to hold back for your permission.

“Yes-oh!”

Miguel presses you flat on the counter, a final thrust before he releases inside you. An intense orgasm that causes him to be more vocal, whimpering and groaning in your ear. Slow thrusts inside to get as much stimulation as he can before pressing along your head. Your sweaty scent and arousal linger in the air.

When he slipped out, he took the ring off before giving it back to you. He didn’t make eye contact, knowing the smug look you'd have on your face when he asked, “Can we go again tomorrow?”

[bunnys-kisses]

Hiii, could I get a carrot cake and churros with a side of root beer with john price? Thank you sm 🫶🫶

bakery menu

want to suggest your own order? check out the menu! there are tons of options to choose from! i write for fandoms outside of call of duty so please check it all out! mean!price has my heart! he doesn't have time for whiny subs so he just shoves it in your throat to shut. you. up. i hope you enjoy!! <3

carrot cake ("swallow it. all of it.") + churros ("if you don't shut that little mouth of yours, i will stuff it full. okay?") + root beer (filming/recording) served by capt. john price (call of duty)!

cw: smut/pwp, oral sex (price receives), rough sex, mean dom!price, facials, cock slapping, dirty talk, implied baby trapping, american solider!reader, power dynamics, implied daddy issues, manipulation

"you like this, don't ya? ya like when you have a camera in your face. ya fuckin' attention whore." price said in a dangerous tone.

you looked up at him with a mouth full of his cock. this wasn't how a soldier should be. they should stand with pride for their country, not have their commander's leaky cock run across your face, smearing clear pre-cum across the bridge of your nose. price liked when he got the sticky substance all over your face. only second to having it stuffed into your aching pussy. bareback of course, if you got pregnant then there was a nice little cottage out in the countryside of england where you can raise the little one(s).

"captain." you panted, almost heaving from the lack of oxygen, "why are you filming me?" your bottom lip wobbled a little.

"sweet fuck, baby girl." he said as he shoved his cock up into your face, almost slapping you in the eye, "if you don't shut that little mouth of yours, i will stuff it full till you pass out. okay? now be good." and groaned when you started to suck him off again.

you craved approval, since your transfer from america to england. you had be eager to impress the older captain. you had seen how decorated he was. which was why you were eager to let him be so intimate with him. at first it was quick fucks once in a while in empty offices or storage closets. and while it was all fun and games (that fed your weird daddy issues), price wanted more. price had learned from his time in the forces to not let a good thing pass him by.

to keep anything in the military, it meant digging your nails into it. marking it, branding it as your own. and you had a little 'j' on your thigh. price's mark on you, or the only one you had for now. just as price's filthy words stung you in an erotic way, his praise built you up.

"you look good on your knees. always so eager to do more. you're a greedy girl, but that's what i like about ya. starvin' for me. knowin' i'll give it to ya."

you whined in response. fuck, you were perfect. price felt like he needed to give laswell the nicest bottle he could get for transferring you so far away from your home base. where you easily fell into price's arms and let him bully your tender throat.

he already bruised the skin with bites, might as well bruise the inside too. let your voice grow hoarse and need to rely on him more. his goal was to have you dependent on him. but, all things came with time.

"perfect girl for me. i bet they'll love this." his voice was low. you still didn't know why 'they' were.

regardless, you looked up at him and the camera, spit around your mouth. picture perfect. you looked better when you weren't asking questions, running your mouth when you should be using it for other things. you squirmed from your spot on the floor, shifting your knees. it hurt being on the hard ground for so long, but you'd be staying there until price was done with you. or finally broke and needed that sweet cunt of yours.

in reality, he was filming you for his team. he had been talking (gloating) about the solider who is more eager to be on her knees than fight. he talked about how he could probably break your neck if he choked you hard enough or suffocate you on his cock. not that price would ever do that. no, no, his little transfer was needed for something much better.

carrying on the price name. tonight he wasn't going to touch your pretty pussy, he knew you were wet from the sight of the phone in your face. but he had to make you more desperate, that you'd throw caution (protection) to the wind and let price decorate your insides with his seed. the video tonight was a teaser for his boys, to show what is possible to get with hard work and determination. all that ra-ra bull crap to keep his team motivated. that if they were good and played their cards right, then a little bird would easily be theirs.

price knew he worked with a few womb bruisers, and he wasn't an exception.

not the price wanted to share you, but he knew you had some friends back in the states. and maybe they'd as easily charmed as you were. they build 'em nice in america, perfect for a brute like the ones on 141. he continued to fuck your mouth, letting you drool and make a mess of his cock.

the camera was a little shaky, and you had a hard time focusing on it in front of you. it wasn't meant to be professional. it was more a showcase of the capabilities of the united states forces. loyal to country and the cock put in their faces. it was cute.

"why don't you tell the boys 'ello." price chuckled as if you could talk. he'd be surprised if you could forma thought right now that wasn't the eight inches of cock in your throat. that's alright, the future mrs. price didn't need to be thinking. let your husband do all the talking and thinking, okay? you just sit there pretty with the kids.

you opened your eyes a little and made a small noise. everything felt on high alert, over saturated to hell and it made your head throb. your cunt was almost cramping from the need to have price inside of you. messing up your poor pussy. but right now you'd have to settle on having your mouth used. and you wouldn't dare try to touch yourself, it was better to be on price's good side than bad.

"yeah, there she is. still got some brains left in her." price chuckled as he pinched your cheek with his rough hand, "c'mon, darling. give the boys a smile."

you tried to smile with cock in your mouth and it made price even more turned on. always so perfect. no wonder they let you into the armed services, you were obedient like a dog. your smile dropped as price fucked your face even faster.

you brain couldn't keep up with your movements, you were like a toy to price. and that was how he liked you, blissed out and used for his pleasure. he also used you for his aggression when the shooting range was clothes. it was almost the same, he wasn't firing blanks either way.

price pulled out and stroked his cock quickly to cum on your tongue, but missed for the most part and got it all over your face. he groaned and relaxed, the phone almost tumbled out of his hands. "swallow it. all of it." he said, expecting you to clean up his mess. old man couldn't even cum straight. he patted your cum covered face while you tried to get it off your skin before it dried.

the captain got close into your face with the camera, showing how the creamy cum gleamed on your skin. he took you by the jaw and chuckled, "ah, there she is. pretty girl." you whined and he added, "see boys, take good care of 'em, you won't go runnin'. now darling what do we say the captain when he makes ya feel good?"

you opened your eyes a little, a rivet of cum went down your lips as you said, "thank you captain price." and was met with a rough pat on the cheek.

price stopped filming, putting his phone to the side. a pretty blissed out thing on the floor of his office deserved a reward. instead of carpet burn on your knees, it was going to be all over your back. <3

[dancingtotuyo]

9. the fear of what's to come

Woman | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: You and Joel navigate life changing news.

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, mentions of potential pregnancy complications including but not limited to miscarriage and stillbirth, single reference to a fetus being a child (not intended in a pro life way), angst, grief, complicated feelings surrounding pregnancy.

Notes: A huge thanks to my amazing beta readers and friends @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin & @janaispunk

If you have not checked out Before, I would encourage you to do so for more backstory on our dear reader!

Words: 3088

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

You know three weeks after your missed period what is happening. It’s not hard to figure out. It’s just like last time. Menopause crosses your mind briefly, but the symptoms don’t line up. You’re sensitive to the same foods, nausea rolls in and out like the ocean tides throughout the day. The insatiable craving for a tomato sandwich cements it two days later. Tears run down your cheeks as you quickly finish off the sandwich and prepare another. 

You don’t get excited. You don’t make plans, and most importantly, you don’t tell Joel. You’re 45. Joel is in his late 50s. You know the statistics, the pre-end-of-the-world ones. You can’t imagine they’ve improved. 

Instead, you just hope that when it happens, nothing goes wrong. There’s no DNC, no pills to make sure everything passes properly or ensure no infection sets in. You’ve aided many women through this, many much younger than yourself. Some make it just fine, others have complications with nothing but prayer, poultices, and 20-year-old antibiotics to help. You’re not sure what actually does it when the women make it through. Some of them you've buried. Their faces flicker through your mind. You cannot be one of them. You cannot leave Carter without either of his parents in this world.  

You tell Maria. You tell her everything she needs to know. What to do step by step when it happens. Since Adam’s injury, Dr. Pooley refuses to practice anything more than simple first aid. You’re both certain it’s dementia. You spend most mornings listening to him talk through different lectures he attended. On the mornings his brain won’t cooperate, you sip tea together. He’s writing down what he remembers, but you have to fact-check it. He’s already taught you most of it anyway. 

“You have to tell Joel,” Maria says when you tell her. 

You refuse. You won’t do it. You won’t bring him into this. You have this silent agreement that you’re partners in this world, but he still lives in the house across the street with Ellie. There’s never been discussions about moving in together or anything past that. You don’t call him your boyfriend. He doesn’t call you his girlfriend. Making those commitments, those plans, it will hurt too much when the world takes him away. 

Carter calls him “Daddy.” It makes Joel smile every time. He’s accepted that commitment. It makes you smile too, but there’s still a little ache in your heart each time. Carter knows about Gabe. You tell him stories all the time. If you ask him, he says he has two daddies. One here and one in heaven. 

But you won’t tell Joel about this child. He’s lost one. He doesn’t need to lose another. 

Maria fights you on it. She looks at her son pointing out that she was 2 years older than you are now when he was born healthy. You don’t remind her she almost died, but she sees it in your eyes. You still have nightmares about that night.

You’re firm. You’re not going to tell Joel. Neither will she, and she damn sure won’t tell Tommy either. 

You wait for the cramps and the blood, but they never come. You hit the 3-month mark, your 2nd trimester at the beginning of October. You don’t cry in the bathroom. You square your shoulders. Second-trimester miscarriages happen. Stillbirths happen, but hope gathers in the depths of your soul, growing with each day. You push it away with logic and reasoning. 

Two sides of you war against each other. You can’t bring another life into this world. At one point you were okay with it. You felt safe here, and while you still do, it doesn’t feel okay anymore. The world still digs its ugly claws into this community. Yet, the hopes you used to hold in your mind, the ones you had with Gabe, and the ones you had before the outbreak still linger. In a perfect, uncomplicated world, this is what you would choose. 

You hide the sickness from Joel with relative ease. He’s often awake and out of bed before you for patrol shifts, early morning chores, or waking up with Carter so you can sleep in.

You deliver the Crosby twins a week later without complications. Melissa is only a couple of years younger than you, but at your age, you know how crucial those few years are. When you finally reach your front porch, you sit in the darkness of Wyoming and finally let the tears fall because fate seems to be telling you that this is happening, or just sending you another person to lose. The realization hits you like a freight train. Time is up. You have to tell Joel. 

You crack open the door to Carter’s bedroom. He’s sound asleep and it relieves you to know he's here. You’re less on edge when he’s close, and It means Joel picked him up from Maria and Tommy’s. It means Joel is in your bed.

Sure enough, he’s there when you creep in. He sleeps on his side curled up over your pillow. You roll your eyes. Yes, it's endearing, but it’s also a pain in the ass to get your pillow back.

The bathroom light is blinding at first, but your eyes slowly adjust as you turn on the shower and steam fills the space. Goosebumps spread across your skin as you undress, catching sight of yourself in the mirror. You’ve noticed the subtle changes in your body over these past couple of months, but they’re becoming more noticeable. Your breasts have grown, they’re so sensitive, and your sports bra pulls at the seams. Joel commented on it last week. You joked you were packing on extra weight for winter acting like it was nothing. 

Your favorite pair of jeans no longer fit. You’ve mostly stuck to leggings since. You’re starting to clock the subtle changes in your body. They’re happening faster than with your last pregnancy. The past week, you’ve shut Joel down sexually, scared he would catch on despite your sex drive skyrocketing. It’s been difficult. 

The shower washes away everything: the sweat and grime of the day, your tears, the tension in your muscles. You stand under the water until it runs cold, slipping on Joel’s worn soft t-shirt.

Your pillow is back on your side of the bed, Joel still on his side. A smile creeps onto your face. He keeps his eyes closed, but you know he’s awake. You don’t say anything as you slide into bed, but your anxiety spikes, your heart fluttering in your chest. You have to tell him. 

You’re staring at the ceiling when he breaks the silence. “What happened?” 

You suck in a breath. He thinks something went wrong tonight. He’s probably preparing to dig a grave. “Nothing, mom and babies are fine.”

“So it was twins?” 

“Yeah.” You had suspected as much, but the ultrasound machine doesn’t work, try as you might to get it operational. You hadn’t been able to find a second heartbeat with the Doppler. 

“So what’s buggin you?” His drawl is deeper, soaked with sleep. 

He scoots a little closer, hot breath tickling your ear. You can’t move. You should look him in the eye when you tell him, but you can’t. The words are at the back of your throat surging forward toward your lips. The anxiety in your chest feels like a herd of buffalo stomping across the countryside. You squeeze your eyes shut to try and stop it.

“Sweetheart?” His hand reaches toward you, eyes trained on your profile as concern laces his brow. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

His hand stops over your arm. You feel its warmth so close, and then it goes away. You dare to look at him. You expect him to get out of bed and bolt. You don’t know why. He’s only shown you otherwise the entirety of your relationship, but this is more than either of you signed up for. Instead, you watch as it sinks in. He connects the dots, all the symptoms and signs that were right in front of his face, his subconscious absorbing them, but refusing to put it all together. 

