#i feel obligated to main tag here rip

[canadianfangirl-95]

Karma 

Frankie Morales fanfiction x f! reader pov 

Summary: Triple Frontier guys attend a night club to see a band that isn’t typically their style. Frankie seeks solitude at the bar but becomes entranced by a mysterious stranger on the stool next to him. 

No mention of the events of Triple Frontier, character based only. 

Rating: 18+, minors DNI 

Warning: smut, p in v, oral m receiving, alcohol consumption, talks of anxiety, mental health and therapy (we love a king that goes to therapy) 

Word count: 8600+ 

Loud rock music sounded in the club as Frankie, Santiago, Benny, and Will squeezed between the crowd of people to find a tall table to lean against. The floor was sticky, and the music was so loud they had to all but yell at each other to talk. There were lights flashing everywhere to go along with the music the band on the stage was playing. There was a dance floor where a mosh pit of customers collected to head bang to the heavy metal music the band was currently playing. Frankie looked around feeling completely out of place from the small-town tavern he was used to.  

“This place is fucking nuts.” Will shouted at the group.  

They all nodded I agreement, trying not to talk if they didn’t have to in order to save their lungs the exhaustion. They would normally never come to a place like this, but Benny wanted to see the main band that was going to be on stage shortly because the drummer was a buddy of his at the gym. The rest of the group obliged as he had promised to buy a couple rounds and of course they didn’t have much better to do that night. Frankie was soon regretting his slow social life as he would definitely prefer to be anywhere he wasn’t getting shoved up against as people moved past him.  

Frankie leaned into the group, “What’s this band called anyway?” 

“Karma and the Catastrophes!” Benny shouted back at him.  

Santiago interjected, “Where are those beers you promised us? Definitely gonna need it with this crowd.” 

Benny reached into his pocket and pulled out a few bills, “Can one of you get them I’m gonna go see if my buddy is backstage before he goes on.” 

Frankie reached over and snagged the money out of his hands. “I’ll go, it looks a bit quieter over there.” 

They all nodded as Frankie broke from the group and made his way to the back of the building where the bar was nestled. He noticed a considerable difference in the noise once he got back there and there were less people as most of the crowd was still enjoying the current band.  

He leaned into the bar and got the attention of the bartender, signaling for four beers with his hand. He looked over to his right and noticed you sitting on the stool beside him with a glass of water. He was taken aback by your beauty. You were wearing a black tank top and ripped black jeans with leather boots. Your arms were adorned with various traditional Sailor Jerry tattoos.  

He didn’t have much luck talking to women, but he couldn’t ignore the way his heart skipped a beat the second he saw you. He leaned in and said hi shyly.  

You turned your head towards him, “Hey.” You smiled.  

He drummed his hands for a beat on the bar before the bartender brought the beers back and he handed him the bills.  

“This place gets pretty crazy huh?” he asked, trying his best to make conversation.  

“Yeah, I don’t mind it though. I like the energy.” You responded, eyeing him up and down. He had a rough looking baseball hat and stretched grey T-shirt with jeans on. You could see a chain hanging underneath the v line of the shirt and assumed it was dog tags considering there is an army base on the other side of town. Military guys didn’t typically like your exciting lifestyle, but this one seemed harmless enough to at least flirt with.  

“You come here often?” You asked, turning to him in your seat.  

He grinned at you sheepishly, “Isn’t that my line?”  

You smiled up at him, “Well I guess I’m better at this than you are.”  

He nodded, “Yeah, I’d say you probably are. I’m a bit out of practice.”  

“Don’t worry you’re doing fine. What’s your name?” You winked with a devilish grin. 

“Frankie, and yours?” he asked, reaching out his hand.  

You gave him your name with a shake of his hand. 

He repeated it and immediately felt the noise of the crowd lesson. Suddenly it was just he and you and the beers that were slowly warming on the bar top. 

“So, what do I say now since you’re so much better at this than I am?” He leaned in and you could feel his breathing against your cheek. The closer he got you could almost see your reflection in his deep brown eyes. 

“Hmm, you should probably start with some cheesy pick-up line.” You replied, keeping your tone light, and popping your eye brows up and down. 

Frankie thought for a second, “Oh so I should say something like; you should feel my shirt.”  

You looked at him puzzled for a second, but obliged and reached your hand up to run the material on his arm between your fingers, feeling the warmth of his skin as you did so. The fabric was so tight on his flexing arms you had to do your best to not skip a breath. 

“Know what’s that’s made of?” he asked, slightly giggling to himself.  

You shook your head and pulled your hand back to rest on your lap.  

“Boyfriend material.” He said with a wink.   

Your face went red, and a laugh came tumbling out as you swatted him playfully. He joined in on your laughter and covered his face with his hand.  

“Wow, if that’s you out of practice you must be just swimming in women on a good day.” You jousted back at him.  

Frankie shifted and leaned with his back on the bar. “If my friends ever found out I said that they would never let me live it down.” He smiled at you, one of those big dork smiles that always made you melt.  

“Oh, I will absolutely tell your friends when I meet them.” You grinned at him. 

He nodded back at the bar, “Can I get you a drink?” He asked.  

You were suddenly very aware of what the night was to bring, you weren’t exactly in the bar for a social visit. “No, I’m sorry I’m uh- working tonight so I need to stay sober.”  

“Oh, are you working here? Like your shift hasn’t started yet?” he asked intently.  

You nodded, “Uh yeah something like that. Hey, Frankie I should really get going but can I find you before the end of the night?” You asked as you climbed off the bar stool and nodded at the bartender as he took your glass away.  

He stood up straight, “Yeah that’d be great, I’ll see you later.” He smiled as you retreated through the crowd. He watched as you left, replaying your conversation back in his head as he finally turned his attention to the beers he was supposed to be bringing to his friends.  

Frankie grabbed the four bottles in his hands and held them high enough as he walked through the crowd that he wouldn’t get them spilled by some drunk idiot getting too rowdy. The first band had seemingly ended during your conversation, so the room was now filled with the sound of voices from the customers. He set the beers down on the table when he finally rejoined his friends. Benny had also returned before he did.  

Will reached for his drink, “Geeze took you long enough Fish. Get lost back there?” He asked.  

Frankie took a sip from his beer and leaned with his forearms crossed on the table. “Actually, I was busy talking to a very pretty girl I met at the bar thank you very much. Now drink your piss warm beer.”  

Santiagos interest was suddenly peaked, “A girl? Really? Frankie Morales actually spoke to a living, breathing woman?” His eyes widened with his sarcastic tone. 

Frankie rolled his eyes, “Yeah I did, Pope.” 

Santiago pressed on, “Well, come on now. Tell us all about this totally real girl.” He put quotations around real girl to prove his point that he didn’t entirely believe his friend who has always been the worst at picking up woman. Normally needing to send Will or Santiago in first to act as a wing man. He never used Benny anymore. Benny gave off too much of a golden retriever vibe and women instantly wanted to keep him.  

“If you must know she is beautiful and funny and,” His voice trailed off as his attention was caught by the stage. You were walking out onto it with the rest of the band and situating yourself in front of the microphone in the middle of the stage. “Right there.” he said inquisitively.  

“Hey Houston, are you ready to rock tonight?” You shouted into the microphone and were met with a roar from the crowd.  

“What do you mean right there?” Santiago leaned in; Frankie still unable to take his eyes off you.  

He stuttered, “She’s, right there that’s her on the stage.”  

Benny yelled back at him, raising his voice now that the instruments had started up again. “Who, Karma?” 

“What?” Frankie asked, confused by the name. 

“Karma, the lead singer.” He replied.  

Frankie turned his face back to the group, “Well, that’s not the name she told me.” He scratched his chin as he knew he heard your name right.  

Will spoke up, “That’s probably just a stage name for band.”  

Frankie nodded, realizing he must be right.  

“So, you’re telling me you just picked up the lead singer from the band tonight?” Santiago asked, even more skeptical.  

Frankie hummed to himself, realizing he didn’t actually pick you up. He was so dumbfounded by the conversation that he hadn’t even asked for your number. “We had a great talk and she said she would come find me before the end of the night.” He looked down, slightly dampened by the fact that you may have just been being nice and you might not actually find him.  

The show wore on and he was amazed by your talent and charisma. You enveloped the stage with your big personality and had an amazing voice to boot. The guys all watched on and nodded their heads along with the rock music. Frankie was falling even more for you, watching your body as you danced along to the music in your tight black outfit. He grew a bit of jealously at the men gawking at you on the dance floor but held his head a bit higher knowing he was the one you were flirting with earlier.  

You finally ended the show with a big thank you to the crowd. The guys all clapped their hands and whooped along with the rest of the club. He watched as you collected your things on stage and disappeared behind the curtain. Frankie turned his attention back to the group.  

Santiago said, “Wow, they were really good. Not totally regretting the hearing aides I’m gonna have to get after tonight.”  

Ben patted Frankie on the back, “So you gonna try to find Karma before she leaves?” 

Frankie looked flustered, “I don’t know man did you see her up there? She’s this beautiful, fun, rock star and I’m well. Not that.” He sipped his beer and looked down, unsure of himself.  

The guys all looked to each other with empathy, their friend never had the confidence they had. Santiago conceded in an effort to make Frankie feel better. “Oh, come on man, she’d be lucky to have you. I’m sure she’ll find you before the end of the night.” 

You finished packing up for the night and said goodbye to the band and crew. Except for the guitarist who drove the equipment van and was your ride home. You promised him you wouldn’t be too long, you just had one thing you needed to do before heading out. You were adamant about finding Frankie before the place closed down for the night. You had to move quickly though, as your cool down took longer than you thought it would.  

The crowd was still bustling as you made your way out of the backstage area. Fans cheered for you as you walked by and you smiled at them, trying to scan the crowd for the baseball hat you had seen earlier. Luckily that wasn’t really the look for this kind of crowd so you were hoping he would stick out fairly easily. Just as you were about to give up, you found yourself on the far-left side of the venue and caught sight of a silver chain poking out of the top of a grey T-shirt. You were elated that you had finally found him and pushed yourself through the crowd to tap him on his shoulder. He turned and his eyes went wide at the sight of you standing in front of him.  

“Hey!” He gasped.  

You bit your lip, slightly nervous. “Did you enjoy the show?”  

“Yeah, I did you were awesome!” He said, “I’m so sorry I had no idea who you were when I was talking to you earlier.” 

You smiled back at him “That’s okay, it was a nice talk. I’m glad you didn’t know. Guys tend to act a little differently when they know I’m headlining. They get a bit of a complex about if they can get me home that night.” You answered honestly. 

Frankie nodded; he definitely did not want to be thought of as one of those guys, so he knew he had to play it right. “Well, I really liked talking to you too.”  

Your heart fluttered, he seemed so nice. You didn’t normally have a connection with the guys you met at your shows, but there was something about him that made you want to see him again. “Um, Frankie, I’m glad I caught you and I know I’ve already done this once tonight, but my ride is waiting for me, so I have to get going. Could I give you my number?” 

His mouth gapped, “Yeah, yes that’d be great thanks.” He dug into his pocket to pull his phone out and give it to you.  

You took it from him, after entering your name and number you handed it back to him and motioned you were leaving.  

He nodded goodbye and then thought for a second, “Hey, wait! What do I call you?”  

You winked back at him at him and pointed to his phone before slipping through the crowd. 

Frankie looked down at the contact you had just created on his phone.  

Karma ;)

He looked back up and you were gone, he felt like all the air in his lungs had disappeared in an instant.  

The next morning, you were moving about your kitchen with a spring in your step. You were so used to the punk, tattoo covered guys that frequented your shop and shows, so Frankie seemed like such a breath of fresh air. He was so innocent and spirited. You couldn’t help but check your phone on the kitchen island as you made your brunch. Hoping a text would pop up and you would get to see him again. He didn’t seem the type to take a girl’s number and ghost her, and he definitely didn’t seem like the kind to wait the typical three days before texting a girl to not come off as eager. No, Frankie was different, and you could tell right away. The way his smile was so big when he laughed and he snorted a bit. The way he leaned in to talk to you with so much respect and ensuring not to touch you even once before you’ve shown real interest. The steam coming off the stove top finally snapped you out of your trance. You carefully finished your omelet and settled onto the couch with your coffee to continue your annual binge of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  

Meanwhile, across town, Frankie was doing his own daydreaming about the night before. He sat on the couch with his phone flipping up and down in his hands as he rested his head on the back of the sofa. He let out an agonizing moan as he continued to think about what to do next. He hadn’t felt this lovesick in forever, and you seemed so confident, so he didn’t want to mess it up and scare you off.  

Santiago rounded the couch and sat down on the opposite end. “You gotta calm down man it’s just a text.” He sipped from his coffee and turned on the tv to find a sports channel to play in the background.  

Frankie squeezed his eyes shut, “It’s not just a text, you’ve said it yourself man.” He propped himself up straighter on the couch, “I’m shit at talking to women. I know I’ve only talked to her for like, five minutes but I like her. I don’t wanna screw it up before it even starts.” 

His friend shook his head, “Look man, she could had gone home with probably a dozen guys last night but instead she found you. Asked to give you her number and then went home. She obviously likes you too. Just be yourself and it’ll be fine.” 

Frankies head spun, he knew Santiago must be right, but it was so hard to trust the process. Be myself, he thought to himself. What would Frankie do if he really liked a girl and wanted to see her again. He’d probably call her if he was being honest with himself. However, that seemed so old fashion, and you were a rock star with tattoos and a confidence that would shake the ground. Would you like old fashioned? Or would it be annoying? He figured there was no time like the present to find out.  

He stood up and patted his friend on the shoulder as he made his way to his room for some privacy, closing the door behind him as paced in his room for a minute before finally dialing the phone. He stood with his hand on his hip and bit his lip waiting for the call to connect. 

You had finished your meal and were scrolling on your phone as the show played in the background when it suddenly started ringing. It startled you so much the phone nearly flung out of your hands as you tried to calm yourself. An unknown number, but definitely local based on the area code. You don’t normally answer calls right away, preferring to send it to voicemail and then call the person back if needed, but something about the timing of this call peaked your interest so you decided to answer it on speaker.  

“Hello?” you said, holding the phone just below your mouth with a curious look on your face. 

“Hey, uh- it’s Frankie.”  

Your mouth gapped, you couldn’t believe he was calling you so soon. It made your head spin at his forwardness, but your heart flutter at how old-fashioned he seemed to be. 

“Hey Frankie, what’s up?” You asked. “What’s up” you thought to yourself. What are you seventeen? You rubbed your palm on your forehead. 

“Oh, nothing just at home. I hope I’m not calling too early I’m sure you had a late-night.” 

“No, no it’s fine I’ve been up for an hour now.” 

“Good, good. So, I hope I’m not being to forward but I was uh- wondering if you would be interested in going out sometime?” 

You bit your nail in your nervousness, “Yeah I would love that.” 

“Great, what are you doing tonight?” 

“Nothing, tonight would be perfect actually. This is one of the only Saturdays this month I don’t have a show.” 

“Oh perfect, uh- do you want to go for drinks or dinner or,” 

“Uh- drinks and some appetizers would be good if you want?” You held your breath.  

“Yeah, that sounds great, how about I pick you up at 8?” 

“Okay, I’ll text you my address.” You replied.  

“Sounds good, I’ll see you tonight.” 

You grinned to yourself, “Okay, bye Frankie.” 

“Looking forward to it, bye K-, uh, what do you actually want me to call you?” 

“Oh, yeah you can call me Karma. Kind of a nickname, I think there’s only like, four people that call me by my other name.” You scratched your head, hoping he wouldn’t think your sultry nickname was a red flag.  

“Oh okay, cool. Well than, bye Karma.” 

“Bye.” You said as you clicked the phone off.  

You rocked your head back against the top of the couch and then looked down at the time. You had nothing else planned for the rest of the day other than tidy up the shop and apparently figure out what to wear tonight. He obviously liked your edgy style as he had seen what you were wearing the night before, but a part of you wanted to mix it up a bit and give this old-fashioned guy a treat.  

You got up and immediately ran to your closet, throwing dresses and rompers and shirts all over your room. Trying to find the perfect ensemble to hypnotize your new gentleman friend when your eyes locked onto something in the far back corner of your closet.  

