#i am putting absolutely none of my tags on this. rolls away

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

fun fact: I actually have not 1, not 2, but 3 dedicated playlists of OST-style music for my various Guild Wars 2 AUs, and... that, of all ways, is the closest I get to "outlining" my stories. every sequence has a dedicated track that I picked out according to what I'd imagine playing in-game if it was an actual playable story arc in Guild Wars 2.

Regrowth's playlist has 59 songs and Flourish has 28.

then the Tideturners have one too, with a grand total of 22.

......... I don't have a problem,

[interstellarflare]

A Cinderella Story || Anthony Bridgerton

-PART TWO-

Summary: Have courage, and be kind. Words that you tried to live by ever since the passing of your parents. Though your step-mother and step-sisters did everything in their power to hide you and your status away from the rest of the Ton, you never expected to catch the eye of Viscount Anthony Bridgerton himself.

Authors Note: This is my first Bridgerton series! I had an absolute ball writing this, and I hope you enjoy it! There is a tag list open if anyone wishes to be kept updated for future parts. I would also like to apologise for the previous tag list not working! It has been fixed now! Gif by @fifty5hades

|PART ONE|

The horses had been restless ever since you had arrived in town. Lady Worthington, Elizabeth and Mary had been traversing between multiple shops for hours now, the three of them making multiple trips back to stuff every inch of the carriage full of boxes and bags that contained every expensive item of clothing imaginable.

The horses flinched every time the carriage doors slammed closed, their heads lifting upward as they were startled by the harsh sound. But after a few gentle pats and sweetly whispered words, the two black geldings calmed down and went back to their idling. You released a deep sigh, gently ruffling the horses’ mane as you people watched. Lords and Lady’s strolled by, some of them sneering at your dirty and slightly big dress, but you didn’t mind. You never had minded.

Sure, these clothes weren’t kept in line with their usual standard upkeep, but it was all that you had. Clothes were better than none at all. You had been so caught up tending to the horses, that you hadn’t noticed the figure creeping up behind you along the cobblestones. You jumped as the culprit tickled your sides, releasing a loud shriek as you spun around to meet the face of a young girl you knew all too well.

“Oh god, Eloise! Don’t do that!” You cried, the young Bridgerton cackling at your fright. She smiled, lightly punching your shoulder as she cried “Oh come on, this is the first time I have seen you in weeks! Does that wicked woman lock you up in a tower or something?”

“She might as well…” You replied sharply, gripping the harness of the horse closest to you “I haven’t seen the sun in days.”

“Don’t you joke about that, you know I will actually have my brothers come and save you from that hell” Eloise teased, pointing her finger at you with a stern expression. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as a small yet grateful smile graced your lips.

Eloise Bridgerton, the fifth eldest in the Bridgerton family, had figured out who you were the first moment she had met you. She was smart and witty, and had instantly put two and two together, and had no problem reminding you whenever she ran into you on the street.

The daughter of one of the most prominent Lords on the ton, suddenly vanishes after her father’s unfortunate and sudden death, running away due to the grief and sadness at the loss of her parents. Then not two days later, a new maid is hired. The ton wasn’t the biggest fan of the Worthington family, according to Eloise. The horror stories she had heard from Daphne and her brothers were more or less disturbing to say the least. She had never met your stepsisters, and prayed that she never would, but of course with the latest season coming up, that might be a little hard.

You turned to face Eloise fully, leaning back slightly as the horse’s head chased after your attention, obscuring your view slightly. “And just what are you doing in town? I thought you would have been at home preparing for Lady Danbury’s ball this evening?”

Eloise groaned loudly, slumping against the side of the carriage with a loud thump. You laughed softly at her behaviour, watching as she rolled her eyes and turned her gaze skyward. “Though I so wish that I could stay at home and read the night away, my mother has made it clear that I am to find something nice to wear for this evening. I am being chaperoned by my brother-“

“Oh?” You asked teasingly, chuckling at the glare that formed on her face “and which brother do you have the pleasure of accompanying you tonight?”

“Oh, you are so funny…” Eloise grumbled, crossing her arms over her front with a huff “…I am being chaperoned right now! ‘So that I may not run away’, according to Anthony.”

Your laughter echoed throughout the street, as Eloise rushed forward and begged you to keep quiet. You held your stomach and wiped a stray tear from your eye, releasing the horse’s harness as you did so. “Oh Eloise, I will say I do not envy you-“

“Oh but I envy you! But remember you used to be a part of this life”

“The only ball I went to was when I was a child, and even then, I don’t remember that much of it”.

Eloise scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “To be blessed with such fortune as you have, though I suppose being related to Lady Worthington can be accustomed to being related to a toad-“

“Shhhhhhh!” You hushed, pressing a finger to your lips as Eloise smirked “Don’t say such things out loud! They could be back any minute-“

“Oh, I don’t care much. That woman is despicable-“

You watched her eyes widen, her words dying out as a small squeak replaced her sentence. Focused on the space behind you, you turned quickly and froze, suddenly feeling rather small and very aware of your current dress.

Anthony Bridgerton, the Viscount himself stood before you. He stood tall, hands clasped together behind his back as his deep brown eyes flickered between the two of you. You suddenly felt self-conscious the longer he stared at you, but you were the first to look away as you bowed your head, and once again returned to tending the horses.

“Must you always be difficult, dear sister” The Viscount spoke sarcastically, a small huff escaping him as he clenched his jaw in annoyance. You heard Eloise groan, “Must you always insist on stopping and chatting with every Lord you see? Surely it gets rather tiring”.

“It is polite, Eloise…” he spoke through gritted teeth “need I remind you that your prospects this season rely on me helping you to find a suitable husband-“

“Ah yes, because Daphne’s season went so unbelievably well. Tell me dear brother, how was it that Lord Berbrooke became our dear sister’s only suitor for some time, hm? Who, pray tell, was responsible for that match, until our lovely Daphne married the Duke of Hastings?”

The scowl that formed on the Viscount’s face caused an unpleasant shiver to run down your spine, but you couldn’t help but chuckle softly as Eloise stuck out her tongue in retaliation to her brother’s disapproving look.

You turned your gaze upward and met the Viscount’s eyes. He was looking you over, his scowl turning into a gentle smile as he sighed heavily. “You’ll have to forgive my sister, unfortunately she seems to forget her manners when in public” he spoke informatively, sneering at Eloise as she rolled her eyes and mumbled under her breath.

You shrugged your shoulders, “There’s nothing to forgive, my Lord. I am well acquainted with your sister’s antics I’m afraid-“

“Don’t you dare take his side Y/n!” Eloise screamed, stomping her foot like and annoyed child. You laughed a reply, noticing the man beside you chuckling alongside you “We both know you’re not the biggest fan of society Eloise, I am simply stating fact-“

“I never thought you would betray me like this…how could you” She spoke softly, clutching her chest in mock-hurt as she dramatically slid down the side of the carriage, coming to rest on the step below the door. You heard the Viscount laugh, “Perhaps Miss Y/n here as a point. You will have to be on your best behaviour tonight, so I suggest that perhaps you should start practicing your etiquette before then-“

“You are both the worst” Eloise grumbled, standing up from the carriage step and slowly walking towards the store front before her. “If anyone needs me, I will be inside. The two of you can gossip about me at your own leisure while I suffer numerous dress-fittings inside” She whined, opening the door and disappearing inside.

You once again turned your attention back to the Viscount, looking up at him shyly as you fiddled with your hands in front of you. “Your sister does mean well, you know. Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but I am lucky to have a friend like her, especially at my status.”

He smiled at your words, his eyes meeting yours and softening on your form. You felt nervous under his gaze, with how he was looking at you with such interest. No Lord had ever looked at you like this, nor even recognised your presence. It was nice.

“I know she has the best intentions, yet it is the way that she goes about them that sometimes hinders her reputation” He replied, sighing heavily as he watched you intently for your reply. You shrugged “Well, she is a part of one of the most famous and revered families on the ton, she is constantly under the public’s watchful eye. What is the harm of having some freedoms here and there?”.

Your question was innocent enough, but you noticed the Viscount’s brow furrow as he thought on your words. His gaze fell to the cobblestones in contemplation, before returning to your figure with a mischievous smile. “You certainly know a lot of the ton. Tell me, how do you know so much?”.

Your eyes widened and a small blush crept onto your cheeks as you stuttered, “W-Well, Lady Worthington and her daughters discuss these sorts of matters quite openly-“

“Wait, Lady Worthington?” he asked, his eyes suddenly wide with what you could only assume was fear. You eyed the Viscount suspiciously, tilting your head to the side as you spoke. “Yes?...What of them?”

“Oh no, nothing. It has only now just dawned on me that you are the same Y/n that Colin mentioned when he returned from the Worthington household after calling on Miss Elizabeth, and the same Y/n that Eloise calls a friend. I feel rather stupid for not realising it until now.”

A smile formed on your lips as you dismissed his revelation, “Well, I’m not the most memorable person around, I am merely a maid-“

“A maid who has the ear of my sister…and now mine I suppose.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, your cheeks once again flushing a bright red as you turned to face him. “You’re…you’re not ashamed to be speaking so openly with me?” you asked him softly, your eyes wide with shock as you waited anxiously for his reply.

The Viscount shook his head, lightly lifting his shoulders as he hummed. “Should I be? Anyone who works for Lady Worthington has my sympathies.”

Perhaps he would be ashamed, if he knew who you really were.

You were left speechless, unsure of how to reply to his words as your mouth fell open and closed. Before you could think of a reply, the store door burst open to reveal Eloise, who now looked incredibly pale and distraught. Both you and the Viscount shared a look of confusion.

“Are you alright Eloise?” You asked cautiously. She looked between you and her brother, breathing deeply in a panic.

“My dear brother, if you wish to keep your marriage prospects hidden until the ball tonight…I suggest we run” Eloise replied breathlessly, rushing over to her brother and taking his arm in hers.

“What are you talking about-“

“Oh for the love of god, Lady Worthington and her daughters are inside! We should run, now!”

Your eyes met Eloise’s, and then those of her brother who were just as wide, perhaps even more terrified. Without thinking, your shoved both Eloise and the Viscount down the street, laughing as you did so. “Go! Don’t become trapped as I have!”

The Viscount’s laughter caused your heart to soar, as he waved a quick goodbye while Eloise dragged him away and around the corner, right on time as Lady Worthington, Mary and Elizabeth stormed out of the store in a huff. You returned to stand by the horses, trying desperately to contain your laughter as the three of them stumbled towards the carriage, boxes in hand, and struggling to squeeze into the already overstuffed carriage.

“I suppose you found everything you were after, my lady?” You replied quickly, pressing your lips together to stop yourself from chuckling, “should we perhaps return home?”

Lady Worthington’s icy gaze settled on your form, causing a shiver to run down your spine. “Did I tell you to speak? I think not. Just go, we have a lot to do before the ball.”

Tag List:

@infectedbypedropascal @erysione @spookystitchery @scoopsahoyspidey

@misscaller06 @slayqueenizzy @everythingmarveltopgun @idek-what-to-put

@everythingbagel00 @thecraziestcrayon @bollzinurmouth @reejero

@pinkcat246 @ambitions-like-ribbons @jackierose902109 @ladybirdbeetle7

@sweetsourpus @in-deans-arms @blackthorngirl @kee-0-kee

@sometimesminsan @prawntoastsworld @scoopsahoyspidey @darkness-falls-xo

@reallysparklychaos @hottie-bishop-belova @riptidewaters @jay-being-weird

@khhhhjj @golden-girasol @linnygirl09 @xoxonoire @stanmixtapes

@freyagallileaevans @gracielou0518 @judig92 @rafaaoli @queenslandlover-93

@esquivelbianca @fanfictioncafe @hjgdhghoe @sillynilly27

@this-gave-pidgeon-further-shock

[fkinkindagauche]

Slutty Little Mouse

For @steddiesmuttyseptember week 3 prompt "sneaking around".

Rating: Explicit | WC: 1376 | CW: none | Tags: blow jobs, gags

Steve was trying so hard to fall asleep. He’d gone through his nightly routine, which had become something like a religious ritual at this point - turn off the TV by 9pm, wash his face and brush his teeth, go through a series of stretches and calisthenics, then sit quietly in his room for an hour reading before climbing into bed and shutting his eyes. Some nights it worked. Most nights it didn’t. 

He had tried to keep his eyes shut, forcing himself into sleep, but at some point he had opened them and was now staring at the ceiling, thinking. You’d think that he would be reliving memories of torture at the hands of Russians or horrible extradimensional monsters, but he wasn’t. He was thinking about how his life had effectively stalled - a 20 year old still living with his parents, working at Family Video with no immediate plans to branch out beyond that. 

He sighed, shifting from his back to his side, barely muffling a scream when he saw a figure looming in his window. The figure tapped a few times, and Steve gradually made out the wild hair and excited smile of Eddie Munson. 

Steve scrambled out of his bed and over to the window, pulling it open. Eddie was standing precariously on the roof of the Harringtons’ garage. 

“What are you doing here?” Steve hissed. “My parents are, like, right down the hall!”

Eddie grabbed Steve’s face in his hands and planted a wet kiss on his lips. “Came to keep you company,” he said, too loudly, and Steve shushed him while blushing. 

“Sorry,” Eddie whispered, looking not sorry at all. 

“How’d you know I wouldn’t be asleep?” 

Eddie gave him a disappointed look, like Steve was being deliberately obtuse. “You can never sleep, Stevie.” 

Steve huffed, and looked past Eddie at the street below.

“Get inside, someone’s gonna see you,” he said, yanking on Eddie’s arm. Eddie spilled in through the window, making more noise than Steve would have liked.

“How’d you even get up on the roof?” Steve whispered once Eddie had righted himself. 

“Climbed the trash cans. I’m very athletic.”

Steve snorted. “I can’t believe you didn’t knock them over and wake up the whole neighborhood.”

Eddie put a hand to his chest in mock affront. “Baby, you wound me.” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why you came over,” he whispered. “We can barely even talk with my parents right there.”

“We don’t need to talk,” Eddie said, wiggling his eyebrows, and letting his eyes rake down Steve’s body. Steve was in only his boxers, chest bare. 

“We definitely can’t do anything else,” Steve replied.

“You know what always makes you fall asleep?” 

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. He could see where this was going, but decided to play along. “No, Eddie, what?”

Eddie stepped toward him, getting in his space.

"When I blow you and then we cuddle."

"I think I’m constitutionally incapable of letting you blow me with my parents right down the hall. You know how loud I am," Steve said, pleading. 

"I do know," Eddie said, stepping closer to Steve. "And I love it. Every single sound I wring out of you should win a fucking Grammy. But I'm sure you can be quiet."

Steve leaned into Eddie's warmth, chronically touch-starved. "I'm not sure I can be quiet." 

Eddie reached for his back pocket, pulling out his black bandana. "We could keep you quiet," he suggested, and Steve shivered, feeling his cock start to fill out. The idea of being gagged by Eddie was more arousing than he would have anticipated.

“So you came over here just to blow me to sleep?” Steve asked, trying to shift the focus away from his reaction to the gag.

“Yes, absolutely,” Eddie replied. “You need your beauty sleep.”

Steve was a weak man. He turned and walked back over to his bed. It was a twin, and not really big enough for two adult men, but he and Eddie liked to latch onto each other like two demented starfish so space wasn’t much of an issue. 

“Take off your jacket and jeans,” Steve said. 

Eddie saluted him. “Yes, sir.” He peeled off his jeans and threw his jacket onto the floor, following Steve over to the bed. Steve got under the covers and held them up for Eddie to follow.

Eddie got under the covers, putting the bandana on the bedside table, and instantly moved into Steve’s space, draping his whole body over Steve’s and shoving his face into Steve’s neck to kiss him there.

Steve laughed and tried to push him away. “That tickles,” he whispered, trying not to laugh too loudly. Eddie pushed himself up on his elbows and smiled down at Steve, putting those mind-altering dimples on full display. Steve leaned forward to kiss him, and Eddie reciprocated, pushing Steve back down onto the bed. He licked at Steve’s lips and Steve happily opened them, tangling his tongue with Eddie’s. 

Eddie pressed his hips down into Steve and Steve could feel his hard cock pressed against his thigh. He let out a breathy little moan as Eddie slid a thigh in between his legs, pressing it up into Steve’s cock.

“You gonna need the gag already, baby?” Eddie asked, smirking, and Steve moaned again at the thought of the gag. “Oh, you like that,” Eddie said, delighted. He reached over to the bedside table and picked up the bandana. “Open up?” Eddie stuffed the bandana in his mouth roughly, and Steve bucked his hips up into Eddie’s thigh.

“Good boy,” Eddie said, kissing Steve’s cheek. Steve tried to moan at the praise, but it was thankfully muffled now. “That’s better,” Eddie said. “Quiet as a slutty little mouse.” Steve rolled his eyes.

Eddie started to kiss down his body, spending a few minutes licking and sucking over his pecs and nipples, which always made Steve outrageously horny. Eddie eventually kept moving south, trailing kisses over Steve’s abdomen. When he got to the waistband of Steve’s boxers he pulled them down, freeing Steve’s cock.

Eddie pressed a kiss onto the head of his cock, sticking his tongue out to lick up the precum at his slit, then moving away to kiss his inner thighs. Steve let out a muffled whine and shifted his hips. Eddie took pity on him and moved back to Steve’s cock, sucking the head into his mouth.

He played with the head of Steve’s cock for a few moments, running his tongue around the glans, sucking lightly, before moving his mouth further down his shaft. He took Steve in most of the way, his hand holding the base of Steve’s cock, and started to bob his head gently up and down. Steve was moaning with abandon now, very glad to have the bandana in his mouth muffling all the noise. 

Eddie moved his hand away and took Steve into his throat, swallowing against his gag reflex to fit Steve all the way. Steve started to thrust up into Eddie’s mouth in time with Eddie’s movements, and felt his orgasm start to build. Eddie could feel it, too, pulling off of Steve for a moment to look up and say, “Come in my mouth, baby.”

That was all it took; the moment Eddie got Steve back in his mouth he was coming, his normally loud cries muffled behind the bandana. Eddie swallowed all of his cum, gently working Steve’s dick with his hand until he was spent. 

He moved up Steve’s body and reached out to pull the bandana from Steve’s mouth. “Sleepy now, darling?” Eddie asked. 

Steve nodded, then noticed Eddie’s cock still hard against his thigh. “What ‘bout you?” he asked, voice already heavy with oncoming sleep. Eddie shifted off of Steve, laying on his side and wrapping an arm around his waist. “I’m fine. You just go to sleep,” Eddie said, kissing Steve’s temple. 

If Steve hadn’t been so exhausted, he would have put up a fight, but he could finally feel himself starting to sink into blissful darkness. He turned over onto his side with his back against Eddie’s chest, letting Eddie spoon him.

“Love you, Eds,” he said sleepily. 

“Love you, too, mouse,” Eddie replied, and Steve drifted off to sleep.

[football-and-fanfics]

Decorated - Mason Mount

Who: Mason Mount Prompt: decorating the Christmas tree together (with a romantic twist). Requested by: as voted for by you! Warnings: none

Setting up and decorating the Christmas tree was traditionally something you and Mason did together. But because of both your busy schedules, this year you only got round to it a few days before Christmas.

"I'm glad we still decided to do this together," you said happily as you filled the Christmas tree's branches with baubles. You were clad in some over the top Christmas jumper and and Elf's hat balancing on your head. "Yeah, so am I." Mason wrapped his arms around you from behind, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. He, too, wore a ghastly Christmas jumper and had a Santa's hat on. "Even though it's kind of late this year, I love we didn't skip it," he added. You nodded, feeling his hair brush against your neck. "Absolutely."

Mason released his embrace around you to pick up a string of Christmas lights. "And how do these get so tangled up every time." He held up the big tangle of lights, slowly shaking his head. "It doesn't matter how neatly you put them away, next year it somehow always ends up looking like carnage."

Mason sat down on the floor with a sigh, setting to work on untangling the lights. You watched him for a few seconds. A soft chuckle escaped you as you saw his concentrated face and focus on the knots in the string of lights.

"What's this?" You had turned your attention back to the baubles, and suddenly spotted a bauble in the box you had never seen before. "Oh, I found it, and thought it would be nice to hang it in the tree as well." Mason shrugged nonchalantly, but you couldn't help but notice the blush creeping up on his cheeks and how he suddenly seemed to avoid to look at you.

"What's so special about this bauble?" You asked a little suspiciously. At first glance it didn't look all that unique, until you noticed the bauble could open. You gently pulled the two halves apart, and what you saw there took all your breath away.

"Guess you found out what's so special about it, huh?" That confident smirk was back on Mason's face, but the nervousness was also clearly heard in his voice. You looked from the diamond ring inside the bauble to Mason, completely astounded.

"I've been wanting to do this for a long time." Mason slowly rose to his feet and took your hands in his. "I wanted the occasion to be special, but also something that was just us." "Oh..." You gasped, tears now welling up in your eyes as you realized what he was about to do.

"Ever since I met you, my life has been so much more beautiful," Mason continued, "we've been through highs and lows together, but those only made me realize one thing: how much I love you." You smiled through a sob. Hearing these words set a fire of love alight in your chest.

Mason had to swallow back tears of his own before he could continue. "I realized I don't want to spend another day of my life without you, and I hope you feel the same way." "I do, I do!" You confirmed without hesitation.

Mason took a deep, trembling breath, and you knew he was going for the big question. "So..." He hesitated nervously, before slowly going down on one knee in front of you. "Would you do me the greatest honor of becoming my wife? Will you marry me?" Another sob escaped you upon actually hearing that question being asked to you, even though the answer was a no-brainer.