“I’m sorry,” you say.

You look back toward the ceiling, tears slipping from your eyes. 

His hand covers your abdomen, forehead pressing against your temple. He starts to feel the changes to your body for what they are. You shudder. 

“How long have you known?”

There’s not a trace of judgment or fear in his voice, but it does little to assure you. You’re scared. It doesn’t matter what Joel says or does, the fear is overwhelming. 

“Beginning of August.”

“Shit, baby.” He pulls you into him, cradling your head against his chest. “You didn’t have to carry this alone.”

“I didn’t think it would last.” After months of holding the tears back, you finally let them out, a mix of relief and fear. “I didn’t- I didn’t want you to-” 

You can’t finish it. You can’t say it out loud, but Joel knows what you’re trying to say. You didn’t want him to lose another child, and it wrecks him. His grip on you is crushing, but it soothes your shaking frame. Just as you come down, his sobs greet your ear because he’s scared too. Every single fear and anxiety that has come over you the past months, he feels too. Maria’s labor and delivery flash through his mind. If that happens to you, who’s going to save you? 

You reach up to cradle his face. He presses into your neck. Your skin is sticky and salty again, but you don’t even think about it as the man you love and can’t tell cries in your arms. You’re unable to return his soothing squeeze, but you lay there to provide any comfort you can. The two of you fall asleep tangled in each other. 

You feel Joel’s fingers dancing across your abdomen before you’re fully conscious. There’s no rhyme or reason to his movements. His other hand brushes over your temple and through your hair. Every once in a while you feel his breath and lips across your neck, up and down your arm, over your collarbone. It feels like he’s memorizing you, fear present in all of his movements even now. 

You finally open your eyes. His movements still as you look at him. There are tears in his eyes as his head falls forward, resting against yours. “I’m scared.”

“Me too.” You reach out, nails raking across his arm. 

He shudders under your touch. “I wish you told me sooner.” 

You bit your lips. “I’m sorry.” 

He lets out a deep sigh, kissing your forehead. His hand drifts to your abdomen again. You watch his eyes, so expressive filled with fear and anxiety and maybe a little bit of awe and guilt?

“I should’ve been more careful.”

You press your head to his, inhaling softly. “We.”

Joel’s fingers scrape along your jaw, his beard rough against your chin. “I like being a we.”

“Me too.”

Silence settles between the two of you. The wind knocks against the window, but it’s warm next to Joel. His arm snakes around you, tugging you closer to him. 

“I suppose you’ve told Maria?”

You can’t hide the guilty smile on your lips. “If it makes a difference, she told me I needed to tell you right away. Pretty sure she was gonna tell you herself if I didn’t do it soon.” You mess with the collar of his shirt. 

“How long do we have?”

“Figure it’ll be May. If we get that far.” You say. Joel nods and something clenches around your heart, a need to protect him, warn him of the danger. “You know there’s a lot of risks. No guarantee…” 

“One day at a time.” He kisses your cheek but you see all the fear he’s pushing away plastered to his face like a movie poster. 

Joel asks you how you are, but other than that, you don’t talk about it. You feel like a weight has lifted off your shoulders but there’s an anvil hanging above your head, waiting to drop at a moment’s notice. 

You’ve outgrown your last pair of jeans. When you manage to trade with someone, they give you a look, like they know what’s going on inside your body. 

You take more naps, sometimes at the clinic, sometimes on the couch. You’re constantly tired. Maria brings dinner to the house every few days. She never asked, but you don’t complain. 

One evening you open your eyes to find Ellie staring down at you, worry etched in her features. It startles you at first. 

“You’ve been sleeping a lot lately,” She says. 

“You’ve noticed?” You pull yourself into a seated position. It feels like someone shoved a bunch of cotton into your mouth. You reach for the now room-temperature water on your end table. 

“You only take naps when you’re sick or depressed.” You raise an eyebrow at her. She crosses her arms as if to say she knows you’re neither right now. “What’s going on?”

You finish off the water. Despite its temperature, it helps. “I’m fine.” You reach out, placing a hand on her shoulder, but it does nothing. At 17 years old, Ellie is turning into a woman before your very eyes. At times, you’re convinced any semblance of childhood has been replaced with adulthood, but there are other times you still see the slivers of the girl you met two and a half years ago. Right now, she’s the one sitting in front of you.  

“Bullshit. What’s going on? You and Joel have been acting weird.”

Had things really been that different in the past couple of weeks? You open your mouth to speak, unsure of what to say. You and Joel hadn’t talked about telling anyone, which seemed silly. You can’t hide this forever. 

The door opens and Carter bursts in with Joel on his heels. A smile instantly finds your lips. 

“Mommy! Look!” He holds up a package of seemingly new Crayola crayons. 

Your eyes widen with exaggeration. “Wow, buddy. That’s awesome.”

“John Lacy found a bunch of them on patrol. They handed them out today,” Joel smiles. “Grabbed you some colored pencils.” He hands a set of non-crayola pencils to Ellie.

“Thanks.” She smiles but is still distracted by her worry over you. 

Carter crawls up beside you, eagerly pulling out the surprisingly intact crayons one by one. Joel leans over to kiss your cheek and tousles Ellie’s hair. She makes a face of displeasure but doesn’t fight him on it.

“You two look like you were talkin about somethin serious.”

“I was trying to figure out why the two of you have been acting weird,” Ellie says. 

Joel’s drops to unreadable. He looks at you and you shrug in response. “We have to tell them eventually.”

Worry makes its home on Ellie’s face. “So something is wrong with you.with you.”

“Nothing is wrong with me.” You sigh deeply. You run your fingers over Carter’s head, kissing it. 

“You’re sure acting like there is,” She says impatiently.

“Ellie,” Joel reprimands, traces of his asshole voice laced into it. 

Ellie bites her lip. It looks like she might be fighting off tears as she looks directly at you. “I’m worried about you.”

You force a smile, leaning forward. Your forearms rest on your knees. One would think it would get easier to say each time. Instead, it’s like picking at a scab that’s not healed. You’re forcing yourself to say something, your brain isn’t ready to accept. “I’m pregnant.”

Ellie sits up straighter, her eyes widen with shock. “Oh wow…”

You wonder if the pictures fill her mind too. She saw Maria the night Elias was born. She saw the blood that covered you. Joel’s fingers brush over your shoulder, squeezing it lightly before they run over the back of your neck. You lean against him. “I’m sorry we worried you. We’re still getting used to the idea,” You say. 

She nods and then her arms around your neck. She basically knocks you backward with the force of it. “I’m glad you’re not dying.”

You squeeze her tightly, a faint lilt of humor in your voice. “Me too.”

Then her voice drops to a whisper right at your ear. “You’ll be okay. I know you will.”  

Your head rests on Joel’s bare chest that night. The full moon sends light drifting through your window, casting the room in a cool glow. You play absentmindedly with the hair on his chest. His heart beats under your ear. The room is otherwise silent. 

“I told Tommy today.” 

You nod. 

“He wanted to know why I was so quiet. Told him I was always quiet.”

That pulls a smile across your lips. “Surprised he shut up long enough to notice.”

Joel chuckles. His arm around you tightens. His lips find your forehead. “I know we’re not ready to think too much about it.”

“Don’t think it’s something we can really ignore.” You nuzzle further into him. 

“Baby steps.” He kisses your nose this time.

You quirk an eyebrow. “Baby steps? Really?” You flip onto your stomach while you still can.

He chuckles. “Poor word choice.”

You kiss his bicep and then his shoulder. He looks at you like your entire world and your stomach erupts in butterflies and twists in knots all at the same time. You still won’t let him say it, but you feel it every time he looks at you like that. 

You rest your chin on his shoulder. “What are these steps you had in mind?”

His thumb traces over your jaw and cheek. “Don’t bolt on me, okay?”

“I think it’s a little late for that.”

He chuckles and then inhales deeply. “I think we should probably share a house. I figured you’d prefer to stay here, but it’s up to you.” He searches your eyes for any signs of panic or signs that you might shut down but finds nothing. In fact, you’re so calm that it’s hard to read. 

“It would be nice to have you officially living here,” you say. It feels right to say, to think about. “And Ellie if she wants.” 

“That was easier than I’d thought it would be.”

“You pretty much live here as is.” You turn on your side, nuzzling back into him. “I’ll miss your fireplace though.”

Joel smiles. “Guess I'll just have to keep you warm instead.” 

[its-avalon-08]

hi okay so since we have very little mark webber content im doing everyone a favour so like similar to the fernando one but this time y/n watched mark's flying 2010 crash and even though he's completely fine y/n is MAD (like it happened for the second time). Mark tries joking it off after they get home but she gives him the silent treatment+ doesnt let him kiss/touch her. then when she finally gives in she's angry and cries while mark consoles her?

please don't leave (mw6)

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

i had so much fun writing this one thank you so much for this request ! i hope you enjoyed! happy reading <3 do send in more requests! as for pre existing requests- im working on it! lots of love ava

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

y/n practically clawed at the armrest as the grainy helicopter footage on the tv flickered. it couldn't be. not again. the unmistakable red of mark's car was wedged against a barrier, smoke billowing skyward. her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. "mark..." the word escaped her lips in a strangled whisper.

the newscaster droned on, thankfully confirming mark was unharmed. relief flooded y/n, momentarily pushing the anger aside. but as the adrenaline subsided, the fury simmered back. this was the second time she'd endured this terror in the three years they'd been together.

the apartment door creaked open, and mark limped in, a grimace on his face. even with the obvious pain, his smile was sheepish. "hey there, drama queen. looks like i caused a bit of a stir, eh?"

y/n remained glued to the couch, arms crossed. the silence in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. mark's smile faltered, replaced by a worried frown. he shuffled closer, a hand reaching out tentatively.

"y/n, come on," he coaxed, "it's alright. just a bit shaken, that's all."

his hand hovered in the air, inches from her shoulder. y/n flinched away, the movement sharp and cold. the hurt flickered in mark's eyes, but he persisted.

the air in the apartment hung heavy with unspoken emotions. mark hovered near y/n, his own leg throbbing from the crash, but the physical pain paled in comparison to the emotional turmoil brewing across the room. he yearned to hold her, to feel her warmth and offer some form of comfort.

"so," mark started, his voice breaking the suffocating silence, "at least this time i didn't manage to take out any cameramen. silver linings, right?"

he forced a smile, hoping to lighten the mood. but as he reached out, y/n visibly stiffened. her back straightened, and her arms, which had been limp at her side, clenched into fists.

mark's smile faltered, replaced by a dawning realization. this wasn't the time for jokes. he saw it in the way her shoulders started to tremble, a silent tremor that spoke volumes.

"y/n," he began, concern lacing his voice.

but before he could continue, a dam broke within her. tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over as she whirled around to face him.

"silver linings?" she choked out, her voice thick with anger and barely contained fear. "mark, how can you even say that? don't you get it? every time you get behind the wheel of that car, my heart stops! i watch those races, glued to the screen, praying that the red and white doesn't end up tangled in a mess of metal, praying that i don't hear your name followed by the words 'critical condition.' this isn't some game, mark! these aren't just crashes, these are near-death experiences!"

her voice hitched, raw emotion pouring out. "and you have the audacity to joke about it? to try and find some humor in the fact that you almost died again? do you even consider what it does to me? the sleepless nights, the constant worry gnawing at my insides? i can't take it anymore, mark! i can't live like this, constantly on the edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop!"

y/n's rant hung in the air, heavy and accusatory. mark stood speechless, his heart sinking with every word. all the flippant remarks he'd planned evaporated. here, laid bare, was the true cost of his passion, the unseen burden he placed on the woman he loved.

shame washed over him. he hadn't truly understood her fear, the depth of her worry. now, seeing it raw and unfiltered, he felt like a monster.

"y/n," he finally managed, his voice hoarse with regret, "i... i'm so sorry. i had no idea. i was trying to be lighthearted, but you're right. it's not a joke. i was a fool. please, forgive me. i promise it won't happen next time."

"it's not enough, mark!" she shot back, tears welling up in her eyes. "what if next time... what if there isn't a next time?"

the room went silent again, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. after a long moment, mark sat on the coffee table beside her, a dejected sigh escaping his lips. he didn't try to touch her again, respecting the space she needed.

minutes bled into hours. finally, y/n's tense shoulders slumped slightly. with a shaky breath, she turned towards mark. he met her gaze, his eyes filled with concern.

"i just..." she began, her voice thick with emotion, "i can't lose you, mark. not like this."

large tears streamed down her face as she spoke, her voice cracking. mark was by her side in an instant, pulling her into a tight embrace. he held her as she sobbed, whispering comforting words into her hair.

the fear, the anger, all of it spilled out in that moment. when her cries subsided into hiccups, mark gently wiped away her tears.

y/n's words hung heavy in the air, each one a hammer blow to mark's heart. shame burned in his gut, hotter than any engine fire he'd ever faced. he hadn't just been selfish, he'd been blind. blinded by the adrenaline rush, the roar of the crowd, the thrill of the race. he hadn't seen the terror in her eyes, the worry etched into her every expression.