Frankie returned to the living room, grinning at his phone as he sat back down on the couch and looked up at the tv, not saying anything to his friend who was looking at him with squinted eyes.  

“What’s that face all about?” Santiago asked.  

Frankie leaned forward to slide his phone into his back pocket. “Just got off the phone with Karma, we’re going out tonight.” He looked over at his friend with a sly smile on his face.  

Santiago tapped his hand on Frankie’s chest, “Well hot damn, look at you go. Wait did you call her?” he asked, puzzled. 

“Yeah, you told me to be myself and that’s what I wanted to do.” He shrugged.  

“Huh, well more power to you. I like this confident Frankie. Where are you gonna take her?” 

Frankie thought for a second, he would very much like something quiet considering his ears are still ringing from last night, “I think that one pub downtown by the Walgreens is nice and quiet?” He chewed the inside of his cheek as he considered a few other options. Ultimately deciding to just go with that place as it isn’t nearly as busy as some of the other options around town. 

He waited patiently for your address, which you texted to him around dinner time. His face lit up when your name came across the screen with the wink emoji.  

It was 7:55pm when Frankie rolled up outside your house. He looked up at the sign on the front, “Karmas Chaos”. He figured you must run a business out of your house and wondered what it was. He got out and rounded the front of his truck when you opened the front door, and he was suddenly star struck.  

You stood before him with your hair curled in a summer like wave, your white converse on and a beautiful yellow sun dress that showed off your many tattoos. The dress had small straps and a low neckline, it dipped at your waist to accentuate your curves and then flared out to rest at mid-thigh. It had a knot on the back with a cut out just below. It was far more feminine than you were used to, you think you bought it years ago for a cousin’s wedding, but something drew you to it and you thought it would make a good first impression on Frankie.  

He stood there mouth gapped as you walked down the steps, “Hi.” You smiled at him and gave him a little wave. You hiked your shoulder bag higher as it had begun to slip, and you needed something to do with your nervous hands.  

Frankie stalled for a second and finally replied, “Hey, you look great.” He said with a big smile. Suddenly feeling a bit self-conscience about the fact that he is wearing an outfit almost identical to the one he wore last night, except now his T-shirt was black with a band logo on it from a concert he can’t even remember. The material long stretched and over washed to point where the logo had begun fading and breaking apart.  

“You do too.” You responded before leaning in for a quick hug.  

He shuffled his feet, “I was thinking we could go to Burt’s, downtown if that’s okay?” 

You beamed up at him, “Yeah that would be great.” You broke your gaze to round his truck, but before you could reach for the handle Frankie appeared beside you and opened the door. You looked startled, but really you were just amazed by his chivalry. You’ve never had anyone open your door before, so you just nodded your thanks and stepped onto the step bar to jump up into the truck. He swiftly closed it behind you and made his way to jump into the driver’s side.  

As he turned the ignition, the radio fired up again and a familiar tune from Motley Crue came through the speakers. “Oh, I love this song.” You remarked.  

He smiled, “Me too, they’re probably my favourite band.”  

You hummed along to the music. He glanced over at you, “Well come on now, don’t keep that beautiful voice to yourself.” He smiled, the curls peaking out from under his seemingly signature hat dancing in the wind.  

You felt yourself blush but obliged, singing along to the music with the windows down, blowing your hair about as the music filled the cab. When the chorus came around Frankie gave his best imitation of the lead singer and you laughed. He chuckled, “Maybe I’ll leave the singing to you.” 

“No, no you’re great. I could listen to you all night.” You winked at him and he grinned, finally taking his attention back to the road. The rest of the commentary for the drive continued to be about music and favourite bands to see in concert, yours being his new favourite of course.  

You thanked the waitress for your seats and settled into a booth along the wall of the restaurant. It was a little more modern than you thought it would be given what you’ve seen from Frankies taste but definitely not a chain restaurant. There were vintage movie posters adorned on the walls giving it a warm look, but it was met with modern furniture and paint to keep it lively. There was a poster hanging in your booth of a movie you guessed must be from the 50s at least and you stared briefly at the faded colour, reminding you of the faded T-shirt currently sitting across from you.  

Frankie looked at you nervously, “So, I saw the sign on your door. Do you run a business out of your house?” 

You nodded confidently, “Yeah I’m a tattoo artist.” He nodded along, listening intently. “I have a shop in my house that is just me. It’s nice because then I get to choose my hours and can line things up really well with my band practice and shows.” 

“Wow, that’s great. You must be pretty busy balancing both those.” He stated.  

“I try to take Sundays and Mondays off and then I never work before 11am so I definitely still get some free time. I was supposed to have an appointment today, but they rescheduled so I got a totally free Saturday for once.” You smiled; very glad you had the extra time to get ready for this date. “What do you do?” you asked as the waitress reappeared with some waters.  

“What can I get you for drinks?” she asked.  

You replied, “I’ll have a whiskey sour, please.” 

She nodded and looked at Frankie. “Just a Corona, thanks.” 

With that she left the table, leaving you and Frankie alone.  

You looked back at Frankie, unsure if you needed to repeat yourself but before you could speak, he replied, “I’m an instructor at the base, I was a pilot in active duty.”  

Hm, your suspicions on the dog tags were correct. “How long have you served for?” You asked, leaning with your forearms against the dark wood table.  

“Since I graduated from high school, I enlisted right away.”  

You popped your eyebrows up, that’s a long time to be in the service. Most guys you have met from the base were a five-year contract and then out.  

“Wow Frankie, that’s really really amazing. I’m not surprised by the way you carry yourself though that you’ve been in that long.” You said, slightly bashful.  

He looked confused, but still flattered, “Why do you say that?” 

“You just, uh- you know you seem really old-fashioned and proper.” You replied sheepishly, tucking your hair behind your ear, and averting your gaze back to the poster.  

Frankie looked down for a second, “Oh, do you not really like that?”  

“No, no, it’s great.” He perked up at your response. “I actually love it; I’ve never been out with a guy that’s treated me the way you do.” You smiled at him and reached your hand out for him to take. He let out a relived huff and reached his hand up to take yours and give it a slight squeeze.  

“Well, I don’t know hermosa. You just deserve to be treated the best and I’m sorry no guy has ever done that for you.”  

You both beamed at each other, eyes sparkling with desire when the waitress seemingly appeared out of nowhere with your drinks. You quickly broke your hands apart and nodded politely. You wrang your hands together, still feeling the warmth of his much larger hand on yours.  

“Do you know what you’d like for food?” The waitress kindly asked.  

Both of your eyes widened, neither of you had even thought about the food as you were too busy making googly eyes at each other. You looked at each other and gave out a chuckle. “Um, I think we’re gonna need a few more minutes actually.” Frankie nodded along as the waitress left.  

The evening wore on and you shared food and stories. He told you all about his time in the service so far and the friends he’s made along the way. You told him about your business and band and how you’re a really creative person and need all these outlets. You also spoke about your anxiety and how when you’re focused on a tattoo or a song, you get to ease your mind and allow yourself to relax. He commended you and spoke about his time in therapy for some anxiety he had after he was done active duty. None of your exes ever went to therapy or spoke about mental health, so your heart warmed listening to him speak so intentionally.  

Frankie’s truck pulled up and parked out front of your house and you gave a huff of disappointment that the night was coming to an end. You looked at your phone and noticed the time wasn’t too late. You bit your lip and thought to yourself, would it be too much to ask him inside? Would he want to hookup, or would he think that’s all you’re interested in? He looked to you with a sheepish smile on his face, he was clearly disappointed the night was slowly coming to a close as well. You thought it couldn’t do more harm than good if you at least asked him inside for a little bit.  

“Hey Frankie, um- do you? Do you want to come in for a drink?” You asked, trying not to make eye contact so you could hide your reaction should you be met with rejection. 

His face lit up at the suggestion, “Yeah for sure thanks.”  

Your face darted up to meet his and you smiled, getting out of the truck and wandering up the steps to your house. He followed closely behind, placing his hand on the small of your back as you went up the steps, seemingly ready to catch you should you trip.  

You eased the door open and stepped aside to let him in. He passed you with a nod and stood in your living room looking around as you flicked on some lights, kicked off your sneakers and settled your bag on a counter. The room flowed from the living room to a dining table and a kitchen with an island. There were band posters and your own artwork on the walls. The furniture had a 50’s vibe with lots of red and black and white checkers. Your kitchen cabinets were an emerald green with gold accents. He loved how much personality you put into the space and stood staring at one of your drawings of a mermaid covered in tattoos on the wall beside a door.  

You approached him with your arms crossed and looked to the drawing as well. 

“You’re incredible, this is such a cool piece.” He said, smiling at you.  

You nodded back, “Thank you, if you like that you should see the one’s I have in my studio.” You tilted your head to the door beside you and opened it. He followed you in and was greeted by the smell of cleaning products and alcohol wipes. Your studio was small with one tattoo chair in the middle of the room and a workstation along the back wall. The walls were covered in photographs and drawings you’ve done.  

You plopped down on your wheely stool as he lingered around the room, looking at seemingly every piece you’ve posted. “So, mister military.” He looked down at you, resting his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t ask, do you have any tattoos?” 

He looked slightly embarrassed, “No, no I never did. I’ve thought about a few but never pulled the trigger.”  

You nodded, “Well,” You spun in your chair and grabbed your tattoo gun behind you. Spinning back around his eyes went wide, “you want one now?” you giggled to yourself.  

“Uh- hm.” He laughed, looking nervous. “Fuck it yeah let’s do it.” He clapped his hands on his thighs and shook out some nerves with his fingers.  

You beamed at him, extremely excited for the turn the night took. You rolled over to your drawing board, “Okay so what are we thinking? A little cartoon helicopter, a bottle of tequila, a tramp stamp?” He laughed at your line of questioning.  

“Actually uh- there’s this one helicopter I loved flying. The code was UH-1N. I think I’d like that, just something simple.” He kneaded his hands together.  

You started writing, doing a couple different styles of handwriting. You leaned back and showed them to him, and he picked one of the more structured looked fonts. “Alright, get in that chair and I’ll get you prepped.” 

He sheepishly moved over to the chair and rested himself in. “So where do you want it?” you asked as you collected your supplies and prepared the station.  

“Just here below my elbow on the forearm.” He pointed to his right arm.  

 Frankie sat still, watching you work. He could see the wheels turning in your head as you laid down the plastic wrap on the arm rest he would be using, getting the ink ready, sanitizing everything and getting the stencil cut.  

You finally pulled some gloves on and placed the stencil on his arm. “How’s that look?” 

He shifted in the seat to look at his arm, “Yeah that’s great, thanks.” He smiled at you.  

You started buzzing the tattoo gun, “Alright I think we’re good then.” You could feel the heat of his arm through the gloves and your glance waivered slightly to his bicep in his sleeve. Pulled tight from his straining muscle trying to stay still.  

“How much does it hurt?” he asked? 

Your attention went back to him, “Hm? Oh, um, not bad at all. What’s the worst pain you’ve ever had?”  

He took a beat, “Well, I’ve been shot so.” His voice trailed and your eyes went wide. He said he was in active duty for a long time, I guess it makes sense that he was in live fire. However, the thought of him going through something so traumatic made your stomach flip.  

You stuttered, “Yeah, um, that would definitely hurt more than this will, so I think you’ll be fine.” You did your best to put on a confident smile, but really you were now nervous.  

He nodded as you began. His arm didn’t even flinch beneath your hands. You held your head as close to it as you could so you wouldn’t get too distracted by the burning eyes you could feel coming from him.  

Frankie looked at you so intently and he felt a familiar twitch in his pants as he glanced down and caught a glimpse of your cleavage as you were bent over. He tried his best to look around the room, until his mouth gapped at the sight of a photo on the wall which featured a woman topless, holding her breasts showing off a colourful butterfly splayed out on the top of her ribs. The face was cut off, but he instantly recognized the tattoo on the left hand, as it happens to be the one holding onto his arm right now. He quickly averted his gaze, feeling the stretch of his jeans even more now. He couldn’t even feel the needle of the tattoo gun anymore, too busy trying to pry the unholy thoughts from his mind. Everything about you made him burn with desire. He didn’t know where the night would lead, but he was aching to feel your touch more.  

You wiped the last bit of ink off him and smiled at him. “Okay, here you go. Take a look.”  

Bringing his back up from the seat he pulled his arm forward and looked at your work, “That’s great thank you.”  

Nodding, you started cleaning the site and then placed the second skin on it tightly. Pulling off your gloves you grabbed one of your standard info flyers and a small tube of cream. “So, leave that on for a day, take it off in the shower with some soap. It will hurt like a bitch, sorry about that.” He smiled along with you. “No hot tubs or pools and keep this moisturizer on it for a few weeks as it heals. Oh, and no itching. It’s gonna suck but just don’t do it.” You stood from your stool and reached out your hand to help him stand from the awkward seat.  

He grabbed your hand and stood, looking down at you as your faces were so close. “What do I owe you?”  

You flushed, the tone in his voice was suddenly so deep and arousing. You did your best to not show how flustered you were with the sudden change in his demeanor and took a step back. “Oh gosh nothing, I do little tattoos for free like that all the time.” You waved your hands casually. “Plus, I kind of peer pressured you into it so.” You had backed up enough that your ass was now resting against the drawing table with your arms crossed. You hadn’t meant to back up that much, but as you kept stepping, he had followed you. His body still so close, you could see his eyes flick around your face, seemingly taking in every little bit of you.  

He breathed out of his nose deeply, “You wanna go sit down? You look a little lightheaded.” He said as he tucked your hair behind your ear.  

You nodded, looking up to him with sparkling eyes. Full of lust and need. He turned his body so you could pry yourself from the desk that had been digging into you and followed as you headed towards the living room. You positioned yourself on the couch, tucking your legs underneath you as he sat beside and rested his arm on the top of the couch behind you.  

Nervously looking around, trying your best to ignore the ache between your legs as he looked at you with darkened eyes. “Do you need a drink or-?” 

 “You know, I never did ask you why your nickname is Karma?” His Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed deeply.  

Chest turning red, pupils dilating. You were so entranced by this man, you answered softly. “I’m just a uh- big believer in karma and I’ve always really seen it around me. You know, people are good to me, and good things happen and then people who have really wronged me, they uh- don’t always have things work out for them. So yeah, just became something I grew a lot of interest in and then others started noticing it with the people I had in life and so the nickname sparked. Almost like I entice karma into people’s lives, who surround me.” 

He peered down at you, usually this explanation makes people nervous. Frankie only seemed challenged, like he wanted to prove something to you. You’re not sure what happened during that tattoo, but something flipped in this seemingly wholesome man which resulted in him growing a hunger towards you.  

“So, you’re saying if I do good things to you, good things will happen to me?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. You could hear only his breath and your heartbeat.  

“Yeah, I guess.” You lightly giggled, not breaking eye contact with him.  

His eyes grew even darker, and he leaned in. Your breath was caught in your throat as you felt the intense ache between your legs watching him lean into you. His eyes flicking to your lips, you turned your head slightly and leaned in as well, meeting him in the middle with a soft kiss. He brought his hand to your knee and started drawing circles with it on your soft skin. Your hand rose up to cup his face and the intensity suddenly grew. You didn’t expect this first date to go this way, but now you’ve found yourself straddled on his lap on your couch making out like you may die tomorrow. Pulling each other’s hair, nipping at jaws and necks, the incessant moaning growing between you. You felt like you were drunk, but this intoxication wasn’t from any kind of substance, no this was all Frankie. The way he ran his hands all over your body and pulled you down to grind your hot and wet core through your panties on his hard bulge made your head spin.  

He grabbed the bottom of your dress and looked to you with pleading eyes, “Is this okay?” 

You took a deep breath, “It’s more than okay Frankie, I need you.”  

His face turned to a smirk, and he pulled your dress up and over your head, throwing it aside. You had thankfully chosen to forgo your usual everyday bra that gets washed once a month and went without one altogether. He sat back and basked in your exposed breasts. You shivered as he traced a finger on your butterfly tattoo beneath them. His mouth curled into a devilish grin leaning down and sucking on one of your nipples as he palmed and squeezed the other with his hand. You moaned and began grinding on him harder. He pulled himself off and you reached down to pull his shirt off him. The chain and dog tag laden on his chest made your knees quiver. He was so broad and full, a real man you thought to yourself.  