"Yes!" You exclaimed happily, fresh tears of joy rolling down your cheeks. "Oh, my god!" Mason gasped, overcome with joy as well, as he quickly clambered to his feet. He cupped your face in his hands and kissed you long and lovingly, sealing your engagement.

Tags: @stonesyyyy, @footballffbarbiex, @football1921, @laurasstufff1, @juliabrghs, @ella33, @nightlockcornucopia, @hbstre

Mason Mount masterlist | General masterlist | Add me to the tags list

[lovelytaes-blog]

reach the top [intro: summer] - jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader; (brief) jin x reader

synopsis: when your volleyball team gets cut and your brother, who is recently enrolled to your rivalry school, needs you to help him attend his classes while he continues to pursue his rap career; while you try keeping your volleyball dream alive, by serving sweet revenge on those that didn't believe in you.

genre: crack, fluff, angst; strangers to lovers/roommates to lovers; university au.

word count: ~0.5k

warning(s): none.

taglist: open

notes: hi all! here is a very short intro to the series, there's not much here, but a very small introduction to some of the characters. I hope you enjoy this little tidbit - I still don't have a release date for this one as I am still working on it - but do not fret, it shall be dropping as soon as I finish! until then, please enjoy ((:

══════ ∘◦❀◦∘ ══════

↳ main masterlist

↳ series masterlist

You had woken up to a beautiful summer glow, the sky was filled with orange and yellow hues, with fluffy clouds gently rolling in the warm breeze. You had changed quickly into your practice gear, tossing your shin pads into your bag, before making your way downstairs to grab your smoothie before heading out to school.

You greeted your mother good morning, her usual scolding face when you tell her that you’ll be home late because of volleyball practice. Her snarky comments, that you’ve grown accustomed to, saying how “young women shouldn’t be bruising their beautiful skin by bumping a ball over a net” and “young women shouldn’t be as muscular as a man!” or “when I had twins I didn’t think you both would be into such thing.”, didn’t bother you anymore, as you smiled and walked out of the house.

It was nearing the end of summer and you had filled your time with working and playing round after round of volleyball with your school’s men’s team.

In fact, you were on your way there now.

As you parked in your regular spot at school, you sped your way through the halls towards the gym. The comforting sound of volleyballs hitting the floor and shouts of praises were echoing through the school.

“Jagiya!”

The tall man comes barreling towards you with a bright smile, opening his arms to envelope you in a warm, but sweaty, embrace.

Your nose scrunches smiling up at him, “Hello, you’re all so early!”

“Maybe if you woke up earlier, you wouldn’t be late.”

Your face scowls at a particular player – your least favorite of the bunch. He rolled his eyes at you before throwing up a ball to serve.

The man holding you turns you away to give you a sheepish smile, leaning down to capture your lips in a quick kiss.

Once he lets you go, you throw your bag to the ground, quickly putting on your shin pads and started for the court.

══════ ∘◦❀◦∘ ══════

“You’re honestly way too good.”

The same man who embraced you says, chugging down some water.

“Jin,” You laugh, “you’re just saying that because I’m your girlfriend.”

“Absolutely not,” Jin says smacking his lips, “I wouldn’t say you’re incredible and that you’re guaranteed to get full endorsements from all the big brands to just anyone!” He turns towards you, “I promise you, this year, you’re going to get an amazing offer. The fact that you’re the best player the school has ever seen and having the highest grades in her class is enough to prove that you’re a stellar student-athlete; you being my girlfriend is just a bonus that I can flaunt.”

You leaned into kiss him sweetly, whispering a thank you.

You wished that in that moment, you knew better than to believe him.

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taglist: @parkinglot-nights, @kissyfacekoo, @sunwooful, @coralmusicblaze, @dirarajgor, @jjkw-7, @jnk-pop (those in bold I couldn't tag!)

[littlesubbyflower]

Mine - E.M.

Summary : Your boyfriend Eddie Munson gets super jealous of anyone who talks to you, including your best friend Steve Harrington. In his jealous rage, your bratty mouth gets you put in your place, but you don’t really mind. 

1.8k

Pairing :: Fem Reader x Eddie Munson 

18+ MINORS DNI • I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING COPIED, TRANSLATED, OR POSTED ANYWHERE ELSE 

Warnings: Jealous Eddie, Bratty reader, Smut, Choking, Cunnilingus (female receiving) Fingering, Begging, Slight D/s dynamic? Orgasm Denial, P-in-V, Unprotected Sex (wrap it up, y’all. don’t try this at home!) 

A/N : Okay I've been sitting on this for like five weeks and have rewritten this a thousand times. Thank you @myobmaya for dealing with me with this, ily so much 💖💖

— 🌻 — — 🌻 — — 🌻 —

“Eddie, you are so dramatic right now! Steve was not flirting with me!” You nearly shout once inside of your boyfriend’s van. 

“Sweetheart, I’m telling you, he was undressing you with his eyes!” He says, gritting his teeth. “I know what I saw.” 

He starts the van and pulls out of the diner parking lot. It was Thursday, so you had your weekly meet up with Steve and Robin at the diner. Eddie had tagged along a few times, but you had made up your mind that tonight was the last time he was coming along. 

Any comment Steve had made whether it was directed at you or not, Eddie snapped at Steve. He told him to not talk to you that way, that you didn’t need to be showered in his compliments, and that you sure as hell didn’t need Steve Harrington’s reassurance or permission for anything. 

“Eddie, you were so rude! You embarrassed me! None of that was okay! Steve is my best friend, you know that, HE knows that! There is absolutely no reason for you to act this way!” You throw your hands up in exasperation. 

“He was flirting with you while I was sitting right there!” 

“ASKING ME WHAT COLOR PROM DRESS I WAS THINKING ON GETTING WAS NOT FLIRTING, EDWARD!” You shout. Eddie flinches from the sudden increase in volume and the fact that you just called him Edward. 

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” he mutters under his breath, reaching over and turning the dial on the radio to increase the volume. You stare at him wide eyed before shaking your head and turning to look out the passenger window. 

The ride back to his trailer is silent except for the radio blaring whatever tape was being played. Wayne had already left for work, so it would only be the two of you until his return in the morning. Eddie parks the van and kills the engine. You unbuckle your seatbelt and storm out of the van and slam the door. 

“You’re unbelievable, Edward.” rolling your eyes and pushing past him when he tries to stop you before going into the trailer.

“Oh, I'm the one who’s unbelievable, Princess?” He says, coming into the trailer and closing the door. You’re walking to his room in hopes of getting some space, but Eddie follows you into his room.

“No no! You don’t get to flip this, Eddie!” You take a step closer to him and jab your finger in his chest. “You do not get to come in, and crash my weekly thing with Steve and Robin!” You jab him again. “You do NOT get to embarrass me like that!” 

“Watch it.” he grabs your wrist and lowers it

“No, YOU watch it!” Another jab. “I am so sick of you doin-”

Eddie firmly grabs your chin with his other hand and forces you to look at him.

“I said, watch it, princess.” Brown eyes blown out with lust stare back at you. 

“You seriously cannot be turned on by this right now!” 

Eddie leans down and whispers in your ear. “Baby, you know how I get when you start talking back.” he lets go of your chin and softly trails his hand down to your neck and gently squeezes. You gasp and squeeze your thighs together.

“I—” you try to say something before you’re cut off. 

“Ah, ah, I think you’ve done enough talking.” He says, walking you backwards until your legs hit the edge of his bed. Eddie crashes his lips to yours in a bruising kiss before pulling away to pull your sweatshirt over your head. 

“Nothing under this? Why am I not surprised?” He tuts. You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. “ ’s like you knew that you were going to be put in your place today.” Eddie says, smirking. He dips his head down, taking one of your nipples into his mouth while rolling the other in between his fingers, after a few moments, he switches. When he’s done with your nipples, he gently pushes you down onto the bed and you squeal when your back comes into contact with the cold bed sheets. Propping yourself up on your elbows, Eddie kneels down in front of you, hooking his arms around your legs to pull you as close to the edge of the bed as possible. He loops his fingers into your shorts and pulls them down your legs, discarding them behind him. He nearly drools at the sight of your core, clad in light lace panties. 

He takes one leg and starts his slow trail of kisses from your ankle to your knee, stopping and repeating with your other leg. 

“Hmm! Tickles!” You gasp out. “Please baby..” bucking your hips in hopes he gets the message. “Need you so bad, Eds.” 

He ignores your plea, kissing his way up your thigh. Just when he’s about to kiss your clit, he pulls back and kisses your other thigh. You whine and wiggle your hips. 

“Patience is a virtue, princess.” He says while taking a finger and running it up your clothed cunt, stopping at your clit, moving his finger in a nice slow circle, before trailing his finger back down. 

“Please! I’ll do anything! Promise!” You rush out, throwing your head back and bucking your hips once again. “please baby..” you beg. Eddie rips the fabric before discarding it somewhere behind him, mumbling something along the lines of ‘I’ll get you more’ before placing an open mouth kiss to your clit. Your thighs instinctively start to close and he’s forcing them back open before using his tongue to lick a bold stripe up your slit. 

“Always so sweet for me.” Eddie says, and you moan at his praise. He wraps his lips around the sensitive nub, causing you to moan out again. He groans against you, bringing his fingers up and down your core, gathering your slick before gently easing two fingers in, instantly curling them against your sweet spot. You gasp loudly and you grab a handful of his hair. 

“Fuck, Eddie!”  you cry out, using the leverage from his hair to grind yourself onto his face. The more the metal head curls his fingers and sucks on your clit, the tighter the coil in your stomach becomes. Your thighs begin shaking and you’re bucking your hips up more, your rhythm becoming shaky and unstable, signaling that you’re close. Eddie smirks against your pussy and pulls away, slowly pulling his fingers out of you. You whine at the empty feeling and clench around nothing. 

“No, you don’t get to cum just yet.” Eddie says before kissing your clit. 

“You are way too overdressed.” sitting up and working on Eddie’s belt once he stands. Eddie pulls his shirt off and pushes his jeans and boxers down his legs. You reach your hand out to pump his hard cock, but he grabs your hand and pushes it away. 

“As much as I would love for you to suck me off princess, there’s just no fucking time.” He pushes you back down and climbs over you, balancing on one arm as he rubs himself up and down your folds, before he pushes all the way in with a groan. You moan loudly as he completely bottoms out. 

“Fuck,” he pulls out, “you’re” he snaps his hips, “so. fucking. tight.”  he says, thrusting in and out of you. “So wet for me.” 

Giving you little time to adjust, all you can do is moan in response. Eddie continues fucking into you, snaking a hand down to rub your clit. 

“You look so pretty, taking all of me like this, fuck, such a good girl for me.” You clench around him. “Got you all cock drunk, hm?” 

“Mmm, feels so good, Eds.” You moan, eyes fluttering closed. “So good!” 

“Who’s pussy is this, baby? huh?” Eddie asks, slowing his thrusts so you could properly answer him. However, you didn’t answer in a timely enough manner in Eddie’s opinion, so he pulls out, before asking you again. 

“I said, who’s pussy is this?” he asks a little more aggressively, bringing a hand up to your throat and squeezing lightly. In the heat of the moment, and to piss him off for pulling out of you, you answer. 

“You don’t know him.” You open your eyes to watch his reaction.

“Oh, ‘s that so? I’m only going to ask you one more time,” he locks eyes with yours, his brown eyes darkened by lust, and he squeezes a little harder. “Who’s. Pussy. Is. This?” 

You gasp, starting to feel floaty as he chokes you. 

“Steve’s. It- It’s Steve’s!” 

Eddie’s jaw locks and he gets a primal look in his eyes. He leans down and his breath ghosts over your ear. 

“Oh? Well sweetheart, how about I show you just who this pussy belongs to, hm?” He growls, letting go of your neck before leaning back up and slamming back into you. He grips your hips tightly and roughly fucks into you. 

It’s torture, Eddie has you writhing in pleasure, he’s fucking you at a relentless pace, and the coil in your stomach gets tighter with each thrust. 

“Eddie, ‘m close!” 

“Now, that’s not how you ask, baby.” He smirks, slowing his thrusts to tease you. “Maybe if you take back what you said, I’ll think about it.” 

“I take it back! Fuck!” Eddie’s thrusts start to speed back up. “It’s yours, only yours, promise!” you moan out, tears pricking your eyes, the cool in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment. 

“What’s mine, baby? I couldn’t hear you.” 

“Please, please don’t make me say it.” 

“You have to use your words, baby.” Eddie coaxes, his own thrusts becoming sloppy. “If you don’t use your words, I can’t give you what you want.” 

“My pussy’s yours, Eddie!” You cry out, cheeks reddening at the confession. “Fuck, i’m gonna cum!” 

“See, that wasn’t so hard.” Eddie comments before speeding his thrust back up. “C’mon baby, cum for me,” he leans down and starts kissing your neck. Your orgasm hits, moaning out ‘fuck’ ‘Eddie’ and ‘oh my god’ in no particular order. 

“Fuck, not gonna last..” Eddie rests his forehead against yours. “Wher-“

“Inside, fuck, inside!” you choke out, tears rolling down your face, completely fucked out. Eddie didn’t need to be told twice before cumming in you with a loud moan while he continued fucking you through both of your orgasms, delving in the moment. 

Eddie pulls out slowly and collapses next to you. You wince at the sudden loss of contact and you feel Eddie’s arm wrap around you. He kisses your forehead before pulling you closer to him. 

“Love you, sweetheart,” he places another kiss on your forehead. “‘m sorry for getting so jealous” 

“‘s okay, Eds.” you cuddle more into his side “I love you too.” you manage to yawn out, before you both fell asleep. 

— 🌻 — — 🌻 — — 🌻 —

Thank you so much for reading!! This is my first fic published on tumblr in a VERY long time! Hope you enjoyed!

[jellymellydraws]

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Astarion x Dark Urge Chapter 16 Rating: E Tags: Angst, Fluff, hurt/comfort, slow burn, two guarded people fall in love so hard it makes them stupid

Chapter Summary:

Tensions rise as the party enter the Selune Temple. Alfira comes face to face with what The Absolute and her followers are capable of. But before their composure can fall apart, they have an audience with the Drow in charge.

The atmosphere grew heavier, weighing on their bodies and minds. The thudding in her head grew unbearably painful. The clear image of the Chosen were now blurred as her vision struggled to maintain its focus.

“I am the Absolute,” the voice echoed around them, “my word is your will.”

The Absolute demanded a bow. Respect. Rose’s nose was pressed to the ground against her will.

“My power grows.”

When her tadpoles pressed its influence upon those pathetic little goblins— was it the same sensation she was forced to endure now? If she asked them to bow, would it be no different if she’d put her boot to their back and forced them to the ground?

If this was The Absolute, what powers did her Chosen hold?

It was almost too funny. She’d laugh if she wasn’t straining against the building pressure in her mind. To think: her lowly wretched self capable of fighting something akin to a God.

“My forces gather.”

With no memory of herself? No recollection of her life before the kidnapping?

Could she entrust that she was ever meant to be anything but a pawn with a purpose?

Maybe she was made to be a monster, after all?

The Absolute didn’t care. She wouldn’t cast her aside for the murderous thoughts that plagued the amnesiac. There was use for a broken minded assassin, regardless of what she remembered. The Absolute would not abandon her.

The Absolute loved her. She would embrace all who obey.

”The reckoning draws near.”

A soft prayer formed on her lips, silently mouthing words. She tried to do this once before, standing in front of a dying Kagha as her blood spilled between the cracks of stone flooring. 

Now, the words were returning; Forming upon her lips and rolling silently off her flicking tongue. Though the taste was bitter, the sweetness of another connecting piece made up for it.

The Absolute awaits thee.

The Absolute embraces thee.

None escape The Absolute.

“All will be one, under The Absolute.”

A high pitched wizzing zipped above her head. Metallic plates and knobs shifted and twisted, softly clanking out of her view. The heavy darkness lifted away as a burst of golden light allowed her to rise. The fog faded from her thoughts. The pounding weakened.

The Absolute’s voice began to fade into the distance.

Quieter and quieter. 

Until it was a whisper. Until it was no more.

Gone, entirely, from her mind.

Sitting on her knees, Rose was piecing together what in the hells just happened. How much of her thoughts belonged to her? How much to The Absolute? Was she truly freed from their influence or was it a matter of time before The Absolute claimed her?

The headache returned, to warn her against digging too deep into the recesses of her mind. She wouldn’t let the thoughts be lost to the void of her amnesia. The journal was pulled from her pack with haste, caring little for where she was as she scribbled in its back pages. Every little detail that lingered, would be committed to the page.

The elf, the human, the woman. The impressions she had to each Chosen stuck with her. They were staring right at her, as if directly connecting to her. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach, but she had to move on. No time to linger on mysteries. Not yet.

Not now.

There was the way hearing The Absoluet made her feel that was unignorable. The feeling of loss and comfort. How, for a second, she was convinced succumbing to the voice was the right move.

It would’ve been that easy, wouldn’t it?

To let go?

The mysterious puzzle box zipped past her face, nearly slashing her hair as it went. She snarled at the mysterious item as it flew into Shadowheart’s palm. Everyone’s eyes were on that prism, which slowly dimmed its golden light.

“What in the nine hells was that?!” The bard cried.

Rose would like to know the answer to that, too. 

Alfira helped her to her feet as Shadowheart scrambled to hers. Amber eyes narrowed towards their secretive cleric.

”Don’t look at me like that,” Shadowheart defended, “I don’t know what just happened anymore than you do. We should keep going.”

Bullshit.

The cleric’s stance was tense. Both hands held the prism close to her, guarded. The entire party began to crowd towards her. Some had questions about their brief hallucination, others, like Alfira, were more confused and concerned by the suddenness of it all.

The pounding in her chest found its way to her eardrums. Synchronously, the thudding matched the rhythm of her persistent headache. The assassin took a moment to inhale.

Exhale.

Easy, Rose. Don’t lose it. 

Inhale.

You need answers. 

Exhale.

She needs to trust you.

“I know those symbols,” Lae’zel hissed, “githyanki runes. Ancient as Vlaakith herself!” She stalked towards Shadowheart, “why do you carry it?!”

”That’s none of your business!”

“I think we’re past that,” Rose stepped calmly between the two. “That thing saved us, didn’t it?”

”How many of my people did you kill for it?!” Lae’zel continued to shout, held back by little except their leader’s extended arm. The bones would snap like a twig if the gith wanted to force herself through.

”Not enough,” Shadowheart shot back with hatred behind her eyes, “not enough to make up for what your kind did to them.”

This couldn’t go further. Any wrong step, and there’d be daggers to throats.

”Shadowheart!” Rose shouted above the two, “Did you know that thing was going to protect us? Yes or no!?”

Shadowheart hesitantly shifted her eyes to the party surrounding her. Then, they lowered to the ground. Rose kept a close eye on her, in case there were any attempts to leap off the bridge. Finally, she met her leader’s gaze.

”I didn’t, not exactly. All I know is it’s important I get it back to Baldur’s Gate. At any cost.”

“For your Goddess?”

”Lady Shar, yes.”

”Well, a Sharran!” Astarion chimed, casually draping an arm around Shadowheart’s shoulders. “My my, no wonder you’re so dark and broody. Why didn’t you say anything sooner? I’ve heard a thing or two about the Dark Lady— not quite to my tastes though, but I hear her clergy is stylish.”

”Blimey…” Gale shifted uncomfortably, keeping his response to himself in a soft voice, “I never thought I’d find myself traveling with a follower of Shar. Least considering how our goddesses do not get along.”

“I don’t care about the details of your holy mission,” Rose cut through the added commentary. “Tell me more about the artifact.”

”That’s all I know. My memories were suppressed before we departed, and I won’t get them back until I meet with my contact in the city. That’s the truth— all I remember anyway. For whatever that’s worth.”

“It’s worth plenty. Right, Lae’zel?”

Lae’zel’s leered with gritted teeth. Her breathing was controlled, slow. A fierce creature on the verge of pouncing. Alfira hesitantly approached, hovering her hand over the warrior’s back but careful not to touch.

”C-come on now,” she stammered, “shouldn’t this be a good thing? You were all in pain before right? And after that box came out, you were fine! I’m pretty sure that’s what I saw.” 

Wyll put his hand on the bard’s shoulder, shaking his head at her failed attempt to calm the infuriated woman.

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” Rose addressed her as neutrally as she could maintain, “That voice? That power?”

“Of course,” Lae’zel spat. She was on the very edge of losing her complete and total shit. The hand on her hilt was warning enough.

”Lae’zel, listen to me: this artifact saved us. Whoever those chosen are, they want it, but they haven’t found it yet. It’s in our best interest to keep it safe.” She extended an arm towards Shadowheart, who was peeling Astarion off her, “Shadowheart intends to keep it safe— So: we’re still on the same team.”

Speckled yellow eyes focused on the artifact in the cleric’s hands as it shifted into her bag.

”…So it seems,” Lae’zel admitted, “But in due time, half-elf, your crimes will be paid for.”

”I just saved your life,” Shadowheart snipped, “but I shouldn’t have expected gratitude from you.”

Lae’zel bucked forward, ripping her blade from its sheath. Several hands latched onto her armor, holding her back as she took a swing. Rose pulled her dagger from its sheath, narrowly avoiding the swing of the longsword. A few strands weren’t so lucky.

Violet hued magic enshrouded Shadowheart’s hand as the cleric stepped forth. The gith struggled against the strength of Wyll, Alfira, and Gale, cursing in her native tongue. The cleric took another step forward. The dagger leveled with her throat.

“We’re not doing this!” Rose snarled. A second dagger was pointed towards Lae’zel in warning. “It’s over! It’s done! We’re moving on!”

”But we were having such fun,” Astarion muttered from off to the side, disappointed.