"y/n," he started, his voice thick with remorse, "i... i don't even know where to begin. you're right. it's not a joke. it's never a joke. every time i climb into that car, a part of me knows the risk. but the truth is, i never stopped to think about what it did to you. i was so focused on myself, on the competition, on the win, that i completely ignored the cost it had on you."

he took a shaky breath, pulling her closer, "those sleepless nights, that constant worry… you shouldn't have to carry that burden alone. you shouldn't have to live in fear because of my passion. it's not fair. it's not fair to you, and frankly, it makes me question my own damn priorities."

mark ran a hand through his hair, frustration lacing his voice. "this racing… it's been my life for so long. it's given me purpose, pushed me to my limits, made me feel alive. but if it comes at the cost of losing you, then what's the point? what good is a trophy if the person i love the most is shattered every time i race?"

he looked at her, his eyes pleading for understanding. "i can't promise you i'll quit. it's in my blood, this need for speed. but i can promise you this: i'll never take it for granted again. i'll never forget the fear in your eyes. every race, every decision, every corner i take, you'll be there, a constant reminder of what truly matters. and if, at any point, you can't handle it anymore, if the fear becomes too much… i'll walk away. no questions asked. because you, y/n, you're my everything."

silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of his words. but this time, it wasn't a suffocating quiet. it was a space filled with the dawning of a new understanding, a fragile hope for a future where his passion wouldn't overshadow the love of his life.

the silence stretched on, a hesitant dance between hope and uncertainty. then, slowly, tentatively, y/n reached out. her hand brushed against mark's, sending a jolt of electricity through him. he laced his fingers with hers, the warmth a stark contrast to the storm that had just passed.

"i..." she began, her voice barely a whisper. "i don't want you to quit." her eyes, though still glistening with unshed tears, held a new resolve. "but i need you to be safe. to understand how much you mean to me."

mark's heart swelled in his chest. "i do, y/n. more than you know." he pulled her gently towards him, offering a quiet, "can i kiss you now?"

y/n melted into his embrace, lips meeting. he held her tightly, the unspoken promise hanging heavy in the air. they would face this together, fear and passion intertwined. but for now, all that mattered was the quiet comfort of each other's arms.

after a long while, y/n pulled back slightly, a small smile gracing her lips. "just promise me," she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

"anything," he whispered back, nuzzling his nose against hers.

"no more 'silver linings' jokes after a crash," she declared, a playful glint in her eyes.

mark chuckled, a genuine laugh that warmed the room. "deal. but maybe a celebratory ice cream after a win?"

y/n snorted. "we can negotiate."

and with that, they settled back into their embrace, a newfound understanding blossoming between them. the future was uncertain, the track still held dangers, but as long as they had each other, they could face anything. as mark drifted off to sleep, y/n snuggled closer, her soft breaths a lullaby against his ear.

[celestemagnoliathewriter]

Knives and the House of Black

You know who loves knives? Members of the Black family, that's who. In my newer writings, I've been exploring knives and what they can do for the Black family. This is based in canon - Bellatrix has her handy dagger, which kills Dobby and wounds Hermione (and who knows who else), and Sirius gifts Harry a knife that can open doors (until the blade is destroyed). Personally I love the idea of the Black family having a love affair with knives.

In my micro fic for the @ladiesofhpfest's mini yesterday in honor of Bellatrix Black Lestrange, I introduced a tradition of Black family witches and wizards getting knives on their 13th birthdays. This tradition came out of the world building I'm doing in my Tedromeda/Remadora AU, Supernova. I've pre-written a good bit of the work, which includes some knife head canons. I'm happy to share them here, and if you're reading Supernova, you'll see how they all fit into the story as it goes on.

HCs for Black family knives:

Knives are goblin-wrought and imbued with a ton of familial magic. Droplets of Black family blood are folded into the silver to create a particular blood magic that prevents Black family members from harming each other with their knives. The blade dulls if it touches another family member.

How related do you have to be? The magic holds with concentration, so once you get past grandparents, it's lethal. E.g. Scorpius Malfoy and Teddy Lupin couldn't hurt each other because their grandmothers were Blacks, but their children could hack each other apart if they wanted to. This also means that Black family members' spouses are fair game - e.g. Bellatrix can play with Rodolphus as much as she likes (and she really likes).

The knives have magic of their own: when they're 13, the knives have the basic Black family magic, but when they turn 17, the knives have gotten to know their owner enough that a new, unique type of magic is revealed. (See below for each of their magics!)

The knife *always* returns to its owner unless its magic is modified or the owner is deceased. If the knife is stolen or lost, it'll come back the next day.

Black family witches wear their knives around their thighs. The holsters are lightweight and barely noticeable. The holster is made of leather and the blade cleans itself within. Black family wizards keep them on their arms or in their pockets. The witches usually get daggers and the wizards usually get pocketknives. Either way, they're self-cleaning so they don't have to worry about dirty blood on their bodies.

The Black family magic can't be taken away, even if someone is disowned.

The knives are long enough to pierce the heart, or can be extended to do so.

The witches' daggers tend to be very ornate looking, with flowers, stars, or other patterns engraved in the handles. They're innocent looking until you're being stabbed and losing consciousness. Yay!

The wizards' knives are handsome and practical-looking. They look like ordinary pocketknives most of the time until you realize that they're about to shank you.

Now, for specific HCs on what the knives can do for each family member when they turn 17 (this is an incomplete list - it's what I have so far for Supernova, which is mostly centered on the Black family witches):

Walburga: her knife BURNS. If she's stabbing you with her dagger, it's going to scorch your skin and make your blood boil. Ouch.

Orion: his pocketknife is Walburga's opposite. It freezes, so imagine getting stabbed in the heart and then having your heart grow cold at the same time. Goodbye life.

Alphard: his pocketknife is a dual-purpose compass. It can give him directions as needed, but also points to what he most desires (think Jack Sparrow's special compass).

Cygnus: his knife temporarily blinds its victim. Not only can he stab you, but you'll be blinded for a hot minute, which makes it hard to escape.

Bellatrix: her knife ALWAYS leaves a mark. She can carve whatever she wants into whoever she wants. That scar is never going away.

Andromeda: her knife doubles as an escape. She can swish it around and create a quick bubble with which she can Apparate away as needed.

Narcissa: her knife changes shape according to her wish. This is useful with potions, but extra useful if she wants to inflict maximum damage on someone by using a serrated blade.

Sirius: his knife is the pocketknife that opens any door. He's clever enough to change the magic on it so he can gift it to Harry, because he's had enough of his family and Harry has more use for it now.

Regulus: his knife becomes invisible to anyone but him. It's an excellent way of being able to sneakily attack someone. You think he's going in for a hug or a handshake and boom, bye-bye life.

Nymphadora/Dora: this is particular to Supernova, my story, as she's being raised under different circumstances. Her dagger will heal her. When she runs her blade against a wound on her body (and her body alone) it will seal itself.

It's all fun, games, and knives, until one of them is fucking you up with their knife and having a fabulous time doing so.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Lovers & Friends (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Keigo Takami x Black!Fem!Reader (Friends to Lovers)

Synopsis: In which you and Keigo have begun to realize the strange new feelings you both have for each other after one drunken night at a close friend’s wedding that ends with you in his bed, but because of your longtime friendship and committed relationships with other people, you’re more than happy to forget that night even happened and keep your mutual feelings in the dark…for now, at least. 

Story Warnings: Smutty smut; 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY); Cheating/Infidelity; Mating; Light Degradation; Spanking; Exhibitionism; Multiple Positions; Creampie; Unprotected PIV Sex; Facial; Scent Play; Marking; Spitting; Deepthroating; Cunnilingus; Begging; Edgeplay; Power Play; Wing-Stroking; Daddy Kink; Some Angst; Hurt/Comfort; Mild Violence

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: N/A

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Bonus Chapter.

Read on AO3 here!

***********

Chapter Eighteen: Heated.

When the limo stops, it parks right outside a charming club venue where you can already hear the music thumping from outside the doors.

You stare at the building like it’s the gate to Hell. 

Though you pre-gamed in the limo ride with Rumi, Yu, and Nemuri, taking shots of champagne and singing along to the radio with them, you don’t feel the alcohol’s liquid confidence taking over yet.

All you feel is dread as you face the club venue, just a step away from Keigo’s face. Beside the glass doors to the venue is a red velvet rope holding dozens of guests and those who just want a piece of the celebrity life who will no doubt be thrown out by security. 

Nemuri and Yu walk up to the guard who checks for their names on an iPad. He then smiles and opens the door for them to which they walk, hand in hand. Meanwhile, you stand outside with Rumi, your feet frozen to the ground. Rumi whistles at the music choices and the guests waiting patiently to be let in. “Damn, he really did it up this time,” she giggles. “Well, come on so I can see you two kiss.” She gives you a teasing smile as she walks towards the guard, but upon noticing that you’re not following her, she turns around. 

“Uh, in a minute,” you reply, giving her a reassuring smile. “Lemme just fix my makeup and I’ll be right in.”

It’s a bullshit lie, but it gets Rumi to leave you anyway. Other than spending the ride taking champagne shots to ease your nerves, you were busy primping yourself for Keigo, either putting on an extra slick of lipgloss or fishing a gummy piece of mascara from your lash line. You were also trying to come up with a good way to talk to him and get him alone: 

“Hey, Keigo, can we talk real quick? I know things are awkward between us and I don’t want them to be.” 

“Can we go somewhere more private? I just really need to talk to you. I’m sorry about earlier…” 

“Rei and I aren't together anymore. You were right about him and I’m sorry I didn’t listen.” 

“You’ve been a great friend to me, but I don’t want to be friends anymore. So, if you wanna get something eat sometime or go see a movie…” 

“Well, are you just gonna stand out here or go in and talk to him?” 

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of a voice that isn’t your internal one at all. You were so lost in your thoughts and anxiety that you forgot you were standing outside in your Gala gown, looking crazy. The voice that interrupted you is deep, raspy, and undeniably familiar to you. It’s one you immediately put a face to. 

You turn around, finding your old friend leaning against a sleek, black car parked a little ways away from the prying eyes of the guests. His burned hand works to light himself a cigarette, his thumb flicking the lighter and causing a tiny spark of a flame to ignite. He puts it up to his mouth and burns the end of the cig until it turns a bright red like a firefly in the night. “Dabi?” you gasp.

His icy blue eyes stare into yours across the way, his clothes and leather jacket as black as night. “The only and only,” he chuckles. 

He turns fully toward you, opening his arms for you. “So you gonna give me a hug or what?” You stagger forward in your heels until you find the urge to run toward him. 

So you do. You run in your heels to your friend and nearly tackle him into the street. He chuckles at your reaction to his presence and wraps his arms around you. As soon as you feel his embrace and smell the cologne lingering on his clothes, you begin to softly cry into his chest. It feels so good to see him, feel him. It’s difficult to describe, but it's almost like an ache that only grows the longer you hold him because you know in time you’ll have to let go again. 

When you finally pull away, your eyes are wet and your mascara is suffering. Dab pulls a handkerchief out of his back pocket and hands it to you. “What’s poppin’?” he asks in his raspy voice, smirking down at you. 

You take the handkerchief from him and dab at your eyes. “You’re lucky I haven’t seen you in months or I’d smack you for saying that,” you sniffle, earning another throaty laugh from him. “What are you doing here? How are you here?” 

Dabi takes a drag of his cigarette, blowing smoke away from you into the night air. “I’m guessing the bird man didn’t fill you in,” he says, raising an eyebrow. You blink at him, confused, and he sighs. “I figured not. The court found me not guilty of causing that prison riot, so I got my perks back. This is my outing for the month and I’m spendin’ it trying to get my two idiot friends to stop actin’ like they’re not crazy about each other.” 

He gives you an intense, knowing stare that has your stomach flipping with fear. You sigh, done drying your eyes. “So he told you?” you mutter.

Dabi snorts at your reaction though all you wish to do right now is die. “He tells me everything, doll,” he chuckles. “You know that. Do you really think he wouldn’t?” He takes another drag, instead blowing the smoke out of his nostrils. “So you weren't gonna tell me you guys fucked?” 

You shove at his chest hard, glaring at his brashness. “Don’t say it like that,” you hiss. “And I wasn’t gonna tell anyone. I was more than happy to take this to my grave and act like it never happened.” Dabi chortles at your reasoning, shaking his head. “Well, you can act like it all you want, but you know that your body remembers all too well.” 

And God, does it. Your shoulders slump defeatedly and you sigh. You were fooling yourself thinking you could hide this or that Keigo wouldn’t say anything to your friends. You can’t be mad at him for that. You turn to one of your very best friends now, wanting to shift the conversation. “So how have you been?” 

But Dabi isn’t having it. He takes a short drag of his cigarette before dropping it and crushing it beneath his sneakers. “I’m not interested in talkin’ about me right now, doll,” he sternly says, the smoke billowing from his mouth. “I’m way more interested in discussing in you right now.” He nods at the empty space beside you. “So where’s your man? He sped off and left you here?” 

You quietly whimper to yourself in defeat, knowing that he’s not going to let this go. “We’re done,” you confess. “I realized he wasn't the one for me.” Dabi quirks an eyebrow of interest at your confession. “And you think Keigo is?” he questions. 

His question renders you speechless. Your brain can’t seem to come up with a good answer. If you are to say yes, then he’d probably ask you why you think you’re so sure now. But if you say no, he’ll either call you on your bullshit or ask you why. You stare down at your heels, your heart pounding. “I-I don’t know,” you weakly admit. 

"So what are you doin’ here then?” he pushes. “It can’t be to just shoot the shit with a bunch of people you don’t know.” 