You rejoined your lips, sucking on each other’s tongues as his hand moved down and swiped around on the front of your panties before dipping a finger in and starting to draw little circles on your clit. You bucked up at the sensation and started to lose your technique with your kissing. Your head fell to his shoulder as his pace picked up and he sat there watching you break resolve and come undone to his touch. You felt the build up and then suddenly the knot in your gut broke and you flowed into your orgasm. Frankie somehow knew exactly when it happened because just as you started, he slipped his fingers further down and slid two of them perfectly in your pussy. You groaned at the relief of being able to squeeze onto something. He pumped you slowly as you came down from your high and peppered kisses along your neck while you slumped over him, regaining your breath and strength.  

He pulled his fingers out of you, and you leaned back, holding onto his broad shoulders for balance. He looked at you intently, and you burned for more. You reached between the two of you and startled pulling apart his belt as he held your waist to keep you balanced. He lifted his hips so you could get up and slide his pants and underwear down to the ground. You saw his length spring free and felt your mouth water, it was so perfect in every way with beads of precum seeping from the tip. You quickly fell to your knees and in one fell swoop took his member completely in your mouth. His head fell back at the sensation as you sucked and bobbed your head up and down. You used your hand to stroke the part of it that couldn’t fit into your mouth even if you tried. You worked him up and down, doing your best to take as much as you could down your throat, he reached down put his hand along your neck, feeling it throb with his cock inside.  

“Oh, baby, you keep doing that I’m not gonna last much longer.” He finally sputtered out, trying to keep himself composed.  

You glanced up and finally popped his soaked cock from between your lips. You hurriedly pulled your panties down your legs and took your previous position on top of him.  

“Do you need a condom? I’m on the pill and I’m clean but if you,” you said, scanning his face.  

He ran his hands down your back, “I’m clean too so as long as you’re comfortable.”  

You nodded quickly, kissing him to assure him of your consent and then raised yourself up. His hand slid between the two of you to guide his cock into your wet entrance. You felt it line up and started to slowly ease down onto it. The stretch both burned and excited you.  

His mouth fell open and his head fell back against the couch, “Fuck – baby you feel so good.” 

You smirked at him and groaned when you finally had sunk entirely onto him. He quickly encapsuled your lips in his and squeezed your ass with his hands. You took that as a hint to start moving, so you slowly rocked up and down, rubbing your clit on his hair above his cock. He steadied you as you quickly lost your resolve again, head spinning and becoming more and more heavy as the feeling in your gut grew again. You suddenly felt it happen again as your orgasm crashes into you, squeezing him so tight he moaned and rested his head against yours as he tried to pump your seized body through the feeling. You slowed and looked deep in his eyes, he was truly so handsome, and sweet and fuck was he good at this. You felt something in your chest, a warm feeling that you hadn’t felt in years. You liked this man so much, holy fuck did you like this man. You wanted to spend all your time with him, you wanted to learn everything about him, and learn each and every part of his body.  

You were snapped out of your lucid trance when you felt him buck into you, chasing his own high. You braced yourself by holding onto his neck as he rocked further into you. He bit his lip and held your hips so tight it might bruise. He came to a slow stop when his orgasm hit and he pushed into you one last time, coating your walls.  

The last thing you were expecting was for his cock to swell so much in it’s release that the sudden change in stretch would barrel you into a third orgasm. You squeezed him tight, and he moaned as your bodies slowly fell into one another and stilled. He breathed deeply into your neck as you ran your hand on his chest.  

Through stuttered breaths he said, “You know, I’m really starting to like this whole karma concept.”  

Snickering you pulled your head up and matched his gaze. He too looked like his brain was spinning, trying to analyze everything that just happened and everything that he felt for you.  

Pulling yourself off him, you quickly found your underwear and retreated to your room, excusing yourself. 

By the time you had cleaned up and thrown on a loose band shirt and sleep shorts, he was dressed again and had taken it upon himself to fill a glass of water for each of you. You liked the way he looked in your kitchen, so domestic and loving. You graciously accepted the water and walked back to the couch with shaky knees, he followed you sitting on the couch and putting his arm around you as you both sipped from your drinks.  

Frankie put his glass on the painted black wood coffee table, “So, rock star, what do you typically do on your nights off to relax?”  

You hummed, “Well, I don’t know if it’s your thing but I’m rewatching one of my favourite shows right now if you’d like to stick around for a while?” 

He smiled back at you, “Oh yeah, what is it?” 

“Buffy the vampire slayer.” You looked to him, worried he may be turned off by your choice in television, you pegged him more for a sports or war show guy.  

Thankfully, he was nothing like you thought he was going to be. “Buffy really? Fuck I love that show, watched it when it came out.” 

“Really?” You gapped, “Well then, we’re definitely watching it. I watch it every year at least once.” You reached for the remote on the coffee table and started queuing it up.  

“What’s your favourite episode?” He asked.  

You looked up, trying to figure out your answer, “Oh man, that’s hard. I really like the majority of the episodes in the first season to be honest. That season is by far my favourite. How bout you, any episode in particular?” 

“Oh yeah that’s easy, season four, episode one. Best episode in the series for me, it’s a classic. Great guest actors.” he says confidently.  

You looked to him, taken aback by the fact that he even knew episode numbers, “Really?” you ask, “Well I guess I know which one we’re gonna watch right now.” You scrolled through the series and selected the episode he requested.  

Both of you fell into each other and snuggled on the couch, watching the show and talking about anything that came to mind. It felt so easy you thought, and maybe that’s okay. Love is supposed to be easy after all. It will take time to accept that, but if Frankie continues to be the man you think he is, you’ll be falling endlessly for him.  

It will be easier than singing on stage, it will make you forget about your troubles more than the sting of a tattoo needle, and soon enough, he’ll make you forget all about karma because he’ll bring nothing but good into your life.  

[flowerslut]

Popped on to wish you a speedy and healthy recovery from your procedures 🖤

Also, thank you for updating Roots, and I hope it’s because you wanted to and not because you felt you had to. Please put yourself first right now 🖤

But since you updated…I wanted to say on first read this is my instinctive raw gut reaction without analysis…I was loving you having Jasper come back to himself so much…when he first recognises Edward, then when he sees Emmett - the burst of rage and regret and guilt he has! Remembering Alice, running to check on her… until a certain someone snapped him back into his automatic response and the thought he had….makes me feel sick. But I know he wouldn’t do that to Alice, and you mentioned something in your tags about infidelity not being a tag..

(I also hope Alice didn’t see that particular vision with her fragile state right now, would not be helpful for her)

I’m really hoping you let him come back to himself soon and see Alice even though it’ll rip our poor troubled Jasper’s heart out at seeing her like that/knowing what was done to her 💔

My heart is breaking for Rosalie!

And being the Peter/(Charlotte RIP) stan I am, I kind of lowkey love the fact he was stinking of venom and rot because that screams to me that he carried and held Alice all the way back home and we love that for his character 🖤

tldr; take care of yourself and Roots is better than the entire plot of The Twilight Saga altogether, sending positive vibes and all the Jalice love 🖤

Clara x

(PS, I may be back with a more in depth analysis once I’ve reread this chapter after some sleep after a 12 hour working day)

thank you so much!!!! I'm feeling better every day and I'm in good spirits so that's a huge plus!! and omfg lmfaooo don't worry!! every single time I've worked hard to squeeze in a roots update is because I'm fucking feral about this story and I LOVE thinking about it and posting it and talking about it etc etc!! 🥰 for as obsessed with roots as everyone says they are, just know that I'm over here also feeling the same stuff!!! sure there's a sense of obligation there since I like posting regular updates but it's 10000% percent because I love! to write!!! and I love! the fics!! I write!!!!

gonna reply to the rest under a cut bc of spoilers! ♡

don't worry, if jasper's disorientation/current mental state is making you feel sick or nervous or anxious then that means my job here is done 💀 this poor man is still trying to mesh the good (his current life) with the bad (his past life) in his brain and it's causing a full fracture to happen. we (jalice stans) often talk a lot about jasper's trauma because it's a really interesting subject to dive into, but being able to write and explore a traumatized character going through psychosis has always been something I like to explore in fanfic and with characters I like (who are all very traumatized individuals. hm. wonder what that says about me 💀)

anyways you'll have a better idea of what alice is and isn't seeing two chapters from now! but don't worry, I will give you one assurance and say that this past chapter (48) is as disoriented as jasper gets in the fic. he starts clearing up more little by little as the story progresses. unfortunately, I can't say the same about alice

and poor rosalie oh my godddd :( I think that whumping emmett (or renesmee, if we're being real here) is probably the best way to get rosalie to break down. and rosalie is interesting because she's so quick to anger. but when there's no immediate target for that anger, and when the person she loves more than anything is in such a state, you can only imagine what she's going through right now. (which is why edward's current job is keeping rosalie from trying to fight maria because she badly needs something to tear into) you definitely get a little more peter & alice content in the next alice chapter, but not a wild amount. peter's main job right now is 'keep alice alive' and if that means having to begrudgingly follow maria's orders...well, he'll do it, but he won't like it...

thank you again for always being so sweet!! I'm so happy you and other people love this story so much! it feels so good to have a fic that I was insane about for a year straight finally infect my readers in the same way that it did me 💀 I can't wait for you guys to have the full thing by the end of the year!!!!!!! thanks again! ♡

[keeeegs]

9  5 people you'd like to know better

woop prepared to be bored @reikurusu

Last song: Käärijä - ROCK ROCK because I'm obsessed with the gay little "hOH" he does in it. And also because I've fallen in love with this neon green Finnish man, he's absolutely precious, my little gay heart can't handle how he somehow makes a bowlcut hot and how much I wanna motorboat him

Currently watching: ... Do streamers count..? if so, ChilledChaos He's my main streamer right now, and he's where my prime sub goes lol

Currently reading: :))))) n,, nothing,,,, I need to read more. Although my bookmark is currently in the middle of Stardust by @neil-gaiman

Current obsession: Getting my art business up and running. I've probably spent too much money on it with no guarantee that it'll take off so rip me. If anyone wants to support my art business: Here's a link to my GoFundMe And to my Ko-fi commissions and here's my Instagram and the business facebook page

I'll tagggggggg @the0thewizard @spiritmoon23 @ratt-teeth @kaz-doodles @smjoked-tuna but obv don't feel obligated to do it, and if you weren't tagged but wanna do it, have at it!

[mencnfire]

it's a way we had over here with living with ourselves. we cut 'em in half with a machine gun and give 'em a band-aid. it was a lie. and the more I saw them, the more I hated lies.

an independent multimuse for the characters kazuhira miller, yevgeni borisovitch volgin, jack krauser - please read rules before following. penned by han.

beta editor only (unfortunately, rip)

MAIN | CARRD | MEME TAG | INTEREST TRACKER

ㅤ1ㅤㅤmultimuse / verse / oc / dupe friendly. i'm only selective in terms of i can't follow everybody back purely due to time & content. i want this blog to be an enjoyable, casual place to be. if you want to interact - deffo approach me and we can work something out !

ㅤ2ㅤㅤrated 18+ due to the series content which includes themes of torture / war crimes / mentions of child soldiers / blood & gore / violence / sexual violence / mental anguish / suicide-ideation etc. volgin's character is a large part of why this blog is rated 18+. he is a sadist, highly sexual & violent. i wont sugarcoat him for the sake of this blog. triggers will be tagged 'tw;-'. this blog will contain dark content. do not follow if you think that this will be a problem.

ㅤ3ㅤㅤthis blog is a drama-free and casual zone. i have zero time for tumblr shit. callouts aren't welcome, dnis will be acknowledged but not necessarily followed.i have no issue with things that people want to write, so long as they're respectful about it.

ㅤ4ㅤㅤshipping is welcome but it has to be noted that all of these men are messed up guys. volgin is a super sadist who will accidentally (and sometimes purposely) shock his lover's during sex. kaz is an incredibly broken man with anger issues & an obsession turned bad. krauser is a mess. all need help. shipping is welcome but i urge we discuss it before hand.

ㅤ5ㅤㅤi focus primarily on kaz during his mgsv era and onward. though his younger self will sometimes be alluded to / spoken about and maybe even written, i'd rather explore his character from mgsv onward. as for volgin, i focus largely on his mgs3/v self. though he's technically 'comatose / dead' in mgsv, i write him as having thoughts and feelings whilst he's the 'man on fire'. as you can tell, this blog began as an mgs blog - krauser, i will write during any timeline.

ㅤ6ㅤㅤfeel free to request my discord to talk plotting or chat shit ! ims are fine for talking but please don't be offended if i dont respond immediately. i'm quite slow due to personal obligations; however, if you message me requiring immediate attention, i will do my best to respond quickly.

ㅤ7ㅤㅤa lot of my portrayal is headcanon-based. there are certain fanon opinions, i do not share. i will not write volgin as a rapist so don't even suggest it. nor will i write rape / sa. i will not even look at shipping with underrage characters or writers. though i dont judge others for what they want to write, i don't want to be forced to write things i'm not interested in entertaining.

ㅤ8ㅤㅤimportant - i've added this rule because i feel it's incredibly important to me. this blog is low activity, and by extension - i am, too. i cannot be here 24/7, i cannot reply to ims and messages frequently. i have suffered a massive personal tragedy in the last few months, alongside this i'm in my final semester of university and i'm working. when i don't reply to a message, it's never anything personal, i apologise for not being quicker. if i don't reply in 1-2 weeks, you are welcome to nudge me. but please have some understanding as to why i may be slow. thank you.

ㅤ9ㅤㅤimportant to add on from the previous rule - i have zero patience now for those who take silence personally. if you think i have an issue with you because i have not replied to a message - ask me. i have zero tolerance for the expectations of being here 24/7. as stated above, my dad died suddenly in january of this year. i am in my final semester of uni, i am currently working with my manager to expand our business. i hate writing this rule because i'm a laid-back person who gives my partners the same space i expect, but if you're the sort of person who will reply to 1-2 weeks silence with a block or a shitty comment, do not follow or interact with me.

ㅤ10ㅤㅤa final addition re threads ; i am diagnosed with migraines and unfortunately can't handle heavily formatted text. i would prefer text be simplified ( it can be small or normal ) but heavy use of colouring and space does effect my eyes. i'd prefer text unformatted or small - if this can't be changed, i understand. if you can - bless you. also, regarding threads - my way of writing is to merge character responses and dialogue. i can't write opposite characters who respond separately to each and every line of dialogue as i don't feel it's natural. please keep this in mind when writing with me, my character usually will merge their thoughts / dialogue to whatever was the last thing said by your character.

i know these rules might seem a bit dickish but im just a little exhausted when this is meant to be a fun hobby, it's nothing personal. i just wanna have a good, chill time

[rustedhearts]

the incident ♡ part iii (boxer!steve x fem!librarian reader)

summary: broken and blue, steve comes after you in an attempt to right his wrongs. but there's no coming back from what he's done this time.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the king of the ring ✶ part i, part ii ✶ main masterlist

tags: angst, hurt/no comfort lol, breakup, talk of domestic violence-ish, violence.

recommended listening: my tears ricochet — taylor swift

malibu california, november 1992. the munson residence.

"I know she's here, Munson. Let me the fuck in."

Steve Harrington had never seemed so unhinged. In the past twenty-four hours since you fled your home and locked yourself in the Munson Mansion, Steve had done nothing but panic. He watched the rear end of his Mustang disappear down the road into a blur; and while he tried to run after you, even he knew he was no match for the speed of his own car.

So, he paced the floors. He stamped the space of the entryway for what felt like hours, shaking flashes of the incident that just occurred from his mind as they came to him in pieces. But as he paced, watching only his feet move and the floor fade away, the hole in the plaster in his periphery haunted him. His own violence, in all its tangible and terrific glory, taunted him.

Before he knew it, he was in tears and tearing up the place. His hands were raw and shaking like bad mufflers by the time the house became unrecognizable. His limbs wobbled with the delicacy of a newborn fawn just learning to stand on its own. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see. The world around him shrunk down to mouse size, and the air grew short. All he could hear were your cries in his ear, sharp and heartbreaking.

He wasn't sure how long he sat in the midst of the rubble, weeping over shattered picture frames and torn pillows. Like a bad dog with sharp teeth, he always nipped when he got scared. He just wished he never pointed his bite at you.

