#i swear this is the last thing but not even tumblr is safe

[simplepotatofarmer]

nah, honestly, i will never ever ever side with people who doxx others. i will never ever ever side with people who think slurs and assault are funny. i'm done with these people. it's disgusting.

[g-ghostic-basil]

The void urge to give in to my impulses and go full autumn boy theme, despite me also liking my current theme, color choice, and lacking the energy and motivate to edit new headers/dividers/etc </3

[httpsserene]

I LOVED daniel ricciardo x max verstappen x reader!! could you write a part 2?

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊'𝖘 2𝕶 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 | 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖊𝖑 𝕽𝖎𝖈𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖔 𝕰𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐞: 𝐊.𝐎. !

summary: Okay, Daniel may have won the first round. He cleared her dry spell with no problem and used Max to do it, too. That’s completely fine, she will never complain about experiencing some of the best orgasms of her life. But, Max (the man unable to not have the last word) coerces her into giving Daniel a taste of his own medicine.  As soon as they can manage to walk on two feet, without a wobble. Mark their fucking words.  pairing: daniel ricciardo x max verstappen x fem!black!reader content warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. author recommends reading part one before this. polyamory. threesome. massages. overstimulation. multiple orgasms. safe, sane, and consensual. bondage. safeword mention. unprotected sex. ruined orgasm. handjob. oral sex (male receiving). edging. crying during sex. praise kink. nipple play. dom/sub ig? joking during sex. dom!max verstappen. switch!daniel ricciardo. sub!reader. vaginal sex. anal sex (male). sex toys (butt plug). frottage. don’t like don’t read. no beta we die like men. edited by the author, though. this is a fictional depiction of real-life people, and this is not an accurate representation of them. word count: 4.3k words

author’s notes: to all the lovely readers who begged for a part two of my f1 kinktober special | overstimulation kink w danny & max. these tags may look crazy...okay, they are but the fic is reasonably crazy i would say. this was humbling to write, you have been warned. my 2k followers special comes to its end with this final installment and there will be no part three of this fic < 3. i may repost this on ao3 in a week or so, for ease of reading as i know long fics on tumblr are kind of annoying :)

(i'm going to take a little pause from writing daniel ricciardo fics but those of you that have requested things for him i will get to them in due time xxx)

prev part 1 2k special join taglist feedback & requests table of contents↻

Your body feels like it’s been wrung out: legs wobbly, thighs bruised, hips aching, back broken, and numb with heat between your legs. You refuse to wear pants as the friction is too paralyzing to take more than a few steps. Loose dresses are your best friend–for the first couple of days, you even went commando around the ranch—thank god neither one of your boyfriends clued into that. 

However, it’s not like you disliked the oversensitivity and aching muscles that came after sex. You loved the feeling even more as it was the first time you’d been properly fucked in a few months. Having that unending thirst for Max and Daniel quenched; it’s heightened how you experience life. You swear that your vision feels sharper, your melanated skin softer, anything you eat tastes better than delicious, the homemade lemonade is sweeter, and most importantly, your desperation has calmed. While you love life on the farm, where living has become succulent under your senses—Max’s attitude has done a complete 180°.

His energy is completely subdued. It’s like Daniel drained the cum and brat out of him. Max is all stuttered words when he makes eye contact with either of you, blushing fully at the lightest tease or brush of skin, voice soft when he speaks, usual bluntness replaced with shyness, and he’s even clingier than normal. If he hasn’t glued himself underneath Daniel’s arm, he’ll be plastered against your back.

You wonder if he’s embarrassed that Daniel changed their “plan” on him at the last minute, or if it’s because Daniel used him as a tool to get you off—but, asking Max would only scare him away or cause the brat to resurface…so you don’t verbalize your theories. You find Max in this state more adorable than usual, and you won’t complain if it means a surplus of Max-cuddles.

Yet, the figurative rug is pulled from beneath your feet when the three of you go Christmas shopping. Daniel had separated from the two of you to go pick up a gift for his nephew, leaving you and Max alone to browse through knickknacks that decorate the shelves. Your eyes were caught by cat ornaments that looked exactly like Jimmy and Sassy but before you could reach out to grab, them Max grabbed you by the hand and pulled you to hide in the next aisle over.

“I want to break Daniel with so many orgasms that he won’t be able to speak by the time we’re done with him,” Max states bluntly. The brat is back.

“Regulate your volume,” you whisper-yell at him, hand moving to cover his mouth as you look around to see if anybody heard your Dutch boyfriend, “We are in public and you decided now is the time to bring this up?!”

He pulls your hand off his face, looking at you with wide eyes, “But, liefje–c’mon! Daniel’s been way too smug recently. Whenever I’m around him he doesn’t miss the chance to mention how he made me cry—made you cry, too!”