“Dabi, you know that’s BS,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Most of the people Hawks knows, I know. And what’s it to you why I’m here? A party is a party.” You can feel him staring at you regardless of whether you look at him or not.

You heavily sigh, throwing in the towel and looking up into his cool, blue eyes. “I’m just thinking, okay?” you huff. “It’s not that easy to talk to him about this. Things have been so complicated between us and tonight was pretty heated.” 

You cringe inwardly at the horrible things you said and how hurt Keigo looked. “You tell him to jump off a bridge or somethin’?” Dabi asks, squinting at you. “Is that why he looked like he just saw his entire life crumble before his eyes tonight?”

That makes you feel even worse. “I might as well have,” you sigh. “Just know it was bad.” Dabi tilts his head slightly to look at you from another angle, sizing you up. “Bad enough to not face him and tell him how you feel?” he questions. 

That’s when you break. The tears begin to fall, your makeup be damned, and all of your emotions fall flat out in front of your friend. “I just can’t, Dabi!” you sob. “There’s so much at stake here! Our friendship with each other, our friendship with you and Rumi, our careers, our–“ 

He stops you by placing a finger against your lips, his glare intense and intimidating. “Shut up,” he demands. “You’re bein’ a fuckin’ idiot right now, and I can call you that ‘cause I’m your friend and I have a good reason to do so. You’re tellin’ me that you’re going to let your friend, someone who’s had your back for years and has held you down, go just because of one single night? You and I both know that’s the bullshit, Y/N.” 

His stare is hard and knowing as if he can see every single layer of you as you stand out on the street. You can't even speak, too floored by his words. “If you don’t wanna acknowledge how you feel for him, fine, but what you’re not gonna do is walk away and act like he doesn't exist when the man has already been through enough shit in his life. You know we’re his everything, Y/N.” In his eyes, you see nothing but a fierce love for Keigo and for you. A love that made him use his free day to come here and fix your relationship.

You look down at your feet, harshly biting your lip. “So what I’m gonna suggest to you is that you take a shot of the bottle Rumi gave you, go in there, put on your big girl panties, and tell Keigo just exactly what you need to before you lose him,” Dabi sternly continues. “‘Cause you will lose him, doll. Keigo loves you, but not enough to stick around.” 

“I know,” you sob, covering your face. “Dammit, I know!” You can’t stop the sobs that slip past your lips as all of your guilt and hurt overflows, covering you. You then feel Dabi’s arms around you again, filling your nose with the scent of cologne and cigarette smoke. You press your face into his chest, fisting his shirt. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you whimper. “I’m such a fuck-up.” 

“We are all, doll,” he chuckles. “You ain’t special.” His large, burned hand begins to stroke the back of your head, calming you. “Plus, I need you to do this for me ‘cause I made a bet with Rumi on if you guys would get together or not.” 

You immediately stop crying and shove him away from you. “You what?!” you gasp, shocked and irked. Dabi shoves his hands in his pockets, not even looking the least bit guilty. “Well, first we made a bet on whether or not you two would fuck,” he explains. “She won. But now we’re betting on if you two will finally get together. She thinks no, I think yes. If I win, I got $50 on my commissary.” He shrugs, a lazy smirk on his face. 

You gape at him, almost not believing how horrible your friends can be. He’s really deadass right now. “Oh, my God,” you groan. “You guys are assholes.” 

“But you love us,” he replies, giving you a shit-eating grin. "So you gonna go in or what?” He nods at the club venue expectantly. You look too, picturing Keigo inside, being a good host, and dancing the night away. You want to join him. You want to be by his side. 

You turn back to Dabi, poking him in the chest. “You were never the best at giving good advice,” you sigh, “but you’ve somehow given me confidence. How do you do it, Dabi Todoroki?” The white-haired man shrugs his shoulders, a twinkle in his eye. “Guess that’s just my charm.” 

And so you take his advice and take a swig of the champagne bottle before handing it to him. “So where are you off to now?” you curiously ask. He pauses to take a swig before licking the access liquid off of his upper lip. “‘Bout to go in here and watch this soap opera shit go down,” he says with a smirk. “I’ve got about twenty minutes left of freedom. Might as well enjoy it.” 

He then walks you back to the club and to the doors where the guard checks for your names. He doesn’t look all that hype to let Dabi inside, but he does nonetheless. As soon as you hear the blast of the music and see the warm, red glow of the strobe lights above, you feel your stomach fall into your ass. Your anxiety has returned, leaving you heaving as you stand at the threshold of the door.

But Dabi’s hand, finding yours, gives you comfort. “Can’t back out now, doll,” he whispers to you. And so, you don’t. Swallowing hard, you walk into the club with Dabi trailing behind you, a picture of comfort and strength. 

The club is decorated with dozens of lounging areas, two bars, and a disco ball hanging from the ceiling that shines upon the guests down below. The music is bumping and the drinks are flowing as well as the weed smoke that wafts through the air. You spot Rumi chatting up a couple of heroes immediately, a drink in her hand and her ears twitching from the music. “There’s Rumi over there,” you tell Dabi, nodding at the bunny hero. But as soon as you see her, you also see Keigo. 

He appears from a throng of people that part way for him like clouds parting for a ray of sun. And a ray of sun he is––his eyes and smile radiate like the brightest stars in the sky in the dimly lit club, rendering you speechless. The entire room disappears when he enters, everyone else falling away into nothingness. You see no one but him. He is all that matters. Dabi notices how you’ve frozen in place, already having taken a pre-rolled blunt out of his pocket and lighting it. “Need a drag to help you out?” he asks, offering you the blunt. 

Though you tremble and feel your heart shake, you decline the offer, especially after having already drunk. “No,” you exhale. “I’ve got this.” You pass the bottle you’re holding to Dabi and give him a reassuring smile to which he returns with an encouraging wink. Go get ‘em. 

And so you do. You walk over to Keigo who is still making his rounds, smiling and laughing with everyone, making them feel welcome. You feel as if you’re moving underwater, the tide rough and making you move slower than you realize. But Keigo is like the warm sun rippling across the water, guiding you toward the light. Anyone he touches or talks to seems to react to his warm energy and beaming smile, laughing at his jokes or telling him about how amazing his party is. Your brain scrambles for something to say to him once you finally make it to him, your mouth dry and tongue heavy. 

“Hey, Hawks!” an unfamiliar, high-pitched voice suddenly giggles. You and Keigo both look to the far side where two unfamiliar women in mini-dresses sit, excitedly waving Keigo over. Keigo walks over, his friendly, Colgate smile still plastered on his face. You stop in your tracks, standing frozen as you watch him waltz over to his guests. You’re close enough where you can hear them talk, but not enough where they can see you. “Hey, ladies,” he says. “You two havin’ a good time?” 

One of the girls, with long black hair down to her back and a mole on her chin, smirks up at him. “Mmm, now we are,” she purrs. Her friend, a redhead with fluffy cat ears and a tail swishing behind her, stands up with her drink and grabs his arm. “You’re back! Now you can give us that dance you promised.” 

Keigo goes to protest, but the girls whine and pout, both taking him by the arm. “Come oooon, you promised us,” the redhead whines.

“Just one dance, Hawks,” the black-haired woman says, that seductive smirk still on her face. “Let’s see how you move those sexy ass wings.” 

Keigo looks like he wants to say no and maybe toss in an excuse, but then his eyes trail across the room to meet yours. Your brain turns to fuzz and your body freezes like you’ve been hypnotized into doing so. He stares at you for a good couple of seconds that feel like hours to you, his golden eyes burning a hole in you. Then he turns to the girls and smiles at them before letting them lead him to the dance floor. You watch, your mouth slightly agape and feeling stupid for not taking that drag of Dabi’s blunt when he offered. 

Keigo stands in between the two girls as they dance on either side of him, one taking the front while the other grinds into him from the back. You watch, anger slowly creeping inside of you at the sight of their hands on his hips and the redhead’s ass grinding into his groin. As if drawn to you alone, his eyes come back to yours, scaling over every other person nearest to him. Then you realize it: he’s trying to make you jealous. But two can play at that game. 

Immediately, you begin scouting for your own conquest and find him standing by the bar with his friends. He is tall, handsome, and sporting tattoos. Perfect. You strut over to him, titties bouncing and feeling like the sexiest woman alive, especially knowing that Keigo is watching. “Hey,” you call, gaining the stranger’s attention, especially after he gets a look at you. His friends stop dead in their tracks too, staring at you in awe. “You wanna dance?” You give him a small, sexy smile as if a dance isn’t all you want. “With you?” he chuckles. “Hell yes.” 

You grin and take his hand in yours, dragging him over to the dance floor. You stand across the floor from Keigo, only a couple of bodies separating you. You face away from Keigo as you begin to dance with the stranger, not touching at first. You only stand in close proximity to each other, moving in tandem with one another. It is fun and he can keep up, moving his body closer and closer to yours.

Finally, his big hands grab your hips and you let him, hoping Keigo sees. Against your better judgment, you turn your head as if flipping your hair and peer over at your friend in the corner of your eye. 

There, you see Keigo slide his hands around the redhead’s hips, coaxing her to press her ass even farther into his hips. His eyes once again meet yours, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. ‘Oh, this bitch,’ you think. Your blood has turned into liquid fire, heating up your body and warming the inner pits of your stomach. You can feel the alcohol and the thump of the music taking more of an effect now, causing you to turn around in the stranger’s arms. 

Now you’re facing Keigo while your back presses against the stranger’s front. The winged hero is still sandwiched between the two girls who giggle and grip him like he is theirs, but all of his attention is on you. His eyebrows are knitted together, creating a crease between them, and his feathers have become frazzled. Meaning he is very, very agitated. You smirk at him despite this, something you wouldn’t do if you weren’t tipsy. You love that you’re getting to him. 

‘I told you two can play at this game,’ you think. You turn back around to face the stranger, noticing how hooded and dark his eyes have become as they rake over your form. “You know, you can really move,” he whispers. “What are you doin’ after this?” 

You know exactly what that meant. And you think about it for a moment, wondering if you should take this stranger up on his offer for a night of pure, unadulterated, meaningless sex. No strings attached. No thoughts of Rei or Keigo or anyone else but you. But when you think of your golden-haired friend just across the room watching you, you open your mouth to give the man a polite “thanks but no thanks”.

However, someone beats you to it. A hand gently grasps your shoulder, making you turn around to see Keigo standing in front of you. “Mind if I get the next dance?” he huskily asks. 

Your heart leaps at the sight of him there and you don’t realize that a joyful smile has curled onto your lips until your cheeks begin hurting. You’re so glad he’s here. You go to give him a definite yes, but the stranger steps in front of you, a glare on his face. “Yeah, I do,” he snaps. “You see me dancing with her, don’t you?” 

You see Keigo’s expression change immediately, darkening to the point where you’re frightened. You think of him that night at the club and plead with him with your eyes to not go down that road. The stranger turns his back on Keigo to begin dancing with you again, but Keigo stops him by forcefully whirling him around to face him.

The very angry, winged hero steps to him, anger radiating off of him in waves that you can feel. “Listen,” he says, his voice dipping down an octave, "I’m not havin’ a good night as it is, so I suggest you don’t make it worse for me or yourself. I’m not the nicest when I’m pissed.” 

His wings ruffle and then, all at once, each feather sharpens to a point as if he is carrying dozens of knives on his back. The stranger’s angered expression melts into one of fear and intimidation as he stares at Keigo’s wings. “Back up,” Keigo growls, his eyes turning to slits. “She’s mine.” 

This is all it takes for the stranger to finally back off of you and slink away from the dance floor. When he’s gone, Keigo composes himself. His eyes switch back to their normal size and color and his feathers soften. When he finally looks back down at you, all you want to do is kiss him. “Think he got the picture?” he asks jokingly. 

You don’t speak. You don’t even think you can. For a moment, you both stand there in silence, the music and noise swelling around you. But none of that matters to you. Nothing matters to you but him right now. “So you came back,” he states, sounding surprised. His eyes travel over your form as if he can’t believe that you’re really standing there. And wanting him. 

You swallow, finding your voice to speak. “I did,” you reply matter-of-factly. You place your hands impatiently on your hips and raise an eyebrow at him, feeling emboldened by the alcohol and what just transpired. “And I need to talk to you,” you continue. “Can we go somewhere alone?” 

His eyes widen an inch at your bold response and question, but you also see a spark behind them. He is absolutely down for this. Though he still looks confused at your intentions, he agrees. “Sure,” he replies, already taking your hand and whisking you away. When his fingers interlock with yours, your body sings and your stomach flips excitedly from his touch. “I’ve got a place. Follow me.” 

You let him lead you away from the party and through the venue to a staircase leading up upstairs to the second floor. There, he then leads you away from the guests occupying the second floor to an empty balcony. He let you step out into the night first, the cool air refreshing and the sky starry and clear above.

He shuts the door behind him and stands near it so no one will try to come out and interrupt…whatever this is. You aren’t even sure what this is: your apology? Your confession? All you know is that you have many words left unsaid that you need to release, and you won’t leave here tonight until Keigo knows just how you feel for him. 

He stands in front of you now, arms crossed and not looking too thrilled to be here. “Why’d you come back?” he asks, getting right to the damn point because fuck beating around the bush at this point. “Things go bad with Rei so you come runnin’ to me?” 