Steve never slept. He spent the night cleaning his own mess, doing his best to steady his hands and see through the streaks of his own tears. His chest hurt from the harshness of his own breathing: heaving huffs that turned to hyperventilations. And it seemed, as shards of glass fluttered into the garbage bin, and ripped photographs collected in the pieces, that your relationship sat in there with them. At the bottom of the garbage, torn apart by his hands.

Steve knew there was only one place you'd go if it wasn't home, and there was no way you'd have gotten to Hawkins in one night. There was only once place you could go—only two other people you knew that weren't paired to Steve through obligation. In the back of his mind, tapping on the cracking glass of his subconscious, Steve felt a pang of guilt for what he knew was his doing. Your isolation had his signature scrawled across it.

Now, here he stood: at the doorstep of his longest friend, begging to be let in. His countenance drawn and drooped with fatigue and nausea, the skin beneath his eyes sagged with exhaustion.

But worst of all: his breath held the potency of whiskey, and it wasn't even nine o'clock in the morning.

"Oh, the man of the fucking hour. Hey, Harrington, how does it feel to be smacked around?—"

"Eddie, please," Steve huffed, hands cupping the doorframe at his sides.

Eddie's arms folded over his chest, eyes narrowing into hardened slits. "How 'bout we ask your girl, huh? She'd know, wouldn't she?"

Steve swallowed, throat thickened with guilt and bile. A hand left the solidity of the house to rise to his eyes, rubbing at the bulbous ache behind his lid.

"N-no, that's not—I didn't—"

Eddie dropped his arms to his sides, lunging forward until he could see the pupils of his friend's eyes, blown wide. The whites held red spindles, the corners crusted with sleep. But Eddie couldn't bother to worry about kicking a man when he was down—Steve didn't get to play wounded puppy when he loved being an attack dog.

"You didn't what?" Eddie hissed.

Steve's silence aggravated the rage Eddie was attempting to keep at bay. How dare he appear demanding things with that pathetic look in his eye? Did he know his girlfriend spent the night crying and sporting his handiwork, so conditioned to muttering excuses and defenses?

"Huh?" Eddie pressed, chin jutting forward. "You didn't shove her around? You didn't rough her up? You didn't put your hands on her, you fucking coward—"

"No!"

Eddie felt the solid muscle of Steve's chest beneath his palm before he realized what he was doing. Steve shuffled backward, stumbling down the front steps and losing his footing in the unexpected commotion.

"You fucking liar. I saw the bruises!"

Steve pushed himself off his palms, collecting himself from the ground. "It's none of your fucking business—"

Eddie's finger soared toward the house behind him. "The minute she showed up here, it became my business. And had it been my business weeks—Christ, fuckin' months ago—I would've had your ass on a stretcher far before you managed to do what you've done."

At the mention of violence, the one thing he could swallow and stomach and understand, it was as though Steve was woken from his zombie-like stupor. Chest puffing in size, shoulders rearing back and squaring off, the boxer stepped forward and glared into Eddie's eye.

"I'd like to see you fuckin' try. You're always too coked out to even know where you are, Munson."

A barking laugh shot from Eddie's mouth, sharp and cruel. "Oh-hoh-hoh, always the tough guy, huh? Did it make you feel tough shovin' her around?"

Steve's fingers curled into fists, the flashes of shattered plaster and his fist beside your head haunting his head again. He could feel that trembling ache congregating in his chest again, ready to pop like a balloon. His temper always swelled before it burst. It always made such an unforgiving mess.

"Shut the fuck up."

"Did you feel tough making her cry? Putting her down?"

Though merely an inch existed between them, Eddie seemed to tower over Steve. The rockstar glared down at his friend over the end of his nose, lifted his chin to add some height.

"Stop." More trembling gathered in Steve's fists, and he hated the shudder that crept down his spine when he thought of the way you looked when you left your home.

Were the bruises you excused with clumsiness all from him?

"Do you feel like a man, Steve? Do you feel like a man just like your daddy?"

"Fuck you!"

Steve instantly regretted the moment the bone of his knuckles pooled with pain against the impact of Eddie's cheek. It dripped over him like hot blood, and though he wished only to apologize and rid his friend of the split skin reddened and weeping on his face, all Steve could manage to do was go for another one. All he knew how to do was keep fighting.

Except, now that the first punch was thrown, Eddie felt vindicated in returning his own. The men clambered toward each other, a mess of flying hands and scuffling feet across the pavement. Curses strewn between teeth shot between them like bullets, though cruelly nonsensical and unintelligible.

"I'll fuckin' kill you, you fucking prick," Eddie growled once he had Steve on the ground, hulking with new strength and the upper-hand of unbridled rage.

From the open doorway, feet bare and cheeks sticky, you came running at full force with only an unnerved Stella to follow. Unsuspecting, Eddie easily toppled to the side with your urgent shove, freeing Steve from his pinned state on the driveway. He instantly moved to retaliate, fist reaching for the rockstar—but your hands grabbed for his shirt and shoved him back.

"Get up, you fucking asshole. Get up!"

With your pulling and his eagerness to reach you, Steve stumbled to his feet. His wrath sizzled to a simmer, now distracted by your swollen eyes and wet cheeks.

"Oh, baby—" He moved to step toward you, but you held a hand out to stop him, colliding with his chest where his t-shirt had been torn in the commotion.

Eddie retreated back toward Stella, still visibly rattling with the rage he had yet to release, though attempting to calm under her soothing hands. Both men were equally torn up, but you could no longer stand to listen to their fighting from the floor above. You just wanted Steve out of here.

"Here, take your fuckin' keys. Take them and get out!"

You threw the keys at him; they pinged against his forehead and fell to the ground with a jingling clatter. Inhaling deeply, Steve took another step forward, returning to that wounded puppy pout.

"Baby, please, just let me—"

"Go!" Another shove to his chest, this one with all you could muster.

It sent him stumbling back again. When he made no move to collect the keys and take his Mustang, you lunged forward and gave another shove. If he wouldn't leave, you'd have to make him. But through all your pushing, the tears sprouted up again. Gasping for air, face twisted with more tears, eyes stinging and chest aching, you pounded your fists into his chest and wept.

"Go, go—just go! You ruin everything! Just go! I hate you, I hate you!"

You felt like a little girl, wailing and stamping your foot and pounding on the door to be freed from some cruel trick. This man was supposed to love you, but all he's done is harm.

Under your futile and gradually-weakening hits, wet with tear splotches and his own blood, Steve felt himself crumbling. In that moment, his anger fled from him as easily as the cold, leaving him with a hole the size of your fist in his heart. The vision of your anguished face blurred with the appearance of his own tears, and Steve collected your trembling fists by the wrists to hold them away.

"Just g-go," you cried, twisting from his hold—disgusted by its delicacy, because the feeling of it had become so unfamiliar.

Eddie stomped over, snatching the keys from the ground behind the pair of you only to slam them into Steve's chest with a heavy fist. "You heard her."

Steve stumbled back again, collecting the keys before they could fall when Eddie let go. With a gentle arm, Eddie scooped you behind him, placing himself as a barrier between your body and Steve's. Steve could hear your weeping even behind the interference. Numbly, he trudged toward the Mustang, fingers unsteady around the keys.

He sat in the driver seat and watched you curl into Stella's arms, drenching her in a stream of tears that seemed delirious and hysterical. He barely managed to fit the key into the engine with all his trembling, and when the engine roared to life, all Steve wanted to do was run to you and accept more of your hits so long as it meant he could be near you.

But Stella took you inside. And Eddie stood in front of the door like a watchdog, waiting for Steve to disappear like you all wanted him to.

With only the tenderness of your fists still beating against his chest, and the ache he'd always have for you throbbing in his heart, Steve put the car in reverse, and drove away.

[faersflower]

not tryna be a bitch but im just wondering, what the *point* is, of reblogging/replying to s5 content, or whatever, with your emotions? i mean obviously i get being angry and im still angry too and i dont agree with the people who r upset that we r still angry. but i just do my best to ignore the people who r excited. i dont reblog their content or anything. i just interact with my circle of tm friends i still follow who still make stuff. and share posts with them to rant at in private. idk

hi last anon here sorry im kinda regretting sending that last one cause i feel like it came off different than i was intending but i just saw your post and ive been trying to figure out how i feel about the whole thing for a while cause im always hyperaware that people who make posts can see my reactions. ur post is just the one that i happened to see when i was thinking about this (1/2)

cuz i saw other conversations about people reacting and stuff in the tag and its just that im a little confused and lost at this point how to best interact in fandom after something like this. im sorry if i came across as rude and i kinda feel like i did by accident but im just trying to understand cause even tho a lot of people are being bitchy about it some people are also making some points and i dont know how to feel about it. sorry again for dumping this on you (2/2)

Okay! This is A Lot ™ but I am kinda the most Middle Lane person I guess. So *cracks knuckles*

To open I will also kind of explain myself a little bit. I myself am a fan content creator for The Magicians. I make edits, fanart, cosplay, and write fanfic for The Magicians! Also really niche and specific text posts where I go off for 45 minutes about a single Eliot outfit but that is just me being a weirdo that is Very Into Costume Design.

About your Ask;

As for avoiding the people that are excited about it I myself sort of do that? I still follow a lot of the content creators mostly because they are friends of mine. There are a couple that I definitely do not follow though because they are a little bit too enthusiastic so I myself do avoid them!

Most of my rants are in private group chats with people that are like-minded with what happened in The Magicians. So I'm not sure what you're getting at with going at me with that particular comment. The post that I made is not about The Magicians in general it's more about the fandom because there are a lot of people that are angry at people who are upset and angry still. And it was more about that and sort of an ableism sort of situation from a while ago. This is an old post that I reblogged today it's not a post that I made for today.

Not to be my stereotypical self I guess (I'm sort of like the flower child of the fandom if you will ⁠— I talk about flowers a lot as well, anyway.)

But we are all just humans. We all went through the same event. We all handled it differently. Some of us are handling it better than others yes that is correct. But those of us that are still upset are allowed to still be upset. Those of us that are excited or allowed to be excited. Do what you want be how you want Express Yourself how you want!

I mean from what I'm aware of and I was a part of Tumblr back in 2011 until 2014 before I took a break until March of last year? But especially with personal blogs that just have like an undertone of magicians to them a lot of people use personal blogs kind of like an online diary so they just kind of post how they feel? Idk posting emotions is just like "why do you write music?" "Why do you create art?" "Why do you write?"

Which can all roughly be answered with The Mortifying Ordeal of Sharing Pieces of Ourselves. We're just sharing how we feel/think/process/what we find interesting/etc into the void that is the universe and hoping for a connection out there. We're just trying our best.

That's really all I'm saying here!!

Really the whole argument that others are having (not really me, but i digress) is about tagging. And it's a bunch of people wanting to dictate how people tags things. Which I understand if it's under an umbrella tag like "The Magicians" or "Eliot Waugh" everybody that is following those tags is going to see it. So if you are tagging it with umbrella tags be prepared for people to notice it that you might not expect to.

I tag my s5/anger posts as "the magaykins" like do what you want! Do what makes you feel best about what you are putting out into the universe! But it is going out into the universe and other people will see it.

Again, I am fairly neutral as far as all of this goes. I'm really middle of the lane like I'm still upset about what happened and everything and I am not excited for season 5 but I'm still contemplating watching season 5. But I'm not like Always Making Angry Posts, either. In fact I am mostly just posting generic Magicians content lmao. I mean right now I'm working on a painting that's a scene from season 1. And then I have another painting planned but it's not from a season, it's technically from the books.

I'm just doing my own Weird Little thing here. I'm not particularly angry I just have 2 Frustrated At the Fandom posts.

Because I am! I'm just frustrated with people trying to dictate how people should feel and project on Tumblr about this particular fandom! We're all in different head spaces! We are all entirely different and separate people and we can all processes in our own ways and we're allowed to do whatever we want it's just frustrating to see people try to control others in the fandom.

That's my particular frustration.

Also just the fact that there is such a huge divide in the fandom between being excited for season 5 and pretending that season five doesn't exist. But I understand ⁠— and I get it, and there's nothing that I can really do to change that, but I also hate that we are so divided by this. But that's a Whole Other Thing. And I can't change that one, sadly.

Also I think that the people that are excited about season 5 feel like the people that aren't are like mad at them for being excited??? We aren't.

We just want to be sure that any triggering content related to the events from 4x13 are Tagged so the people that get triggered by the imagery from that scene are taken care of.

That's all ⁠— from what I am aware of from my perspective. I don't know about others this is just me.

Your local flower child, Eliot costume obsessive weirdo, that goes by Key.

[ssuckitlosers]

USUK fic recs:

Yes I have been rereading old usuk fics instead of doing work.

Stardropdream wrote a lot of good fics! Their account is orphaned now but I highly recommend reading:

‘Bottle it Up’ it’s set during the war and could probably be read as platonic. Their relationship is portrayed in such an interesting and realistic way that feels very fitting for the characters. Also touches on their attitudes towards war. It’s very interesting, cannot recommend enough.

‘Coffee and Cigarettes’ is fairly nsfw. Mainly explores America’s character and his thoughts and fears around power and control. It’s a really interesting introspective around America. The second in the series focuses on England, which is also pretty interesting.

‘Highway Cloudbusting’ is a classic. It’s been so long since I’ve read it that I don’t remember much, except liking it so much that I’d still count it as one of my favourites. I’ll reread it soon and update this.

‘Born on the Fourth of July’ by Pennylane. I reread this yesterday and I still recommend it. I think my favourite part is how the characters are portrayed. America and England’s relationship is really well explored, they work through their miscommunication and it feels very accurate to the characters. And I really like how France is portrayed in this fic, he clearly cares for England and I think their friendship is often underrated. Pennylane also wrote ‘Cuckoo in the Nest’ which is another one of my recs, but I need to read it again to say more on it.

‘The Hudson River Challange’ by monobuu. Okay, so this is a crack fic. I was going to delete it from my rec list a few days ago because I was like wtf why? Then I reread it and it made me laugh, it’s genuinely more funny than it has any right to be, so it stays and I’m actively sharing it here too.

‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ by merakily. So I don’t know how to talk about this fic without kind of spoiling what happens. I haven’t read it in a while but I know it’s amazing. It ripped my heart out and I still recced it, which is a testament to how much I enjoyed reading it. I’m pretty sure I cried for so long after this but I want to read it again soon.

‘you committed, i’m your crime’ by Anonymous. Definitely read the tags for this one. I don’t quite know how to explain it, but if I didn’t think this fic was really good, I wouldn’t rec it. Alfred and Arthur aren’t good people but you can still root for them to be together imo. I remember it being a really good supervillain fic and I’m going to go reread it after I’ve posted this. But again, read the tags before.

‘His Clockwork Heart’ by Firebear. I’m obligated to rec this because I have made multiple people irl read it. I had to talk to someone about this so bad that I made my friend whose never even watched hetalia read it. Back in the day, I read this on ff.net and cried, so this is a rec from past me.

‘Eight Steps to Victory’ by Zeplerfer, is another fix that I haven’t read in a while but remember liking so much that I’m still going to rec it. Made me crave more dancing au’s.

‘Just Like Heaven’ by maddiemoiselleeee. I remember this being interesting, another one that I think I cried reading. But again it’s another fic I need to reread, like I remember the main things that happen but I’ll read it again and update this.

‘American dreams in an English village’ by Butterfish. I have no recollection of this fic except that I remember liking it, genuinely the name is the only thing I remember. But I also commented that I loved it so I’ll trust past me again lol.

[silversatoru]

one more day

gojo satoru x f!reader

synopsis: Gojo's been sizing you up from across the club for awhile now, so when you walk out onto the empty balcony and give him the perfect opportunity to shoot his shot, he's more than happy to do so. After charming you with his oh so eloquent words, he may or may not fuck the shit out of you in the back of his car.

tags/warnings: smut, with a little bit of plot, if you squint you might be able to see the plot, very nsfw (18+), bar/club au

word count: 2.5k

a/n: i based the plot/idea of this fic on the song HER by chase atlantic. if you know it, i love you, lets be friends. if you don't, i highly recommend it, its a bop and a half

Gojo gracefully lifted his whiskey sour up to his lips, taking a small sip and closing his eyes. The music was getting loud and he hadn’t met a single interesting person here tonight. He exhaled deeply — this would be his last drink and then he’d probably call it early tonight and head home. 