“If the goblins and drow are looking for that damned box, we have bigger problems than this bullshit spat. Get it together!”

Tension hung in the air, thick as miasma. Neither side would be the first to stand down. Nor would Rose, if they were unable to put the conflict aside.

On the other side of the bridge, the temple’s courtyard stirred with activity. Goblins poured out from the large temple doors, talking amongst themselves as they moved about. Her eyes shifted between the temple, the gith, and the cleric.

”Chk.” Lae’zel lowered her blade, “we’re wasting time.”

“Finally, something we agree on.” The cleric waved the magic away, briskly pacing towards the temple.

The gith was freed from the hold of her companions. A dirty look was shot towards Gale, who responded with a kicked puppy type of expression. Pointedly, she stepped by Rose’s side.

”Let us go,” she ordered.

She wasn’t the one to give orders here. She’d let it go for now.

The rest of the party entered the courtyard. Goblins gave them a passing glance but otherwise paid them no mind. Another perk of being a True Soul, it seemed— they could go just about anywhere they wanted!

Convenient.

To claim there were expectations on what they would find while inside was the greatest lie she could’ve told herself. The place was trashed to the hells and back. Wooden furniture and debri was stacked along the walls, some in various piles. Goblins pulled wood from various heaps to nail together next to the stone towers, forming some type of elevated walkway. Posts for archers, she assumed.

The symbols of Selune were thoroughly desecrated with paints and blood. Perhaps they were one in the same, considering the dark red tones. One repeating marking caught her attention. She saw it painted on almost every surface that had room. Upon closer examination, she noticed a goblin or two wearing the same symbol. Even the brand upon their skin matched this mark! The damned thing was everywhere!

A handprint, in which the palm was represented by a skull, and framed in a triangle. The mark of the Absolute.

Alfira froze in front of one of the stone walls, dotted with the bizarre sigils. She gripped the neck of her lute hard enough to turn her knuckles white. The disappearance of jingling prompted Rose to stop. The others quickly followed suit, turning their eyes towards the shaking tiefling behind them.

”Alfira?” Wyll asked, breaking from the group to check on her. Rose did the same, brow creasing with concern.

A single tear ran down Alfira’s blue cheek. Then another. Soon her cheeks were streamed by tears, but a fire in her eyes blazed. Wyll looked over her shoulder, concerned.

“They killed her…” the bard whispered shakily.

“Who?”

The usually bubbly bard’s teeth were bared, saying nothing as her shoulder lifted and fell with her breathing. Rose reached a hand for the woman’s shoulder, hesitating for a moment.

A guttural growl left the tiefling, Wyll’s eyes widened and looked to the purple haired assassin.

“We’ll exterminate this place, Alfira,” Wyll said, “that’s why we’re here.”

“We have to,” Alfira sniffed and wiped her face on her sleeve. “Every last one of them.” When the bard’s face started to dry, she was faced by an array of faces staring at her questionably. Well, probably a little shocked to see a murderous side of her show. At first, she put on a smile, but quickly dropped it, “sorry I…I saw this symbol before. When we were on our way to the city, we tried to avoid the goblins by traveling through the Risen Road. One night we made camp just inside a cave. We hadn’t realized that the area was occupied by gnolls, though. No one heard them coming before it was too late. We lost so many trying to run back, my teacher was one of those who didn’t make it.” Her voice quivered again, “I remember on one of them, they wore an amulet with this symbol. I-I didn’t think anything of it but now…”

”No one said anything about gnolls working with the Absolute,” Rose’s brows furrowed. The list of groups worshiping the ever powerful voice was growing. Did The Absolute find it easier to manipulate creatures that leaned closer towards the monster variety? “Are you sure it was this same symbol?”

”I’m positive.”

“The drow made sense,” Gale began, “but illithid haven’t been known to kidnap and tadpole gnolls.” He drew his fingers into the beard along his jaw, “Come to think of it, tadpoling goblins is also outside their usual patterns.”

“We haven’t seen a goblin tadpoled yet— there might be another method the Absolute uses to spread her influence.” Rose glanced up at Alfira, who looked back with unwavering certainty: the Absolute, somehow, was behind the gnoll attack. “Let’s see what we can learn today.”

She pulled the journal from her pouch and flipped to a page towards the back. Marked with a small fold in the bottom corner, a running list of tasks and names waited to have another line filled. At the bottom was now a new name, ‘Alfira’ and a brief note scribbled next to it. The image of their marked up map floated in her mind, and a dotted line formed from their current position towards the last known location of the gith patrol. The Risen Road was in the opposite direction. 

“We don’t have time for any more distractions.” Lae’zel’s glare burned hole into her back. The impatience of the gith grew, transmitted through their tadpole connection. 

Another headache was coming on.

“You’re jumping to conclusions, we’re still not sure what we’re dealing with.” Rose thought in response. Whether it transmitted was a mystery to her. Another thing to add to the long list of tasks: learn how they can leverage the tadpoles as a team. She closed the journal with a firm snap, pointedly tucking it away.

“Chk.”

The ogre who guarded the temple doors noisily opened them with a groan. More goblins poured out from the structure carrying wooden furniture and engaging in their own conversations. Among them, two humanoid figures stood taller, carrying wooden boards, and approaching the stone well.

The redheaded woman spotted the crowd and gasped with recognition. Hurriedly, she ran to the open well and covered it with the boards in her arms before she jogged up to Rose. Brynna, the woman they met on the road, greeted the True Soul with a respectful bow.

“True Soul, I am glad to see you made it safely.”

“Same to you, I was unsure if I’d see you after that storm.” Rose crossed her arms over her chest and looked past Brynna. A calculated gesture. As if she had just arrived, she scanned the area for a face she was certain was lost. “Where’s Sazza?”

“I’m afraid she didn’t stick around, ma’am. She went inside to give her report, and walked out grumbling something about catching up with Dror Ragzlin’s raid. I’d presume she followed them up north.”

This would have displeased her, as a True Soul. Her brows pressed together as a heavy sigh left her, slightly forceful to drive in how unacceptable this news was. Brynna stiffened.

”So who’s left that I can speak to about Absolute matters?”

”Priestess Gut, and Minthara,” the redhead quickly answered, “this way, I’ll escort you, True Soul.”

It was too easy. As soon as her back was turned, Rose let the smirk stretch across her face. She gestured for the others to follow her, reveling in the way Astarion and Shadowheart smirked back at her show. Even Lae’zel looked impressed, despite the permanent scowl. The ogre opened the doors for their approaching party, saying nothing as they passed. 

Standing torches lined the long hallway, stretching to the central sanctum. Only two doorways to pass, but Goblin guards stood at the ready, eyeing the newcomers with caution.

“Oi, what we got here?” One of the guards squawked at Brynna, “food for the spiders?”

“A True Soul!” Brynna gasped, horrified. The goblin’s eyes widened immediately.

”Apologies ma’am! The Absolute blessed us with three— never would I have thought we’d be graced with a fourth! I didn’t mean to offend!”

Brynna looked back at Rose, a smirk no longer on her face as she watched the conversation transpire. She took slow deliberate steps to the goblin guard, examining her from behind her nose. Despite the fear in her eyes, the guard stood upright and braver than the ones before. The brand on her eye glowed with a familiar sense of power. Authority .

All it would take is a little push, and the pest would do whatever she asked. Tempting.

Her tadpole wriggled eagerly behind her eye. At the back of her mind, she felt the nudge from her companions as they waited for her next move.

One second.

She waited. 

Two.

The goblin swallowed a lump in her throat.

Three.

”I’m feeling merciful today,” Rose flatly stated, “consider yourself lucky.”

The guard bowed low, “Thank you True Soul. It won’t happen again.”

She nodded curtly before looking to Brynna expectantly. The redhead continued down the hall, escorting the party to the depths of the temple.

The scent of burnt flesh wafted towards them, filling their nostrils. She salivated at the thought of how tender a meal she could have. But nothing was properly cooking there, except for the iron brands resting next to a decorated goblin. The Priestess, she presumed. Their eyes met briefly, and that same tugging sensation urged her tadpole. She felt a brief connection to the goblin before it was severed. A look of realization crossed her face, then a wicked grin as she nodded to her fellow True Soul.

Priestess Gut anointed another goblin, briefly saying some Absolutist prayer before grabbing the heated iron brand and pressing it into the hand of the kneeling goblin. He hissed in pain but thanked her for it. 

Gold was exchanged between the hands of a goblin and a halfling, who looked over to the passing group with an intrigued smile. She offered a quick two finger salute towards the assassin before she walked up the steps to meet with two others. Their clothes were similarly dyed— likely from some type of guild. Curious to see anyone else working with the goblins. Perhaps the Absolute had its own merchant guild supplying her forces.

Continuing past the sanctum, Brynna walked the group up a set of stairs and to an open room. Shelves lined the walls of part of it. But as expected, there was structural damage there. A partially collapsed wall had a ladder leaned against it, acting as a shortcut to whatever was on the other side. The room looked like it had once been larger, but a chasm split the space in half. The only thing that connected the ground was a flimsy wooden bridge. It wasn’t even bolted down! The damned thing was a series of planks nailed together and layed flat.

A dark purple orb floated around the room. Once it turned to Rose, she could see a slit pupil taking up its center, and mystical swirled extending away from it like an iris. 

A scrying eye…someone’s keeping watch on this place.

“I tire of your excuses, wretched goblin,” a firm voice carried from the otherside of the room. Brynna guided them straight towards it. “The only one to return from your scouting party was Sazza— all the good she was. Nothing but excuses for her cowardice.”

The corner of the room looked oddly similar to their command center— a large table was before them with a map rolled out, the shelf against the wall included various jars, books, and writing utensils. Rather than a charcoal stick to mark their map, a quill and inkwell waited patiently for their next use.

Elven silver glistened in the torchlight. The metal plates of armor were molded into folded feathers, which hung on the body of the drow woman. Her violet face was framed by strands as white as webbing. Blood red eyes narrowed as she scolded one of the goblins by her table. 

“Sorry, mistress. We mucked up!” The goblin was hunched apologetically.

Pathetically.

The drow towered over him, her shadow engulfed his shrinking form.

”Perhaps you need another motivation,” she smirked with a glint in her eye, “until their sanctuary is found, I will take something precious from you. One thing for every hour that passes. A trinket. A tongue.” Then, darkly, “a limb.”

”I ain’t no use without my limbs, yer ladyship! I know the lads’ll make the prisoner squeal soon enough, I swear!”

”Silence!”

Her command resonated through the room. All movement stopped, except for the wandering eye. No one dared to speak. Gods forbid anyone of them sneezed.

“If your men do not have an answer before the raiders return, I will see to it that my spiders are well fed that day.”

”Yes yer ladyship.”

The goblin bowed low before scurrying past the party. Impatient red eyes trailed after him until he passed the approaching party.

”Tough day, I take it,” Rose smirked, confidently crossing her arms as she spoke. She was a True Soul, of course she would have the rank to speak so casually. At least, she hoped. 

“I wasn’t expecting guests,” the drow’s eyes narrowed.

“Minthara, Ma’am—“ Brynna stepped forward, offering another bow to the woman, “this is the True Soul that replaced Edowyn.”

“I ordered Sazza to tell you I was on my way.” To speak with one of the same rank, confidence was key. She was supposed to be there. She belonged there. So long as she maintained that atmosphere, she hoped to pass as one of the cultists.

The drow’s eyes shifted, considering her words for a moment.

”So she was telling the truth? Hm,” the drow hummed, though her face was unamused, “well, at least she got something right.”

Rose nodded before looking to the redhead that had escorted her into the sanctum, “Brynna, you may go.”

Brynna bowed to the both of them before scurrying off, weaving her way between the rest of the party that stood behind the authoritative women.

As the drow, Minthara, examined Rose, their thoughts began to mingle. The feeling of a cold hand caressed her mind. Quickly, she tried to push back the discomfort, being reminded of the cool touch from her nightmare. The room around them fell away, leaving them in a dark nothingness. 

A small vision appears between the two of them, with the drow listening as the pale elven woman whispers to her. 

One of The Chosen.

Her blood began to boil once more, but she fought back. Their tadpoles connecting did not give her confidence that her thoughts were safe. Whatever this unprompted rage towards The Chosen were, it risked blowing her cover. She couldn’t allow that. 

They were so close.

Too close.

The vision faded, and the darkness fell away. They were back in the temple.

”Praise be,” Minthara sounded relieved, “are you here to join my hunt?”

With a firm nod, Rose closed the gap between them.

“Fill me in.”

Next Chapter >>

[thecomfywriter]

👢Fun Line Tag👢

Thank you for the tag @drchenquill! I LOVE this idea because I have the perfect scene for this, but buckle in because she's lowkey long LMAO.

This is a scene from Throne of Vengeance, Volume 1. Enjoy!

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

“Alan,” his head tilted upwards, even if his face was still buried in his hands. “Stop moaning around. I want you to conjure Cara here for me.”

He finally looked up. A person? Is it possible? I nodded and he frowned. Are you sure?

I conjured a shoe just to throw it at him. “Stop stalling.” His frown deepened. “What?”

She’s probably with Morreial.

“Then bring him too-”

No! The panic on his face was immediate and obvious. Caramel, he will kill me. He already hates me as is. If I interrupt his date…

The fact that he was on a date with Cara to begin with made me want to interrupt it more. “Alan, if you don’t conjure them here, I’ll… I’ll tell them that you dream about me.”

Panic stunned his expression. WHY is that your threat?

“I bet Morreial would have a field day about that. Oh! Maybe I should tell him about the swimming dream you had of him-”

NO! Alan burst out of his seat and straight into position. I will bring them here. Do not tell them about the dreams. None of them.

“I feel like you should be more bothered that I know than of them finding out,” I admitted as his arms began their swivelling swirl.

As much as I wish you did not know, I cannot help it that you do. My mind is essentially yours now.

Then he stayed silent for the rest of the spell, leaving me with that to think on.

[A/N: I'm going to skip some parts in between to give you only the fun stuff and to not spoil either]

When the beams of light washed away, Morreial and Cara were standing in a lightning struck patch of grass, with their hair entirely electrified and static. Morreial looked around confused before he caught sight of me and glared.

Before Morreial picked his beef with me, Alan slipped beside Cara and waved. Hi Cara.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Alan, you’re still speaking in my head.”

His eyes widened. ‘Still?’ I have been speaking telepathically this entire time?

“Oh, I thought you were doing it on purpose. That was accidental?”

“Oy!” Morreial interrupted, waving his hands my face to grab my attention. “Why’d you call us here?”

I rolled my eyes at him. He was always so irritated by my presence. “Jeez, no need to be so annoyed. What’s got your panties in a fuss?”

“Well, it can get annoying sometimes…” Cara mumbled. A pit fell in my stomach when I realised she was being serious. Her gaze was avoidant and lips pursed.

Alan glanced between us. Swiftly, he slipped between me and Morreial and put his finger up. “I brought you guys here,” he whispered. He was hardly audible, but I guess he was just that nervous.

Rightfully so. Morreial’s glare ramped up five notches and escalated from annoyed to lethal. He started stalking up to Alan with a snarl on his lips.

“Are you a fucking idiot, dweeb? You realize you were doing magic during a magic ban, right? Caramel’s already a criminal, but do you want to be added to that list? What if I was with the Jervees when you did your stupid antics, you absolute moron!”

An apologetic look wearied Alan’s frenzied expression. He backed away as far as possible from Morreial, who only advanced closer, until he was cornered against a wall.

I am sorry!

Still in my head!

“I am sorry! Genuinely! Properly. I am very stupid for not thinking that through and conjuring you all here. I did not mean to interrupt your date— I was only practising my magic, not that that is an excuse or anything…”

As Alan rambled on, wide eyes and raised brows exchanged between the three of us. I don’t even think Morreial was mad anymore. We all looked at Alan, then really looked at Alan, up and down for the first time today to properly gauge the change.

“Dweeb.” Alan shut up immediately. “Stand straight.”

He looked visibly confused but did as asked. Cara and I both glanced at each other when his corrected posture raised him a good five inches taller.

“Maadh!” Morreial blurted. “When did you get so tall?”

“And broader,” Cara pointed out. Per usual, only one of her eyes were visible, and yet that eye was very intently checking out the new definition that corded Alan’s entire body. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before— but especially now that he wasn’t wearing his usual vest, the tightness of his blouse and the cut off at his sleeves were painfully obvious. No way anything Morreial’s been doing would’ve buffed him up that quick. Growth spurt, maybe?

No. Not growth spurt…

My mind was still whirling on the one change no one seemed to mention though. “Uh— Alan. Your voice.” His hand immediately clamped over his mouth and his face turned beet red. “Since when was it that deep!”

“I do not want to talk about it,” he mumbled through his hands.

“It did not sound like that in our heads at all!”

“Well I can control what my voice sounds like when I am using magic!” He was beginning to sound more and more Arcanic.Noticing everyone’s eyes all over him, he turned around, exposing the red of his neck, and began pacing around the room. As he made his turns, he requested,  “Please, do not make a fuss about it. It is embarrassing enough as is.”

“No dweeb. I’m actually impressed, to be honest.” Morreial clapped his shoulder. His expression changed and he squeezed it. “For Maadh’s sake— that’s some mass though. What have you been doing?”

Alan politely removed Morreial’s hand from his shoulder and continued his turns. “Your training, that is all.”

“But you suck at my training.”

All the timidness in Alan seemed to disappear in that moment. He turned towards Morreial in a flash and challenged him with gruff brows. “I do not suck! You just intend on making me suck!”

“Which means you suck.”

[A/N: Once again, skipping a bit]

Morreial, I popped into his mind for a second, causing him to jolt. Alan took the opportunity to back away from Morreial as much as safely possible. Check his eyes.

I could see the shadow of a smirk line Morreial’s lips. So we’re all on the same page then. “Hey dweeb, why are your eye bags so heavy? Do you not sleep?”

A heavy sigh relaxed Alan’s eyes to truly reveal how sunken and tired they actually were. “Not anymore. Your stepparents grieve me day and night, Morreial. My dawns until noon are dedicated to their mentorship. My afternoons to my father’s schoolings. My late afternoons to your training or my magical schoolings. My evenings are Naila’s. I sleep at the mid of night every day and wake before the break of dawn every morning. Sleep and I have long been unacquainted.”

Maadh. Why can’t he just speak like a normal person? Morreial transmitted. But even he bit his lip hearing that long and melodramatic tangent. It was without a doubt we were all exhausting him. Most of his day was spent being a pawn for power, and he didn’t even realize it.

A guilty wrench twisted my gut when I fully noticed the weariness on Alan’s face.

Anything? I asked.

Morreial shook his head. Then, his brows furrowed and he glanced at Alan again.

“Wait. Naila? You mean that crazy Artist woman with the hut filled with books?”

Alan crossed his arms and huffed. “I do not think she is crazy.”

“She lives on the other side of the volcano, dweeb. She’s pretty fuckin’ crazy.”

I raised my hand to cut in. “Why, exactly, do you spend your evenings with her?”

“Unsupervised?” Cara inputted. “For how long? And since when?”

Looking between the three of us, Alan let off a nervous laughter. “What is this interrogation?” His laughter subsided when we didn’t laugh along. “Not long. Not to worry. She is very lovely. It has only been… three weeks now since I have been going, but she is remarkable company and her books are delightful. She plans on making it a library. I wished to bring it up with you all, actually; Morreial, for your help with the semantics, and Cara— that is where I have been getting our books from. You should drop by.”

Cara’s cheeks began to rosy. Before she could get won over and the topic switched to reading, I interjected with my own realization.

“Wait, three weeks ago. As in, three weeks ago when I said to keep your evening free because I had a surprise for you, and you blew me off for this random crazy woman with books?”

“Ah.” He scratched the back of his head and avoided my eyes. Though his eyes glinted metallic when he looked away, no colourful tints marked him different. “My apologies, Caramel. I suppose the night slipped away from us.” When Morreial’s head snapped towards him, his face went red and he immediately added, “Nothing of that sort!”

“You stayed the entire night?!” I asked.

“Unsupervised?!” Cara added.

“At that crazy pregnant lady’s house on the other side of the volcano?” Morreial exclaimed.

Alan patted the air, trying to calm us down, but the more he flickered between us, the more anxious he looked. I could feel his mind whirling. He’s thinking of excuses.

Instead of answering any of our questions, he asked his own. “She is pregnant?”

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

BYEEEEE- it's such a sitcom scene I really do love it for NO REASON. Anyways... I love Alan. I stay loving Alan. I don't care what this man does. No one can convince me to hate this man. AND THAT'S THAT.

Anyways, I'll be tagging the crew. DM to be added. Dm to be removed. Or publically shame me for daring to put your name on the list. That works too.

TCW Tag squad: @satohqbanana @mysticstarlightduck @harps-for-days @the-golden-comet @did-i-do-this-write @aalinaaaaaaand @drchenquill @honeybewrites @paeliae-occasionally

Happy Writing!

[peachonified]

To The Setters I have loved

aaaaages ago I had this idea. We all know Kageyama is obsessed with setters, so I wanted to write his obsession. This isn't quite what I imagined (although I am very happy with it) so if inspiration strikes me I will revisit. But for now, enjoy Kageyamas letters to the The Setters I have loved.

(if you would prefer to read it on AO3, follow the link!)

To the Setters I have loved

Rating G

Ship: KageHina

Characters Kageyama, Hinata, Oikawa, Sugawara, Sawamura, Kenma, Kuroo, Atsumu, Akaashi,

Tags: post time skip, setters, admiration, background ships: akbk, krkn, daisuga Olympic team,

Summary: At Hinata’s urging, Kagayama lets some people know how he feels

~o~

“You should tell them how you feel.”