You wince slightly at his harsh tone and words, but you know you deserve it. He has every right to be pissed at you. And you have every reason to be honest with him. So you take a deep breath and speak: “That’s exactly right,” you confess, and you nearly laugh at his bug-eyed reaction. “Keigo, I’m not here to convince you that we belong together or to tell you I’m sorry in an effort for you to take me as more. I’m just here to tell you that you were right.” 

For a moment, Keigo pauses, processing your words and your intentions. He then raises an eyebrow, silently telling you to elaborate. With the silence, stars, and cool air encouraging you to speak, you do so. 

“I realized that Rei can’t make me happy the way I wish to be,” you continue. “I need to be with someone who sees me for the messy, complicated person that I can be. Who makes me want to do and be better just because of their love for me. Who accepts me for who I am and doesn’t ask for anything more.” 

You smile lovingly at him, your heart thumping harshly in your chest. “I’ve known for a while that this person is you,” you confess. “You’re the one I’ve been searching for. The partner I’ve been hoping to find. The man of my dreams.” Your voice cracks slightly as all of your emotions begin to flood over you: your love; your pain; your sorrow; your want and need for the man standing before you. “I love you, Keigo,” you tearfully confess. “And I’m sorry it’s taken all of this for me to realize it.” 

You watch, in under a minute, as a dozen expressions and emotions register across Keigo’s face: Confusion. Mild Irritation. Joyfulness. Relief. You continue to speak, refusing to let this be the end of your relationship.

“You don’t have to take me if you don’t want me, and I’m not going to convince you to. I’ve put you through so much and you deserve to be with someone who isn’t going to do that to you.” Tears begin to drip from your eyes, falling down your cheeks. “But I knew if I didn’t come here and tell you face to face, I’d never be able to look you in the eye again.” 

And then you’re full-on crying. All of your hurt and guilt begin to tumble down, making all of your walls crumble. All of your layers peel back before Keigo, revealing the deepest, ugliest parts of you. Your neediness. Your need for him.

“I just want you in my life, Kei,” you sob. “I don't care if it’s just as friends or whatever the fuck. I just want you here. I need you here with me.” 

And as you cry and embarrass yourself in front of your friend, he peels back every layer of himself as well. He shows you all of him as his eyes grow glassy and wet. “I need you too,” he whispers. “I’ll always need you, Y/N. That’s never changed.” He then takes only two strides towards you and wrap you up in his arms and his wings, blocking you out from the outside world. 

A needy, desperate gasp leaves your lips as you feel him wrap himself around you, engulfing you in a warm, tight embrace that fills you with joy and relief. You feel released from all the sorrow, guilt, and frustrations inside you. None of that matters anymore. Not when your friend, your man, is here, feeling so warm, and solid, and real. So you hug Keigo back, pressing your face into his chest. He begins to stroke the back of your head, pressing you farther into his body. 

When he finally pulls away, his eyes and lashes are wet with tears. “So is it safe to say I told you so?” he teasingly asks. You smile up at him, a joyful giggle leaving your lips. You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you. “If you kiss me, then yes,” you whisper before you stand up on your toes and your lips finally find each other’s. 

If fireworks are to appear somewhere in the distance tonight, this would be the perfect moment for them. The kiss you share with Keigo is explosive, pleasurable, and leaves you breathless. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close as your lips dance together. The more his soft lips move against yours, the more you fall deeper and deeper in love with him. You love kissing him. You love holding him. You love him. 

A sudden bright flash of a camera ruins the moment and you two jump apart to find Rumi, Dabi, Yu, and Nemuri watching from the balcony door. Rumi squeals happily, waving her phone around, very drunk. “Ha, ha, you crispy bitch!” she shouts proudly, bumping Dabi with her hip. “I told you so!” Dabi sighs, trying to look pissed but is obviously happy. “So much for the $50,” he sighs. 

Keigo rolls his eyes, shielding you and your embarrassment from your friends with his wings. “Do y’all mind?” he barks. “I’m trying to show my girl some love and I need you drunk freaks watching.”

Yu is the one to hustle everyone away from the balcony. “Don’t mind us!” she giggles. “Please go back to your love fest.” She drags Nemuri away while she groans in protest. “Aww, but they’re so cute!” she whines. 

You two are finally left alone and you begin to laugh together. “That picture is probably gonna end up on an IG story somewhere,” Keigo sighs.

You nod, agreeing and knowing how horrible Rumi is. “Just as long as it’s a private one,” you giggle. “But even if it isn’t, I don’t care.” 

Keigo raises an eyebrow, a sparkle in his eyes that reminds you so much of sunken treasure. “And why is that?” he huskily asks, sending a shiver down your spine.

You stand up on your toes and stay a centimeter away from his lips, inhaling his cologne. “Because I want everyone to know that I’m yours,” you purr. “And you’re mine.” 

A hand then encircles the back of your neck and all words cease to exist as Keigo presses his mouth to yours once more. 

[vivispec]

For Marion & Garrett! "alright, who am i beating up?" from platonic prompts! Happy writing! 🥰

thank you for the prompt! writing kids is so much fun, especially these ones. snot-nosed twins be upon ye.

takes place pre-game before they move to lothering, when their magic is still pretty new.

@dadrunkwriting Marian & Garrett words: 707 cw: bullying

At that moment, Marian was none too happy with her brother.  She kicked a rock from out of her way as she ventured from home, just past the forked birch that marked the pathway to their doorstep, and watched it skitter across the dirt before it bounced into the grass. Having not returned by suppertime, their parents had deigned to send her after her wayward twin—her, of all people, when she’d been so careful to return before sunset, and without so much as a roll to tide her over. Her stomach growled. The scowl twisting her face, she imagined, would be absolutely terrifying, once Garrett laid eyes upon it. Soon, he would know her wrath. Luck appeared to pity her somewhat, at the very least. Just over the rise she caught sight of him, a slow-moving but recognizable silhouette against a sky going dark, and her pace quickened to meet him as she attempted to soothe her prickling irritation at his unhurried pace. I can badger him all I want, once I’ve dragged him back home and filled my belly, she reminded herself. At least it seems he made some effort to be home before nightfall—or by, more like.  “Honestly, Garrett,” she lifted her hands to cup her mouth, shouting down the path to her brother, “are you trying to starve me? You promised me you’d be home before—” As the light caught up with him her words and anger faltered, and her feet skid to a stop. His fists were balled and white, chubby face flushed and tense, and his eyes… There were tears, though he tried to hide it with a swipe of his sleeve. Tinged red, just as his swollen cheek was. She needn’t see the rest of him, to know what it was that had happened. “Who was it?” Marian’s teeth clenched, and she felt her own face grow unbearably hot, her own fingers ball. “Who did this to you?” “I just want to go home, Mari.” “Tell me first,” she argued, burning now with anger, “and I’ll beat their bloody arses, I will. I’ll—I’ll—” “Marian!” The urgency of his tone was enough to stall her, and her sight cleared enough to catch the flickering light across his face. He sighed, terse. “You’re on fire again, sister.”  She looked at her hands to find them, sure enough, wrapped by flames. There was momentary panic as again her magic manifested outside her control, quickly swallowing breaths just as Papa had taught until, slowly, they ebbed and dispersed. It was enough to rein her mind back in, to distance herself from that anger. Garrett had crossed his arms by the time she was finished, and looked away into the fields beyond their home. “Who was it?” “The Gower boys,” he mumbled, looking down. “Why didn’t you fight back? They’re wusses.” “‘Cause Dad says we have to be extra careful, now, or else we might…” his eyes strayed back her way, gesturing limply at her scorched shirt sleeves. “You know.” Her cheeks were warm again, but not from anger this time. “We have to be careful, or Papa might get in trouble,” she repeated, mostly to herself. “I know.”  It was true, she knew it, but it wasn’t fair. Why did they get to hurt Garrett, and she couldn’t hurt them back? Already the hit he’d taken had swelled: it would make one nasty shiner, it would. And speaking of Garrett, he looked so bloody bothered by it all, and she didn’t like that one bit. Maybe she could help with that much, and what remained of her annoyance, too. “...But it would scare them right good, though, wouldn’t it? If you did. They’d deserve it, too, and run with their tails between their legs—” He snorted a laugh. She could see him trying to stop it, but still it got free. “...I bet their faces would scrunch up, too.” “Like this,” she added, and put on her best rendition. As his brow relaxed and he stopped fighting his giggles, she put on a smile of her own, and looped her arm in his. “Come on, then,” she coaxed, “Mum made stew and rolls, and I’m starving.” “Yeah,” he said with a sniff, and squeezed her arm back. “Me too.”

[theroadtosomewhere]

Writer Interview Game!

Tagged by @azapofinspiration yippeeeeeeee

When did you start writing?

Mmmmm.... first story I wrote properly was in 2014, little primary school lad who got marked well on a story in class and it ended up on a lil notice board which little me was like oH. It was a 10 year old's excuse for a horror story but it does make me laugh to think that I went from that to wattpad within months, back when it wasnt behind a paywall. My first original was on wattpad in maybe 2016 and after that I was really into LoZ and BBC Sherlock so there was some fanfics there. My longest (unfinished) original story was built off a plot that I created for a LoZ fanfic and I was still very active in writing it up until three years ago, so there was a solid 6-7 years spent with that lol.

End of 2022 I started reading abt skk on ao3 without ever having watched the show (shoutout athena and moxie p sure i read some of yours first lmfao every skker ever) and started writing my first few skk fics without ever having watched the show OR read the manga. Before that though the thing that got me onto writing for/on ao3 was Narumitsu!!! my babes one day i will finish that first fic (blackmadhi yesssssssss if you wanna see my cringe from pre bsd thats it lol).

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

god..... too many..... its been a long time since ive sat down to read properly, and even during school i would not have considered myself a book nerd by any means (mostly because i was juggling time between school and extra-curriculars.)

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

When I was in highschool, my writing style (based on the original mentioned above) was compared to Marcus Zusac before I'd even read a book of his. That was pretty nice. Same with Neil Gaiman but that is too high praise for me to accept considering i now write either about gay lawyers or gay mafioso x ex-mafioso soooooooooooo. not sure any of that would come through in my writing these days.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

Literally write wherever I can. In my room, at my desk, on the bus or train, during breaks at work and in class at uni (responsible i know). Wind, rain or shine, if i have an idea (or not even) i'll jot down an idea or vaguely edit something. The process is process-ing!!!!

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Hehehehehehehe......maladaptive daydreaming..........

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

I LOVE THIS OKAY. SO. typical projection stuff incoming. I feel like most if not everyone has a highschool horror story and up until like a year or so ago i was like!!! it wasnt that bad!!!! (it was, emotionally at least). The aforementioned original story and its characters changed a LOT overtime lol. when I hit my last year of highschool, i'd had some time away from writing and when i read over it, it was crazy to see not only what my mental state had been through my writing, but to see my own coping mechanisms written between the lines before i even knew what they were/that i did them! Won't go into too much detail about that but I did experience dissociation and anxiety etc which I only began to address in my last year of school, so going back and reading it with a clearer head was like wow okay. that was real!

That being said! Hurt/comfort my beloved. The unloved being loved. Second chances. Do with that what you will.

What is your reason for writing?

Initially i started writing for fun, but during highschool as things got a little worse, i fell into the characters i created and i can look back now fondly and think...thank you. i still dont know if i want to touch the story because its one of the last things i have left from a time past that may not have been positive, but the experience of writing and developing the characters alongside myself back then is just sighs :') sometimes i miss that girl.

First for enjoyment, second as a way of staying sane, and now i'd say its a mixture of both. My writing is my love letter to whatever I'm writing about. I do love sharing too. Right audience and all that :)

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I've been told that I can write particular characters' inner voices quite well, which is always a compliment :')

I think my own strength as a writer is also the weakness, which is to say that a project is never finished. Even when there's something out there and up on the interwebs for people to see, there's a good chance that if you check back months later, something has been edited or changed. I do have issues with perfectionism at times, but weirdly enough its not a negative thing when i apply it to my writing. I enjoy the process of seeing the stories i write change.

How do you feel about your own writing?

Good most days. I experiment quite a bit with ideas and writing styles/formatting so I will leave it at that lol.

Tagging @calmlb and @samtheboyfailure if y'all want :)

[medaart]

darkanachronism: I like it as a take, did your Tav's low self esteem factor into why Astarion decided to cozy up to them. I feel like it would make someone a pretty easy mark in his eyes. Also our low self esteem druids should hang out.

Thank you for the feedback! I think at first he just figured sleeping with the boss was the way to get ahead in life (due to previous experience), but when he realized Bernadine was very shy and lonely, he started tailoring his seduction technique to try and make her feel "special". Oddly enough, it was little things that he did that weren't necessarily part of the seduction that had already endeared him to her.

She figured almost immediately that he was hiding some kind of trauma, being a trauma survivor herself, and wanted to help. He also did little things like apologizing for raising his voice/making it clear he wasn't angry at her when he yelled, steering her away from poison, expressing concern when she was hurt, and grabbing her hand when she was prone. Things he didn't even necessarily consider being "nice" per se actually meant a lot to her. Bernadine's very much a "I want my life partner to also be one of my best friends" person. I don't think she thinks she can "fix" Astarion, just steer him to a place where he understands there are people and things worth fighting for, instead of preemptively just considering everyone/thing a threat.