He sat the nearly empty glass back down on the bar counter top and slid some cash to the bartender before turning around and scanning the club one last time. His lazy eyes shot open when he saw you standing with your friends across the room, his interest suddenly piqued. He hadn’t noticed you before, but now that he did, he couldn’t leave without talking to you. 

You seemed lost in your own thoughts, aimlessly dancing with your friends with a fake smile plastered across your face. Your façade was terribly see-through, though none of your friends seemed to notice, or maybe they just didn’t care. 

Eventually, you separated from your group, heading up the stairs and towards the balcony of the club. Gojo watched as you walked, a slight wobble to your gait and an expensive looking handbag dangling from your wrist. 

He gave you a two-minute head start, and then made his way up the stairs and out onto the balcony as well. You two were the only one’s insane enough to go out there, the winter air incredibly frigid at this time of night. He strode over and took a seat opposite you, a relaxed expression on his face. 

You lifted your cigarette from your lips, blowing out a puff of smoke and giving him a small smile, “Hey, pretty-boy, I had a feeling you’d be joining me out here”.

“I had a feeling you only came out here so I’d follow you,” His words were care-free but perfectly composed. 

“Maybe,” You laugh, taking another drag from your cigarette and propping your feet up on the table. 

Gojo sat back, fully taking you in now. You were wearing a silky red dress, the extravagant fabric clinging perfectly to every curve of your body. Your hands flashed with several gold rings and long, shiny black nails -- cigarettes didn’t belong in fingers that beautiful. 

“Your little show you’re putting on for everyone is pitiful you know. Some improv classes might help” Gojo prodded at you. 

“That’s a new one. Is this how you flirt with all girls?” You couldn’t help but laugh — a light elegant laugh that was music to the silver-haired man’s ears.

“Of course not, but I’ve also never met someone who was such a bad actor before,” He crossed one of his long legs over the other, his own lips cracking a small smile.

“I’ve never met someone who was so weirdly good at reading people. How long were you watching me?” You jab back at him, putting out your cigarette and tossing it into a nearby trash bin. 

“Not too long,” He shrugged, “So, what’s your deal? Mommy issues? You seem like someone who has mommy issues”. 

You laughed again, this strange man continuing to catch you incredibly off guard, “So close. My mom wasn’t great but I think it’s more of a daddy issues thing”. 

“Ouch,” He clicked his tongue, “Mommy and daddy issues, you’re the total package huh? I bet there’s a couple toxic ex-boyfriend’s in there too, right?” 

“You could say that,” You give him a playful glance. 

“How about you let me take it all away tonight? All the pain,” He leaned forward now, his icy blue eyes practically peering into your soul. 

His offer sounded absolutely perfect — you could use a nice distraction from the shit-show that was your life.

“We can do whatever you want, pretty-boy, just don’t fall in love with me, okay? I don’t do second rounds,” You winked at him, standing up from your seat and offering him a hand. 

“Deal,” Gojo laced his fingers through yours and stood up, a smirk tugging at his lips. 

“How big is your car?” You ask while the two of you stride through the club, hand in hand. 

“Big enough if we put the back seats down,” He looked down at you with hazy eyes. 

“Perfect”. 

                                                                            It didn’t take long for Gojo to put down the back seats of his relatively large, black SUV — and before you knew it he was swiftly pulling you inside and locking the doors.

It was too dark to see much of anything, so you flinched when he wrapped a firm arm around your waist and flipped you underneath him. You expected a rough kiss to your lips, but were taken by surprise when you felt a subtle touch on your neck instead. He left gentle, wet kisses up both sides of your neck, soft sighs of bliss slipping out from between your lips. 

The gentle kisses slowly got more intense, his teeth leaving small nibbles and his tongue working furiously against your skin. You caught yourself wondering how that tongue would feel on other parts of your body. 

You traced your fingers up his arms and cupped them around his cheeks, pulling his face to meet yours. You were desperate to actually kiss him, parting your lips and placing a kiss to his incredibly soft lips. He was quick to deepen it, his long fingers intertwining themselves in your hair. Sparks of electricity were going off in your head, your thoughts blurring together as you lost yourself in Gojo Satoru’s captivating kiss.  

He slowly pulled away after a couple minutes, his breaths heavy. 

“Can I take your clothes off, angel?” 

You whisper a small confirmation, your skin tingling under his soft touches. You quickly twisted onto your stomach and he swiftly pulled the zipper down the back of your dress. He carefully removed the silky material from your body, leaving you in only your undergarments. 

He ran his cool fingertips up your sides, inspecting every inch of your body with his curious hands. A heavy breath shuddered from his throat as he pressed his lips onto your torso, his breath hot against your cool skin. He left kisses all over your body, sucking hard on the sensitive spots and leaving you breathlessly wanting more. 

His kisses got lower and lower until he was sucking on a sensitive patch of skin on the inside of your thigh. He lifted his head and you could practically feel his heavy breaths hitting the heat between your legs. 

“I can take these off too?” He asked, slipping his slender fingers under the band of your underwear. 

“Please,” you exhale, curling your fingers into his soft, fluffy hair. 

After gaining confirmation, he wastes no time pulling the panties down your legs and throwing them to the side. His warm tongue was quick to find your clit, swirling in small, gentle circles. He sucked the small nub into his mouth, gently nibbling on it and sending intense shivers coursing through your body. Soft, strangled moans escaped your lips as he continued to work, his hot tongue lapping up and down your slick entrance. 

Your fingers curled tighter in his hair, yanking hard when he pressed his tongue deep into your entrance. This was complete bliss — you had a terrible habit of one-night stands but no one had ever made you feel this good — and you hadn’t even gotten to the main course yet. 

He lifted his head and pressed a small kiss to your lower abdomen before sitting up. His slender hands went straight to the buckles of his trousers, his fingers working quickly to get them undone. You sat up and moved towards him, ready to reciprocate the favor he just did for you — but he quickly pushed you away. 

“Lay down, angel. I told you, tonight’s about making you feel good,” His words were smooth and serious, and they made your heart beat a little faster. 

You were more than happy to oblige, leaning back and enjoying the show while he finished removing his boxers. Your eyes had adjusted to the dark now, and your stomach filled with butterflies when his full length was finally exposed. You sucked in a sharp breath, worried that his lengthy shaft would cause more pain than pleasure. 

He pulled out a condom and expertly slid it down to the base of his cock, and when he looked up again, he seemed to notice your hesitancy. 

“Relax, baby. I’ll start slow,” He whispered, leaning forward and pressing more gentle kisses to the sides of your face while he teased your entrance. 

Shudders ripped through your body as he rubbed the tip of his length up and down your swollen pussy, a small snicker audible from his lips as he nibbled on your earlobe. You roughly bucked up your hips, desperate for more than what he was teasing you with. 

“Relax,” he repeated, but this time it sounded more like an order. 

Again, you obliged, but not without a small whimper sneaking its way out of your mouth. 

He did exactly what he said he would, positioning the tip of his cock and slowly pushing it inside of you. He carefully inserted his entire length, your body tensing up underneath him. He leaned down and pressed another kiss to your cheek bone, whispering feverishly in your ear. 

“You okay?”

You give him an eager nod, the initial pain of taking his massive length slowly starting to subside.

“Good,” he mumbled, beginning short, tender strokes that made your entire body feel like it was on fire.

Heavy, raspy groans forced their way out of both of your throats — your hands grasping fiercely at tufts of his hair. He gradually increased his pace as your walls adjusted to his size, and somehow it managed to feel better and better each time. 

Gojo let out a deep groan, his head dipping low as endorphins exploded within him, causing a blissful feeling to wash over his body. Your light moans and scattered whimpers were filling his ears, and he decided they were his new favorite sound. He’d do whatever it took to keep those beautiful noises coming out of your pretty mouth. 

We can do whatever you want, pretty-boy, just don’t fall in love with me, okay? Your words echoed in his head. Normally, that kind of thing wouldn’t be a problem for Gojo, but as he stared down at the dimly illuminated silhouette of your body — he realized he was breaking the deal. You were breathtaking, every curve of your body felt perfect against his hands, and he knew he’d need to see you again — one night wasn’t enough.

His hips began thrusting faster, forcing the tip of his cock impossibly deeper inside of you, a strangled cry forcing its way out of your lips. He groaned and threw his head back at the sound of your whimpers, his own need building stronger in his stomach. Your head felt like it was spinning, each thrust sending electrical pulses of pleasure through your core. 

Gojo slowed his hips for just a moment, leaning down and whispering in your ear.

“I want you to come, tell me how you like it,” his words sent a series of shivers all the way down to your fingertips. 

“Fuck, from behind, please,” You whined back, your voice shaky and filled with need. 

“Okay, get up,” he instructed, pulling back and removing his shaft from inside you.

You sucked in a sharp breath of air at his sudden absence, quickly climbing into position and desperate to feel him inside of you again. 

“Such a good girl,” he cooed, firmly grasping his hand around either side of your hips. 

He wasted no time driving forward and sheathing himself back into your tight cunt, raspy groans ripping through his throat. It didn’t take long for that warm pressure to build up in your core, your hips shifting back against his to help him get even deeper. Your moans and whimpers got louder, more needy, filled with desperation — you needed to come so badly, and you were painfully stuck right on the cusp. 

“Come for me, angel. Let me make you feel good,” he murmured — his gently, lusty voice exactly what you needed to push you over the edge. 

Your body began to shake, a warm feeling erupting in your stomach as your walls clenched hard against his cock. Pleasure-filled cries filled the car, your body heaving and convulsing as the intense contractions coursed through you. 

Gojo rolled his hips back, caught off guard by just how good it felt to have you come all over him. He felt his own climax suddenly wash over him, raspy strings of curse words rattling out of his mouth as he slammed hard into your hips. You whined loudly in response, the intensity of his peak greatly enhancing your own. 

A few moments later you were both collapsed next to each other, the only sound being your uneven breaths. 

“I think I broke our deal,” Gojo spoke between heavy breaths, “I want to see you again”.

You let out a shaky laugh, still catching your own breath, “I tried to warn you, I don’t do second dates”. 

“Mhm, but this is different, right? I know no one has ever made you feel that good before,” he rolled over to face you. 

“Maybe,” You shoot him a side-ways glance.

“So, let me make you feel good again,” He was practically pleading with you, “I can make your pain better, just give me one more day. And then one more day after that too. Just keep giving me one day, until there’s no more days left to give”. 

You let out a heavy sigh, your heart aching at the idea of getting to know this mysterious man a little bit better.

“I’ll be honest, your offer is incredibly tempting,” You turn so you’re facing him too.

“So accept it,” he smiled, his eyes darker and heavier than they’d been all night. 

“If we’re lucky enough for our paths to intertwine a second time, I’ll consider it,” You smile back, sitting up and slipping your dress over your head.

“Zip this for me?” You turn around so your back is facing Gojo.

One of his soft hands rested firmly on your hip to hold the fabric in place, and the second carefully zipped up your dress. A chill ran through your shoulders at just how gentle he’d consistently been with your body all night.

“Thank you,” You mumbled as you reached for your underwear, pulling them back up around your hips.

Gojo hummed in response, gathering his own clothes and slipping them back on. 

“What’s your name, pretty-boy?” You coo at him as you slip your heels back onto your feet.

“Gojo Satoru. Do I have the pleasure of getting to know yours?” He peered over at you, lazily pulling his shirt back over his head. 

“No, that’s a secret for now. But if we do meet again, I’ll tell you,” A small smirk tugged at the corners of your lips, “And by the way, I do hope we meet again, Gojo Satoru”. 

[satashiiwrites]

Wip Wednesday

I’m going to post this and then run away back to work.  Sorry i’m offline most of this week everyone—work is brutally busy with a lot of people out sick. 

I’m considering myself tagged by @radio-chatter​.  Tagging the usual crew (sorry if you’ve been tagged already but no obligation as always) @quietborderline​ @tkwritesdumbassassins​ @missanniewhimsy​ @outtoshatter​ @imsupposedtobewritting​ and anyone else who wants to play along.

Title: The Outlaw and the Cartel Boss, unknown chapter

Fandom: Mayans MC

Relationships: Main is Ezekiel “EZ” Reyes/Miguel Galindo, side/prior relationships include Miguel Galindo/Emily Galindo née Thomas, Angel Reyes/Adelita, Angel Reyes/Johnny “Coco” Cruz

Other tags/warnings: WIP.  First draft.  KJ isn’t dying here. We’re AU from about episode 3? Maybe 4?  So no knowledge of the show is necessary to enjoy.  Not!Brothers. Sentinel/Guide AU.  All the angst.  Cut for length. 

Kevin chuckled darkly.  “They have a theory.”

“A theory?” EZ asked, worried by the brittleness in his Beta’s voice.

“The reason I don’t have guide hunger and I’ve never found my true match.”  There was naked anguish on his cousin’s face and he’d curled his body forward, clutching at his beer like he’d fall without it. 

“What’d they say Kev?”

“My guide—my match—they’re dead.  I thought as much for so long…”

EZ let him gather his thoughts, not interrupting. 

“They think the only reason I was able to stabilize your guide even temporarily is because of how close we are genetically to each other.”

“What?”

Kevin took a swig of his beer and emptied it before tossing it down the stairs where it broke into several pieces sending the last dregs of fluid to seep into the dirt of the yard.  There was a frightening emptiness to Kevin’s eyes.  “Galindo had a brother that died—didn’t he?” He said, voice barely above a whisper. 

EZ swallowed, feeling Miguel join them as he wrapped himself around EZ from behind. “I had a brother. Cristóbal my son is named after him.  He died before I was born.”

The confirmation seemed to cause more pain, Kevin’s eyes closing shut as his arms wrapped around himself in a hug, rocking slightly. Tears were leaking from the corner of his eyes but he’d bit his lips so no sobs escaped. 

“You are my brother’s sentinel,” Miguel added, voice soft but sure. “I’m sorry.”

“Come here,” EZ ordered but Kevin shook his head and curled up tighter into himself. “Kev.”

Kevin refused to let EZ touch him.  Miguel sighed and detached himself from EZ and then draped himself around the rocking Kevin.  At Miguel’s touch a keening noise was ripped from Kevin’s throat that sounded like a wounded animal until it was dampened by Miguel forcing the other sentinel’s nose into his neck as he wrapped himself determinedly around him in an embrace. 

“Shhhhh,” Miguel crooned.  The feeling of his Guide’s shielding accommodating the ball of misery that was his cousin and Beta was like a cool salve on a burn. The contrast of Miguel’s hand as it carded through Kevin’s hair in continuous soothing strokes. Cocking his head just a bit, EZ gave into the tug through the bond for him to come closer and sandwiched Kevin between their bodies.  

Eventually the shaking sobs subsided and Kevin slumped into their supportive hold, scent thick with grief for someone none of them had ever known.

Kevin’s eyes were closed, his nose pressed into Miguel’s neck next to EZ’s bonding mark. Miguel was unbothered by the fact that his shirt was damp with tears and snot, pressing a soft kiss to Kevin’s forehead. 

The whole while, Miguel had been weaving his shields tighter and tighter around Kevin.  It wasn’t the same as the one that he shared with EZ but it was more than he’d done for anyone else.  To EZ’s non-empathic eye it felt like a bond but it wasn’t.  He was still firmly bound to Miguel, the tethers between them stronger than steel. This felt different but he didn’t know what to make of it. 

[qqueenofhades]

Hi. You made a post a couple of days ago about how queer historical fiction doesnt need to be defined only by homophobia. Can you expand on that a bit maybe? Because it seems interesting and important, but I'm a little confused as to whether that is responsible to the past and showing how things have changed over time. Anyway this probably isn't very clear, but I hope its not insulting. Have a good day :)

Hiya. I assume you're referring to this post, yes? I think the main parameters of my argument were set out pretty clearly there, but sure, I'm happy to expand on it. Because I'm a little curious as to why you think that writing a queer narrative (especially a queer fictional narrative) that doesn't make much reference to or even incorporate explicit homophobia is (implicitly) not being "responsible to the past." I've certainly made several posts on this topic before, but as ever, my thoughts and research materials change over time. So, okay.

(Note: I am a professional historian with a PhD, a book contract for an academic monograph on medieval/early modern queer history, and soon-to-be-several peer-reviewed publications on medieval queer history. In other words, I'm not just talking out of my ass here.)