They’re lying in bed, where they’ve been for the last little while. Kageyama has been daydreaming about volleyball plays, and Hinata’s been on his phone. While Kageyama has no idea what Hinata is referring to, he’s pretty sure it’s not something he wants to do.

“Shut up.”

Of course it’s not enough. Hinata rolls over until he hits Kageyama’s back. Kageyama can feel the intense boring into the back of his shoulder. It would be off putting if he hadn’t been putting up with it for years.

“No! I mean it! You should tell them how you feel. You’ll feel better.”

Turning his head, Kagayama stares at him, and Hinata just sends him a delighted smile. “Okay, fair, what I mean is I will feel better cos you will stop talking about them in bed.”

Brow furrowed, Kageyama thinks back to the previous four hours with no talking. None. Zero. “I… talk about them?” This is a dumb conversation. He doesn’t talk, let alone about <i>them</i> and who even is <i>them</i>?

“You’re making this up,” he decides, only to be met with a pillow to the face.

“Just write the damn letters Bakayama.”

Oikawa

“Oikawa-se-san. Oikawa-san!”

And yeah, that voice is a blast from the past. He wasn’t expecting to run into Tobio like this. On the court yes, but running down the hallway calling his name? Absolutely not. And Oikawa’s moved on from it all, he really has. But it’s not like he doesn’t have a few unresolved issues from that time.

“Tobio-chan,” he says all smiles, only to have an envelope slammed into his hand.

“I hope you’ll accept my feelings,” he says seriously, before walking away.

While Oikawa prides himself on having a quick wit, what the fuck is he supposed to say to that? Ignoring the jeers and catcalls of his team, he opens the letter. It’s a card.

Dear Oikawa-san,

Hinata told me to write a letter, but there was too much space, so it’s a card instead. I hope you like it.

Flipping to the front it’s a cartoon loaf of bread giving a peace sign. He can’t help his ugly-snort. While he’s somewhat bewildered – this is what Tobio thinks of him? – he’s a little charmed.

I know we haven’t always got on, but I had to let you know that I have admired you since we were in middle school. That admiration only grew – your serve, your ability to lead your team, the way you can take total strangers and set for them with the greatest of ease. I always admired that. I always wanted to be like you. Did I ever tell you when I ran into Ushijima-san at Shiratorizawa I told him that I would surpass you. That was – and still is – my aim. were, and always have, been the pinnacle of setters to me.

My deepest respect,

Kageyama Tobio

“What’s that? A love letter?”  He gets a hearty slap on the back as his wing spiker walks past.

Although they don’t wait for an answer, he responds, “Yeah, I think so.”

Because it is, isn’t it? It is a love letter! Happily, he puts it in his pocket. He’s definitely showing that to Iwa-chan when he sees him.

Suga

It was caught up in a pile of letters, but Sugawara recognises the terrible handwriting. “He really hasn’t improved has he,” Daichi says, leaning over his shoulder.

Laughing, Suga swats him, but agrees. “He’s only got so much capacity and all of it goes on volleyball. I wonder what this is?”

Daichi stares at it for a moment. “It couldn’t be…”

“Couldn’t be what?” Not one to put off anything interesting, Suga rips it open.

Before he can pull out the card, Daichi’s arms tighten. “You don’t think that’s a wedding invitation, do you?”

Suga’s hands crumble the envelope. “It better not be, because if our kohais get married before us you’re in big trouble.”

Pulling out the card, Suga decides it’s probably not a wedding invitation. Hinata and Kageyama are weird, but the pineapple with sunglasses is probably not the flavour they’re going for.

Probably.

Dear Sugawara-senpai

“Aww he still calls me be senpai!”

“He’ll do that until the day he dies.”

I want to say thank you. When I came to Karasuno you were the setter – The Setter. You were a strong and steady presence, who the whole team trusted – me included. Even when you came on just for a few serves, the team lit up. When you stepped onto the court it was an inspiration.

Despite our positions, you mentored me, you supported me right from the start. Even though I came to Karasuno with a dark history, even though I was a setter who took over, you gave me a chance and trusted me. You were a real senpai and for that I can never thank you enough.

Yours very sincerely,

Kageyama Tobio

“Wow, he’s grown up. The kids have grown up, Suga!”

“Oh my god,” Sugawara’s voice is all choked but he can’t help it. “Look at his signature Daichi! It’s got a heart!”

3. Akaashi

He doesn’t get many personal letters. Occasionally a postcard from Bokuto, but to get a proper letter in the mail is something unusual. The writing is so terrible it’s probably a volleyballer, but other than that, Akaashi can’t even hazard a guess who it’s from.

Grabbing his letter knife, he slits the top and pulls open a card. It has some very nice owls on it. He can’t help but nod approvingly.

Dear Akaashi-san,

I’m not sure if you remember me, but my name is Kageyama Tobio

Akaashi puts the letter down and laughs. He has to. Who wouldn’t remember Kageyama Tobio. Who also plays professional volleyball. Who is also currently on the national team with his husband. For the second time. Good grief. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he picks up the card again.

I met you when I played with Karasuno, back in high school. I met you at a training camp in Tokyo, and from the start I admired your calm and collected nature. Even more than that, I wanted to model my behaviour off you

He snorts a laugh. Yes, there are a few similarities between Bokuto and Hinata.

I have even more admiration now that I have played with Bokuto-san. I don’t mean anything by this! Bokuto-san is very talented, and even helped me pick out this card.

Thank you for your time and best wishes,

Kageyama Tobio

Still such an awkward kid, he thinks fondly. While it’s true he and Kageyama didn’t have much to do with each other, Akaashi has received a play-by-play run down of anyone who has ever set for Bokuto, and of course he’s attended games where MSBY played the Adlers. He’d been an amazing since he was a teen and he’s even better. Bokuto is spoilt by the setters in his life.

Taking the card, Akaashi looks to the wall covered with all the volleyball accolades. Bokuto gets so many he’d put his foot down early on: one wall, and if it can’t fit on the wall it goes in a box. The wall is covered and every single one of them is important and special. Of course they are all for Bokuto, but the wall gets rearranged depending on how they feel. Right now Bokuto’s favourite is a signed copy of him with an adult actress, both showing off ample cleavage. She signed his and Bokuto has been laughing ever since. Akaashi’s current favourite is the thank you card from the school where Bokuto and Kuroo did some coaching.

Akaashi has nothing up there… but this card… Akaashi pins it over the adult actress. This way Bokuto will see his card when he goes to check out his own cleavage.

4. Kenma

“Mails in.”

For the first time perhaps ever, something lands on Kenma’s desk. It’s an envelope.

“What’s this?”

Kuroo sticks his head back in. “It’s a letter? Don’t tell me don’t know what a letter is? Back when we were young, people used to communicate by-“

“I know what a letter is,” Kenma says peevishly. “Why do I have one?”

“Open it and find out.”

Kenma does not want to do that. He is not a fan of surprises and everything about this is unexpected.

Who even has his address? He wonders as he rips it open.

Inside is a card. It’s got… a cat at a computer? Does this have some deeper meaning? He ponders a few moments before opening the card.

Dear Kenma-san,

Through you I learnt how a team is so much more than a setter.

Although I wish I could have asked you more questions, watching you I learnt a lot. If you ever would like to have a conversation, I would be more than happy.

Hinata wants to know if you liked the card.

Yours sincerely,

Kageyama Tobio

“So, what is it?”

“I’m not sure,” he says before offering to Kuroo. Who reads it and laughs.

“You want me to throw this out.”

Kenma reaches for it. “No,” he decides. And it’s not just because he likes the cats.

5, Atsumu

Kageyama hasn’t changed much since they were teens, Atsumu decides. He can feel the glare burning into the back of his neck, and he’s not sure what the problem is. <i>Kageyama</i> is the starting setter, not him so what’s the-

“Miya-san? Please take this-“

“Tobio-kun, it’s been years and you still – wait! Where are you going?”

Kageyama is somehow already around the corner. Shaking his head, he looks at his hands and it’s a letter? Why has Kageyama Tobio given him a letter? Ripping it open he pulls out a card that has onigiri on the cover. Did… did Kageyama think he was his brother?

Shrugging, he opens the card.

Dear Miya-san,

The first time you set for me, was a moment of joy. It felt like I could conquer the world, and I knew I wanted to make my spikers feel like that.

From the first game we played, you were nothing less than perfect. You think so fast. You move so beautifully. I was inspired. I am inspired.

There’s some scribbled-out words. Atsumu is pretty sure he can see Hinata’s name, and even though he can’t read it, he has a pretty good idea what he wanted to write. He remembers that game, pointing at Hinata telling him he’ll set for him. And he has, he thinks smugly. Atsumu is good. He knows his good. But he also knows that Kageyama is better. God, it’s frustrating, but Kageyama really is a good setter.

I am sorry about the card. Hinata chose a picture of twins, but I thought this was the better option,

Your teammate on the Japan National Team,

Kageyama Tobio

He laughs. Kageyama put it directly into his hand. Did he think Atsumu would think it was from someone else? Some other Kageyama? What a crazy kid. Reaching for his backpack, he zips it into a safe, inner pocket. He’ll show this to Samu. He’ll love the blast from the past.

Ahhhh! It’s annoying, but Kageyama Tobio, despite being a terrifying powerhouse is still a sweet kid. He’ll definitely save this.

+ 1 Hinata

“Well, how did it go?”

Kageyama glares at him, but Hinata can tell it’s half hearted.

“What do you mean? I posted three of them, and the other two I gave to them before leaving.”

“Whattt? You didn’t stay? But that’s the best bit!” He pauses. “No, that’s fine. I’ll go find out. I want to know what they say anyway.” It’s Hinata’s turn to glare. “I can’t believe you wouldn’t let me read them!”

“That’s because you would have laughed. Or rewritten them.”

“Not true,” he pouts, knowing full well it’s true. Still. He wants to know what’s in the letters. And the reactions. Oh well. He’ll find out in due course.

“Here.”

His hands come up automatically as something is shoved in his face. It’s an envelope. Kageyama looks utterly embarrassed and Hinata is here for it.

“Can I open it? Can I read it now? Are you going to run away?”

“Just open it, dumbass.”

Cheering, Hinata does that. It’s a cute little card, it’s got a heart and a rainbow. “You’re so cute, Tobio!” he teases, before he reads it and runs out of words.

I’d like to be your setter forever.

Will you marry me?

“Tobio!” he shrieks, throwing himself into Kageyama’s arms. He’s pretty sure he’s crying and shaking, but all he feels is steadiness of Tobio beneath him.

When he finally gets his breath back, Kageyama is looking at him soft, and uncertain.

“Is that a yes?”

He’s so stupid. Bakayama. <i>His</i> Bakayama.

“Yes, Tobio. That’s a yes.”

He’ll find out about the other cards tomorrow.

[xmystophalesx]

Best New Heavy Metal Releases Week of September 30th, 2022

End of September and the very beginning of October signals coming into the homestretch of the year. Last year, this was the busiest part of the year and it seems like it may be the same this year if not even more so. I normally don’t start listening to new releases for the week until Wednesdays, as I use the first two days of the week to go back and give my highlight albums from the previous week more listens. Hopefully, this makes it easier on me at the end of the year when putting together my end-of-year best of list. This week I did not have that option as I saw how insanely long the new release list was getting and I had a feeling I would be pressed for time when Sunday rolled around. Well, I was absolutely correct. So much so that this week there will not even be a section for “worthy of a listen if you enjoy the genre”. There were so many highlight albums and albums that were standouts in their own genre, it was pointless adding the third category as this list would have easily had 75-100 albums on it. I have been doing this since last December and I can easily say this was the busiest week I have had so far. So, let’s get to those aforementioned highlights.

Darkest Era-Wither on the Vine (Doom/Heavy)**

I am not normally floored by Doom Metal albums but this one was absolutely fantastic. I added the designation of Heavy Metal along with Doom tag, as there is a lot of variety on this record that ups the tempo here and there. This really helps the individual songs stand out a lot more and added to my enjoyment of the album. Great vocals that add tons of emotion, razor sharp riffs and drumming that keeps everything on track. Now THIS is the kind of Doom Metal I REALLY enjoy.

Arctora-The Storm is Over (Melodic Death/Black)**

Debut album from this band out of Finland that includes former members and touring members of the band Ondfodt as well as Kvaen (drummer). I am still amazed at the level of quality that some of these bands are putting out on a debut album. Granted, these guys have been around for a bit, but writing and recording music is not easy in the slightest (I know, as I am a failed musician myself). This album is a perfect 50/50 blend of Melodic Death and Melodic Black Metal. Add some atmospheric elements here and there to break up some of frenetic pace on some of these songs and you have a killer album from the very start to the end of the 53 minute runtime.

The Dead Daisies-Radiance (Hard Rock/Heavy)**

I have actually had the promo for this album for a bit, but writing about new releases on the week they come out, I have had to sit on this one for a while. If you are not familiar with this band, they have been making a pretty powerful push in the Hard Rock genre over the last 5 years. Releasing albums just about every year since 2015, they have definitely been putting in the work. This is just straight Hard Rock with great riffs and vocals that could easily be a hit on any terrestrial rock radio station in the country, but as we all know, being an excellent musician doesn’t really matter in this day and age. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be a need for this website. If you are a fan of bands like Black Star Riders, Thundermother, The Pretty Reckless or the Rival Sons, this will be right up your alley.

Ohth-None Shall Escape Death (Melodic Death)**

This album came out of nowhere and hit like a damn ton of bricks. The first listen to this album and I would have sworn that this was straight out of Gothenburg. Come to find out this band is a bit closer to me as they actually hail from Austin, Texas of all places. If you would have told me this was an album of lost tracks from Dark Tranquillity or In Flames from back in the 1990s, I would have completely believed you. This is more than aping that sound as this album just flows incredibly well from beginning to end. This is their sophomore effort and after being completely blown away by this one, I went back and listened to the debut. You can hear the bones of what this album would become but the jump in quality is absolutely astounding. They are currently unsigned but with the quality of this album, I would be shocked if someone like Napalm or Nuclear Blast doesn’t snap these guys up.

Condra-Aeonic Tempest from the Abyss (Melodic Black)**

Another album that came out of nowhere and knocked me on my ass. This time Melodic Black Metal out of Chile. Again, this is a one man project. This seems to be a trend over the last few years and to an impressive effect. One thing that is immediately noticeable on this album is the fantastic guitar work. There are leads on this album that would easily be at home on a big name Melodic Death Metal album. There are moments on here that remind me a bit of the band Stormkeep. Hell, even the album cover is a bit reminiscent of that record. Only minor complaint is I wish the production would be a bit more full on the bottom end as it has moments that sound a bit thin. Either way, this album is incredible.

I will cut it off there and after listening to almost a solid week of Heavy Metal I think I may need to seek out some Bob Denver or ambient sound scapes of nothing but wind blowing. Who am I kidding? I love this shit! Bring it on! I want more weeks like this! MUSIC IS LIFE and Heavy Metal music makes for a VERY happy life! Humankind’s greatest invention by far is music! Until next week, and as always,

BANG THY HEAD!!!

All worthy of a listen if you like the genre

*= standout in that genre

**=best of the week regardless of genre

Best of the Week

Upon a Frozen Shore-Crown of Ash (Melodic Death/Thrash/Black)**

Darkest Era-Wither on the Vine (Doom/Heavy)**

Arctora-The Storm is Over (Melodic Death/Black)**

Tankard-Pavlov’s Dawgs (Thrash)**

The Dead Daisies-Radiance (Hard Rock/Heavy)**

Vermocracy-Age of Dysphoria (Melodic Death)**

Condra-Aeonic Tempest from the Abyss (Melodic Black)**

Ohth-None Shall Escape Death (Melodic Death**

Standout in their Genre

Destrage-So Much. Too Much (Metalcore/Thrash/Progressive)*

Living Tales-Persephone (Heavy/Progressive/Symphonic)*

Catharia-Midnight Sun (Melodic Black)

Strigoi-Viscera (Death/Doom/Black)*

Acephalix-Theothanotology (Death)*

Truckerfucker-Stjernesmell (Black/Heavy)*

Temple Guard-Spear of the Revenant (Hardcore/Thrash/Metalcore)*

Pestlegion-Sathanas Grand Victoria (Black)*

Soulslicer-Pandemic (Death)*

Hexed-Pagans Rising (Melodic/Progressive)*

Legal Hate-Moral Destruction (Thrash)*

Tyrant-The Lowest Level (Thrash)*

Hammerstar-Hammerstar (Heavy)*

Oaken Skull-L’excellence Du Vice (Thrash)*

Walls of Babylon-Fallen (Power/Progressive)*

Behind the Eye-The Lion of Lions (Melodic Death)*

Hocculta-Dreams For Sale (Heavy)*

Foreseen-Untamed Force (Thrash/Crossover)*

Strangle Wire-Shaped By Human Frailty (Death)*

Acid Witch-Rot Among Us (Heavy Psychedelic/Doom)*

Umbilicus-Path of 1000 Suns (Hard Rock)*

Siren-A Mercenary’s Fate (Heavy)*

Gluttony-Drogulus (Death)*

Devouror-Diabolis Brigade (Death/Thrash)*

Toadeater-Bexadde (Post Black)*

Sceptic-Nailed to Ignorance (Progressive Death)*

Unchained Horizon-Fallen Kingdom (Heavy/Speed/Traditional)*

Criminal Madhouse Conspiracy-Criminal Madhouse Conspiracy (Death/Thrash)*

Deville-Heavy Lies the Crown (Stoner)*

Deadly Vipers-Low City Drone (Psycgedelic/Stoner/Hard Stock)*

Distruster-Sic Semper Tyrannis (Death/Crust/Speed/Death n’ Roll)*

Ellende-Ellenbogenesellschaft (Atmospheric Black)*

Eternal Helcaraxe-Down in Ash (Black)*

Graceless-Chants from Purgatory (Death/Doom)*

In.si.dia-De Luce e d’aria (Thrash)*

Infidel Rising-A complex Divinity (Progressive Power)*

Monster Truck-Warriors (Hard Rock/Heavy)*

This week was almost a tie once again between Arctora and Ohth. At the wire Ohth just barely takes the pick of the week with 4.5 wishes that I could sleep as well as a bulldog out of 5!

[jake-g-lockley]

I’m Cold... (Poe Dameron x gn!reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist

Warnings: None, fluff. (Edit: alcohol, i forgot the alcohol warning AHAHAHA)

Word Count: 1.3k words.

Summary: Commander Dameron is cold, drunk, and silly.

Gif from @userpoe

A/N: I woke up cold yesterday so I wrote this cuz why not. Let me know if someone has done something similar HAHAHAHAH

Tagging: @ahookedheroespureheart

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You woke up to someone bashing your door and instantly, you grab your blaster and point it to the door, clutching your blanket and bantha stuffie close.

“Y/N, wake upppp…!” a loud voice groaned from the other side.

You scowl at the voice, anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach as you glance at the clock beside you.

2 am. 

You had a 9 am meeting with General Organa today and you only managed to go to sleep at about 12 am. You knew he was doing this on purpose. 

“Commander Dameron, why are you trying to break my door down?” you say putting your blaster down but not moving from the comfort of your bed. 

The second you met the leader of the Black Squadron, you decided to declare that he was your enemy and he seemed to do the same. Yes, sure, the both of you were fighting for the same cause, but a million stormtroopers could not come close to the disdain you had for your commander. The both of you stubbornly drove Finn, Rose, Rey, General Organa and the rest of the resistance up and over the wall with your constant bickering, arguing and competition. 

“Open up, pleaseee. Your commander commands you to let him in.” he giggled and you hear him slump against the door. 

Great, he’s drunk.

“Dameron, please go back to your room, I have an early meeting, I need to get back to bed.” you say, still not opening the door. 

Suddenly, you hear the familiar whirls and beeps from the pilot’s droid and your eyes widen as you hear him keying the passcode into the keypad with BB-8’s instructions. Two seconds later, the door whooshes open, light flooding in and you see the familiar outline of your commander, your eyes barely adjusting in time to catch BB-8 rolling away at high speed.

“BB, I SWEAR, I'M GOING TO TAKE YOU APART WITH A SLEDGEHAMMER AND SELL YOU AS SCRAPS!” you yell from your bed at the runaway ball of metal. 

The pilot slumps inside and smacks the keypad behind him and the door whooshes close, sending the room back into darkness

“What could you possibly want that could not wait till more civilized hours, Commander?” you ask, hatred dripping like venom from your words. 

“I’m cold.” he simply says.

“You decided to wake me up at 2 am, because you are cold?” you growl through gritted teeth.

“Mhmm.” he smiles, that big toothy grin that would charm anyone into absolution and invites himself to sit on your bunk bed, next to your legs and starts taking off his boots. 

You throw the bantha at his head and he catches it with accurate precision, his reflexes still sharp, despite being drunk. He sets the bantha aside and continues to take off his boots.

“Y/N.”

“What, Dameron?” You say, slowly leaning up on your forearms and shifting away from him.

“I’m cold.” He repeats, looking at you with his big dopey, soft eyes.

“Yea, you already said that, I can’t do anything to help you with that.” You huff, trying to ignore the little twang in your heart that sounded when you briefly met said dopey eyes.

You scan his face, taking in the pink tint lightly covering his cheeks and nose, his one day old stubble, the gorgeous curve of his jaw, his soft pillowy lips. 

Your hand itches to tuck the little stray curl that had popped away from his mass of black hair. And then you find yourself staring again at his beautiful brown orbs. You often find yourself getting woozy over those eyes, especially when no one is looking.

Ugh, why does he have to be such a pretty boy?

“Pretty boy?” Poe smirked, scooching closer to you.

Whoops.