(Out of universe, I consider this an AU for a character an RP/TTRPG character I've had for a while whose backstory was so linked to her childhood friend/wife and dog that I couldn't bring into the game-- the game doesn't allow you to just have a pre-existing pet, and I'm not using someone else's PC without their permission. She had a much happier backstory originally, but without those characters who weighed heavily into her backstory and shaped her whole life, she kind of has to go through extra character development to get to the place where she started the original RP at.)

And yes! I'd love for her to have more Tavs/Durges as friends, whether it be part of Artfight or just as a spur-of-the-moment crossover. If anyone ever wants to write/draw something of her, be my guest. Here's a few (mostly unfinished, apologies) references of Bernadine:

[the1laff]

WIP Post

Tagged by @jittyjames, thanks for the tag!

Rules: Post names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that intrigues them, then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I’ll try to tag as many as I have WIPs but idk if it’ll happen. Also if I tag you, you don’t have to do it, Idek if you write, sorry.

@binch-i-might-be @duelamort @cecescomposition @himnnnnnn @xcminhdang

Hamilton

Hellfire and Rhinestones

Jamilton fic, modern day, angst?

Thomas is a demon (more specifically the devils son but that’s not important till way later) and takes a liking to Alex so he starts showing up when he needs help, and then more frequently just bc. Alex doesn’t know Thomas is a demon yet. At one point he think he’s a guardian angel or some shit. I love irony.

That Little Noodle Fuck

Jamilton fic, modern day, fluff and some emotional comforting.

Adopted from parsniffs, 3AM Warmth. Alex is a college student who writes for a living and Thomas is also a college student who works at a late night cookie shop. Alex orders cookies way too often and before too long he realizes he actually has somewhat of a relationship with Thomas. Thomas is a caretaker at times for our poor Alex. I tried to keep them as close to how parsniffs wrote them.

You Won’t Die Alone!

Jamilton, modern day, fluff, angst, slow burn, one of those soulmate AUs where everyone has a black mark/stain from where their soulmate will touch them for the first time, once they touch it turns into bright colors.

This starts as a senior year HS fic and if it goes to plan then it will evolve in to a college fic. Alex thought he didn’t have a mark. He kinda likes Thomas at first then hates guts then eventually comes around and can be civil-ish and I haven’t gotten past there if I remember. There is snow at some point, drinking, drinking games, minor injury and pranks. He does end up in possession of a particular jacket. The rest of the gang makes intermittent appearances. Also Washingdad

“T” is for Trauma

Lams, modern day, established relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort.

John is a paramedic, Alex is a freelance writer. There are a lot of chapters centered around real calls I’ve been on, some are altered for reader enjoyment and to abide by HIPPA laws. I don’t use real addresses/names obviously. There is a lot of medical trauma, infant, child, adult, and animal death. Alex gardens, there will be a mental trauma reveal for John later, possible smut if I can get over the fear of posting that. I try to balance it with wholesome fluff and couple things in between. My longest and current favorite fic I’ve written.

Sherlock

Reading Too Far Into It

Johnlock, modern day, fluff, maybe some angst.

John discovered Ao3, and reads fic. I can’t say more without spoiling the entire plot. Pre slash if I remember correctly. Lots of Sherlock antics, there is a case I plan on throwing in at some point.

[sobriquett]

Dear Heart Attack Exchange 2024 Author,

Fuuuuuuuuuuck.

Write 10k in two weeks. One week to edit. Try not to die. Exchange on Dreamwidth or AO3.

I almost have two chapters of Good Hope in hand and an authorial death wish so LET'S GO

Without further ado, DNWs, likes, dislikes, fandom-specific prompts and ravings:

DNWs

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics | Anyone being called “Daddy” in a sexual context | Bestiality | Body Horror | Gore | Medical Experimentation | Mpreg | Mutilation | Non-Canonical Amputation | Porn Without Plot | Sadism | Scat | Torture | Vore

General Likes and Loves

5+1 Times | Alternate Endings | Angst | Backstory | Banter/Bickering | Bittersweet | Canon Compliant | Canon Divergence | Character Death | Character Death Aftermath | Character Study | Class Differences | Coming of Age | Competence | Complicated Sibling Relationships | Cultural Differences | Dark Fic | Debt & Financial Pressures | Despair | Disabled Characters | Domesticity | Different Worldviews | Enemies to Friends/Lovers | Epistolary | Examining Societal Issues | First Meetings | First Time | Fix-It | Fluff | Found Family | Friends/Lovers to Enemies | Grief/Mourning | Grumpy Character/Sunshine Character | Historical Details | Humour | Hurt/Comfort | Last Time | Laws of Magic | Living Up/Down to Expectations | Long-Distance Friendship | Marriage of Convenience | Miscommunication | Missing Moment | Obeying Canonical Boundaries (Social/Cultural/Moral) | Outsider POV | Parent/Child Relationships | Peril | Pining | Platonic Intimacy | Politics & Intrigue | Poor Life Choices | Post-Canon | Pre-Canon | Pregnancy & Babies | Presumed Dead | Protectiveness | Redemption | Religious Elements | Reunions | Romance | Sad Endings | Secret Relationships | Uneven Power Dynamics | Unexpected/Unlikely Friendship | Unreliable Narrators | Whump | Worldbuilding

Darkfic Likes

Apocalypse | Betrayal | Character Death | Character Death Aftermath | Claustrophobia | Conspiracy | Debt & Financial Pressures | Degradation | Disease | Dubious Consent | Dystopia | Fire | Forced Marriage | Gaslighting | Hauntings | Humiliation | Hypothermia | Infertility | Miscarriage/Pregnancy Loss | Murder | Paranoia | Poisoning | Prison | PTSD | Shame | Suicide | Terminal Illness | Unhappy Endings

Smut Likes

Biting/Marking | Bondage | Canon Compliant/Historically Appropriate (esp. period fandoms) | Desperate Sex | Dirty Talk | Dubcon | Edging/Orgasm Delay | Fingering | First Times | Fisting | Foreplay | Hair Pulling/Touching/Playing | Last Times | Loss of virginity (either/both/all partners) | Oral (any/all combinations/intensities/setups) | Porn with Feelings | Power Imbalance (Physical or Social/Financial/Other) | Restraint/Held Down | Rough Sex | Semi-Public Sex | Sensual Details | Vanilla Sex

And now fandom-specific prompts in alphabetical order:

1. [Safety] A Date with Death (Visual Novel)

Grim Reaper/Main Character (A Date With Death)

I don’t know what it was about this that got in my head, but it did. Over a couple of days, I played it through until I’d seen all five endings. And weeks later I still can’t hear gentle background muzak without being straight back in this game in my head.

There are so many delicious tropes in here, even if some of the kink flavours aren’t your favourite. There are nicknames, delayed name reveals, Azrael, so much flirting, canonical soul bonding/telepathy (and explicit reference, if you choose, to that being useful for sex), starcrossed lovers, and more I can’t remember.

I am extremely curious about what on earth could happen next. If you continue your relationship beyond the bet, what happens?

Does the afterlife come looking for Grim? Does that place you or him in danger?

Does he fit into your life, your apartment? Do you need to leave it?

Spending too long in the mortal realm is bad for him, tips his soul out of balance towards light and if his soul is not balanced then he dies – so how does he/you bring back the darkness?

How does the afterlife function? Are there really nine hells, or is that blasphemy and there are, like, eight or something?

Mind bridges and soul bonding – does that become regular, routine, perhaps permanent?

What is Grim’s past? How did he become a reaper? Did he have a human life?

Perhaps follow the ending where the character becomes a reaper too, in the DLC – explore the bureaucracy, the vocation, the training, your gift/nature. Do you take an oath, live by and learn the reaper code?

First times all round, both in the relationship and in life experiences.

Themes of fate/destiny.

Use elements of the bad ending even in the good ending? I bloody love angst and peril.

And what exactly are soul babies?

One virtue of the visual novel is the extent to which you can customise your experience – character, name, pronouns, compliment style, appearance, pet, decoration, etc. I have typically played with female characters with she/her pronouns and that would be my soft preference for fic, but that’s not a hill to die on and I don’t think it’s totally out there to write a fic that can be read ambiguously – but perhaps that would be tricky to sustain for 10,000 words!

2. Bridgerton (TV)

Bridgerton (TV)

Anthony Bridgerton

Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sharma

I just kind of want to watch Anthony suffer.

I love the mix of arrogance and angst in Anthony, the gap between what he thinks his duty is and what it actually is. I love Kate’s courage and lack of taking anyone’s shit, how secure she is until she isn’t, and when she butts heads with anyone - especially Anthony. I love Anthony’s actual relationships with his siblings and the different dynamics with each of them, and I am curious to know how Kate fits in. Is she more of a friend, a sister, a mother, a mix, something different?

Bees! Consequences of the gazebo scene! Canon divergence where the show characters have a similar outcome of the bee incident to the book! The responsibilities and duties of the new viscount and viscountess (real, imagined, fun or tedious)!

Please feel extremely free to add in or build on anything in S3 Part 1, I've already seen it one and a half times and it came out 42 hours ago.

3. Jane Eyre – Charlotte Bronte

Jane Eyre

Jane Eyre/Edward Rochester

Jane Eyre/St. John Rivers

Jane Eyre is an unreliable narrator.

This is one of my favourite novels ever, but I read a new story each time I read (or rewatch – Ruth Wilson 2006 version, yes) it. I had a different experience of it as a child, teenager, young adult, and so on – and with time, I’ve come to see Rochester as more of a villain, and then also as a victim of circumstances and a product of his environment, and to increasingly believe that Jane Eyre lies to us. She’s also every bit as prejudiced and superior as those she criticises, but/because she’s also a product of her world. But I still love her, and love that she says she got a happy ending. But that doesn’t mean it has to stay happy, or even that she was telling the truth.

This is a fandom where I particularly enjoy a darker edge, and a playful approach to the text on the author’s part. The novel is a first-person autobiography. Have fun with that! Jane Eyre is an unreliable narrator. The novel is her autobiography and I don’t believe that the story she told is necessarily the story that happened. What did she conceal? What did she tweak? What did she exaggerate or minimise? Is she trying to tell a moral story, and if so for whom? Does her faith endure and guide her quite as steadfastly, perfectly and purely as she says? I adore fics that play with this idea.

I am 100% on board with outsider POV; Jane does not need to be present if that works for the story.

Post-canon happiness?

Post-canon unhappiness?

Canon divergence at any point.

A missing moment from the engagement - an evening spent together, a walk, a trip out. Tension, anticipation, uneasiness, a sense that all’s not quite right that can’t be entirely set aside. Rochester trying to claim more affection than Jane is yet willing to give, with either a playful or darker edge.

A missing moment between the interrupted wedding and Jane fleeing Thornfield? What if they do have a night of madness before Jane flees Thornfield, where just for a moment she gives in? Or is coerced? (Dubcon over complete non-con please? Also: gloriously awful or happy consequences welcome.)

How does Rochester discover Jane’s missing? How does Adele find out? Mrs Fairfax? How do they all react? What is that day like? (Jane’s absence would almost be the character in this case. She doesn’t have to appear, she’s still the focus.)

What if Adele’s mother returned to collect her, or for some other (nefarious) purpose?

Rochester dies in the fire. What happens then?

Jane goes with St. John as a missionary and it doesn’t start/go/end well.

Does “real” Jane go with St. John as a missionary and the miraculous ending she writes to her autobiography is a fiction she wished had happened?

What if the first wedding isn’t interrupted? Rochester’s a bigamist and Jane a fallen woman when it comes out. (I have started writing this but not finished it.)

In this situation, why/how does she write her autobiography in the way that she does?

Does Jane come to see Rochester as a villain? Does she find herself corrupted, tarnished or lessened in his eyes in some way when he comes to marry/possess her and the sharper, darker side of his character turns on her once she’s off her pedestal?

Jane dies on the moors. (Shit… 5(+1) things of different ways one or both could die and the other find out/grieve? Oof, that makes my id throb, but it is not to everybody’s taste!)

Does Jane resent being Rochester’s carer, his eyes and hands?

Is Rochester “really” as injured as Jane writes in her autobiography? Did she provide some sort of divine/literary punishment for his sins? Or what really happened instead, did he get a comeuppance?

4. [SAFETY] North and South (UK TV)

John Thornton

Margaret Hale/John Thornton

I love this fandom so much. I have requested it many times before and as well as past letters there are many pretty gif sets under this tag for you to enjoy. There’s such a rich setting to explore here - time, place, convention, mores, differences in education and worldview…

I love the context of the place, the contrast between north and south, old and new, leisure and trade, masters and workers, masculinity and femininity. It’s Pride and Prejudice with higher stakes. (Although arguably there are three worlds – Margaret’s, John’s, and Higgins’.) There’s so much pride in all these characters, and they’re all looking down on each other, and then they start to understand one another.

And the longing looks, the touches. The “look back at me”. And the train scene. (About which I have Feelings. That is an inappropriate amount of PDA for 1850s England and they should be halfway down the aisle in about two and a half minutes. Also, wtf unmarried lady just getting on a train with unrelated gentleman, while not wearing a hat. Shocking stuff. Shameful. Tut tut.)

Wedding fic! How does their wedding day/night go? How do their friends and relatives behave and respond? (Particularly in the context of the show’s ending)

How do they pass their engagement? Do they have one? Do they write to one another? Do they keep finding excuses to be in one another’s company? Do they keep finding themselves alone in back drawing rooms?