As I noted in that post, first of all, the growing emphasis on "accuracy" in historical fiction and historically based media is... a mixed bag. Not least because it only seems to be applied in the Game of Thrones fashion, where the only "accurate" history is that which is misogynistic, bloody, filthy, rampantly intolerant of competing beliefs, and has no room for women, people of color, sexual minorities, or anyone else who has become subject to hot-button social discourse today. (I wrote a critical post awhile ago about the Netflix show Cursed, ripping into it for even trying to pretend that a show based on the Arthurian legends was "historically accurate" and for doing so in the most simplistic and reductive way possible.) This says far more about our own ideas of the past, rather than what it was actually like, but oh boy will you get pushback if you try to question that basic premise. As other people have noted, you can mix up the archaeological/social/linguistic/cultural/material stuff all you like, but the instant you challenge the ingrained social ideas about The Bad Medieval Era, cue the screaming.

I've been a longtime ASOIAF fan, but I do genuinely deplore the effect that it (and the show, which was by far the worst offender) has had on popular culture and widespread perceptions of medieval history. When it comes to queer history specifically, we actually do not know that much, either positive or negative, about how ordinary medieval people regarded these individuals, proto-communities, and practices. Where we do have evidence that isn't just clerical moralists fulminating against sodomy (and trying to extrapolate a society-wide attitude toward homosexuality from those sources is exactly like reading extreme right-wing anti-gay preachers today and basing your conclusions about queer life in 2021 only on those), it is genuinely mixed and contradictory. See this discussion post I likewise wrote a while ago. Queerness, queer behavior, queer-behaving individuals have always existed in history, and labeling them "queer" is only an analytical conceit that represents their strangeness to us here in the 21st century, when these categories of exclusion and difference have been stringently constructed and applied, in a way that is very far from what supposedly "always" existed in the past.

Basically, we need to get rid of the idea that there was only one empirical and factual past, and that historians are "rewriting" or "changing" or "misrepresenting" it when they produce narratives that challenge hegemonic perspectives. This is why producing good historical analysis is a skill that takes genuine training (and why it's so undervalued in a late-capitalist society that would prefer you did anything but reflect on the past). As I also said in the post to which you refer, "homophobia" as a structural conceit can't exist prior to its invention as an analytical term, if we're treating queerness as some kind of modern aberration that can't be reliably talked about until "homosexual" gained currency in the late 19th century. If there's no pre-19th century "homosexuality," then ipso facto, there can be no pre-19th-century "homophobia" either. Which one is it? Spoiler alert: there are still both things, because people are people, but just as the behavior itself is complicated in the premodern past, so too is the reaction to it, and it is certainly not automatic rejection at all times.

Hence when it comes to fiction, queer authors have no responsibility (and in my case, certainly no desire) to uncritically replicate (demonstrably false!) narratives insisting that we were always miserable, oppressed, ostracised, murdered, or simply forgotten about in the premodern world. Queer characters, especially historical queer characters, do not have to constantly function as a political mouthpiece for us to claim that things are so much better today (true in some cases, not at all in the others) and that modernity "automatically" evolved to a more "enlightened" stance (definitely not true). As we have seen with the recent resurgence of fascism, authoritarianism, nationalism, and xenophobia around the world, along with the desperate battle by the right wing to re-litigate abortion, gay rights, etc., social attitudes do not form in a vacuum and do not just automatically become more progressive. They move backward, forward, and side to side, depending on the needs of the societies that produce them, and periods of instability, violence, sickness, and poverty lead to more regressive and hardline attitudes, as people act out of fear and insularity. It is a bad human habit that we have not been able to break over thousands of years, but "[social] things in the past were Bad but now have become Good" just... isn't true.

After all, nobody feels the need to constantly add subtextual disclaimers or "don't worry, I personally don't support this attitude/action" implied authorial notes in modern romances, despite the cornucopia of social problems we have today, and despite the complicated attitude of the modern world toward LGBTQ people. If an author's only reason for including "period typical homophobia" (and as we've discussed, there's no such thing before the 19th century) is that they think it should be there, that is an attitude that needs to be challenged and examined more closely. We are not obliged to only produce works that represent a downtrodden past, even if the end message is triumphal. It's the same way we got so tired of rape scenes being used to make a female character "stronger." Just because those things existed (and do exist!), doesn't mean you have to submit every single character to those humiliations in some twisted name of accuracy.

Yes, as I have always said, prejudices have existed throughout history, sometimes violently so. But that is not the whole story, and writing things that center only on the imagined or perceived oppression is not, at this point, accurate OR helpful. Once again, I note that this is specifically talking about fiction. If real-life queer people are writing about their own experiences, which are oftentimes complex, that's not a question of "representation," it's a question of factual memoir and personal history. You can't attack someone for being "problematic" when they are writing about their own lived experience, which is something a younger generation of queer people doesn't really seem to get. They also often don't realise how drastically things have changed even in my own lifetime, per the tags on my reblog about Brokeback Mountain, and especially in media/TV.

However, if you are writing fiction about queer people, especially pre-20th century queer people, and you feel like you have to make them miserable just to be "responsible to the past," I would kindly suggest that is not actually true at all, and feeds into a dangerous narrative that suggests everything "back then" was bad and now it's fine. There are more stories to tell than just suffering, queer characters do not have to exist solely as a corollary for (inaccurate) political/social commentary on the premodern past, and they can and should be depicted as living their lives relatively how they wanted to, despite the expected difficulties and roadblocks. That is just as accurate, if sometimes not more so, than "they suffered, the end," and it's something that we all need to be more willing to embrace.

[elfwoodfae]

Writing’s On the Wall Harrison Eo Wells x reader.

Chapter 2- Specter.

Author’s note: I am so happy and excited for this new series. I hope sincerely that you all like it and let me know your thoughts, this new series will touch on darker themes up ahead in the future. Also tumblr is being annoying with the paragraphs that’s why they are so far apart.

I made this moodboard. I looked up and searched the photos and edited them. I don’t mind if you use it.

Part 1 (here)

A strange calmness falls over him; he turns around, opening his eyes for the first time in hours. He feels exhausted, having spend the majority of the night observing you. He chastises himself, he shouldn’t have done that, there was no other option, he reminds himself, he is desperate and frustrated. The sudden reminder of your presence this early in the morning angers him, a growl escaping his mouth as he sits up, the white linens of the bed pooling around his hips as he rubs his face with one hand, turning his head and doing a double take at the door, making sure is locked, he knows he locked it last night but the paranoia your presence has brought him makes him second guess himself.

His feet touch the floor first, he stretches his arms over his head, moaning at the relief it offers, his white shirt riding up enough to expose a gleam of milky skin; his hair is a mess of black curls, the expression looking back at him thorough the mirror is annoyed, tired, he splashes water on his face, he needs to wake up. The shadow of a beard is starting to appear on his chin, along his jaw and cheeks, he closes his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck and sighting before gripping the sink in a moment of fury where he wishes he could rip it out of the wall and throw it, shattering it into pieces.

How hard could it be to get rid of you? It wouldn’t be hard at all, it would be done before you could even draw your next breath, it would bring him more pleasure than beating Allen, but the consequences would be devastating, his rational side reminded him, there was not possible way to free himself from the torture of your existence without dooming his. Had Joe not met you things would have been different but he could see as clear as day the picture waiting back for him at the lab. Barry most likely knows about you by now, he knows there will be questions once he gets there, they will be innocent in nature but they will only serve to cement your presence into his mind.

He looks at himself in the mirror, admiring every detail of his clothes before he turns around, spotting his chair exactly where he had left it last night; he walks to it, looking at it so intently as if his gaze alone could burn it, hating the thing he punishes himself with. It’s for a greater good, he remembers. Wheeling into the main area of the house he notices all the lights are still off, he takes solace onto the fact that you are still sleeping, freeing him from your presence even if he knows it will only be for a few hours. He decides to leave, not wanting to take the chance of you deciding to appear and tag along, he doesn’t think of himself capable enough to not pull a Brutus a gut you in the middle of the day. This are also the only quiet moments he will get to think, to work on his suit, he sighs, there is so little time for him to use even when he is always alone.

The room is unfamiliar to your eyes, the bed linens are soft, warm, they smell of fresh cotton and clean clothes, it takes a moment for your memories to return, reminding you where you are. The room is dark, the curtains successfully blocking any sunlight from peaking in, there is no telling the time as you look around trying to get at least a sense of how rested you are. The clock reads sometime after 8, Harrison has more likely left by now and a slight disappointment settles over you, you wanted to see the labs, maybe he will want to take you tomorrow. The bathroom is spacious, glass doors decorating the shower as a black marble vanity rest on the wall, its too big for one person, it feels too luxurious for a guest room. Your mind reminds you of a forgotten fact, Harrison was never a showoff kind of person, he liked his house to feel welcoming and cozy, completely opposite to this place.

Walking out of the room is impossible not to notice the eerie silence that accompanies you, all the lights are off but the sun seems to illuminate the whole place through the skylight. A feeling of anxiety settles in your stomach as your eyes scan the expanse of the room, a corridor shielding doors you haven’t explored yet calls to you, maybe it would be best to wait for him to come back and show you around. You look around once again, scanning the walls and every available surface, your brows furrowing once a detail settles into you that you hadn’t taken into account the previous day; there is not even a single photo of Tess or himself anywhere. Maybe he has them in his room, or perhaps in his office, you think, the anxiety of walking into his space long forgotten, replaced with curiosity.

With fast steps you make it to the first door, its unlocked. The wood doesn’t creak when you open it and you wish it had, any sound would be better than this silence. Peaking your head inside, rows of shelfs of books welcome you, a dark desk sits in the middle, random papers and pieces discarded around it, nothing you would be able to recognize. A leather chair sits behind it and for a moment you wonder what could he need it for? Scanning the surface for any photos, any memories of Tess you could find but is empty, not even a photo of her in any of the walls.

Moving along you walk to the last room, the one on the end of the hall; opening the door, the room is dark, no light peaking into it, the bedsheets are a dark grey, almost black, nothing is out of order, a smell that could only be described as a freshly shaved man and clean clothes hits you, its pleasant, fresh. There is once again no photos to be seen, you should turn around, walk back and continue with your day but curiosity gets the best of you; the walking closet is big, rows of clothes hanging, color coordinated and perfectly ironed. A mirror from floor to ceiling adorning the wall in front of you. Walking closer to his clothes you grab the sleeve of one of his expensive white shirts, wanting to feel the softness of it, you don’t recall ever seeing him wearing one. Out of impulse you bring it to your nose, clothing your eyes as the smell of his cologne hits you, causing a blush to rise up your cheeks; he probable sprays it on himself here, impregnating everything around him.

Abandoning his room you walk into the kitchen, there is so many things about him you wish you knew, things that have probably changed and things that you don’t remember. He seems so distant, so cold, so unavailable to you, it made you wonder why he had allowed you to stay with him, perhaps it was not you, it was your attachment, the last piece of her memory he had, you were like an heirloom, one he refused to throw away, and that realization made you sad.

He didn’t seem happy, he seemed lonely, used to being by himself, making you question if he had any friends, if there was anyone caring for him. The man you remembered was always accompanied, always surrounded by people, always kind, always loving; where had that man disappear? You wondered, remembering how he hadn’t even known who you were once he picked up the phone that night, but what could you expected? You had never reached out, staying like a ghost, gone and hidden from his life.

Sighting you shake your head, forcing these thoughts to abandon you, having had enough of their torment for a day, there are things after all to be do today. Her face attacks your memory, you remember her from the times Tess and Harrison had brought her over, Christina is her name, she was close to Harrison and she had been very close to Tess, urging the obligation of a visit in you the moment you had decided to visit Central City, certain guilt at staying so out of touch to both of them fills you.

Perhaps you should have called her office before hand, you think, she is a busy woman after all, but after a few name drops from her past her assistant informs you that she will see you shortly. The door opens to the conference room she asked you to wait at, her face haven’t changed, a few wrinkles here and there, but the same determine eyes started back at you.

“Y/n” she says your name, surprise lace in her voice, she seems excited to see you. She hugs you, before commenting how much you have changed since she last saw you approximately fifteen years ago.

“I am so glad you could see me, I’m so sorry I never reached out, is just after the death of Tess so many things changed.” You begin, feeling the sting of tears coming to her at the emotion of relieving those memories, at being so close to someone that knew her.

“I’m surprise Harrison didn’t mention that I was visiting, I assumed you both were close friends.” You say nonchalantly, catching in the way her face contract, she seems uncomfortable at the mention of his name.

“Well yes we were.” She says, taking in a breath before continuing.

“You see, after the accident Harrison and I fell out of touch.” She says, seemingly leaving it at that, but curiosity is a powerful feeling, pulling its strings inside of you, forcing you to ask.

“Oh, but don’t you both keep any contact at all?” The question seems innocent, you genuinely want to know. She understands that, concern for you raising in her as she decides to open up more to you.

“I’ll be honest with you y/n, after the accident Harrison changed so much, that loving, caring man disappeared, he became cold, calculating, manipulative. I understand how grieve can change a person, but he, is like he is not even the same person anymore.” She tells you and you get the feeling she is not speaking in a metaphorical way.

You decide to confide her in your worries of him, in your confusion when he didn’t know who you were, when he didn’t even recognize your name. You can see the concern raising in her eyes, at you being alone with a man neither of you know any longer, but you assure her is fine, you will be fine, how bad could he be? He wouldn’t hurt you, this was Harrison you both are talking about, even if neither of you believe it completely.

@twilightlover2007

@austarus

@harrisonwellsisdaddy

@wintersire

@reallystressedhoneybee

@fanfiction-and-fantasies

@saltykidcreation

@dumpeetintofyre

@yetanotherwells

[kelieah]

i’ll be back (mob!arvin russell x reader)

request (summary): anon: mob arvin x reader where reader comes home from work to tell him that somebody groped her and he gets all protective or something?

word count: 0.8k

warnings: language, violence, tw: sexual assault— please read at your own risk!

edited: kind of a shitty ending sorry jehfse

a/n: i am LIVING for mob!arvin russell rn. how have we not come up w this. seriously,, like ksdjfhsdb. also ive never posted a fic w/o a header of gif this is weird lol

main masterlist | arvin russell masterlist

You inhale deeply and shakily attempt to unlock the front door of your house. You drop the keys and curse to yourself, picking them right back up. You exhale and try to shake off the utter shock and disbelief you’re feeling due to previous events at work. You finally lock the door and allow yourself in, sliding down the door as you close it.

“Hey darlin’— doll? What’s wrong,” Arvin walks down from upstairs, his previous soft expression turning into a concerned one as he glances at your poor state.

“O- Oh, it’s nothing honey. Just— just work things y’ know,” you laugh timidly and wave your hand in dismissal. 

He sighs heavily and walks over, holding out his hands. “C’mere. Come on, up,” he motions for you to grab his hands. You let out a quiet huff and oblige, giggling as he swoops you up in his arms. “Would you like a drink, baby?” he asks while holding you close to his chest.

“Yeah, that sounds nice. Thank you, lover,” you whisper softly and smile at the man before you. Who would’ve thought. This goddamn mobster, a complete softy for his kin. You knew that of course, but everyone else would think you’re mad. Most mobsters in this day didn’t care much about their family or lovers, treated them like accessories or belongings. You’re blessed with Arvin, who grew up loving and defending his loved ones like no other leader out there.

He places you down on the couch and walks over to grab some whiskey. Once he finishes pouring the two of you glasses, he sits right next to you and hands you a glass. You gingerly accept it and grasp the glass ever so lightly, your mind still in a daze of the experience.

“Flower? You’re scarin’ me a bit not gonna lie,” he mutters and drops his hand onto your thigh, gently squeezing it. “Talk to me, I’m here for you.”

You flinch at his touch and shake your head for a moment. Arvin immediately pulls away and looks at you with eyes full of worry and shock. You’ve never flinched at this touch, never. Anxiety began to bubble up inside of the both of you as tension rose in the air. 

Not realizing your were eyebrows knit together so tight it looks as if you’re in pain. You close your eyes and the memories flash through your mind like a film. You open them, tears now present in your doe eyes as you glance back at Arvin. Your lips quiver as you open your mouth and begin to tell him what had happened at work.

“You’ve been doing so well, Mrs. Russell. Excellent work might I say,” your boss praised as he walked you to his office.