“Inside voice, Max,” you bite out, continuing to look at the Christmas decorations in this aisle.

“Fine,” Max whispers, rolling his eyes, “Technically, it’s another Christmas present for him if you think about it.”

“I’m trying not to think about it if you haven’t noticed.”

“Don’t you want to even the board? Imagine it: Daniel underneath the two of us, and we’re overwhelming him with pleasure. Doesn’t that sound like a good time?”

You stop walking abruptly and Max runs into your back. You spin around and stare at him with narrowed eyes and a flared nose.

“You seriously thought the best time to discuss this is in the middle of a family-friendly store, where our boyfriend is picking up a gift for his nephew?”

“Yes.”

“If you stop talking about it for the entire time we’re shopping today, I’ll consider it. We can discuss this when the phantom feeling of his cum on my skin goes away.”

That evening, you and the Dutchman watch Daniel fix a motorbike out in the driveway from the garage. He’s shirtless, sweat dripping down his face and back, you can see every muscle engage and relax as he moves. He’s silhouetted by the Australian sunset and you hear Max choke on his breath when Daniel’s loose jeans slip down his hips, exposing the waistband of his briefs—twin sighs of disappointment leave you both when he catches and drags them back up. With shaky hands, you grab the pitcher of lemonade you prepared to pour a glass for each of you. Ignoring how you missed the glass on your first few attempts, you two bring the drinks to your lips and dry the cups embarrassingly quickly to satiate your desperation—the lemonade doesn’t help. 

Daniel finishes with the bike and wipes his hands on a towel he had tucked into his back pocket, looking your guys’ way. He smiles brightly—shamefully, you wave in response and Max tucks a nonexistent strand of hair behind his ear; the two of you are acting like school girls with a crush. 

The Australian stands and in a few relaxed strides, he comes to a stop in front of you two. 

“Can you pour me a glass, sweetheart?” his request rumbles out velvety.

Stuttering, you scramble to do as he asked and find that Max has reached for the pitcher as well when your hands bump into each other. The two of you freeze and stare at each other with wide eyes; Max’s blush blooms red across his face and yours warms the brown skin of your cheeks. Daniel’s chuckle of amusement snaps you out of it; Max pours the drink, and you hand it off to the Australian, avoiding eye contact. He brings the glass to his lips and drains it dry. You and the Dutchman stare with gaped mouths, watching the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows, whimpering and pressing your thighs together at his ah in satisfaction when finished. 

He leans down to place the glass back on the tray and smirks at you and Max, “Absolutely delicious. It almost tastes as sweet as either of you is acting right now.”

Both of you stay silent, squirming in your lawn chairs. Daniel takes a second to slowly press both of your mouths closed with a nudge of his fingers before straightening up and clearing his throat.

“Thank you for the drink, sweetheart,” Daniel cocks his head to the side in question, before winking, his smug aura radiating off of him, “Or should I say, ‘sweethearts?’ As both of you seemed so eager to help me quench my thirst.”

Your mouth pops open again and Max audibly whimpers next to you. Daniel laughs and walks to enter the house, “Don’t feel afraid to join me in the shower.”

The plan is set before Daniel’s out of the shower. You’ve changed into a black mini slip dress, curls loosely cascading down your back as you’ve draped yourself on top of the bed sideways, face-down on your tummy, not caring how the back of your dress has ridden up a couple of inches. Max laid himself on his side next to you, dressed in a navy Enchanté shirt and a pair of Daniel’s briefs that hug at his thighs a little too tightly, and plays with the bottom hem of your dress, letting his fingers drift underneath to press at bruises that haven’t healed from that night. 

At the sound of the shower shutting off, the two of you glance at each other; Max checking in with you one last time before you guys follow through with the plan. At your nod, Max presses a soft kiss to your lips and goes back to fiddling with your dress. You rest your head on your folded arms and as your eyes flutter shut, the bathroom door opens.

You hear Daniel humming some country song and he gets about three steps into the room before he stops abruptly.

“Well, if I had known this would be waiting for me out here, I wouldn’t have spent a lifetime in the shower waiting for you guys to take me up on my offer.”

Max makes a noise of confusion, his hand pausing at your hemline, “What are you talking about? We just thought it would be nice to give you a massage—you know, prevent any muscle tightness from when you were hunched over the bike.”

“Is that so, pretty girl?” Daniel questions you, looking past Max. He’s dried off from his shower already, skin gleaming thanks to your cocoa butter lotion he probably stole, hair still damp but not dripping, and a towel wrapped around his waist. You’re sure he’s trying to sniff out any weakness; to see if he can bend you into revealing Max’s agenda for tonight. Little does he know that you’re not an accomplice, you’ve put a good amount of work into this plan too.