Do they live with Mrs Thornton? How do they all get on?

Does something in their (very different) pasts come back to haunt them?

Does Frederick Hale return to England? What does he think of his sister’s husband? Does he impact Margaret and John’s life? Frederick is Margaret’s only living male relative, but they have only seen each other once in a decade – and illicitly at that, and an event that caused both Margaret and John great pain. Does Frederick have a say in her life? Does he think he does?

Do Margaret and John have a traditional marriage or a more equitable one in terms of ownership and management of the mill?

Is Thornton traumatised, or at least significantly affected, by the loss of the mill and his close brush with disaster? Does it colour his relationships with his mother, who he nearly failed, and his new wife who saved him, and/or his management of the mill once he owns it? Can he feel the ghost of his father’s failure and shame?

John and Hannah Thornton and Nicholas Higgins have tasted poverty – or at least true difficulty. Margaret might think she has, but she has not. Is there conflict there?

Victorian bankruptcy was a deliberate cruel, destructive, public, shameful process, designed to grind a man down to nothing at all. Does Thornton go through this, either during the novel or post-canon? Does he survive, or is he weighed down by grief and shame? He is so very conscious of his place in the world, his responsibilities to his peers, his workers, and his family. And a bankrupt man has pointedly failed in every one of these things – and it would all be so terribly, terribly public. (Very interested in stories about financial pressures/public shaming/private support.)

What if the riot goes wrong? Is one or both of them more seriously injured? Is there a disaster at the mill, or in the police response? Does the incident become even more infamous?

Disaster at the mill! Fire, accident, disease. Mills were a very, very dangerous place to work.

John and Margaret’s marriage, despite their love for one another, isn’t accepted in either the north or south. John is not the right sort of man in the eyes of Margaret’s southern friends and relatives – a manufacturer, not a gentleman, soiled by his engagement with trade and industry and direct work, and even more so because of his father’s past and suicide. Margaret is not acceptable to society in the north as an outsider who meddles where she’s not wanted, doesn’t understand their world, and represents an old world with no relevance to their new modern vision. She says the wrong thing, values the wrong things, has the wrong priorities in their eyes, took one of their most eligible men. Can they be happy in such circumstances? Society thinks, alternately, that they either married to avert scandal (which means scandal happened) or Thornton wants Margaret’s fortune (which reflects badly on him in the south and Margaret in the north).

5. The Song of Achilles – Madeline Miller

Achilles/Patroclus

I have just reread this for the first time in eight years, and I was just as emotionally wrecked at the end. It remains probably the most intense reading experience of my life, indisputably in the top three. I could talk for hours about the narrative voice, the imagery, the fucking ending because I knew absolutely nothing about Patroclus in 2016 and when my then-partner walked into the room just as, you know that bit, I literally threw something to get them to go away.

Could you please jab me sharply in the feels again, if you can? Whether that’s joy or angst or longing, the this and this and this motif, or… or anything. I’m in love and mourning; it won’t be hard.

This is not a fandom where I am at all bothered about smut but sprinkle it in if that’s your jam – just please note my DNW for porn without plot.

More with Briseis!

Fuck Pyrrhus with a really big stick – a narrative one if you like.

Post-canon… somehow?

Canon divergence – a happy ending? A return to Chiron? Growing old together?

In the Iliad, Achilles has a choice to gain glory and die young or live a long, uneventful obscure life – what if he had chosen the latter?

Missing scenes at Phthia, Pelion, the camp?

More/other/different prophecy?

[lothrilzul]

2022 brought loads of new interesting stuff and content in my life. I won’t talk about the war special military operation going on next door because I’m not here to be stressed out.

Behold, lots of exclamation marks

2022 started slowly with Fallout on eco burner. My love for Paladin Danse is forever and unrelenting.

Book of Boba Fett! Ming-Na! Loved her in ER, Universe and Stargate, and now as Fennec. Extra cameo at the end!

Obi-wan Kenobi! Ewan McGregor, stellar as ever. My first platonic love, still going strong. Shame he didn’t get enough recognition for his portrayal in the early 2000′s and I’m glad the fans could reach both him and Hayden at last. It was so good so see them in their roles again. The last episode hurt so much it was so good.

Then in August we decided to finally finish Divinity Original Sin 2 with my Hubbo. That meant starting a new character, because we forgot like everything. 

Then I learned there was romance in D:OS2. That lead to a quick spiral with Ifan ben-Mezd. I already liked his character since the first time we played, at first I picked him as follower, second time I mained him, and now I picked him again, but accidentally triggered a romance dialogue and rolled with it. I’m glad I did. So worth it. I was robbed 4 years of Wolf Husband content.

Then I finally caught up with House of the Dragon. I started binging it the week the last episode came out because there was no way I’d wait that many weeks. I loved the structure of the series and how it knew exactly how much to serve. The experience felt like I’m watching fanfic. (Obi-wan, too, btw.) I didn’t really like either side, both the greens and blacks have good and bad people. And I know how it ends. However I understand their problems and see why they do what they do. I’m still not a fan of either Daemon or Rhaenyra, but for some inexplicable reason I imprinted on damned Aemond. I didn’t want to like him. I also adore Halaena. And let’s not forget Harwin Strong, the daddest dad to ever dad. And Rhaenys. True queen.

My new debilitating love for Ifan naturally led to a cursory search on AO3 for Ifan content. It’s scarce. So I read what was up my alley and decided to trying my hand at writing one. I think it’s 50% done now at 20k-ish words.

Also, I found a multifandom fic with some Dragon Age characters along with Ifan. Namely Alistair and Blackwall. Then I got Blackwall recommended if I liked Ifan. (I don’t dare tag you friend but you know it’s you.)

So, I asked Hubbo to get me Dragon Age. I was dreading to start, the whole religious aspect was a bit much for me. But I decided to dredge through the intrigue for the romances and story. TBH I knew some elements of the story, because I watched Hubbo play a few years back, but I never really cared. I remembered Morrigan because he romanced her. I was also very much spoiled throughout the story so it was really time to get a coherent experience.

Naturally, I started with Origins. I was pre-conditioned to go for Alistair and I am glad I did. He’s such a dork. I love him so much. Couldn’t harden him or make him king. My Cousland stayed with him until other orders came from above. At that point, I knew I would do anything to keep Alistair safe. Even break my own heart later.

I decided to go for Zevran next game. Maybe Morrigan, once, but I need the perfect character for that.

Then, Awakening. I was glad I could keep my Warden from Origins, so Cousland rolled into her new arling only for me to be shocked in the first quest. Hubbo never played this. I didn’t knew Anders was there. Nor did I know who Justice was. I had second-hand Corypheus flashbacks from the Architect. Like, vibez.

I loved every Warden recruit! (except Oghren. I didn’t like him in Origins, but he was not much better here) Especially Nathaniel Howe! I grew fond of my arch enemy’s son rather quickly. He was the only one I maxed out I think because I ran out of game. Anders was close second tho. Shame I found Sigrun last.

Naturally, next step was Dragon Age 2. I burned through Kirkwall in a week. It was a blast. Heh. I wanted to romance Fenris, but I decided to go for Anders because then I would have an easier time in Here Lies the Abyss. Or so I thought. My purple Hawke grew on me. Her relationship with Anders grew on me. It was always supposed to be a slightly pro-mage playthrough, but at the end I decided to go all in. Hawke has had enough. And I knew I’d be in a pit of despair soon.

I also made sure to max Fenris out, because I need the best friend.

So, here comes Inquisition. I’m only, what, eight years late. I set out to romance Blackwall, because, recommendation. First experience was underwhelming, but he worked his way up quickly. I’m not finished with the game or the romance yet, I didn’t even travel to the Winter Palace yet. But I kissed the sad bear enough for him to say he could get used to it. Good, do that. (I’m not at his personal revelation part yet.)

I did Here Lies the Abyss. I was like, I need to tear this band-aid off ASAP. I saved Alistair and left Alma behind, as I previously planned, but man... I wouldn’t want to be near Anders when he hears about it. The game really served me with a below-the-belt-punch for that decision by Varric’s tale. I cried like 4 different times after it and it was only 5 days ago. I’m broken. It was supposed to be my expendable Hawke. It was supposed to be least resistance. 

Oh, yeah. Varric. I grew rather fond of my charismatic friend and I’m damn broken I made him hurt like that. 

Cassandra is my bestie. Dorian is close too. And I adore Crem. He’s the best.

Later playthroughs I want to see Cullen’s romance, and possibly either Solas or Cassandra. Or Dorian. But that’s like 5 games. Whole lotta time.

I think that’s it? Quite a list, I always thought there’s nothing new this year can bring, but here I am with like 5 new boyfriends and 2 new heartbreaks. At minimum.

[practically-an-x-man]

Hi! I thought I should return the favor with your writing ask meme. I'm not entirely sure what you have or haven't answered so far, so for one of your OCs and the fic they appear in, would you do Pen, Marker, Persistence of Memory, and Girl with a Pearl Earring? Thanks!

ahh thank you so much!! I really appreciate it! You'd be surprised at how many people reblog the ask game but don't actually send the reblog-courtesy ask, even when I send them an ask for it.

I think for this one I'm gonna go with Rae for this one, since she doesn't usually get the limelight for these ask games and things. Since you did the same for me, I'll give you a quick character bio to help you out:

Rachel ("Rae") Ayla McKinney: 25 years old, Scottish, female, largely straight but a little bi-leaning (this takes place in 1983 so there's not quite as much open self-reflection on gender and sexuality y'know? still some, but not as much). 5'8", brown hair and blue-gray eyes. Her mutation is to generate shields made of pearlescent silver energy, and she has translucent silver veins running across her skin that glow when she engages her ability. Works as a translator and knows 6 languages. Very headstrong, outgoing, strong sense of justice that usually sends her running into fights she's unprepared for. Fiercely stubborn and protective of those she loves, which is both a boon and a bane to her at times.

Pen: what's one minor moment your character regrets? A small mistake, but something they "can't erase"?

Honestly? I feel like Rae has very few regrets as a whole. She doesn't really believe in fate, but she does believe that what's done is done, and prefers to live with and adapt to her choices rather than sit and wonder what could've been. Even the moments that she might regret on their own usually lead to things she'd never take back in the future.

For example, she might regret making her presence known in the warehouse because it resulted in her having her mutation forcibly expressed (which was incredibly painful, and resulted in a complete shift in her life), but without her shields, there would be dozens of people that she wouldn't have saved (including herself and her romantic partner).

I do think she regrets not officially learning to fight earlier in her life. She ends up running into a lot of fights because she can't stand to see someone get unjustly hurt, but it doesn't always end well for her because she only learns to fight at age 24. I think she would've liked to take a few boxing or self defense classes when she was younger, and it maybe would've given her more success in those impromptu rescues.

Marker: what's one thing your character would never tattoo on their body, even if they were paid a million dollars for it?

I'm not sure how well her mutation-markings would handle a tattoo, actually. They're flush to the skin, but have a slightly different texture, and then there's the matter of them lighting up when she engages her ability. I think it would be a little like tattooing over a scar, I'm not sure it would turn out well. So any tattoo she gets would have to navigate around them, for one.

Honestly, I've been thinking hard about this, and I'm really not sure what else to say. I don't picture Rae as someone who wants tattoos at all really, and if she did, she'd certainly be the type to think long and hard about what she wants instead of rushing into it. Sorry I don't have more of an answer for this one.

Persistence of Memory: are there any moments in this work where a character's memory plays a strong role? Either an individual memory, or simply a character's ability to recall the past.

So, this is an X-Men fic, and it centers a lot around my boy Warren Worthington. Memory plays a huge role in his recovery after being made the Horseman of Death, since he ends up with some memory issues in the aftermath of it. Lost memories, lapses in memories (i.e. moments of confusion where he thinks it's pre-Apocalypse), and the telepathic use of calming memories when he has a night terror or something similar. I wouldn't say this is my fic most revolving around memory (I think Desert Song takes the cake for that one), but it certainly plays a prevalent role.

Girl With a Pearl Earring: are there any moments in this work where a character's clothing or accessories play a major role?

Oh, certainly. I don't know if there's anything plot-defining that relates to clothing or accessories, but there's definitely some notable details. Rae wears Warren's leather jacket during all the time he's captured/brainwashed by Apocalypse and they're apart (which is also when she has to learn how to adapt to her mutation), and it becomes almost like a talisman to her. She never lets it go, not until he's returned and recovered.

And then later, after things have calmed down, she receives a necklace from him as a birthday gift: a small steel feather on a leather chain. It really symbolizes what they've gone through over the course of the story, and it's also like she's holding a piece of him over her heart (it's not actually one of his feathers, just a necklace from a craft market, but the symbolism is there)

Finally, I haven't written this bit yet but I just really like this detail: Rae doesn't wear rings. Her sister is a nurse, and as a result she's heard far too many stories of people getting degloved by their rings in an accident. So when she gets married, she keeps her wedding ring on a chain around her neck instead of wearing it as a ring. Warren even has it placed on a chain for her when he proposes, since he knows she doesn't wear rings.

Thank you again!!! This was a lot of fun!! I really appreciate the ask!!