You smiled happily and hugged some files to your chest. “Is that so? Thank you very much, I work hard for this company,” you beamed.

“Course! We’ve all noticed, and I say you should be rewarded for your efforts,” he replied and moved towards his desk, leaning upon it. “Come come, sit. I must tell you.”

You quickly sit and look up at him excitedly. You had a feeling that a promotion was on your way. “Yes, sir?”

He smirked and took a seat next to you, shaking his head while letting out a quiet chortle. “I want to give you a promotion!”

“Oh! How kind of you—”

“But, I do have one more task for you,” he said lowly, his voice almost purring in a way. 

Blinded by eagerness and joy of a promotion, you only nodded and leaned in. “What is it, Mister?”

He smirked and placed his hand on your thigh, squeezing your skin firmly. You had let out a gasp and before you could rip away the disgusting man had grabbed your face.

“H- He then,” you stammered as tears stream down your cheeks. “He did, he did horrible things. I- I feel disgusting, like a whore—”

“No. You’re not a damn whore, far from it. Trust me,” Arvin cut you off and downed the rest of his drink. He sighed begrudgingly as he placed his glass aside and ran his hands through his suit to feel for something. He took out his pistol and cocked it, checking to see if there were any bullets left. He slams the magazine back into the gun, stuffs it into his back pocket and stood up swiftly. 

He leans down and presses a long, warm and loving kiss against your temple. “How bout you relax, finish your drink, run a bath and sleep. When I come back home, I’ll make dinner. How’s that sound, sweetheart?” he murmurs against your skin while holding the back of your head. Too stunned to reply you only nod and smile weakly at your husband. “I’ll be back,” he presses one last kiss to your head and walks off. Knowing all too well what he was about to do, you nod acknowledgingly with a small grateful smile and watch him walk off. 

taglist + inbox link under the cut! thanks for reading ツ

leave a comment, give me some feedback pls! it’s greatly appreciated mwah

click here for the taglist form

tagging some mutuals! @eusuntgroot @holland-parkers @opheliacult @ptersmj @pparkeramorr​ @marvelouspeterparker​ @hollandcrush​ @asonofpeter @peterbenjiparker

@spideyyeet @theamazingtomholland @geminiparkers @musicalkeys  @cocoamoonmalfoy​ @starlight-starks @dummiesshort @madz-holland @axen-gers @repostcentral​ @theliterarymess​ @peterspideyy​ @calltothewild​ @lillucyandthejets​ @missyouhollnd​ @lowkey-holland​ @hufflepuffprincess24​ @thehumanistsdiary​  @justafangirlduh​ @tomsgf​ @dhtomholland​ @thegirlintheswivelchair 

[trexrambling]

Finding Tomorrow Masterlist

Overview: It started with a chance meeting, a bold request, and a book. With a past full of loss and a future centered on searching for something more, one person may make all the difference in what tomorrow could bring.

Pairing: DylanXReader

Chapters: [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] [ 8 ] [ 9 ] [ 10 ] [ 11 ] [ 12 ] [Possible Epilogue - TBD]

Warnings: posted with each chapter

Disclaimer: The reader in this story has a few ‘unique’ characteristics in regards to their appearance/style. I’ve modeled them slightly after myself, as I do with almost all of the readers in my fics; it’s just more evident this time around. Writing the main character in this manner helps me craft the story easier :)

Soundtrack: For the first time in a series, I’m pairing each chapter with a song that compliments it. I’ll update the playlist here as I post chapters. Feel free to or to not listen before/while/after you read. Each song will be linked within the chapter.

Chapter 1: “Hello My Old Heart” by The Oh Hellos

Chapter 2: “Honey + Tea (Acoustic)” by Mozi

Chapter 3: “North Dakota” by Mako

Chapter 4: “Open Skies (Wildflower)” by The National Parks

Chapter 5: “Seven” by Sleeping At Last

Chapter 6: “Life is Good” by The Hunts

Chapter 7: “Wolves of the Revolution” by The Arcadian Wild

Chapter 8: “Make It Out” by Boundary Run

Chapter 9: “Anchored At Sea” by Act As If

Chapter 10: “Shoulders” by Levi Matthan

Chapter 11: “West” by Sleeping At Last

Chapter 12: “Promise” by Ben Howard

____________________________________

Hello, lovelies!

I’m back in the Tumblr writing world after falling deep into a Dylan O’Brien hole (I actually think I’m still falling, haven’t found the bottom quite yet). I know this isn’t my usual SPN niche, so I’m not planning to use any of my usual tag lists. If you want to join this adventure, let me know via DM or an ask that you would like a tag and I’ll be honored to oblige. 

Much love,

Jess

Sneak Peek Beneath the Cut :)

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

Exert from Chapter 1

“It was really really nice to meet you. I’d hate to hold you up.”

He doesn’t say anything.

I don’t say anything.

We just kinda exist in the aisle together, me awkwardly cradling a stack of books that’s a little too heavy for me to hold all at once while shifting from foot to foot and him using his thumb to pop each finger on his right hand.

“Do you need help?” he finally asks.

My throat is like the Nevada desert. I try to swallow non-existent spit, but my words still come out a bit hoarse, “Do you want to help?”

“Why not?” He finally stands, picking up a different stack on the outer edge and reading the binding for the author’s name. “Alphabetical, right?”

“Um, yeah.” My arms tremble from the weight of my own stack, and I notice for the first time how sweaty my hands are as I readjust my grip.

He notices my struggle and easily shifts his stack to one arm, then reaches out to take the top two books off of mine. “Man, how are you not, like, ripped after carrying around this many books all the time?”

His question breaks the tension, as I’m sure he designed it to, and air huffs out my nose in a silent laugh. “We’ll have to arm wrestle later.”

“Oh, bring it.”

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

[ianthe-is-a-bitch-and-i-love-her]

Thanks for the tag Ire @urban-sith :) I'm posting my response here instead of my main because this is where I actually interact with people.

three ships: Dulcianthe, NutsNDolts (RWBY), Bariscend (see my previous essays on the subject)

first ship: If we're defining this as "first ship I sought out content for" then it's Roxas/Xion right after I finished 358/2 Days, and then Roxas/Axel shortly thereafter. Wish I'd known about polyamory back then, I'd have had a field day.

last movie: Mad Max: Fury Road with my partner, who thought it was only okay :(

currently reading: between books at the moment! Debating between rereading the unspoken name so I can get the sequel or starting on something new on my to read list.

currently watching: yellowjackets, which I went into blind expecting a survival drama, so RIP me

currently consuming: corn chips and Mexican pepper sauce at a truly alarming rate

last song i listened to: “Used to the Darkness" by Des Rocs

currently craving: Thai food. I finally live in a place with Thai restaurants and I want to try Everything. Jungle curry duck is next on my to eat list

favorite color: soft pinks, rich purples, and dark blues

sweet, salty, or savory: savory by default, but salty more often because my meds make me chronically deficient

working on: learning how to live in a new country, first and foremost! On the creative side, I'm trying to get my DnD game going again now that I have wifi, and then I've got an essay on Iscend to write, some more wlw review, a griddlehark Orpheus and Eurydice fic (I'm very original you see), two original fiction projects (one of which I teased briefly like three months ago), and, eventually, a beaujes critrole fic to "wrap up" (150k down, about 100k to go). So you know, nothing much

I'm tagging @thunderon @nikita-not-nikola @rnanqo @ollie-ollie-oxenfreee and @dragonwolfe22 . Obviously if for any reason you don't wanna, feel no obligation to play.

[yanderecandystore]

Rip Tumblr D-do you have any dragon ocs that might kidnap their s/o? Also I know that this is a stupid question but can I call myself Cold anon? ;-;

Hello 🍨 Cold ❄️!! I'm really glad you sent me this request!

 The current app that I use for writing is bugging out a lot, so I'm sorry if there are many grammar errors and mistakes here and there.

 And uh... Cold? I think I fucked up your ask? I think I got a little too excited and went in a different direction?? If you don't like it I understand, I could always do another one 😳😋

 TW/Tags: Guess who is being an emotional ball once again?? Me! Yey! Send help! // look, I'm sorry but, low-key? This is edginess overload lol (medieval bitch times, which by that I mean: dark times with terrible people in it) // deaths // abuse of power // Reader said: eat the rich // non-binary reader just because // cursing // slight plot twist? But, like, bad plot twist // soft dragon boi 

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

You curious little thing - [Yandere!Dragon x Reader - Short Fanfiction]:

" Deep in the forest, up in the mountains, legend says that a dragon sleeps deep within the caves. And as the old story goes, gold awaits inside his domain, but only those courageous enough to enter the deep cave and defeat the dragon, would be able to take the creature's treasure.

Many have persuaded the quest of defeating said dragon, yet no one ever came back to tell the story.

And while you sit at the comfort of your small cottage reading about the old tales of the dragon's cave, you can't help but consider the story to be just that, a story. A piece of fiction made to scare the local children away from the mountains, or to enchant those that were easily invested into these types of stories.

It seems like you're one of those that were fascinated by the old tales. Regardless of if you find it true or not. The old tales still hold a mysterious charm that manages to keep you intrigued no matter what age you re-read them.

Tales of the forest spirits protecting their land with mischievous wit, tales of monsters that crawled out of your bed to cause nightmares on the simple minded, tales of mighty dragons who could easily rule the world if they so pleased to.

Yet they didn't. Either because they didn't want to, or maybe they really didn't exist. Who knows, right [Y/N]? Not that you, a simple commoner, would know any better.

Although, from the tales you read, isn't always the common folk the ones to first encounter these things?

It always ends bad, but still.

A commoner would be the first one to be affected by the wrath of such supernatural creatures.

However, as stated before, there is no way of knowing if such a thing is real or not, right? It's been eons since the last time someone even mentioned a dragon's presence in your kingdom, and it's been centuries that the concepts of dragons had fallen into the mythological category.

There hasn't been a single person to mention the beast's names in years. There was no visible way of them being remotely real, right? That sounded absurd.

But of course, like all tales are written, your's seem to have reached the beginning of your own personal adventure when the king mentioned the need of soldiers willing to face the beast inside the cave, who was presumably hibernating throughout this whole time.

And of course, the public had only laughed at this sort of news. You see, your king's authority over the entire land has been dangling by a thin thread. The taxes, the frauds, the imminent wars threatening to occur at any second now, has helped a small portion of people to start questioning if not downright rebelling against him and his reign of terror.

The revolution was rising slowly, yet something needed to push it forward, the straw that broke the camel's back.

"What could it be?" You might be wondering.

How about kidnapping and force recruitment with the help of blackmailing? Specifically targeting the poorest people in the kingdom and taking their family members hostage if they don't comply?

Sounds so evil that you may think it's bullshit right? So inhumane, that the villain of this story might as well be your crazy king, right?

Oh, [Y/N]. You're absolutely right, yet a little bit wrong considering that even if such an evil act sounds absurd, it's absolutely real. It's part of your reality now.

And even if your king is a vile creature of pure hatred and deserves to be fed to the rats, by being a terrible ruler, husband, and father- You were soon about to learn that there are worse, more powerful forces that can easily overpower the insanity of that sad, pathetic evil man.

To your dismay, your family was one of the chosen ones to suffer from this. Because of poverty, you and your father lived in the outskirts of the kingdom. It was perfect for the king and his soldiers, as you and your father lived distant from the main town, if any of you two ever die on the process of going into the beast's cave, or disobey the king's orders, no one would notice if you two were suddenly wiped from the face of the Earth.

And of course, holding hostage just one person was easier than multiple family members. Although your king was absolutely insane if not completely psychotic, you could at least understand how he moved his pieces in this massive game of chess.

I mean, yes, you understand his reasoning. Still doesn't mean he is right.

Soldiers didn't wait too long to show up and try to force your father to go with them. But you didn't take none of that, you wouldn't let your dying father be taken by them.

You screamed, you shout, you let venom spill out of your mouth by each profanity you threw at the soldiers and the king they claimed to serve. It didn't take long before the general noticed that you were one of the rascals forming a rebellion. Well, you didn't really need to be officially part of the revolution, just disagreeing was enough to make the general decide to take you instead of your old father.

You can still remember how he was trying to scream his lungs out, to stop the soldiers somehow.

This was it, right? The day, for you and possibly all these other commoners to die in the name of an asshole. How honoring.

Among you and other miserably unlucky individuals, there were all kinds of different people. From innocent, to criminals. From young to old, from poor to… Well, mildly not as poor. Nobles would never be subjected to this, you know that. All of these individuals were carried away by a carriage. All crammed into one little vehicle, away from the public sight.

After being far enough from the town and now deep within the forest, the soldiers commanded all of you to get out of the carriage as now you'll begin to walk straight to the mountain while carrying… Gold?

"- It's a gift from the king. Survive long enough, and you'll be able to take it with you." The general said, his tone being condescending as ever.

You could…. Technically run away, right now. They haven't really put any restrains in any of you-

"- Over there!" A soldier alerted the general, who looked little surprised by seeing two of your group running away with the gold in hands.

Without hesitation, or even a slight hint of empathy, the general shot both with his crossbow. Their bodies fall flat in the forest ground, with all that gold and jewelry accompanying them. All that gold being wasted and left behind, just like the bodies of the people carrying them.

You felt sick, the need to vomit was surfacing through your stomach. This- This is terrible!? This is so cruel! How can they continue to walk like nothing happened??

God, how did a once prospering kingdom has now fallen in such a low pit?

As you can imagine, the walk was torturous and it felt like it was going forever. Of course, a lot of questions were emerging about the strange situation.

One: how did the king know and was certain that the myth of the dragon was real and that the dragon was awake?

Two: why didn't he call his own army to attend to such issues instead of the common folk being forced to go with his wishes?

Actually, now that you think about it, why are there so few skilled, trained soldiers taking a bunch of people to a cave unprepared?

Carrying a bunch of gold for fucks sake, this stuff is heavy!

If it was truly a gift from the king to your group, then why were you obligated to carry it all the way to the cave? Sounds unreasonable and if anything, absolutely ridiculous. It would only slow your group down, and for what?!

Sounds like a trap to be…. Honest. Wait a minute-

"- Shit!" You whisper to yourself at the sudden realization that you're fucked, which unfortunately, caused a soldier that was near you to hear it.

"- Nothing sir, I just stabbed my foot in a rock." You weren't lying though. This whole walk bullshit your doing has destroyed your low quality sandals, and now you could basically feel the ground stabbing you every time you stept.

The soldier just grunted at you, and as much as you wished to take his sword and shove it up his bum, you couldn't help but go back to your original train of thought before you got interrupted.

You were going straight to death right? You're not supposed to fight a dragon, but rather serve as an offering?? What?!

You can't even speak or alert your fellow companions in any way. The last three people that have spoken without being directed to, were shot in the head.

The realization has sadly come in too late for you to make any plans now, as you forward as your group walk upwards, following the mountain's trail, you find yourself facing not only the entrance to a presumably dangerous cave infested with predators, but also the gates to your inevitable death.

You would now have to think of how to escape the soldiers and their arrows, or how to possibly make your death less painful. Being eaten by a dragon doesn't sound really fun.

When entering the cave you're met with more-

"- Are you fucking kidding me?!" Someone screamed, while easily accepting their death.

You couldn't help but agree with the person. While entering the cave, you're met with a great ravine, going in a spiral fashion deeper into the cave.

In other words, you have not only walked all the way up to a fucking mountain, but you would now need to get down into a creepy cave.

You almost considered asking for some eternal peace before remembering that your father's life was still in line. You just… Don't want to go away like this, you don't want your father to go like this.

And once again your group, that was now a lot shorter due to the amount of deaths along the way, was now following the general once again. Only this time, the soldiers were behind all of you, probably to guarantee no one ran away. Too late for that now anyway, so why even bother?

You didn't realize how you were on the very front of everyone, side by side with the man that was leading you to your doom.

You felt his eyes fall into your form a couple of times, but he never really turned his face to look at you. After a long silence of just a bunch of miserable people stepping closer to a terrible plan that was not well thought-out, he said:

"- You know it already. Right?" His voice was rough and still held the nonchalant tone that was written all over his face. You doubt this man could have ever smiled once in his life.