In response, you offer a small smile and hold up a bottle of massage oil that was previously tucked into your side. Daniel’s narrowed eyes flit between the two of you, and then he relaxes, shrugging loftily as he motions for the two of you to move so he can lie down. 

“Okay, sure,” Daniel laughs, falling into the bed as soon as the space is available, lying flat on his stomach, face planting into the pillows and his next words are muffled but loud enough to understand, “You don’t have to use ‘giving me a massage’ as an excuse to feel me up, but I’m not going to turn it down if you’re so willing to do so.”

You and Max are kneeling on opposite sides of Daniel’s body on the bed, resting on the heels of your feet, and you muffle a giggle at Max rolling his eyes at your boyfriend’s words. The younger man slaps his hand on Daniel’s back, grinning at the stifled yelp that sounds from near the headboard, and coos sarcastically, “Do you think you can handle that level of pain? Considering this is a deep-tissue massage?”

You drizzle a nice amount of oil on the middle of his back, letting your laughter escape as Daniel pleads, “Woah—hear me out, what about a regular massage? I would like to end this massage without crying from soreness, please.”

Slowly the two of you turn to look at each other, smiles spreading across your lips, and Max murmurs, “Oh. You’ll be crying by the end of this.”

You ignore Daniel begging for mercy underneath you and beginning massaging. For all of the Dutchman’s ribbing, the two of you are gentle. Your hands soothingly rub any tension out of his back; the two of you are only doing this to melt Daniel into the bed. He protests and grumbles through the both of you digging into his shoulders, but quiets as you make your way down his back, practically moaning when you push a knot out from behind his shoulder blade. Max manages to wrangle out a whimper when he presses his thumb into the dimple of his lower back. Neither of you gets close to the towel resting low on his hips; you want to keep him as calm and unaware as possible, but getting close to that towel would do the opposite. When Daniel’s breathing slows and his sounds of relief start to lessen, Max gently coaxes Daniel into rolling on his back with ease.

The brunette’s eyes flutter open, but you tut disapprovingly when his gaze meets yours. With a kiss on his forehead, Daniel closes his eyes at your word, not fighting you for a second. And from that point, you and Max begin conditioning the older man to get used to only having one pair of hands on him at a time. Max massages his chest, you take a break, you massage his chest, Max takes a break; and as Daniel starts to relax at the rhythm, you guys slowly increase the length of your breaks. 

Until the breaks get long enough to slip the ties that you guys fastened to the headboard out.

Daniel was so entranced at the sight of you and Max sprawled on his bed that he forgot to examine his surroundings. They’re silk ties, with pre-made straps for you to tighten as soon as his hands are inside them. The two of you take it to the next step; you each begin to massage his arms (still employing your regular breaks), raising them upwards to “get a better angle.” Daniel doesn’t even shift at the change, he just hums under his breath when either of you soothes across a good spot. And with little effort, you and Max raise both of his arms and smoothly slip his tattooed hands into the ties, tightening the straps in the blink of an eye.

The older man startles, eyes flying open as he tries to yank his wrists free of the binds, “Uhhhh, what the fuck?”

Both of you watch as Daniel tries to free himself without any luck, enjoying the show as the silk ties prove they won’t give out. Chills shudder down your spine as your older boyfriend tries to order the two of you to release him, but he must see the feral glint shine in your eyes because he switches to asking when neither of you moves.

“You know what to say if you really want us to let you go, Daniel,” Max states bluntly, pulling off his Enchanté shirt easily. 

You hum in agreement, straddling the Australian’s hips and simultaneously tugging your slip dress over your head and tossing it to the side, exposing your bare body before seating yourself on the bulge showing through the towel. Daniel chokes out a curse, his eyes dancing between yours and Max’s bodies being dangled in front of his face without being able to touch.

He tests the binds for any give half-heartedly before sniffing dismissively, jaw tightening as he challenges Max, “Do your worst, baby.”

Max scoffs out a laugh, “That is the plan.”

From there you and Max turn into savages. Both of you bypass kissing Daniel, pressing lips and biting bruises along his neck and torso instead. The man can only cry out as Max terrorizes his nipples with teeth and pinching fingers while you paint marks on his hipbones and navel. The older man isn’t convinced that the night will end without the two of you seriously attempting cannibalism but the thought is pushed away when the towel is tugged off his hips.

Max laughs mockingly and flicks Daniel’s already-hardened length, “Well, this will be even easier than we thought, liefje.”

“I was half-hard from the minute you guys put your hands on me,” Daniel snipes, “Don’t let this go to your head.”

You raise an eyebrow in question, tilting your head to the side innocently which contrasts the strong grasp of your hand around the head of Daniel’s cock, “Isn’t that a compliment, though? Anyways, it clearly went to your head.”