[markedfree-blog]

standing in front of a full length mirror he tried on marks cowboy hat. humming absently. ' not bad. but really anything looks good on me. '

——— amusement.  crooked  smile  lazily etched into pink  lips.  he  watches  john  fiddle  with  the  cowboy  hat  that,  along  with  his  flannel  and  pants,  has  been  stripped  off  his  person.  the  bubbly  liquid  from  earlier  courses  through  his  veins,  adding  a  dusty  taint  of  pink  to  freckled  cheeks,  fuelling  the  soundtrack  of   laughter.  

this…It’s  different  from  other  nights  spent  together, slower  and  more  intimate.  It’s  just  the  two  of  them.  mark’s  nose  wrinkles  in  distaste  as  he  finds  himself  thinking  he  would  enjoy  more  nights  LIKE  THIS.

(   ❛❛       not  bad.  but  really  anything  looks  good  on  me.         ❜❜    )

he  decides  to  simply  humour  the  lawyer,  position  at  the  head  of  the  bed  abandoned  in  favour  of  one  behind  john.   ❛❛   look  at  ya’,  cowboy.       ❜❜  

his  face  appears   in  the  full length  mirror  as  his  neck  cants  to  the  side.  A  look  of  pure  awe  is  mocked  up,  tongue  caught   between  teeth  to  stop  drunken  laughter.    ❛❛    y’know  what  they  say,  huh?     ❜❜

fingers  hook  through  john’s  belt  loop,   guiding  him  to  the  foot  of  the  bed  where  arms  wrap  around  the  thin  torso,  chin  lifting  to  rest  on  his  shoulder.    playful  laughter  finally  spilled,  warm  eyes  crinkling  as  john  heads  tilts  to  look  down  at  mark,  blue  eyes  shadowed  by  the  wide brim  of  the  hat.

one  hand  moves  from  the  cold  torso  to  lift  the brim  of  the  hat,  lips  just  hovering  over  john’s.

❛❛      save  a   ‘orse,  ride  a   cowboy  !      ❜❜

                     @gcdsaved  /  john  duncan  is  always  welcome  !

[bonny-kookoo]

💜 𝓝𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓰𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 💜

🫂 YOU CAN SUPPORT ME ON PATREON NOW 🫂

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[linksthoughtbrambles]

On Awakenings in The Legend of Zelda, Part 2: BotW Link

(If you missed part 1, you can read it here).

BotW Link is under far more social pressure than in any other Zelda game. Everyone knows he's the chosen hero. He's the Princess' Appointed Knight. He's been designated the Hylian Champion. He has a unique uniform marking him as such for all to see. He tries to live up to all of that.

It messes with him. I think there's a clue as to how in the screenshot.

In the first awakenings post, I explained some things that make me think Link could not hear either Hylia or Fi pre-Calamity. (In short: if he could, he could've helped Zelda).

I think the screenshot above is an even bigger clue. I also think the conversation leading to it reveals more about Link's situation than it seems to at first.

1.) Our Best Hope

At the start of the memory at Lake Kolomo, Zelda's talking about helping Daruk improve his ability to control Rudania. Then she says this:

Then, her entire demeanor changes. She holds the slate against her stomach, curls in on herself a bit, and has a distinctly not-happy look on her face. There's a pregnant pause, and she stops walking.

Why does she stop? Why does she look upset?

It's true Zelda's worried about awakening her own power. She doesn't consider herself the best hope to turn back the Calamity, and I'm sure that was what she intended to express when she said this, but...

That's not why I think she paused.

I think she suddenly realized she'd just said something awful to Link.

"These Divine Beasts... they're our best hope" - not you, Link.

Not you.

The camera focuses on Link for a few seconds after this, and Link blinks, which is pretty normal... but right before he does, he narrows his eyes, just a little. (It's a tiny reaction, but from this nearly-expressionless Link, even a small change is a big deal).

I think this is why Zelda then begins to talk about Link. She does not talk about herself. Here's the rest of her dialog in order:

Not just can you hear it. Can you hear it yet.

The fact that she asks if he can hear it yet suggests that at some earlier point in time, something made Zelda think he couldn't hear it. (It took me so long to pick up on this that I didn't even consider it for my own previous writings. Oh well).

Few have missed the tone with which Zelda says, "hero" at the end of this. It's doubtful at the very least. In Zelda's mind, Link has not proven himself to be a hero at this point.

Now, let's consider this from Link's point of view. - The prophecy that started the excavations of the Divine Beasts said the power to oppose the Calamity lay dormant beneath the ground. (The power's not with you, Link. You don't have it). - Zelda thinks the Divine Beasts are the best hope against the Calamity. (Not you, Link). - You haven't proven yourself to be a hero yet, Link.

As a Hylian might say, Dear Goddess. It would be absolutely no mystery why Link might doubt himself, even if he's fantastic at swordplay.

(I don't think Zelda meant to be hurtful, but I think the dialog in this memory is a prime example of constant low-level doubt signals Link's getting from people).

(Also - that prophecy was clearly false and intended to help the Calamity. I have more thoughts on that... for another post, though).

I'm going to pull two punchlines from all this stuff: - The signals from outside tell Link to doubt himself. - It's doubtful that Link could hear Fi.

(The first awakenings post has some other reasons for that 2nd one).

2.) Zelda's Diary and So Many Eyes

A good deal of Zelda's diary in BotW is about Link. It describes him as a silent knight, and she believes at first that his silence means he despises her. After the Yiga attack, she gets him to open up to her bit by bit. Here's something she discovers when he does.

Link has a difficult time telling Zelda about this, which means it bears a lot of weight. Link has strong emotions tied up in his answer (if he didn't, it would be easy to talk about).

Link says with so many eyes on him, he feels he has to stay strong (and silent). The fact of so many people watching him is making him change his behavior. He's worried about what they think.

The punchline: BotW Link is spending a lot of emotional energy on what other people think.

3.) To Stay Strong and to Silently Bear Any Burden

Let's break the strong and silent part down a little.

Link feels it necessary.

This is not what Link wants. It might not even be what he thinks is best. He just thinks it's necessary: something he must do.

He must stay strong.

Saying this means some part of him doesn't want to be strong all the time. He'd like a break. He doesn't think he's allowed to have one.

What kind of strength is he referring to? Does he mean physical strength to fight monsters (and the Calamity)? I don't think that's what he means, because he goes on to say:

He must silently bear any burden.

Saying this means (a) he is tempted not to stay silent and (b) the thing he wants to break his silence for is his burden. He wants to talk to someone about that weight-of-the-world on his shoulders, but he thinks he mustn't.

He thinks talking to someone about it would mean he's not staying strong.

This may seem obvious, but I'll point it out anyway: Link does feel burdened.

The punchline: Link thinks he can't tell anyone how he feels.

4.) Not Facing Fear

So, why does Link think he can't tell anyone how he feels about his burden?

I'd think if Link had mostly positive, optimistic-type thoughts about the coming Calamity, he'd have no problem telling people that. So... I tend to think the fact he feels he mustn't talk about it means the thoughts aren't so good. So, what could those not-good thoughts be? Two things seem very obvious. - Fear of losing the battle. - Fear of failing to protect the Princess.

There's a 3rd that's less obvious, but that I think is hinted at strongly: - Fear that if people knew how he felt, they would react badly. (He's worried about what they'd think. Why bother worrying about it if it doesn't matter? Link thinks it matters).

Link's not talking because he's afraid that if he does, the reaction will be bad. Exactly what bad reaction he expects isn't clear--maybe he doesn't want people to lose hope, or maybe he thinks people will hate on him, or maybe he thinks he'll cause a panic if it gets out that he's not 100% sure of himself. But regardless:

Link is scared... and he feels alone.

That's so important I'm going to say it again. Link is scared.

Is Link facing this fear?

No. He is not. The only way he could face what people would think of him is to break the silence--which he feels he mustn't do.

The only way he can face fear of losing against the Calamity is to fight it. And here... we run into a host of other problems for BotW Link (next section).

The punchline: BotW Link is having a courage problem pre-Calamity.

(The courage problem is primarily social in nature, but it still exists).

(Zelda... seems to have come so close to starting to help Link resolve this. Starting to open up to her was the first step toward facing the fear that caused his silence, but they ran out of time).

5.) BotW Link is Conforming to Societal Expectations Instead of Preparing Himself

What is BotW Link doing with his time pre-Calamity? We of course see some of what he does in memories, but we get an overarching statement in Daruk's "training journal":

We know Link did brave things pre-Calamity. He slew the Lynel of Ploymus mountain. He killed a mighty pile of monsters in Eldin while traveling with Zelda. He stopped a monster from backstabbing Daruk. He stopped Yiga footsoldiers from killing Zelda. There may be other things we don't hear about, but... the entry in Daruk's diary seems to indicate... not much.

So, rather than being the person at the front repelling every monster attack, rather than constantly pushing himself to become stronger, he is mostly a bodyguard. Vigilant and dedicated, yes, but also stagnant.

When Zelda shows Link the silent princess flower, she explains they're an endangered species, but all efforts to grow them domestically have failed--the princess can only thrive in the wild. This is a metaphor regarding Zelda's inability to unlock her power while living a sheltered, ordered, protected life, but I think this metaphor also applies to Link.

Link, who follows the king's orders, works a professional, orderly job, and follows Zelda in silence for a long time.

Link who is not out in the wilds slaughtering monsters left-and-right and simultaneously assuring himself (and everyone else!) that he is in fact a badass, and will be able to slay the Calamity when it comes.

The punchline: Link's conformity prevented him from preparing for the Calamity in more meaningful ways.

6.) A Fine Line Between Courage and Recklessness

When Link kills all those monsters in Eldin, Zelda tells him there's a fine line between courage and recklessness, and that as brave as Link is, he's not immortal.

This, I think, is yet another clue that something's up with Link.

In Skyward Sword, we learn that the courage of a true hero is meant to be the willingness to do anything, to make any sacrifice, to save someone else. NOT to prove yourself.

Proving yourself is a selfish act.

Saving someone is a selfless act. Saving someone while believing it's likely to kill you is the mark of a true hero. (This 2nd bit is why saving Zelda from the Yiga isn't quite enough--which I get to further down).

(Saving someone in order to prove yourself is still a selfish act--and this matters for yet another thing I'll talk about in a later post).

If Link was behaving recklessly (and considering the size of the dead monster pile, he may very well have been), that sounds more like having something to prove than trying to save Zelda. The best way to survive a fight is not to have one in the first place. I submit that Link was on the recklessness side of the line in this memory.

The punchline: Recklessness is a selfish act - not aligned with the courage of a true hero.

(Before anyone yells at me, I'm not saying BotW Link isn't brave. Of course he is! But the Triforce pieces have strict requirements in order to be able to wield them, and we know SS Link couldn't until he'd met them).

Collecting the punchlines:

a.)The signals from outside tell Link to doubt himself. b.) It's doubtful that Link could hear Fi. c.) BotW Link is spending a lot of emotional energy on what other people think. d.) Link thinks he can't tell anyone how he feels. e.) BotW Link is having a courage problem pre-Calamity. f.) Link's conformity prevented him from preparing for the Calamity in more meaningful ways. g.) Recklessness is a selfish act - not aligned with the courage of a true hero.

And also a punchline from the first awakenings post:

h.) There's a good chance Link couldn't hear Hylia or Fi pre-Calamity.

(Double-supporting Link not hearing them both from this post and that one).

This... does not sound like someone who is ready to wield the Triforce of Courage--not yet.

And I'm going to make one assumption that I think is totally reasonable: - I assume that in order to fully wield the power of the Master Sword and to hear Fi, Link has to be aligned with the Triforce of Courage. He doesn't have to have the Triforce. But he has to be in a state in which he could wield it. (This is a little different from Skyward Sword, but I think it's reasonable because in that game, Fi was a being that everyone could see! She'd come out of the sword and other people, such as Headmaster Gaepora and the robot Scrapper, could see her! That doesn't happen anymore in other games, and I think it's because Fi 'goes to sleep' at the end of Skyward Sword - so interacting with her requires more effort--and magic--from the sword's wielder).

Punchlines b and h would be a result of the others, meaning Link's not in full alignment yet pre-Calamity--not until he entirely selflessly steps between Zelda and that guardian on Blatchery Plain, knowing that shot will kill him. That is a selfless act demonstrating the courage of a true hero, and would have put him in complete alignment. (Just like it aligned Zelda right afterward).

Link's always been strong on courage when facing physical danger. In BotW, social courage challenges him. In my opinion, this is great character development for Link and an interesting social commentary on how forcing people into roles dictated by society can be harmful. (I think.. maybe that's for another post, too).

I think Link was so wound up over what people were thinking and so unwilling to face that fear it put him further from the courage of a true hero than any of the other Links had ever been. I suspect if BotW Link had never been a knight and no one had any idea what the sword on his back was, he'd have done far better--but if he had, ultimately he wouldn't have grown as much as a person.

I am not knocking BotW Link. He had the deck heavily stacked against him.

This one's more nebulous.

This post is dealing with feelings and sometimes inactions rather than the first one which was based on pre-existing lore and entirely solid actions. I'd say everything in this post is less cut and dry, and there's more than one way to interpret it. But.. this is how I do! [And it's therefore how it works in my fanfic].

There's still more, but this is already...so... long.

Read Previous: On Awakenings in The Legend of Zelda

Read Next: On Awakenings in The Legend of Zelda, Part 3: Can’t Fi Just Talk?

[Ultimately, I'm writing these because of my fanfics and people asking stuff about why things happen the way they do in them.]