You almost choked with your own breathing, the nerve of this man! You couldn't help but let out the only thing you have wanted to say this whole time:

"- I hate you." You say as your eyes start to become a little watery. The feeling of desperation was eating you up ever since you entered the carriage, but only now you felt how bad the teeth of despair hurt.

"- I know kid. Me too." He responded, his tone never changed, even while saying that.

You guess he didn't really appreciate his job as much as you thought he did. Yet, you couldn't find in your heart to pity the man, as he was complicit in all of this mess. But I guess, you do hope for this man to find some sort of redemption, either presently or in his after life.

You still think he did a lot of bad things of course, his crimes are probably never gonna be forgiven. But just because of that, it didn't mean he couldn't start to do some good actions now, not for the sake of finding inner forgiveness, but for the sake of others. For the sake of the innocent people being not only met with unfair treatment, but also being ruled by a psychotic tyrant who is a complete imbecile. No wonder the queen and his son were missing for so long, you would probably have run away if you were them too.

When finally coming down, with your feet now hurting like a bitch, you can find some time for yourself to appreciate the beauty of this place.

You know, before you lose your head? To a freaking dragon??

Honestly, you at least hope that the stories you read were true, because holy fuck- Imagine how exhausted your body is from walking for what it feels like an eternity, holding jewelry made with gold, only to find an empty cave?

Then you would be able to go feral kill one or two soldiers before getting your ass beaten. As you don't have enough reason to just do that right now, right?

You expected to be met with disappointment, but what you truly saw while finally getting into the dragon's territory, you were able to not only feel enchanted by the magnitude of these treasure places, but also forget the danger of the situation, as you look around and remember the tales you read.

This is so much better than what you have imagined it to be like. It's… Mesmerising! It 's beautiful! The underground pond, the glowing crystals, the pile of gold, the stolen statues of the great warriors of your kingdom, golden weapons all scattered across the floor, the white feathered looking dragon staring down at you from his nest, that little tea set that is really cute and fragile yet it probably cost way more than your house, your clothes, and all of your furniture all together.

Oh no wait-

"- We came with what you asked for, Artemio." Said the general fast walking his way to be in between you and the beast.

To say you were freaking out would be an understatement. You knew dragons were huge, but you didn't expect it to be so… Huge! You know??

Oh my God, you're dead-

You looked around to see only you, your group of commoners ready to be probably eaten, and the general. And while looking for the soldiers, you noticed them trying to close the opening with a man built gate, created to keep the beast.

But obviously, that gate looks absolutely ridiculous, there is no way this guy couldn't destroy it by simply slapping it. It's quite laughable, yet…

You feel this is not just a coincidence or a bad made joke. You have a feeling they know the gate is essentially useless. It was really old, so, clearly this has been going on from quite some time.

Has… Has your kingdom been doing this for centuries?? Bringing offerings to please the dragon and beg it to sleep for more centuries to come?

"- This is absolute bullshit!" You screamed, not noticing how your heart was racing and your breathing had started to become frantic. You were panicking while coming to terms with the fact that your whole world was collapsing in front of your eyes. Your scream clearly surprised your fellow companions, yet it didn't surprise the dragon or the general.

The dragon had, well, a dragon face, so you have no idea what it was thinking, and the general was still with the same non-expressive face since the beginning of this stupid trip!

"- What?! You have nothing to say?? You brought us here to die, at least say something, you coward!" You were fuming with rage. How can a person like this be so annoying even when he is not saying anything.

He looks at you with an understanding expression, yet you don't think about what it could mean as you reach to one of the many golden weapons spread around across the floor. They were heavy and quite frankly completely useless, yet you still hold into that golden sword like your life depended on it.

And it did, actually.

Have you gone insane or just completely blind with rage and the instinct of survival? You're not sure just yet, but you'll lose your last bit of sanity to stand your ground.

You aren't going down without a fight.

"- Come at me, you big bird!" You yelled, looking kinda epic and kinda goofy at the same time. You probably shouldn't insult a dragon who hasn't decided who he'll first, it may change his appetite.

Before the general could interfere with your foolish behavior, the one and only had spoken:

"- Where exactly is what we had agreed on?" Like in true entitled brat fashion, Artemio asked the general while putting his head in his pawn.

"- We had to eliminate a couple of the troublemakers. In the end some of the gold was left behind in the progress-"

"- No, I mean, where truly is what I asked for? The jewelry is quite frankly ugly, the gold coins don't matter as I already have plenty, and none of these humans look really edible. Or well… Appetising." You could swear a pouty face was appearing in Artemio's face, yet only one thing had taken your attention. That's the reason why they needed so many disposable people? Oh… Wait a minute, did the dragon just call everyone here too ugly to eat?

"- If you can't compromise with your promises, then I think we'll have to change the deal-" Artemio started getting up from his nest, stretching out like a cat.

"- Oh, please no, can't you just-" The general panicked, thinking that the dragon would destroy the village.

"- I want that one." Artemio said. Pointing at you.

"- What?" You looked behind you just in case you were in the way of someone else. No, you weren't.

"- Uhn… What?" Oh look, even the general was confused as you, and well, the entire cast of people that were thrown in this hell hole.

"- Yes, that one holding the spear."

"- Just… That one, or-"

"- Just that one. And I won't get out of the cave for at least a century, I promise!" He sounds and acts like both a child and a cat, preparing himself to pounce on its prey any moment now.

"- ….. Okay then, fair enough. It's your problem now kid." He said, making a motion for all the other captives to follow him. Which they gladly did, because, you know, they aren't the protagonist of the story.

"- What?! You can't leave me here, you bastard!!" You screamed, although subconsciously you already knew his answer.

"- I think I'm just doing that!" He screamed from the other side of the cave, fuckz they really didn't waste no time at all, did they?

Sigh, who are you kidding? If you were one of them, you would have ran away as fast as you could. At least some gave you sympathetic looks before going back to their "freedom".

You heard the heavy gate closing. Well, shit. It's you and him now.

You tried going back into your original threatening stance, but before you could, you saw a glimpse of Artemio coming in at full speed, taking no time to jump at you. This is it [Y/N], send your last prayers to your father and your old life before-

Before he starts licking you... like a dog? What?

He pauses and you tense up, looking up and seeing a dragon powerful enough to destroy villages, looking at you like a precious little gift.

Artemio picks you up and hugs you in an almost bone breaking hug. Confused and frustrated with how the situation was going, you asked:

"- A-Aren't you going to kill me?" Yes, it was a pathetic question, if a dragon isn't killing you, then why ask it to do it??

"- I have been so lonely since the last human that I chose! I usually prefer to have many friends around but all of the other options seemed so boring, you know?" His voice is oddly cheerful and sweet to someone that sees humans as pets, or "friends". So… What is really going on here?

"- I thought you ate people." You said, still frustrated that you were betrayed and lied to through this entire day.

"- Well, I guess I can eat humans-" Says the giant bird-lizard acting like a child trying to lie about doing something wrong- "- But I really don't like doing it, I promise!"

"- I just wanted someone to play with, you know? All the dragons that I know are just so boring and take everything seriously." He huffed in annoyance.

"- Well… Do you-" You started questioning if you really want to to know the answer, but curiosity sure is killing this cat!- "- What happened to the other humans that were here?"

"- Oh, they… Uhn, they died, because of your shirt lifespan and all ya know." He responded.

"- Oh… Then why did the soldiers bring us here saying you were going to eat us?" Why not go full balls in and ask everything, right?

"- It's- Sigh, it's really embarrassing, but I didn't know any other way of how to ask for company down here." He said shyly, which only confirmed your suspicion of this being complete bullshit.

"- And you threaten to burn a whole kingdom just because of that?" You asked.

"- Yes!" He answered with no shame whatsoever. This guy was a dog wearing a dragon costume, you couldn't believe what you were hearing.

"- Sigh, oh my God…"

"- Hey, uhn, what's your name?" Artemio spoke, he thought that he should also ask questions as he wants to be able to enjoy every second with his new pet.

"- It is [Y/N]. And you're Artemio, right?" You can't believe any of this, really. You went from an absolutely terrible life or death situation, to a… Well, you can't even tell what the hell is going on anymore!

"- [Y/N].... [Y/N]! [Y/N], that's such a good name!" The excited dragon repeated your name multiple times before interrupting your peace once again. You can't be mad at him, but-

Come on, you needed some time to accept everything that just went down. You didn't even notice you were on the floor until Artemio was in front of your view again.

"- [Y/N]!" He was so easy to please, that just saying your name was fun to him.

"- Sigh… Hey Artemio." You sighed as there was no way in hell this dragon would leave you to deal with this weird feeling of emptiness arising in your chest.

"- What do you want to do now?" He asked cheerfully, but not completely oblivious to your feelings of being abandoned underground with him by force.

You stayed silent for a second, again, trying to come with terms with this new lifestyle that you were subjected to. You technically could ask Artemio to open the gate, he doesn't seem to have any intention of hurting you. But who knows? He has a different point of view in this whole thing than you do.

Silence was taking over the cave, but not exactly an awkward silence, just… A comforting one.

The water dripped from the ceiling. You felt the ground underneath you shake a little as Artemio followed your "guidance". He decided to lay on his back near you.

He wasn't really doing any self reflection at all, he just wanted to join in with you, yet all he could think is how happy he is to have someone else to spend time with.

You may only see him slightly from the corner of your eyes, yet you still feel a little, strange, by seeing a dragon mimic your ways.

You don't feel nessecerally homesick, but you do miss your father. You absolutely hate the idea of coming back to the kingdom, but… If you could see your father one last time, and probably help him with the gold that is in this place….

Maybe you could even-!.....

"- Artemio."

"- Yes, [Y/N]!*

"- AAH!" He turned himself to meet your face so fast that you whimpered because of his sudden motion.

He was going to check if you were okay, but you stopped him showing that you were fine, just a little spooked.

"- Hey, Artemio-" You said again, as you were still reformulating your question in your head-

"- Do you know how to burn an entire castle?"

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

[rudysrings]

Someday Soon

A/N: So the blog I started for my atla writing isn’t showing up in the tags. big sad. i’ll just put them on my main i guess. guess i write for atla now oop. I’ll write for pretty much anybody bc I do be a simp for atla and lok. Also the title sucks bc this is something i just wrote when it was simping for zuko hours, and i just felt like posting.

Warnings: er angst and fluff and allusions to sex i guess? it’s pretty PG ngl...

this gif is super overused but don’t lie you love it : D ;)

Okie here we go!

You found yourself seeking out the banished prince, despite the Gaang’s instant rejection of him. It had been too long since you had seen him, spoken with him, touched him.

You surprisingly felt no anger anymore, only sorrow for what you had lost. You knew nothing would ease that pain other than the presence of the boy himself.

You were grateful to Toph for understanding, for showing you the way and leaving you to speak alone.

He was asleep when you found him. You were surprisingly unprepared for that outcome.

Unsure about waking him, you simply sat a few feet away in the cave, drawing your legs close to your chest as you shivered in the cold of the night. You must have been there for no more than a few moments when you felt Zuko pull you towards him. “Hey,” he greeted, pulling you into his warm embrace. You could tell that he had done so because he had seen you freezing half to death.

It was so easy, the two of you alone in that little cave, for you to pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist, that the harsh history between you was simply a bad dream.

You’d never felt so weak as you did then, not even when you were imprisoned, beaten down and your very identity ripped away. Because even then, you had known good from evil. But now, you were at war with yourself, unable to draw the line with his amber eyes melting away every ounce of your defiance.

Zuko held you close, but didn’t make any sudden moves, both out of awareness of your fragile disposition and out of pure respect for you. The last thing he wanted was to make you feel obligated to do something you would regret. Not that you would ever be so easily manipulated by anyone, but as selfish as it was, he secretly hoped that he made you as vulnerable as you made him.

You released a breath, not meeting his eyes as you straddled him timidly, the blush clear on your cheeks and neck. You were too absorbed in yourself to notice the same flush present on him.

“I wish I could just wake up from this nightmare,” you whispered. “This nightmare where you’re the bad guy, and you’ve hurt me in every way you can, and we can never be the same again.”

Zuko didn’t know why you were sharing this with him, opening yourself up after all this time, but he sure wasn’t complaining; he greedily licked up any piece of yourself you gifted him with.

“You’d think it would be easy to hate you, but Zuko,” you finally looked up at him, taken slightly aback by the emotion in his eyes. This was hurting him as much as it was you. “I just can’t seem to let you go.”

Zuko let a tear fall, blinking quickly as he spoke, “I-I don’t want you to let me go. Please. Everyone else except you and Uncle have already given up on me...just when I’m finally figuring out my destiny. And after what I’ve done to Uncle, he must hate me. I don’t--I need--as selfish as it is, I need your forgiveness. I can never take back what I did to you. I regret it every day. I understand if-if you can’t--”

The sight of your prince carrying all this guilt, feeling so alone and pleading with you for your forgiveness touched something within you that you thought you had managed to bury deep within yourself. Surging forward, you quieted that voice you adored so much with a kiss, drawing an mmph! from Zuko.

But he didn’t miss a beat, instantly winding around you on instinct, his mouth sliding over yours in just the right way, his hot tongue reminding you just how much you loved doing this.

You pulled away abruptly, afraid you’d forget what you were going to say if you let yourself get lost in him.

He looked up at you in question, his lips red and beautifully swollen from your kisses. “I forgive you, Zuko.” You felt a piece shift into place in your own heart as you said those words, a weight relieving itself from your chest.

You felt Zuko’s entire body sag with relief, his eyes twinkling with emotion, his lips parted in disbelief. “Spirits, I’m falling all in you...all over again,” Zuko said, his hot breath tickling your face.

His words encouraged your next move. You wound your arms around his neck, sliding forward on his lap to where you were chest to chest.

It seemed that even the moon didn’t want to encroach on your intimate moment, the moonlight somehow fading away, the infamous bright gold of Zuko’s eyes the only thing you could see clearly in the darkness of the cave.

You leaned back into him, your mouths colliding again. Your hands began to wander, slipping beneath his robe, seeking out the familiar contours you loved so dearly.

As your fingers began untying the knot that held his robes together, Zuko tensed, feeling the moment change as your focus shifted.

Zuko pulled away, dropping his lips to your ear to whisper, “Hey, hey, hey, slow down, y/n.”

You immediately stopped, your hands drawing back into yourself. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Zuko. I wanted--and I thought you wanted--”

Zuko chuckled, shaking his head. He brought your forehead to his, his eye glittering with mischief as he reassured you. “Trust me, angel, with you, I always want to.”

You blushed, unable to help the joy that filled your smile at his flattery. “But then, why…?” You trailed off.

“Why am I torturing myself?” Zuko asked, his expression full of mirth.

You nodded, smiling at his sudden lightheartedness. You had a feeling it might have something to do with getting your forgiveness. It had truly lightened his soul.

“Because even though I really, really, really want to, and you need to trust me on that, if we’re ever going to get on the right path again, I doubt this is the right way to start off?” He asked, as if looking for your input, too.

Your shoulders dropped in realization. You smiled inwardly at his forethought; he must really care. Tears pricked your eyes. “You’re completely right, Zuko.”

You began to feel the weight of the emotional day you had had, pushing you down into Zuko’s chest as you felt the hot tears stream down your face, and you tried to stifle the noises escaping your mouth.

Zuko didn’t need to ask. He simply knew. You had always been good at reading each other, and Zuko knew you were bound to break sooner or later. While he admired your strength to no end, what really made Zuko fall in love with you was your ability to be vulnerable with him with such ease.

That didn’t mean he enjoyed seeing you cry.

He held you tightly, his hands trembling as he tried his best to comfort you, his face buried in your sweet-smelling hair and his own tears slipping out of his tightly shut eyes. He wished he could just say the words. He loved you. He loved you like in all the magical stories his mother would read to him when he was small, like his Uncle had loved his late wife, like the moon loved the tide--he loved you. The words tore at his chest from the inside, but he kept them caged inside.

As the sun rose on the two of you, and your sobs turned into sniffles, Zuko pressed one more kiss to your quivering lips, somehow saying everything you needed to hear. He loved you. He wouldn’t say it just yet, but you knew. He had always loved you. The two of you always found each other in spite of the odds, and you had found each other once again. This time, Zuko was determined to keep you together; it was time he put you first. As he lay his head against the stone wall of the cave, holding you to his steady heartbeat, Zuko felt hopeful. “We’ll be okay, angel.” Someday soon.