“I-i didn’t say that, I meant, pretty b-bossy.” You quickly stutter but Poe smiles and without a warning he laid his soft head of hair down onto your stomach and stared up at you, legs still planted awkwardly onto the floor outside of the bed. You tensed, surprised at the sudden contact but eventually relaxed.

“What are you doing, Poe?” You whisper, letting autopilot take over as you run your hand through his soft curls. 

He sighs, pressing the side of his face further into your tummy, his eyes fluttering shut. You swore your heart was begging to tear itself out of your chest cavity with how hard it was pounding and you were pretty sure Poe could hear it too. 

“Can you cuddle me, please, Y/N?” He whispers back, opening his eyes slightly to meet yours again. 

Without thinking twice, you find yourself nodding fervently as he moves his head off your tummy and lays down properly beside you. You immediately bring his head close to your chest, as he pulls himself closer to you, entangling his legs with yours, arms snaking around your body. You slowly cover the both of you with your little blanket. 

He nuzzles close and you find yourself relaxing, the unknown creature inside you taming with the soft whooshes of his breath on your skin. You breathe his scent in, leather mixed with masculine aftershave plus the familiar smell of Jet Juice on his breath. 

“Can you play with my hair again, please?” He whispers after a while, and again you instantly oblige, not understanding what is making you feel this way. 

But you didn’t feel robotic. No. This felt natural and normal. The same way the arguments and bickering felt normal with him. Maybe you were doing this because you hoped he wouldn’t remember a thing tomorrow. Maybe you were doing this just because you longed to do this for so long.

“I’m in love with you.” he whispers, and the words reverberated through your chest and coated your heart like sweet glazed honey making it grind to a halt.

“You’re drunk, Commander.” you teased, once you regain your sense of consciousness. 

“I know you love me too.” he says and you didn’t dare deny it. 

You knew he was the other reason you got out of bed every day. You fought with him because you cared about his safety and hated his recklessness. You wanted to kiss him every time a mission went right. You cried yourself to sleep silently when he took too long to return from the secret missions that the General sent him to. You never wanted to admit your feelings for him and you were glad that this man was stupidly observant enough to do it for you. 

Instead, you bent forward and gave him a soft lingering kiss on his forehead, hands still slowly playing with his curls and he sighs, hugging you tighter.

“Sleep, pretty boy, we have all the time in the world to talk.” You whisper and immediately you feel his breathing slow as his grip on you relaxes.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You woke up to the sound of a camera flashing loudly and you groaned, pulling Poe’s shifting body back closer to you, wrapping your legs around him to keep him from escaping.

“RISE AND SHINE, LOVEBIRDS, WE HAVE BETS TO COLLECT.” Finn, Rose and Rey say in unison as you slowly peak over Poe’s head at them, hiding your heated cheeks. BB-8 was happily rolling around in one spot and beeping in glee. 

“What the hell do you mean by bets?” Poe groaned and turned to look at them.

“Oh please, the whole Resistance has been waiting for this.” Rose squeals, waving the polaroid at your face. 

“Even the General had placed her bets. Oh, we’re gonna be so rich.” Rey says, slapping Poe’s back, making him wince.

You facepalm and Poe swings his leg which catches Finn’s shin, making him yelp. 

“Should we tell them that nothing particularly spicy happened?” you whispered, lifting Poe’s face to look up at you.

“Let them have their fun.” Poe asks, giving you a boyish smirk. “Ready to face the shame of today?” 

“Ready when you are, Commander.” You smirk back. 

[erodasfishtacos]

Not Your Charity Case

prompt: Harry is a frat boy - who doesn’t need sympathy from anyone. He makes Y/N feel a sense of home when they’re together. But is Harry just like every stereotypical frat boy?

word count: 6.2k 

warnings: minor violence, language, deaf!harry, smutttt

other: when Harry is talking to Y/N or any other characters - it is to be noted that he is signing. When Y/N talks to Harry - she is also always signing

Let me know if you’d want to see anything else from this verse:)

+++

You were rushed - you really shouldn’t stop at the local coffee shop for a sugary, delicious mocha chip frappuccino.

Despite what people say, professors are much more lax and carefree in college.

It was about two weeks into the new semester, - your third here- and the seasons were changing - becoming autumn.

Chilled breezes, falling leaves, and vivid colors of nature made you happy.

When you arrive in line, there are two people ahead of you. A girl currently in front of the cashier and a tall male with a red and black flannel on behind her- typing away on his phone.

When she moves to the left, the broad man steps forward. His snapback facing backwards, brown curls dancing around his neck. You can’t help but notice how tall and lean he is, shoulders broad and straight.

You definitely haven’t seen him before on campus. You’d remember.

From what you can see, he shows the young girl behind the counter the screen of his phone without saying anything at all.

The raven-haired girl’s face pinches in annoyance. “We don’t accept orders like that. You need to tell me what you want.”

You’re a little surprised by both the rude cashier but also the man who doesn’t respond right away.

He attempts to show her his phone again but she shakes her head - annoyed.

You become interested in the situation when I watch him sign, a few gestures before pointing to his ears. In the most obvious form of saying “I can’t hear.”

The clueless girl gives him a blank look, “Listen, there’s a line. I don’t have time for this.”

You hoped you weren’t overstepping your boundaries when you slide up next to him, tapping him on his shoulder to get his attention.

It is a bit startling how gorgeous the boy is. He was tanned with bright green-eyes and a defined jawline that was currently clenched in frustration.

You sign, “What are you trying to order?”

He studies you for a second with hesitance before his long slim fingers begin to move, slowly as if he thinks you may be inexperienced in the form of language.

He replies, “Large coffee with a little cream and two sugars.”

You squeeze in front of him, “It is not only rude but illegal to not serve based on disabilities. Refusing an order from a deaf person isn’t moral or acceptable.”

The girl has enough decency to mumble an apology and turned bright pink, “Sorry, he doesn’t look deaf. “You roll your eyes - how can you tell that someone is deaf based on solely appearance? This girls a fucking idiot, you think.

You repeat his order to her, along with yours - sliding your debit card towards her and give her your name for the order.

The man trails behind you to the small waiting area. “Thank you,” he signs simply. You nod and return the pleasantry. The. hand him his steaming hot coffee.

“Thank you again. I’m going to be late to class, so I have to go,” he tells me, seeming a little out of place signing with a stranger.

“Go ahead, I’ll see you around.” It was the first time in a long time you’ve signed to anyone outside your family.

+++

Sipping your drink as you are only five minutes late and the class hasn’t even started yet. The man you just helped was sat in the back of the classroom, unloading his laptop.

With a little bravery, you wriggle your way through and plop into the wooden chair easily. Letting your backpack fall to the ground. Curly looks over at you with a frown, he signs, “Why are you sitting next to me?”

You blush, “I don’t know? Thought it’d be good to have someone to talk to.”

His hands are tense as he replies, “I’m not a charity case, so you can leave me alone.”

“Never said you were,” you huff when you tell him. Not appreciating how rude he was being. Signing had its own tones and expressions so to speak. For example, when someone is happy their signs and movements are different than when they’re sad or frustrated.

Harry seems to be the latter. You wrestle out your laptop to the PowerPoint that was going to be discussed today in class. You noticed Harry stared very intently at the professor to read his lips and expression.

You was surprised he didn’t have an interpreter with him but you’re sure he got special accommodations elsewhere. Even though that was absolutely none of your business.

His shoulders are tensed and he makes sure your arms don’t brush like you have cooties for the entire two hours. The nameless boy is up and out of his seat as soon as the professor shuts off the projector and turns on the lights - signaling class to be over.

Well fuck him then.

***

You don’t make the mistake to sit next him again. But that doesn’t mean you could ogle his strong muscular back and big hands.

It wasn’t your place to care but you felt twinges in your tummy when you noticed him struggling to keep up with the fast-speed class on certain days.

You were in the large, rustic library that smelled of old books and damp wallpaper. It was dead silent as people furiously studied or worked on papers due.

As you paced the shelves, you could not find the book you needed for your American Literature class. Fuck the Dewey Decimal System.

Part-time uni students probably just stuffed returned books in any open space they saw fit. But you need this book in particular, a discussion board post due by midnight and it was currently eight-thirty. They had ran out of copies at the on-campus bookstore.

After a valiant effort, you trudge up to the checkout counter. A little sign reads, “ring me if no ones here!”

You impatiently ring the silver bell. But no one comes. You give whoever is working a minute or two but nothing. Another ring it is.

Silence. No one. Of fucking course, luck is not on your side tonight.

You dramatically clunk your head onto the high counter top in front of you - groaning at the fact you may fail the assignment.

A tentative pat on your shoulder makes you snap your head up. To see the boy you’ve been constantly avoiding standing behind the checkout desk.

“Are you okay?” He asks. He had a name-tag on - Harry. He honestly looked a bit out of place. Harry appeared to be a frat boy. He was still had a boyish air about him but an intensity that was unmatchable.

He didn’t look like he would work in the library. He looked like...well he looked like he would be a beer pong referee or something.

You couldn’t see below his torso but he had a plain black snapback on and a vintage Elton John concert tee. A cross necklace dangling over the worn shirt.

You smile, embarrassed, but reply, “Just being dramatic. I can’t find a book and I was waiting here.”

There’s mirth in his eyes when he points to the bell,”Did you ring the bell?”

Your brows furrow, “I did.”

“Well I can’t hear it, I’m deaf,” he deadpans with a straight face and a dry sense of humor.

You roll your eyes, laughing nervously, “I didn’t know you were working!”

“What do you need?”

He helps you locate the book in two minutes flat before checking you out and you rushing home to finish the homework.

You felt bad ignoring your little sister’s FaceTime calls but you promised to call her back tomorrow. 

***

Though once again, you hadn’t interacted with Harry since last week - you constantly found yourself studying his stoic profile or fast moving fingers.

You would never befriend Harry because you feel bad for him - like he presumed. You enjoyed American Sign Language and it actually made you feel back at home.

You’re little sister was born completely deaf. She was much younger than you - eight years old. Fifteen years apart to be exact. You learned the language along with her and your parents.

When you were at home and your sister was there - you guys tried to only sign so she didn’t feel left out. So Harry felt like home - a little despite his completely off-putting demeanor. It made you a little bit more persistent than with any other frat boy.

***

The bulletin board in your advisor’s office caught your eyes. None of the little tabs ripped off in interest.

‘Student with ASL experience and above a 3.5 GPA needed for tutoring sessions - twice weekly. $16 dollars an hour.’

After your meeting, you tugged the little scrap of paper off and tuck it into your pocket. You couldn’t know for sure if it was Harry but you didn’t know of any other deaf students in the program.

You say ‘fuck it’ and type out an email to the advisor of academic affairs and accommodations to throw your hat in the ring.

***

You don’t hear back for three days - nearly forgetting about it in the mean time. Your eyes scan quickly over the email to grant you the position. They include contact information for no other than Harry Styles.

After psyching yourself out a little and a few paces across your kitchen tiles - you text him.

Hey! I’m your new assigned tutor. Would you like to set up a time and place? As well as what kind of help you’re looking for.

The reply text comes shortly after

Hello, thank you very much. I am just in need of hearing ears. I am deaf and have a hard time keeping up with the my professor. I have begun recording the lectures in hope that you can sign then to me.

Sure thing. That won’t be a problem!

I live in Alpha Sigma on 3rd street. I have my own room. I’d rather not have the tutoring session in public. However, if that makes you uncomfortable - we can figure something out.

You take a minute to debate. You understand why this would be a task too loud for the library and why he’d want privacy. You didn’t feel like I’d be uncomfortable with him.

I saw twice a week so does Tuesday and Thursday at seven work?

Sounds great. Thank you again x

Did he know it was me? Was he expecting it to me?

***

He was definitely not expecting you. You automatically knew that by the way his friendly smile dissipated into a frown when he opened the door for you.

You attempted to look nice today without trying too hard. A loose crop top with the university’s name, a pair of tight black leggings, bulky white socks bunched at your ankles, and white sneakers. Very 80’s.

You try to keep your composure, “Hi Harry, I’m going to be your tutor.”

He slowly nods at you, huffing out a breathe of irritation before inviting you into the frat house.

You’d only been here once or twice for a party so you had no idea what the house actually looked like when there weren’t bodies and booze everywhere.

He’s walking you past a group of boys playing FIFA on the flatscreen in the living room, white claws open everywhere.

“Y/N! Hey babe!” You look over to see Niall - one of your good friends from your part-time job at the bookstore - trotting over to you guys.

The blonde pulls you into an overexcited hug. He reminded you of a cuddly, soft puppy dog most of the time.

“Are you Harry’s little tutor?” Niall coos, leaning over to pinch Harry’s cheek. 

Harry- who was observing the conversation, focusing in on our lips, immediately bats his friend away. A small scowl forming on his face.

It automatically turns into a playful brawl where Niall tugs Harry into headlock. But he has no strength on the brunette.

Harry turns out of it quickly and pushes Niall to the ground. He straddles his stomach and begins to jokingly pinch and slap at him.

Niall hisses, “Ouch! You motherfucker! Big oaf!”

Then you don’t know why you find this endearing but Niall signs the word, “uncle” a few times to signal he’s accepted his lost.

The fact that they wrestle so much that Niall learned to sign how to give up made you giggle more than it should.

Harry crawls off of him, running a hand through his messy curls, his face a little flushed.

“I’ll talk to you later!” You tell Niall as your trailing behind Harry up a flight of stairs.

His room is extremely neat. A fluffy navy comfort decorated his bed with a few photos of flowers and nature on his wall. A tidy desk tucked away in the corner that had all of his school work loaded on top of it.

He chooses to sit in his desk chair, motioning for you to perch on his bed. You look at him expectantly when he pulls out the tape recorder and sets it on the surface.

He pulls his laptop into his lap and begins signing, “I need you to transcribe the lecture for me so I can follow it. We can skip through the bits where he is rambling or off topic.”

You nod, letting him know to begin whenever he’s ready. He presses the side button and the recording starts but it super unclear and garbled.

“Did you record this from your seat?” You ask, the professors words nearly inaudible and fuzzy.

“Yes.”

“You need to bring it to the front of the room. Ask Dr. Morrison  to lay it on his desk before class. I can’t hear anything but static and mumbles,” You tell him.

He laughs and shakes his head. His movements rough and angry, “Of course its fucked up. I get you as my tutor and then the recorder is shit.”

You glare at him, offended as you haven’t done anything to this boy. “Excuse me? I’ve literally been trying to help since I’ve meet you. What is your fucking issue?”

“I’m not a charity case! I don’t need you to feel bad for me. I’m not helpless! You’re probably just a silly little girl who took ASL in high school because it was cool and trendy. Go back to focusing on psych.”

“Fuck you, Harry,” Your gestures getting sharper and your face sour, “You know nothing about me so don’t act like you do. I don’t feel bad for you or think that you’re helpless.” You put up a hand and tell him to not talk.

“I was just being nice because I thought you were handsome and at first, seemed friendly. It turns out you’re just like every douchebag frat boy I’ve met. What a disappointment,” You chuckle, swinging your bag on your shoulder and storm out of the room without another look.

***

The cafe was jammed packed - it was Waffle Wednesday. You had said waffles in your tray and were about to plop down on a stool when you hear your name being called.

“C’mere, come sit with us!” He hollers over the commotion of the crowd. Niall.

You’re about to decline when some dude slips behind you and snags the stool. Shit.

A bit unwillingly you slide into the booth next to Niall, cracking open your sparkling water. “Mates, this is Y/N, we work at the store together and she’s Harry’s tutor,” he tells them. “Y/N, this is Liam and Louis.”

“Hello,” you try your best to come off as friendly even though you can feel Harry’s glare on the side of your face. You ended up falling to easy conversation with the boys. Niall has a very limited ASL vocabulary but tries.

The boys are also trying to talk slower and more pronounced so Harry can watch and understand. A couple of times he taps Niall on the wrist to repeat what was going on.

Your phone begins buzzing and you apologize for the interruption. It’s your little sister, Mazie, FaceTiming.

You answer the phone with a frown, signing “Aren’t you suppose to be in school?”

Mazie looks upset, eyes a little watery. She gestures back, “I left early. I’m sick.”

“Are you really sick or where you getting bullied again?” You asks her.

Your sister hesitates before sniffling, “You already know. I hate my school.” 

Mazie has had other children bully her for her disability since she started preschool and it as still happening in fourth grade.

“What can I do to help?” You frown, never wanting to see your baby sister cry.

You chat for a few minutes to help her calm down. When the phone call ends, you don’t realize that all the boys were watching you in interest. Harry in particular, keeps his focus on you with a wrinkled forehead.

“My sister’s deaf,” You tell them. The whole time you’ve been sitting with them you’ve been signing and verbally speaking to help everyone be able to be included in the conversation.

“That’s sick!” Louis says, smacking Harry’s arm. “Just like our lad Harry.” 

Harry grumbles when Louis shakes him a little. It seems like the boys loved to physically interact with Harry which was endearing.

Harry allows him to for a moment before he flicks his cheek hard and laughs when Louis flinches. The conversation goes back to normal.

***

Harry jogs up to you after your group shares farewells and a few punches. You pointedly ignore him as you trek to the class you two have together so it’s not like he can’t walk this way too.

“Please, wait,” Harry asks. He walks in front of you.

“What do you want?” You huff, keeping my glare firm and directed alley at him.

“I’m sorry. I made the wrong assumption.”

“You made a lot of wrong assumptions. The fact that you think of me so lowly is sad. I’ve been nothing but nice,” You try not to focus on his large palms that curve over the caps of your shoulders.

“I’m not very trusting of people.”

You snort rather unattractively, “No kidding”

“Can we please start over?” He asks, stepping back to give you space. He didn’t realize how close he’d been standing to you until your hair wisps across his nose.

“One more chance, Styles.”

Harry lays a hand on your upper arm and squeeze lightly before signing the simple gesture of ‘thank you.’

***

It turns out Harry is very handsy and physically affectionate. It wasn’t creepy though or something that ever made you feel uncomfortable.

You were still tutoring him but you hung around the frat with Harry nearly everyday. The days you just wanted to lay in bed resulted in a grumpy FaceTime from Harry.

Harry once stated during a tutoring session, “It is easier for me to show how I’m feeling with touch than words. If I ever make you uncomfortable - please tell me and I will stop.”

You smile slyly at his words that sounded more like a question, asking if he can touch you. “I guess I’ll let you feel me up every now in again.”

He giggles and looks down wolfishly - like an entertaining thought is dancing around in his mind.

You tuck your finger under his chin to gaze at you. “In all seriousness, I give you my consent to show your feelings with physical touch. I trust you and know you won’t do anything to make me uncomfortable.”

The curly-haired brunette smiles happily, his hand cupping the side of your neck and brushing over your pulse point.

He hadn’t touched you here before and it seems like it was his first goal to do so once he got permission. You can’t help but take in a deep gasp of air. You prayed he didn’t notice but by the small lift of his lips he did.

The simple touch made a flame of arousal swirl in your lower stomach. You felt like you were about to start sweating.

“Anyways,” You clear your throat and snatch back up the recorder. It now had better quality after Harry listened to you about placement.

***

The frat house was ridiculously full of drunk college students. Everybody on the dance floor was sweaty and sticky with a variety of different substances.

Niall had invited you - so you were searching about for him. Pushing through the crowd and nobody was able to hear you say ‘excuse me.’

You finally found fresh air in the backyard where beer pong and cornhole were set up. Niall was tossing his ball across the table, trying to splash in Liam’s red solo cups.

Harry was sitting on a cushioned patio chair, watching the game commence. Maybe he was a beer pong referee after all. 

He looked so fucking good tonight. He had a yellow snapback taming his curls - backwards of course. A black Rage Against the Machine shirt and his signature black skinny jeans. **

You made eye contact and were about to wave when a girl plopped down in the seat across from him.

Awkwardly you turn away, greeting the other boys and taking a seat in a lawn chair to watch them start their third round of the game.

Your eyes keep darting over to Harry who is staring blankly at the girl. She starts stroking his biceps and tracing across the tattoos like they belong to her.

Harry is attempting to let her know he’s not interested. His signs uselessly as she’s staring at his lips and not hands.

You’re moving before you know it, without another thought, you squeeze in between the two - separating them. You dramatically slide into his lap, funnily enough one strong arm wrapping happily around your middle.

The pretty blonde pouts out her lips, “Is he your boyfriend?”

Before you’re able to reply, Harry signs the obvious signal for ‘yes’ to the girl. Then rudely makes the shooing gesture. She’s up with a huff and stomping back towards the house.

Harry turns you sideways on his lap so that you two can see each other’s hands, “You saved me.”

“You’re just such a stud, have to protect you,” You joke - but not really.

He raising his eyebrows and smiles, “You were jealous.” It was a statement not a question.

You blush wildly, avoiding eye contact which you know he hates. He hates anytime you cut off ways of communication.

Harry taps your lips until you look up at him, “it’s really fucking sexy when you are.” A perk of sign language. He could dirty talk just about anywhere and mostly no one would ever know.

His thumb drags on your full bottom lip, signing clumsily with one hand so you had to use context clues to piece it together “Don’t think I forgot when you called me handsome a few months ago.”

“I don’t remember, doesn’t sound like me,” You boldly lie, snickering and nipping at the top of his thumb

His eyes become a shade darker when your teeth meet his skin. He presses his thumb further in until it’s in-between your teeth. The moment is broken when Niall screams, “Styles! You’re up next!”

**

You and Harry become separated after you spent nearly two hours watching all these drunk boys play beer pong. Harry was ridiculously good at the game and only had to drink two cups from the table.

You had wandered back into the house where the party had died down. There were only a handful of stragglers left but mostly just the fraternity brothers and their close friends.

With a fresh alcoholic seltzer in your hand - you didn’t trust open bottles at parties like this - you gaze at Harry through the back window.

Harry was being jumped by Liam and Niall. He was snarling playfully as Liam toppled them all over into the grass. Niall tries to stand up but Harry’s hand wraps around his ankle and makes him fall right back on his bum with a girlish squeal.

Niall leans over to give Harry a wet-willy but Liam manages to throw a plastic cup directly at Niall’s forehead. Harry and the other boys dissolve in childish giggles. Faces red from laughter and liquor. You feel a smile painted fondly on your lips from watching them.

“Hey, Y/N right?” A voice interrupts from behind.

You spin to face a guy you barely recognize from a previous class you shared. You smile nonetheless, “Hi...”

“Jake, Jake from Social Constructs and Society last semester.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” You smile and allow him to talk your ear off because you struggle to say ‘no.’ He was fine, nothing special, typical business major who thought he was hot shit because his daddy owned a golf course he wanted to take you to.

It was a normal conversation until his voice gets lower as if he’s trying to be more seductive, “Want to head to a room with me?” He nods towards the staircase.

You chuckle in disbelief at his bold and forward question. “No thank you, I’m good.” You really had eyes for one person right now and he was currently cussing out Niall in sign language in the backyard before tackling him once again to the ground.

“C’mon, I can really show you a good time,” He persuades persistently, stepping into your space - causing your nervousness to spike.

“I said - no thank you,”You bite out, starting to feel scared when he blocks your way out of the kitchen and presses himself against you and the counter.

“You’re really something gorgeous, you know?” He asks, ignoring my struggles to get away from him.

“Stop touching me!” You scream, hoping Niall or one of the boys would hear your wail. He puts a hand up to your mouth to muffle you but that only results in you biting him.

“Fucking bitch!” He cries out, pulling his hand back and winding up to either punch or slap you right in the face. You prepare for the impact.

Then in a blink off an eye, it becomes a blur, a muscular figure is crashing into Jake with full force and knocking him straight into the linoleum floor with a loud crash.

It’s Harry. Broad shoulders and thick but lean tattooed biceps. He’s standing over the harasser and drops on top of him. It shouldn’t look as graceful and tactful as it does.

You’d never seen anything like this from Harry before. Once you really got to know him - he was a gentle giant who liked romantic comedies, soft blankets, and vanilla cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles.

Harry’s fist is repeatedly connecting with the dark-haired boy’s jaw with full force. The only noise is from Jake as Harry is dead silent but his eyes zeroed in on the target.

When blood begins gushing from the man’s nose - Niall and Liam decide it times to physically pull Harry up. Harry had a slight red mark on his jaw when Jake had managed one punch before being defeated quickly.

Harry signs to Niall, “Tell him.”

Niall places his foot on the dude’s chest to keep him down, “My mate wants to let you know if you touch her again we’re not going to pull him off and he’ll gladly beat you to a fucking pulp.”

Jake groans, clutching his nose to stop the bleeding, “Fuckin’ asshole.” 

You were still blown away as you watch Harry’s heaving chest as he glares down at the boy. His fist clenched and knuckle bloody and swollen. Harry’s attention turns towards you. His furious expression melts into worry. You can read his face so clearly. He’s afraid he’s scared you off.

It was hard to believe you had this drop dead gorgeous frat boy defending you past midnight on a Friday night. A boy who didn’t need to hear but just to see you needed help to step in.

All your desires and lusts after the man in front of you burst like a rubber-band and the urge to have him felt uncontrollable. “Take me upstairs,” you demand quickly, arousal creeping up your spine.

He doesn’t understand you’re extremely turned on. Instead he looks like a kicked dog who’s about to get in trouble again.

Nevertheless, he takes your hand and maneuvers out of the kitchen and up the stairs until his bedroom door is closed.

Harry lips are turned down unhappily as he begins, “I’m sorry, love. I...” he pauses a moment before continuing. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I hope you don’t think less of me.”

You look him dead in the eye and sign, “Kiss me.”

He blinks slowly at you like he just hallucinate the gestures.

So you repeat your motions, slow and with intent, “Kiss me, touch me, do something.” No more time is wasted as he is stepping in front of you and cupping your face in his hands.

Without any hesitation now, he pressing a bruising kiss to your lips - taking your bottom one between his and sucking.

Your hands are immediately tugging at the hem of his vintage shirt, pulling apart to bring it over his head. Dark ink decorates his torso, for some reason something you weren’t expecting. A butterfly on his abdomen, two fern branches, tattoos on his side.

Harry chuckles, “This is new to me.”

Your eyes go wide and you sign, “You’re a virgin?”

Harry snorts and rolls his eyes before telling you, “God no. I mean I’ve never been able to really communicate during sex.”

Then before You can speak, he cuts in a bit frantically, “I’ve always gotten consent - not like that. I mean-“ You cut him off with a kiss - knowing he would never do anything you didn’t want.

You wanted everything from him.

“If you’d believe it, I like a bit of dirty talk when I fuck - but no one understands what I’m saying,” He tries to crack a joke but for some reason seems insecure and nervous.

“Hey,” You take his chin so he shyly meets your eye, “I can’t wait to hear it - you’ve already made me so wet.” His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas.

“You’re such a good girl,” he signs before tugging off your shirt and instantly finding your lips again. His hands are skillful as they unclasp your bra without any struggle and tosses it.

You tugs a bit as his hair to show your enjoyment as his tongue finds your nipple - lapping before taking it between his teeth. As good as it feels, you want him to feel even better.

You push him back until he’s sitting in the edge of the bed, legs spread and hands behind him on either side holding him up. Jaw clenched with arousal and restraint.

He’s pressed against the zipper of his jeans. And all you wanted to do was see him in all of his glory. You’re quick to undo the button and determined to get the finicky zipper down as well.

His fingers come beneath your chin until you’re looking at his sparkling eyes, a look of lust made his lids a little droopier and his mouth slack from heavy-breathing.

“Are you sure you want to? You don’t have to - I want to eat your pussy either way, pet,” He signs, leaning in for a slow, wet kiss.

You sign back with a pout, “Shut the fuck up.” He huffs out a laugh, letting go of your chin and wrapping a hand in your hair to keep it out of your face.

As soon as he’s helping you wriggle his briefs and jeans down his narrow hips, you’re met with the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen.

When you make eye contact with Harry, he raises a eyebrow and grins cockily, “Is it nice enough for your liking, love?”

You nod breathlessly - wasting no more time before ducking down to take him to your mouth, a slight burning in your throat from how big he is.

His hands keep ahold of your hair, thumbs pressed against your temples as you bob down his length with sloppy, warm licks.

Harry’s moaning as you pop off to kiss and suck at the underside of him, hands coming to cup and roll his balls. It is a few moments later when he taps your cheek to get your attention, one hand leaving his hair to sign that he’s close.

Your mouth speeds up, wanting to give him all the pleasure you could. Your hand coming to stroke at what couldn’t fit in your mouth, pumping quickly.

Before you know it, Harry’s rutting his hips upwards and coming with a long, deep moan from the rumbles of his chest. He’s pulling you up into his lap, pressing appreciative kisses to your cheeks and jawline.

Big hands palming at your breasts before slipping down into your leggings, brushing softly over your mound. 

You whine and hitch forward to grind against his palm as soon as he cups you. He smiles widely at your desperation, pressing the heel of his palm harder against you to create more pressure.

You were already so wet and turned on that it wasn’t going to take much. The ball of your climax was burning low in your tummy. However, you wanted him to taste you like he said he would.

You sign, “I’m close. Please, I want your mouth on me.”

With that, he’s flipping you until you’re laid out on the bed. His hands tugging off your leggings and underwear with no further ado. “Holy shit,” He gestures, gazing all over your body and not stopping on one spot for too long.

“What?” You ask, fishing for the compliments you know he’s about to shower you in.

“You’ve got such a pretty pussy,” he signs, dimples popping in his cheeks and a curious finger traces your entrance before dipping in.

You lightly kick at his stomach, “Get on me.” He pouts, crooking his finger against your spot before pulling it out. Fucking tease.

Then his face is disappearing between your spread thighs and a strong lick is delivered from your clit all the way down to your bum.

Since he can’t hear you, you grabs handfuls off his hair. Tugging at the roots, scratching your nails into his scalp to let him know how good he is. So fucking good.

When you accidentally buck your hips hard against his mouth, you curse and run a apologetic hand through the locks. He doesn’t look up at you but lift a hand and signs, “Again.”

You absolutely whine, begging to ride him with determination - climax on the brink. He hums causing vibrations on the sensitive nerves. With that, your hips are meeting his tongue and you’re coming. His face dampening with your release - happy as a clam when he pops back up.

You can’t remember the sign for condom, so you sign, “Protection?” Harry understands right away, rustling through the drawer until he finds a stray packets, “It’s been awhile.”

“Same,” You gestures - watching as he slides it down his length and crawls overtop of you. He was pink and swollen - having to be a bit sensitive from just coming a little while ago.

“Ready, love?” He asks, pressing soft kisses to your jawline. You nod, reaching down to guide him in.

And you weren’t lying, it had been a while and he was big. The stretch wasn’t uncomfortable, just a lot. But his wet, open-mouth kisses made you stay grounded.

Harry’s moans were absolutely obscene as he slide all the way in before stopping to give you a moment. His arms strong, holding himself over you. The cold metal of his necklaces brushing against your tight nipples.

When you have him the okay, he begin giving you deep, hard strokes on each thrust. His noises so loud they had to be able to hear them downstairs. They were deep and low - rumbling in his chest with pleasure.

Then his hand is coming to your throat. For a wild moment you thought he was going to choke you but instead he rest it lightly, palm flat.

It takes you a moment - then it hits you.

Holy fuck. He is feeling the vibrations of your moans - erupting from your vocal cords. Feeling out the movement from your throat so he can feel how much you’re enjoying it.

You should be embarrassed but you can’t find it in you when you come again right on the spot. His fingertips nudging into the skin to feel the intensity as it wracks through you.

When you’re done riding out your orgasm, he reaches for the headboard behind you with his other hand, gripping it tightly as he begins to pound in with all his strength.

The bedframe is hitting the wall so loud that the whole house must be able to hear it. Hitting with every directed thrust until his mouth is dropping down into a long, timbred moan and he’s coming.

---

Later, when the two are you have settled for the night in the warmth of his bed. Harry seems a little nervous, once again. It takes him a moment to meet your eyes and brushes a strand of hair off your forehead.

“What is it?” You ask, tucked into his side. His body so solid and comforting.

“It’s corny,” Harry frowns, eyebrows furrowing as his eyes flash across your face.

“Tell me,” You insist, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss his fingertips.

“I feel like you were made for me. Like...we were meant to be together,” Harry signs, hesitant to share his thoughts. But it doesn’t scare you away. You can’t help but agree.

“I think so too,” You reply before pressing another kiss to his puffy pink lips.

[moonxknightx]

𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄?

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 --- Kingo x F!Reader ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 --- Fluff :)) ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 --- Marvel, Eternals ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 --- None just Kingo being an absolute darling ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 --- Kingo is trying to get your attention.

“BABE ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING?” Asked Kingo while turning around in bed so he could look at you. “Yeah of course.” You mumbled while your eyes stayed fixated on the screen of your laptop.

“You are a bad liar.” Kingo huffed while rolling his eyes. “I’m sorry baby i just really want to finish this piece for tonight.” You sighed while pointing at a school project you were currently working on.

“But i miss you.” Kingo spoke softly while grabbing your hand in his, kissing your knuckles. “I know Kingo. I miss you too. But i really have to finish this for tonight. I’m sorry sweetheart.” You said while looking into Kingo’s beautiful brown eyes.

“Sure whatever.” Kingo huffed while rolling his eyes at you before turning away from you so he could get out of bed.

“Kingo please…” You sighed while watching how your boyfriend of one year, put on a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants.

“No it’s fine. Just finish your stupid school project, i’ll be in the living room for when you are done.” Kingo said before storming out of the room.

“Well that went great.” You muttered to yourself while hiding your face in your hands, thinking about the whole situation.

“Hi baby.” You spoke softly while entering the living room. Kingo immediately paused the tv show he was watching and turned around to see you standing in the doorframe while wearing one of his big t-shirts.

“Hey.” Kingo smiled while staring at you. “I’m sorry for earlier. I really am. I put to much time in my school project that i forgot about my sweet boyfriend.” You said quietly while looking down at your hands.

Kingo couldn’t help but smile at how adorable you looked right now. He couldn’t stay mad at you. Look at you! You are way to adorable to stay mad at.

“Come here.” Kingo smiled while patting the spot next to him on the couch. You quickly made your way over to the couch and sat down next to your boyfriend.

“Are you mad?” You asked quietly. Kingo chuckled while shaking his head. “How could i ever be mad at you sweetheart?” He smiled while placing a loving kiss on your nose.

“I am sorry for walking away this morning. I just missed you, that’s all.” Kingo said while looking down at his hands.

“I missed you too Kingo.” You smiled before Kingo pulled you into his chest, making you both laugh.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something? I just finished my school assignment so…”

Kingo’s lips immediately curled up in a smirk once he realized what the two of you could be doing.

“I have something in mind that we could do?” Kingo smiled mischievously while you playfully rolled your eyes.

“Really Kingo?” You asked while shaking your head slightly. “Please baby. Please.” Kingo begged while placing sweet kisses all over your face.

“Alright alright fine!” You laughed while Kingo pulled you into his lap. “I love you so much did you know that?” Kingo asked you while placing his hands on your soft thighs.

“I love you too Kingo. More than anything in the world.” You smiled while leaning in to kiss Kingo.

(A/N): Tumblr needs more Kingo content

Fill out the tag-list form on my blog if you like to get tagged in more Kingo content!

[gaiuswrites]

Original Sin | Darksaber!Din

Pairing: Dark!Din x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ older for the love of all things holy)

Word count: 3.4k~

Summary: Things change after Grogu leaves. People change. No one is exempt.

Warnings/tags: DUB CON?¿, masturbation (m and f), inappopriate use of darksaber, sex toy (...), Dark!Din, Dom!Din, sacrilegious references, really dark shit, i am so sorry

Update: This should go without saying, but as it turns out, it’s in need of being said: every word written in this fic is my own; any likeness to any other work is coincidence, regardless of how bizarre. I don’t mean to offend anyone or raise suspicion, as I am certainly not a plagiarist (literally couldn’t be even if I tried: I am equal parts too incompetent, too busy, and too lazy to steal from someone else. Fellow writers can attest, I’m an absolute garbage reader and fall behind on almost everyone’s work. There’s an embarrassing amount I haven’t read.) Please reach out to me personally if you have any concerns. I respect everyone here like you wouldn’t believe. Sending love to you all. Be well. ✨

Notes: When I go to hell (it really is only a matter of timing, and not so much a question of if anymore), this fic will rank number one on the list of reasons why I’m sent to my eternal timeout. This... I'm twisted. I have issues. God help us. Seriously, this is basically a horror show. I bow down to the Darksaber!Din content creators who came before me, and the original artwork that inspired me to write this— thank you for lighting this (descending, dirty) path. I HAVE TAGGED A FEW PEOPLE HERE WHO MAY OR MAY NOT BE INTERESTED but really— REALLY— there’s absolutely no pressure. Cheers friends x ( gif credit: @skyshipper )

Masterlist | Read it on Ao3!

The days stretch long like morning yawns—hours passing on creaky bones, slow and congealed inside the metal womb of the Crest.

It wasn’t always this way.

They used to be filled with pitter pattering— with wily antics and vanishing acts that could baffle even the most veteran of illusionists— with prying frogs from tiny, green hands and giggling as blocks and baubles floated through the hull. Laughter. There used to be laughter here.

But that was then. The child is gone now. The Razor Crest is quiet.

Time fills itself like this; there’s little for you to do now but wait. Wait for the dusk to blur into the dawn. Wait for your food to cook. Wait for the shower to warm. Wait for the parts you ordered to arrive at the port. Wait for Din to come back—to come home.

Home. You used to be so certain—you’d bite the head off anyone who questioned otherwise— but you’re not so sure this is home anymore. Its not that anything has changed. No, the galley, the carbonite pods, the cockpit, the deck—it’s all still here. The scuffed walls, the durasteel, the littered crates and packed arsenal. But—

It’s different. It feels different. Something is...

off.

You can’t quite put your finger on it. Its intangible, but it’s everywhere—like gas. Invisible to the naked eye, but encircling you all the same. Choking you.

Killing you.

There’s no good explanation for it. You feel eyes on you when there are none. You find yourself glancing over your shoulder, knowing full well you are alone. Something keeps snagging you, pulling at an unseen thread. The corners of your peripherals tugging at you. Beckoning.

Was that a shadow? No.

Is someone there? It’s just you.

There is a tickle at your ear - a constant - dancing along the shell of it. Wherever you go, it follows.

Home home home. It only feels like home when Din is there, safe and sound at your side. But even then, even Din—in all of his plated exterior—even Din has succumbed. Even Din has

changed.

The truth is, Grogu left and a part of Din left with him. There’s less of him now— more, too: there’s less where it matters, and there’s more where there shouldn’t be.

You don’t remember when it started—when he first disappeared. When the spark in him died, and he was reignited anew.

When this Other became.

On multiple occasions you’ve caught him murmuring into the bellied dark of the Crest with a bent spine, hunched over himself as if he’s shrinking—enveloping in in in as far as the beskar along his chest will allow him to cave. You can never pick up what he mutters, but you catch the sounds of his teeth and lips brushing together, hissing. It’s not Basic; you’d recognize it if it were. You don’t think its Mando’a either. It’s too sharp— too vile. There’s none of his language’s elegance in it.

“Did you say something?” You asked once, poking your head around the doorway, eyes resting on the shine of his helmet.

A beat—and slowly, he unfurled, rearing to his full height and like a sentinel he swiveled, pivoting to face you.

“No.”

Your throat bobbed. “Oh, I-I thought I heard-”

“Come here, mesh’la.”

And you did. You always do.

The darksaber appeared on his belt one day, shortly after the child went away. It came, only once, and there it stays. Indistinguishable - inseparable - there is no dismembering the two. It accompanies him in all things; when he pilots, when he hunts, when he eats. It sleeps by him.

By you, too.

Din has always been stoic—of scant words and physical timing—but now he is a golem. A silent, shrouded figure. His Creed is broken, and you wonder maybe - briefly - if Din is broken as well. He is never unkind to you. He is never threatening. But he is never him. His eyes— the oaky comfort you once found in them— have blackened. He is a pit.

Din Djarin is a pit of a man.

And within that pit he has born rage. Immaculately, it has sprung from him as woman did by Adam’s rib. Like mold growing upon stale fruit does he have this—this wrath. It crept through him. It stalked along his soft flesh— his tawny hide—and it waited; patient, there in the shadows, it waited for him. Waited for him to turn his back, to close his eyes and drop his guard— leeway, an entrance— as to slip in undetected.

To inhabit.

The virtue and love that once thrummed within the heart of him has burned away. Charred. Only this of him remains; this insatiable lust— for blood sport, for the promise of split knuckles and fractured bone, for you.

For all of you.

Now, Din goes out on bounties like he needs it—like it’s oxygen. He lives off it. He’s sustained by the rush, by the adrenaline laced chemicals pumping through his arteries. He’s gone for days and weeks on end and when he returns, he fucks you like he’s been starved. Out in the wilderness without a morsel to eat, he devours you. He’s ravenous as he tears his way across your body—all too pliant for him, all too willing—letting him feast on the nectar dripping from your heat.

You can feel it in his foot steps as he storms the ship, the bassy echo of it. You can see it in the pitch of his visor. You can feel it in his cock as he slams into you, night after night after night—ceaselessly. Tirelessly. Unnaturally. The number of orgasms he wrings out of you is countless—his need so incurable, you have to fight to stay above it all; you have to war against your urge to slip away completely.

Din is one grey choice - one hair trigger - from coming undone.

And you should be scared. You should be terrified—he should terrify you. Like scalding water, you should flinch away at the mere sight of him—at the warning steam that rises from his pauldrons. This predator, unhinged and off his leash—a great, crushing beast at which you are at the mercy of.

But— you aren’t.

You couldn’t place it at first: the gnawing. The gnawing at your insides like maggots festering upon a grizzled carcass hanging limp at a wet market. You couldn’t name the tremor in your gut. You gave it epithets as best you could, you gave it placeholders - fear, worry, intrigue - all until one day it spilled. One day it seeped past the tremble of your stomach and sank lower, lower,

lower.

It settled in your cunt—the gnawing. And you named it Want.

You want him. You want this—you’re addicted to it. This sin like led-lined velvet, you want to roll in it until it poisons you, until you’re smothered with it, just like it’s smothering you now— blanketing you as you mewl naked in your bed, knees knocked together. Your eyes roll back into your skull as you frantically work circles into your clit with the all consuming thought of him: his teeth at your shoulders, his hand around your windpipe.

You’re nearing your finish, the promise of that tight coil unraveling there - there - right before you. You’re so enrapt in it—in this dizzying, wanton act—you don’t register the ramp lowering. You don’t hear the carbonite chamber whir, his quarry freezing over, or his foot falls sounding their way to your bunk.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You gasp, frightened eyelids wrenching open as his baritone timbre crackles through the hull. The Mandalorian stands there, backlit by the glow from the galley and he looms—expressionless. Haunting. You blink at him rapidly, batting away the desire that’s glazed over your eyes.

“Y-You’re back,” you stutter lamely. You try to smile. You try to distract him. “I uhm, I didn’t hear you come in. I thought you wouldn’t be back until, u-until..."

Your excuses fade, mouth parched dry. The film of his visor gives you nothing. He is unknowable, but you feel it - sense it - that energy—unbridled and rippling off of him in sick, suffocating waves.

“I’ll ask you again,” Din starts.

“What-" he steps towards you, darksaber hanging heavy at his hip, “do you think-" you shimmy up your cot, shoulder blades digging into the steel sidings, “you’re doing?”

Your heart thunders against your chest, beating until you’re sure it’ll burst.

“I’m-"

I’m sorry you almost say, and you have to force yourself to gulp down the apology. You know he doesn’t want it, and he knows you wouldn’t mean it even if you offered it to him.

Your brow wavers. “I-"

He rips away the sheet you had drawn up over you and reflexively you jerk back, revealing the gloss on your fingers and the patch of hair above your mound, shimmering shamefully—exposing you, mocking you under the dim lights.

“What’s this?” he asks, and fuck he’s patronizing you. He’s smirking—you don’t have to see it, you can hear it in the curving lilt of his voice as he drinks in the sight of your very obvious indiscretion, laid bare before him. You can’t bring yourself to answer him—you can hardly look at him—and you bristle, hair on your arm prickling up.

“You fuck yourself speechless, little one?”

Your cunt throbs, burning and contracting around the orgasm that was snatched away from you and fuck, you’re drowning in him. Din is tar—he’s an oil slick, and you’re plummeting through it—gasping for air, for the surface, for sunlight. He’s everywhere—his broad frame, his voice, his scent like copper and smoke. You can barely breathe through the thick of him.

“Answer me,” he growls, leather croaking at the clench of his fist.

“Yes—yes,” you utter, proceeding with honesty, no matter how pathetic. “I missed you,” you squeak out.

Din cocks his head, a smug look scowled onto his visor. “You missed me?” he purrs through a sneer and you nod, precious and small, worrying the inside of your lip.

He sinks one leg and then the other onto your bedroll, just between your parted feet, kneeling before you. The flimsy spring mattress squeals under his weight—all of that armor, all of that boiling soot trapped within him.

“How much?”

For a moment, you must look confused. Puzzled. Your eyebrows furrow as Din unclips the saber from his belt, rolling it over in his hand. You rake your gaze up from it, dilated pupils landing on the unforgiving black panel there.

“You claim you missed me. Prove it.”

Your cunt bottoms out.

He crouches over you, tracing along your inner thighs with it's steel shaft and you bury your fists into the cot. You don't know which to look at: Din or the rod in his hand. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you trust me.”

Fuck, it feels like you’re going to rattle apart. There isn’t an inch of you that isn’t humming—isn’t seizing up wild. “I-I trust you,” you mouth softly. And you do, whether you should or not—you trust him with your life, to make or ruin.

“Fuck, you’re wet mesh'la,” he appraises darkly, leaning in to run a leathered digit through your seam, parting your curls. Your legs twitch, heels of your feet digging into the bed. “So ready for me. So eager."

Your eyes dance frenetically down to the handle and back up to him as he aligns the saber with your pussy. The blunt end of it touches your lips and you shudder, instinctually fidgeting away from it. Din splays his hand on your knee, anchoring you in place. “Shh,” he coos, rubbing a thumb soothingly into your skin. It doesn’t feel sweet. It feels sickly, cloying— like arsenic.

You don’t dare breathe as he prods the shaft into you, inch by terrible inch. It doesn’t matter how slicked and wet you are from touching yourself, your walls strangle the foreign intrusion. Your body resists.

“Fuck,” you sob. Your throat, your pussy, all of it— it’s all compacted. It feels so fucking tight, both words and air fighting to get out and in all at once—everything inside you constricting.

“Show me,” he grits through clenched teeth. “Show me how much you missed me.” He drags his gloved digit over your clit, pressing down onto it until you see stars, fizzing in front of your vision. “I know you can take it, sweet girl. Be good and show me.”

Be good. Be good for him. Be his only vice.

He continues to swirl at your bundle of nerves and you’re nearly thrashing with it— with all of this— hair fanned and mussed against the pillow as you writhe, swallowing his saber to the hilt. Fuck, you’re so full. Maker, you’re stuffed with it; with the cold, uneven edges, the ridges woven into the grip of it— and he slowly - tortuously - delves the handle in and out of you, hitting against your cervix with every thrust.

You can only mumble. Your lips have gone slack, your mind is cavernous. All you can do is quiver and beg— beg for release. Beg for it to end.

Beg for more.

“Oh gods, oh g- Maker, please—”

Your bleary eyes shoot open as you’re silenced by the grip of his gloved hand.

“No.” Din pinches your jaw in the web of his palm, fingertips dimpling your cheeks. “No, your God isn’t here,” he seethes, low and deadly, graphite venom dripping from his lips. “Pray to me.”

Fuck.

Trembling, your lips pucker ugly and sloppy as you babble uselessly in his stony grasp, chin crinkling with a whimper. “D-Din.”

He inhales sharply, mouth snaking into a wicked grin behind his helm. “That’s it. That’s my good girl.”

He’s deboning you as he would a fish. Practiced, he plucks you into messy pieces—gutting you through your open maw. His ministrations are crawled. They’re slothed and carnal with arrogance and pride and it’s not enough—its all together too much, but still—it’s not enough. You’re hungry. You paw at him, scraping over his breastplate.

“Din, please—more," you gasp feverishly, eyes blown wide.

A blip of static huffs through his modulator. “You want more, you filthy little thing?” He gives you another squeeze, indenting scorch marks into your face.

You nod—you try to, his grasp is too firm, rooting your neck to still. “Yes.”

Din groans, all but obliging you as he begins to fuck you harder, pistoning through you as he thumbs your nub with his rough pad.

“Din-”

You’re whining now, tinny and depraved. It’s wrong. Every part, every second of this, is wrong. Immoral. But you can’t stop the way your body convulses at his every touch—you can’t stop the heat roiling in your core.

“Din, Din baby- fuck fuck fuck-”

It’s like he’s trying to split you in two—all of you. Your pussy, your mind, your soul—he’s bisecting you. Divvying you up to bits of nothing. It’s only then that horrid realization occurs to you, winding through your addled haze as he fucks you deep and splintering: you’ll never be whole again.

And scarier still—you don’t think you want to be.

No, you want to be these loathsome shards. You want to be broken glass. You want to draw blood.

You want to be possessed by him.

“Fuck yourself,” he pants, his cock straining violently against his trousers, begging for relief. “Be good and fuck yourself. Let me watch.”

Be good be good be good

He leaves your clit and you whimper at the loss. Your face is stained with tears. The salty trails cascade down to mingle into your hair, into the sheets. You’re vibrating, but you do as he says and you reach down, recoiling when you touch the chilled metal tip. Tentatively, you pad along it, settling on the end that’s peeking out from you.

A pained sound rumbles through Din as you wrap your fist around the saber, and your eyes flit up to meet his, hidden somewhere behind his helm. Hurriedly he unbuttons his pants in a flourish and removes himself from his constraints. He’s pulsing and proud, flexing up against his stomach, the veins choked to bulge along the angry, silken shaft of him.

Finally, you begin to move the hilt—finding an aching, undulating rhythm and he can’t fucking take it. He rips his helmet off, letting it clatter to the floor.

“Din,” your pray, “Din, I think I’m going to-”

You’re wrecked – fried like a livewire– as you look for him, as you search and search—for that warmth, for a trace of him left there. The Din you knew, the Din you agreed to fly with all those months ago, the Din you love. You think you see it sometimes—in the slant of his mouth, the bridge of his nose— but here, now, he is gone.

He is a pit.

Din Djarin is a pit of a man, and you want nothing more than to fall. Standing on the ledge of him, staring down into the abyss—you want this. You want to fall. You want to jump.

“Tell me you’re mine. Tell me, sweet girl— tell me.” He’s fucking his fist raw, humping into his palm as desperate as an animal.

“I’m yours,” you mewl. Furiously rubbing your clit with one hand and spearing yourself on the rod of his saber with the other, your hips buck and spasm. You snap. A blinding light sears through you, ricocheting off every scrap of muscle and tendon sewed up in your body. “Just for you,” you cry, “I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours—”

Your ragged sobs mix with the lewd slaps of skin as Din pumps himself, hot ropes of his release spitting onto you— painting your pussy, the divot of your navel, coating along the slope of your tummy.

“Look at you—fucking, look at you,” he moans throatily, easing through his rough strokes as he softens.

Your chest is heaving and you feel dumb, empty—like a puppet, arms and legs moving on phantom strings. Din removes the handle from you with a wet squelch; a viscous strand of your juices clings on, obscenely connecting your pussy to the base of it, and you rasp—the wind punched out of you with its gaping absence. You gush. It dribbles out the slit of you, leaking past your abused hole and soaking into the bedroll.

When he unsheathed the saber from your scabbard, he took a part of you with it. You’re so fucked out—you’re practically a parsec away— it went unnoticed.

Undetected.

It brushed past you. You didn’t feel it—you didn’t recognize the whisper that has slithered in in it’s place, nestling within your swollen folds.

Breeding there.

“Beautiful,” Din murmurs, placing it on the mattress beside your head, the chrome of it gleaming with your slick. He bows his head to lick a path up your cunt, laving you clean as he climbs higher and higher, tonguing off his seed from your stippled skin. “Fucking beautiful, mesh’la,” he growls. “Mine—all fucking mine.”

You’ve gone heavy. You’re too heavy to keep your eyes open—you’ve been hollowed out and you’ve got nothing keeping you tethered here. You start slipping under in slow motion—intervals between languid blinks lasting longer and longer. You’re spooled in a knot of tangled limbs with Din’s mouth, fervent and needy, flaying you open as he sees fit— with his hot mouth and teeth, suckling your breasts, biting at your nipples and bruising your pretty neck.

It’s not long before you hear it again, as you have before— as you always do: the faint caressing of speech, of lips forming language you cannot understand—made indecipherable in your strung out high.

“D’you say something?” you mumble, half conscious—half dreaming.

Din laps a long stripe up your throat, his stubble sanding your skin. “No.”

You sigh, breathy and girlish, as his fingers find your mound, dipping into you once again. He makes you cum twice more that evening. You barely have the strength to watch him do it.

/

Finally, when he’s satisfied—when he’s spent with driving you mad, making you rile— he grants you respite. He permits it – generous, charitable - and you sleep like the dead, soundly through the night until—

until you don’t.

Eyes. You feel them somewhere— there are eyes on you. You stir, stuttering in your sleep to squirm in the dark. You don’t know what you’re listening to at first. It’s a sound of some kind, a noise. There is a hiss—

A frigid hand seizes around the bloody organ pulsing in your ribcage.

No, not a hiss—it’s a voice. It’s— no-

You pat around for Din beside you but he’s gone—he’s long gone and his vacant spot has grown cold without him—and your nails dig into the sheets, desperately clawing into the fabric.

Inside you.

The voice, the sharp hush of it—it’s inside you. It speaks from inside your own mind, its forked tongue fluttering against your ear.

‘Wake up, sweet girl.’

/

Tags (IM SO SORRY): @djarinsbeskar @pedros-mustache @krissology @keeper0fthestars @read-and-rec

[amoristt]

Grazing the Fire | IV

well hello. here i am, four years later, once again enamored with nathan enough to finally dust this baby off and pick up where i left it. im a little rusty so bear with me this chapter! much more to come <3

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)! it also helps motivate me!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

Warning: language, very vague s/a mentions

want to support me? heres my kofi!

__________________________

“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?” 

A few hands raise in the corners of your eye, but yours remains atop your desk. Eyes far away, mind in a murky haze and almost completely unaware. All you could focus on were the memories playing on repeat within the confines of your tired, tired brain. Hours ago, you were warm, you were comfortable. Safe.

Cheeks heated to a dusting blush when you remind yourself just how you had awoken that morning. At some point in the night, an angel had blessed you. Allowed you to wake up wrapped around none other than big, bad, Nathan Prescott. Your face nuzzled into his chest, broad but wiry hands pressed firmly over your shoulder and his arm slung over your waist to keep you against him. Thankfully you had been the first to wake up, blinking away the morning sun blazing through his blinds and painting the room stripes of gold. At that moment, before your headache came crashing down onto your skull, you were astounded by him. 

Eye lashes brushing the top of his cheeks, his lips parted ever so slightly, chest rising and falling rhythmically. In that moment, there was no anger, no bitterness. Just a soft and peaceful slumber. It was like being the sole viewer of a magnificent painting- each stroke and detail placed just there just for you to pick out, to remember the curves and sharp edges down to the very foundation. From his unkempt hair down to the way his hand flattened onto the mattress where your indent still lived. Nathan was so beautiful like this. 

For a long time you stayed there. It was as though you were afraid to move- you couldn’t bear to disturb him. You had wondered, if he was always like this, so at peace, what would he be like? Likely soft voiced, mild mannered. He’d do his school assignments without hassle and donate to the charity board. He would wander the town with his friends and listen to music in a beat up truck flying down the stretch of highway overlooking the bold, blue, and beautiful ocean. An entirely different version of himself- carefree, and a fair blue as opposed to a burning flame of red. 

But, if that were the case, you’d never have gotten here. You’d never been both the outsider, and the only seeing eye. A lucky, albeit firstly unwilling witness to the display of depth before you. 

It never hit you like it had quite in that moment how lucky you were.

But- just then- an alarm disturbed what serendipity existed. You nearly leapt out of your skin, clutched your hands to your chest at the sudden sound. A headache wove its way into your once untouched temples. Nathan groaned, mumbled, ‘god damn it’, under his breath, and thus his body was reanimated into life. He rubbed his eyes and he stretched, that familiar scowl coming over his eyes and lips as he took in the sunlight damn near blinding him. A polar opposite to the being you’d appreciated just moments earlier.

“Ugh, fuck, how the fuck is it seven already.” He groaned. “I feel like shit.”

“Well good morning to you too,” You started, welcoming Nathan into the world. “‘I’m feeling pretty shitty as well.” 

You said that, but really… You were more than alright. Your head had hurt, slight nausea crept into the wells of your stomach, but other than that you’re sure you were phenomenally better than you’d have been waking up whereverTate would have left your ass.

“You need to get outta here, before everyone gets up.” Nathan drawled, but he didn’t sound as urgent as you expected him to be. You’d expected him to be angry that you were still in his room, but instead he just… accepted it. 

You snickered, climbing out of his throne of a bed. “Wow, you’re giving me the morning after treatment?” 

“Sure am. Get outta here, whore.”

“Oh fuck you.” 

You located your heels from last night, resting upright near his dorm room door. Heels didn’t sound like the most  practical to sneak out of a dorm with, so you instead opted to grappling them by the straps and carrying them at your side. Hair a mess, outfit riddled with wrinkles and makeup smudged under your eyes, you stood before Nathan in all your glory. He stared at you for a long, odd moment- and you for some reason felt exposed, or even, shy. 

“What?” You ask expectantly, placing a hand on your hip. 

His eyes trail to your line of vision. He shakes his head. “Just thinking about how now you really do look like my morning after.”

“Yeah?” You hummed. “Find it hard to believe you get a lot of those.”

Nathan shoots you a suggestive glance. “You’d be surprised. Everyone wants a piece of Prescott.”

Surely, he was joking, or maybe he wasn’t, but you… Didn’t like hearing that. It made your stomach feel odd, uncomfortably heavy.  As he stood up, reminding you how many inches he had over your size, you swallowed and cleared your throat to flush out that crappy feeling. “Well,” you started, mood having dropped. “I’m gonna go, then.” 

“What got your panties in a twist all the sudden?” He asked, raising a brow and pulling some clothes from his closet, tossing them onto the bed.

The bed you two had shared.

You hated the idea of his morning afters- whoever they may be. 

“Not feeling great. Probably a side effect of the roofies.” You mumbled.

Nathan breathed a laugh. “Probably.”

He seemed so calm, right now. Perhaps due to it being so early, before the outside world had a chance to remind him just why he was so uptight all the tight. Before he needed to be so uptight all the time. He really did have so many versions of himself- all of whom you were slowly becoming familiar with. Compared to the person you’d believed him to be before your run ins, you’d never have assumed someone so dangerous could be so soft as last night, as this morning. In the beginning, you’d feared him. Avoided him like a plague, or a wild animal. Even when you were enraptured in the existence of him, you still wanted to keep away. You’d never have believed someone like you could wake up clutched to his chest, as though he were afraid if he released you, you’d be gone long before he woke. 

Then, a sudden thought struck your mind. 

He’d held you so tight. He’d welcomed you in the morning. No anger, no annoyance. His soft laugh at your banter and taunts. How your heels were standing upright instead of tossed haphazardly into some random corner, where he’d watch your struggle to find. 

How he’d stayed awake to ensure your sleep.

“So are you just gonna stand there?” Nathan called you back to reality, hands gripping the hems of his shirt. “I gotta get ready and you need to wash up so you don’t look like a five dollar stripper.” Cruel words, but with absolutely no bite. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah. But, hey,” You started. “Thank you for last night.” 

“Yeah, yeah. You gotta start learning to watch your own back.” He says. “There’s gonna be times I won’t be there to drag your ass out of the fire.”

If you’d been charged, if you’d been stricken with a strange defensiveness, you’d have retorted, ‘than stop helping me’, but… Instead you allowed yourself the comfort of protection. You allowed Nathan Prescott to watch you.  

“I know,” You reached for the door. “Thank you.”

With that, you bounded out of the dorm silent as a mouse. 

-----------

In hindsight, you should have left earlier. Class was merely 15 minutes away when you slipped out of Nathan's room and bounded towards the women's dorm. Albeit not exactly a long walk, by the time you discreetly snuck back into your own dorm, you had roughly twenty minutes to somehow pick an outfit from your countless unopened boxes and make yourself even slightly presentable. 

Wiping off whatever make-up you could get and reapplying it, brushing out the tangles of your hair and nearly tearing off your scalp in the process, scattering your nightclothes over your floor and managing to scrounge out a semi-decent outfit for the day… You still looked a mess. If the mirror could laugh, it would have. Black mascara smudges under your eyes and frizzy untreated hair. What a lovely look. 

You’d made it to class just five minutes late, but those five minutes were all it took for all eyes to be on you as you tried to slide into the classroom unnoticed. A couple classmates whispered to their table mates as you passed by, smelling of oversaturated cherry blossom perfume to hopefully cover the scent of alcohol. You sauntered to your seat and sank down with all your weight, suddenly exhausted. You’d made it with just five minutes tainting your record of attendance. The teacher greeted you with a disappointed sigh, and thus, the day began. 

But, it was so hard to focus. All you could think about was Nathan. 

“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?” 

You lowered your head. 

“Ah, how about, ___?”

You snaked back into reality, blinking up at the chalk board that was somehow already riddled with math equations. Since you hadn’t been paying attention even in the slightest, your mouth gaped wide open, eyes scanning for something you understood even slightly so you didn’t look like a total idiot. 

Sadly, you were out of luck. The teacher shook his head. “I’m shocked,” He said. “You're normally so on top of things. Oh well.”

“Oh, I’m sure she was on top of things,” A female voice sniggered behind you “Last night.”

Your face flushed a red, hot, ruby. What the hell was she talking about? How had they found out you were with Nathan? You were so sure of being sneaky, there was no way-

“Her and Tate totally got it on last night.”

You whipped around in your seat, facing girls who looked to be clones of some sort. Both with the same dark eyes, short brown hair, and freckles. “What?”

“Alright-” Your teacher blurted. “That's enough. April, May, enough. Let’s not discuss things outside of the classroom.”

The two girls batted their eyes. “Sorry sir.” One spoke, twirling a hand through her hair. Her sister's wide toothy grin never fumbled. 

“Back to it then. Kate, can you help out __ with number four?” 

The small, blonde girl nodded quickly, brushing a lock of hair behind her eyes and offering an empathic nod. 

As you turned around in your seat, her answer fell on deaf ears. Your heart was racing in your chest, hands balled into fists while you stared ahead blankly.  

They couldn’t seriously think that you chose to leave with Tate, could they? Surely someone must have seen the state you were in. Someone other than Nathan.

The clock ticks forward but time feels like it's passing almost unnaturally slow. With just 10 minutes left, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket.

‘Nathan: consider ur favor officially returned 

Your tongue poked from your lips, the tiniest of smiles taking over your once sullen features. Terrible thoughts and worries flew out the window while you type back, ‘damn. here i was gonna to ask you to do a backflip off the roof with me. there goes my plans.’

Nathan types for a moment. Typing, stopping, typing again. 

‘Nathan: soundz like a blast. where and when?’

A small blush heats your cheeks. ‘very funny. thanks to last night i have an entire 24 hour session of studying to catch up with.’

His response is almost instant. ‘Nathan: boringgg. txt me when ur fun.’

Rolling your eyes, you shove your phone back into your pocket. It seems you’ve been able to secure enough of a friendship with him for some mindless banter even outside your little visits. You smile. He’s… Fun to talk to. Surprisingly. 

Class comes to an end and you start to pack up the books and papers you’d hardly even glanced at the whole period. Whatever had been upsetting you before is lost in your mind while you think of the morning, the night before. All the things in-between. But, your happiness doesn’t last long. As you get up, you’re almost forced right back into your seat as a weight shoves into your shoulder. Your books scatter to the floor. April, the one who’d remarked about you earlier, glares at you in what looks to be disgust. 

“Careful April,” Her sister hums as she saunters past you, keeping distance and raising her already shrill tone of voice. “Might wanna watch where you’re walking- I’d hate for you to catch something from this slut.”

You absolutely gawk at her. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

April scoffs. “Oh come on, like everyone doesn’t know what you were up to last night.”

“Sleeping around isn’t a good color on you.” May hikes her bag over her shoulder and snickers at you. They both leave the class together, sickeningly in sync. You’re left stunned where you stand, unsure how the hell your life came to this so quickly. How you’ve stooped so low that the daughters of the world's most uncreative parents are able to bully you based on something that didn’t even happen.

Next class goes no better. The person to your right, a jockey looking brunette guy, asks, ‘have you ever heard of a Tate?’. You say no, that that’s the dumbest name you’ve ever heard. The idiot grins and goes back to marking down likely wrong answers on his test sheet and you debate kicking the leg of his chair out- but you don’t to avoid even more eyes on you. It makes you sick to your stomach- even more than recovering from the roofies does. How can everyone believe it? You barely even knew the guy and you were clearly uncomfortable with his advances. No one saw that? 

After everything you’d worked for to build a reputation, trying so hard to not call out peoples shit for the sake of seeming friendly, tainted over something that didn’t even happen? And the kicker was that it hadn’t even been your fault! He’d drugged you, he’d have taken advantage of you! Yet you were the bad person? 

Class came and went in the blink of an eye this time. Your mind wrapped up in the situation, your stomach churning. You wanted the day to be over with but you still had 4 more classes to suffer through. Why was this happening to you? Was Tate being treated just as horribly, or was he getting pats on the backs of his unaware friends?

Wandering down the halls to your locker, you noticed Lance and Kaz hanging around one of the drinking fountains. Your nerves quelled- your friends would surely make you feel much better. Especially since they had witnessed how awful you were feeling as you left. You approach with a relieved smile, ready to say your truth and finally have someone on your side.

“Hey guys.” You smile, but Lance looks down at his feet while Kaz places her hands to his hips. Your smile fades.

“You could have told us you were gonna spend the night with Tate,” Kaz snaps. “You didn’t need to lie like that just to leave. We were all worried about you and it was for nothing.”

“What?” You feel like you could cry. “No, Kaz, I really did try to leave. Tate tried to drug me and take me home, and-”

“He wouldn’t do that.” Lance interrupts, with a frown. He looks back down at the floor with knitted brows. “I’ve known Tate since before time. He wouldn't do something like that, especially not to one of my best friends. Plus he told me he was really into you. Why would he even try?”

“Are you serious?” You sputter. “You think I’d lie about something like that?”

“You’ve been lying about all sorts of things!” Kaz huffs. “What’s going on with you lately? You’ve been so distant, and secretive. What are you hiding that’s making you lie like this? We’re supposed to be your friends and then you lie to our faces just to go and fuck the first guy that shows you attention.”

“What…?” It was like acid. It was like the rug had been pulled from your feet sending you spiraling down the unending cliff. Kaz, your best friend, all that venom. How could they turn against you like this? What the hell is going on? You felt your throat tighten. “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been distant, but I’m not lying to you, I-”

“We gotta go.” Lance isn’t in the mood to hear it. “We’ll catch up to you.. Some other time.”

Kaz says nothing as she pushes past you. Lance, at least, spares a short glance over his shoulder. You stood there alone in the hallway, your bag falling off your shoulder and clattering onto the floor with a thud echoing off the walls. Everything you had, all gone at once. 

No one believed you.

---------

With nowhere to go where you felt like you could truly allow yourself to process the day's events, you went to the only place you knew. 

Just outside of campus, where rocks lined the edge of the boundary, overlooking the outskirts of the town and the ocean stretching as far as the eye could see. You settled yourself there, staring at the vast waters and wondering how this had all happened. Unlucky didn’t even begin to cover how it felt. Not only did you feel violated with Tate attempting to do unthinkable things with your unconscious body, but you also felt alone, and walked on. Your best friends hadn’t believed you. While Lance seemed saddened, Kaz was so… Angry. Her words cut like knives into your skin. 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve this.

You want to talk to Nathan, but knowing him, he’d see your state and bounce instantly. After all, this isn’t exactly very fun of you.

As the sun began to fall, splaying orange and blues over the wide open sky, behind you, you could hear voices. A group of them, some male, some female. Memories of when your notebook had gotten snatched by those two horsed face assholes came flooding back and with all your alertness, you stood up, and decided that this sitting place was no longer safe. Nothing was.

Before you even made it ten feet away, the group had found their way to your spot and gotten comfortable, one of the girls cheering, ‘this’ll be our hangout! look at how pretty the view is!’

You took a short drive down the stretches of road and decided that if you were going to lament in your own sadness, you were at least going to do so in a place that had something to cover the sound of your tears. Plus a nice view.

The beach, littered with its picnic tables and the sounds of crashing waves would suffice just fine. So, you pulled in the desolate parking lot and wandered down the sandy shores until you stumbled upon a picnic table shaded by a large willow cascading lushious branches to block out the sun- a perfect canopy for you to wallow under. 

You had nothing at that moment. No friends, no reputation, no one to believe your tragic tale. And now, you’d just lost the one spot that made you feel comfortable when stress was building into your body like concrete. Tears pricked into the corners of your eyes and you bit your lip, dreading that feeling of a lump in your throat. Why you? Everything had been going so well. How could not even a single person believe that Tate had tried to hurt you?

Well, actually, there was one person.

Of course Nathan believed you. He’d been the one to rescue you, after all. Time and time again it seemed.  How was it that even the ones closest to you would turn their back so fast, yet Nathan seemed to be there even when you didn’t want him to be? Even when you yelled at him, and he yelled right back, fire and sparks falling into embers around the two of you. 

In that moment, you almost felt like you could finally relate to him. A reputation based on lies and things out of your control, paired with a hardheaded attitude to try and combat all the assumptions. 

No wonder he was so angry. 

“Hey bitch,” A voice suddenly called, and you had a split second moment where you were terrified of once again being the victim of a cruel prank or some classmates boredom. “How about next time you have a pity party you don’t fucking call me in the middle of it.”

You blinked away your tears and through the blurriness saw a figure coming towards you. All that sass, the tone...

“Nathan?” You breathed. It only takes moments before he’s in front of you, holding his phone in view, seeing that the call that had been running for nearly ten minute. You flush in embarrassment, pulling your phone from your back pocket. “How did that happen?”

“Well, can your ass dial numbers?” He taunts, ending the call. 

“Damn it, dumb phone must have butt-dialed you. I knew I should’ve gotten a different one.” You mentally kick yourself. “It must have unlocked in my pocket.”

“You don’t have a password on your phone?” He taunts. When you shake your head, he whistles. “You are just begging for a robbery. I’ll keep that in mind when I’m in the mood to send random messages to all your buddies.” 

“Fuck off.” You scowl, and he grins, hopping up on the picnic table next to you. The sun flatters his skin. He’s almost glowing. 

“Speaking of buddies, how the hell did it pick my number out of your sea of friends?”

You shrug. “Probably cuz’ it’s a priority contact.” 

“Oh lala, I’ve been upgraded to priority huh? Does it display a superman logo whenever you give it a ring?”

“Nope. When I press call it rings the nearest asshole in my vicinity. The fact that it’s you is your own problem.”

“Haha, fucking ha.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. He stares out at the water, watching waves pull and crash onto the beach. It’s almost beautiful, until he ruins it. “Yknow, you’re a really ugly crier.”

“Wow, thanks.” You shake your head. “That's exactly what I needed to hear right now. Why did you even stay on the line?.” Wiping your eyes, you start to forget your tears. “Couldn’t have been that wild of a conversation.”

Nathan shrugs. “Between the crying and the sound of the waves it was pretty nice.” He grins. “Very educational.” 

“Awesome. Glad I was able to make your day.” It doesn’t feel like your usual bitey remarks. You’re tired, you’re still a little hurt and you can’t stop thinking about how such an amazing morning had turned into such a horrible day.

“So what’s got you all fucked up? Never seen you act like this big of a baby before.”

“Nothing. You already paid off your debt to me per this morning, so feel free to resume our regularly scheduled mutual hatred.” You say, lying through your teeth. You know you’re both past the point of hatred, but you’re feeling jaded, you can’t help it. 

“Oh shut the fuck up,” He groans. “I didn’t drag my ass all the fucking way out to this shit hole of a beach just for you to give me that bullshit. What, did you fail a test? No one matched you on tinder?”

“Everyone thinks me and Tate slept together last night.” You blurt. “I think he’s telling people me and him had sex.”

Nathan tenses his shoulders and grimaces. “Fucking werido.”

“I told my best friends that he tried to take advantage of me and they don’t believe me. One of em’ even said he wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Fuck em’. Who needs best friends.”

“And to make everything so much better, these two bitches that I share four of my classes with harassed me all goddamn day. I mean, fucks sake, how the hell are girls named April and May of all things able to get to me. It’s bullshit. And to make matters worse, Tate is just… Getting away with it.”

“Yeah well, something tells me that Tate’s gonna get a real nice fucking taste of medicine eventually. I just gotta find him first. He’s got a lot of nerve spreading shit around given I knocked his ass onto the pavement.” Nathan brows knit at the memory.

You test the waters. “Why would you do that for me?”

He seems caught off guard, or maybe, surprised that you’d ask. Maybe he thinks you’re both beyond that point. He grumbles, “Why does it matter.”

“I’m just curious. We don’t owe each other anything, remember?”

“Yeah, well,” He huffs. “Don’t ask me questions to shit I don’t know the answer to.”

“You say that an awful lot.” You tease.

“Yeah well you ask dumbass questions an awful lot. Not everything I do has to have some weird ass motives behind it, ___. Maybe I’ve got beef with Tate that’s outside of you.”

“Uhuh. Sure.” You’re about to say something else, when your phone lights up with a text. The display makes your heart fall all over again. 

Unknown Number: you should just pack up and go somewhere else. no one wants std’s from breathing your air xoxo

You don’t even know who that is. Now absolute strangers are on your case. You want to throw your phone into the ocean and leave.

Nathan scoffs. “Don’t even bat a fucking eye for that bitch, whoever the hell they are. Half the hoes you’ve mentioned have slept with half the football team,” he pinches his jacket, “and I would know.”

“Ew, Nathan,” You grimace, that same feeling from the morning returning. It feels, oddly, like jealousy.  He nudges your arm with his elbow and grins playfully. It’s cute.

“Chill, I’m just fucking with you. You gotta know even I wouldn’t fuck girls that desperate. I’m a man of class.”

That last comment actually forces a laugh from you. It’s soft, but it’s real. The first laugh you’ve genuinely had all day. “That’s horrible.” You remark, giggling again.

It's almost like the slight restoration of your mood puts him at ease as well. He leans back on his hands and stares off into the ocean, those sparkling waters under the setting, orange sun. “I’m for real though. Those hoes aren’t worth your time. One day when we blow this shithole of a town they’re not even gonna matter.”

Your brows knit, eyes blinking up at him. Had you heard that right? 

“We?” You ask, perplexed, albeit a little… Hopeful.

Nathan sputters. “Well- Like, when everyone’s older and-”

“You know what, it's fine.” You interrupt. “Fuck it. You’re right. We’re gonna blow this town and they’re just gonna be some shitty memories.”

He sucks in a shaky breath. You’ve never heard him scramble like that, like he’s been unmasked. The look he casts you when you agree, when you don’t tease or patronize and finally hop on the idea that yeah, what if the two of you really didn’t have to deal with it anymore.

What if the two of you could just exist, without the anger. 

You look up at him. “Would you actually do that though?” You start. “With me, of all people?”

He swallows. His expression is tense, but he’s not upset. He appears nervous, caught off guard. Nathan tries, “I-”

Your phone rings. Shrill, piercing. Mood destroying. 

“Jesus Christ, it’s my mom.” You grab your phone and Nathan looks forward, stone faced and silent as you hop off the table and answer. It’s your mother, who all but shouts into the phone that her and your father are taking a surprising visit to Arcadia Bay while they’re traveling by on their vacation. She insists that you be ready in about an hour for dinner, and likely there will be family photos. 

Which means if you still look as wrecked as you did this morning, you’re gonna have a lot of washing up to do. With a quick goodbye, a short and sweet, ‘love you’, you hang up and sigh. 

“You still tell your mom you love her?” He teases. “What are you, five?”

You frown. “You don’t tell your parents you love them?”

Nathan side eyes you, and just shrugs. It is all the answer you need, really, and for his sake you decide it wouldn’t be best to press the issue. Not now. But- it still makes your heart hurt just a little. You wished that he’d had it better growing up. 

“Right… Do you want a ride home?”

“Fuck no, what am I,” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “a fucking girl scout?” 

“I was just offering, weirdo.” When he doesn't get up, you feel like you’re missing out. Like if you stayed, maybe, just maybe, you’d get to know him a little better. “Hey, if you want, I can stay for a bit longer.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re needed elsewhere. But,” he shrugs. “I don’t know. Fuckin’... Text me or something. Or not, I don’t care either way.”

There’s a small warmth in your chest that rises to your cheeks. He wants you to text him. “Yeah,” You say. “If I’m feeling fun.”

And with that, you bid him farewell, beginning your descent to the parking lot. 

“Hey,” He calls, and you turn just in time to catch a small item he’s tossed right at you. A tiny key resides in the palm of your hand. “Spare. If shit hits the fan again-...” He shrugs, and actually looks away. “Just don’t be too fucking loud of I’ll kick your ass out myself. No Madison needed.”

The widest grin plays over your lips. “I’m gonna re-decorate your room while you’re gone.”

“Ah, you fucking better not.” He shouts. “Actually- you know what, give it back.” 

“No, no! I’m sorry.” You play with the key between your fingers. “Thanks for this.”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t lose it and remember- emergencies only. I don’t need you watching me sleep like fucking freak. We’re past that stage.” 

“How many times will I have to say I was never watching you. Christ… But, alright. See ya, then.” The key is heavy in your palm. 

You place it into your pocket and give him one last glance before you take off, leaving him to enjoy the sound of waves, birds, and the absence of your tears.

[itsallyscorner]

For Tom x

Pairing: Tom Holland x singer!reader

Summary: You have a surprise for Tom:)

Warnings: none, just pure teeth rotting Fluff:)

A/n: Hello my loves! This is literally a rewrite because I accidentally deleted the original version of this story on Tumblr RIGHT before I was gonna post it😭 Anyway here it is, I hope you all like it! Ally x

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

look at my sunshine🥺

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

Your giggles filled the hallway as you lead Tom into your makeshift studio. Since you were quarantining with him and his mates in their shared home in London, you were miles away from your crew and studio. Which, yes, made it difficult to record an entire album on your own—but it did give you the creative freedom to do whatever you pleased for the album.

The boys had their own creative outlets; for example putting together a puzzle or having a movie marathon. While you found those activities enjoyable, the inner singer in you couldn’t stop thinking of beats or coming up with lyrics in your head. You needed the studio—you needed to bring those beats and lyrics to life before you could forget them. So with the help of the houses’ tech lord himself, Harry made it possible for you to have your own little studio in the spare guest room of the house. There, you spent endless days writing and recording things like harmonies and building melodies. Little did you know that this would lead to the creation of your sixth album. Now a couple months later, your latest album is currently in its final stages and would soon be released to the world.

Tom adoringly watched your figure, which was drowned in one of his oversized jumpers, excitedly skip towards the guest room. As soon as you were both inside, you rushed to close the door and eagerly pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed.

“What have you been up to, lovey?” He teasingly asks you. He knew you were up to something, he just didn’t know if it were bad or good.

Your figure was bent over the desk where your laptop was located. Turning over your shoulder you tell him, “It’s nothing bad, I promise!” You’re met with an amused grin on his blush pink lips.

Gathering your laptop into your arms, you move to sit beside Tom on the bed. He curiously leans forward, trying to get a glance at what’s on your screen.

“Nuh uh, it’s a surprise, Thomas.” You playfully scold him and gently push his face away from your laptop. He responds with a pout against your palm before pressing a kiss onto your skin. You continue to click around on your laptop, looking through your documents for the specific file.

Meanwhile, Tom shuffles further up the bed, getting comfortable. He notices the new distance between you and him and decides that he’s unsatisfied with the additional inches. He choses to snake his arms around your waist and lifts you up, happily placing you on the empty and lonely space on his lap. Laying down on his back, he takes a moment to admire the way you look in his jumper. It was a few sizes bigger than you and stopped right above your knees. The jumper may have looked good on him, but it looked absolutely perfect on you.

“You look so cute in my jumper.” He hums, hands lazily rubbing up and down your thighs. Your nose scrunches up as you lightly slap his chest; your silent way of saying “shut up” whenever Tom would say something that made you blush.

You finally find the file you were looking for and place your laptop on your lap. You nervously glance at your screen, biting down on your lip out of habit.

“Ok, so I did something.” You started. Tom squints his eyes at you, “That sounds like the beginning of a really bad something.”

You huff, “I just told you it wasn’t anything bad! Do you want your surprise or not?”

Tom chuckles and grasps onto your thighs, “Yes—yes, sorry, keep going.”

“So you know how I’ve already finished my album?” You question him. Tom nods, staring up at you while you sit on his thighs.

“Well, I wrote a few more songs that were supposed to be on the album. But I don’t know, I felt a bit greedy and decided to keep them for myself.” You explain. Tom raises a brow at you, “Baby, you don’t have to feel guilty about keeping songs to yourself. If you don’t want to share them, you don’t have to.”

“No, it’s just that, they’re about you.” You pause, staring down at your fingers that fiddled together. “Like I wrote them specifically for you to listen to. I wanted to include them on the album, but it just didn’t feel right to share something that was meant only for you.”

You place your laptop on the bed and turn it so the screen is facing Tom.

“So...as a solution, I made you your own album.” You were too busy avoiding his stare, that you missed the twinkle in Tom’s coffee colored orbs. He carefully sits up, his arms around you getting tighter, as he pulls you closer into his chest. Tom ducks his head down to yours, nudging your nose with his to get you to look at him. When your eyes finally meet, the lopsided grin on his features grows wider.

“You made me my own album?”

“Yeah.” You shyly answer. Tom softly coos at you, cupping your face and pressing a chaste kiss onto both of your cheeks.

“You are the most precious thing in the world, sunshine, I swear.” He squishes your cheeks together and began to cover your face with butterfly like kisses. Sweet laughs erupt from you, the sounds making Tom’s heart swell.

You stuff your face in the space between his neck and shoulder, using it as a place to hide from his lips. Instead, Tom opts to lay his kisses along the side of your face, your neck, and your shoulder.

“Lemme kiss you!” He whines. You chuckle at him, finally moving away from his neck. His attention darts towards your lips more than once, prompting you to lean forward and connect them with his. Tom’s lips were soft against yours, like clouds or cushiony pillows. The kiss was short and sweet; though it didn’t prevent you from feeling the adoration and passion he felt for you in that moment. In fact, he felt it all the time, but right now, his love for you was coursing through his veins.

He finally pulls away, leaving the taste of him linger in your mouth. “Can I have a listen?” He motions his head towards your laptop beside him.

“Go ahead.” Tom’s arms unravel from your waist, the area they once occupied left cold and yearning for his warmth. He uses one of his elbows to hold himself up and the other to control the touchpad. His eyes scan the file.

For Tom x

someone like u

test drive

worst behavior

main thing

He glances at you, “I start with ‘someone like u’, right?” You reply with a quiet “mhm”.

Tom clicks on the link. The opening notes of ‘someone like u’ begin to play followed by your angelic voice. You hear him release a content sigh, making a small smile to form on your lips. His arms make their way around you again, this time holding you closer against him. He rests his head on your chest and sneakily presses a kiss onto your neck. You fondly run a hand through his curly hair and rest your chin on the top of his head, listening to the songs you’ve made for him.

The two of you listen through the album in one go with no stops. You found joy in Tom’s reactions towards every song. Sometimes he would make little comments or sounds of shock whenever he heard you hit a certain note. He nodded along to the beats of ‘test drive’ and ‘worst behavior’, dancing around in his seat and making you join him. This time, you didn’t miss the twinkle in his eyes when he listened closely to the lyrics. ‘Main thing’ got him the most, leaving him with a goofy-lovesick grin plastered onto his face.

When ‘main thing’ came to a close, the room became silent, leaving Tom enough time to process the four songs you wrote about him and the meanings behind them.

You were the first to speak, “So did you like it?” You scan his face looking for any signs of dislike.

Tom’s eyes widen, “Are you kidding me? That was bloody fantastic—that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard! I’m obsessed with it, oh my god!” He expressed, arms moving around as he spoke.

His face was radiating with happiness, “You are the most talented and loving woman in the world. And I honestly don’t know what I did to deserve you or your love—but I just love you so fucking much.”

“I love you so fucking much too, you dork.” You laugh, pecking his lips.

“No, but seriously, thank you so much. I know you’re used to writing songs, but the fact that you actually took the time to write songs about me means a lot. They’re just a bunch of songs, but they mean the world to me and I cherish each and every one of them.” He admits, taking one of your hands and placing it onto his heart. Your palm feels the faint rhythm of his heart beating against his chest.

You tilt your head at him, mirroring the smile on his face, “I’ll always write songs about you. You somehow manage to inspire them anyway.”

Tom smirks, “Well I am Tom Holland.” You snort and roll your eyes at his humble brag.

“You’re still a dork, Tommy.” You comment.

Tom shrugs, “I’m a special dork because I’m your dork. Therefore making me superior to the other existing dorks—there’s a difference, darling.”

“And where did you come up with this hypothesis, Mr. Holland?” You question him, playing along with his antics.

“It’s Tom’s Theory.” He answers with feign seriousness. You burst out laughing, “Oh is it?”

Tom leans down to your laptop and restarts his album. “Yes, and now Tom’s Theory, believes that we should listen to the album again until I learn all the lyrics to every single song.” He proclaims.

“Babe, you don’t have to—” Tom stops you, “I’m dead serious.”

It was going to be a long night.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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