Daniel groans in pleasure as you start to rapidly stroke along his quickly reddening length, “That was a terrible pun–fuck–but, I’m only letting it slide because your hand is on my cock.”

He bucks up into your fist and you release him immediately, smiling as you see him choke down a whimper of disappointment. The older man isn’t left alone for long, as Max drags the tip of his index finger along the slit of Daniel’s cock before flattening his palm across the head and roughly circling it to overwhelm him with an alarming amount of pleasure-coated friction. 

The brunette can’t stifle his cries this time nor can he buck his hips, thanks to the Dutchman pinning him down with his free forearm. Max pulls both of his hands away quickly, delighting in Daniel’s sounds of displeasure, the two of you watching as he attempts to chase a hand that isn’t there anymore. His length is throbbing, pulsing angrily, redder than the blush that stains his tanned chest. You swallow wantingly. Both of you thought that you would be able to get a few more rounds out of a handjob, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

Max gets his hand around the base and yours circles the tip. Simultaneously, the two of you start rubbing him off in time, keeping your fists just tight enough and your motions just quick enough to hurtle Daniel to the edge. He throws his head back into the pillows, hips freely bucking as neither one of you attempts to stop him, his hands pulling against the ties all the while,

“You can cum whenever you want, Daniel,” Max states.

The older man lets out several pants of desperation, calling both of your names as he nears his climax. And when you both see the telltale sign of Daniel’s chest rising and falling heavily, you release his cock.

“No! Wait–shit,” he tries to gasp, but it’s too late. His cock starts leaking, jerking pathetically as cum drips down his length in ribbons—his orgasm ruined. Dry sobs escape his lungs as he humps the air, looking for friction that isn’t there, continuing to beg for a hand even as he struggles to breathe as a result of the unsatisfying release.

You let him come down hard, offering support in a quick squeeze of the meat of his thigh over his tattoo. When he catches his breath, his eyes flutter open. Max sees the wetness gathered in the waterlines and moves in the blink of an eye, enveloping Daniel’s still-hard cock in his mouth. 

The Australian’s back arches off the bed, hips racing forward then backward as he cries out, unsure if the feeling of Max’s mouth is good. Both pairs of your hands fly forward to still Daniel, forcing him to feel every crevice of Max’s tongue and throat, trying to bring him to another orgasm as quickly as possible. It works, Daniel stops fighting and starts obeying, rolling upward into Max’s mouth, whimpering out depravedly as he struggles against his binds again. You see his abs start to undulate in waves, a second orgasm trying to form and you slip your hand underneath Max’s chin, lightly squeezing at Daniel’s balls—and the tears fall as his release slams into him like a semi-truck.

The younger man swallows around Daniel, humming as he does it, yet the bobbing motion of his head doesn’t stop—Max is going to try his hardness to prevent Daniel from going soft, even as the older man tries to fight and twist away from the wet grasp of his throat. The Australian’s tears paint his cheek as he sobs messily, and you’re quick to check in with him as Max’s mouth is occupied.

“Daniel, color?” you manage to make your voice sound steady, but your thighs are trembling, your cunt pulsing with wetness and need. 

The man whimpers, eyes unseeingly looking down at you and Max as he cries messily, “Green.”

You moan breathily, finally giving in to your urges and rushing forward to messily kiss Daniel. You let him cry into your mouth, nipping at his lips and tasting his tears before pulling away. Max pulls off Daniel’s cock with a reedy gasp and moves backward quickly so you can slip in between them, seating your cunt atop the half-hard length and beginning to grind along him. The brunette makes a sound as if he’s been punched in the gut, arms pausing in their fight against the ties before they resume with renewed strength. Daniel scrambles to get his feet underneath him, trying to buck off the hot, wet drag of your cunt against his cock. It’s pulsing so violently that he swears he can feel it in his throat. 

Max knocks his feet down, and tugs Daniel’s chin to look at him with a hardened grasp, with his voice rough and croaky he commands, “Can you give us one more, Daniel?”

Daniel's glossy, brown eyes stare at Max without answer, mouth parted as drool slips from the corners of his lips. The Dutchman’s brow tightens with worry and he releases his chin to pull you off. But, before he can stop you, Daniel gasps out desperately.

“M’ green—please, please, Max,” Daniel nods viciously, “Green, green—one more.”

The younger man soothes Daniel with sweet words, praising and comforting him as he leans forward to pepper his lips and neck with kisses and kitten licks, pausing to motion you to continue. 

You line up Daniel’s cock easily and murmur out a ‘thank you’, before sinking down and not stopping until your ass meets his pelvis, uncaring of how he attempts to shake you off. His body is reacting in too much, but Max and you both see and hear how his brain interprets it as too good. 

You keen in pleasure but your noises are deafened by Daniel’s cries and begs for relief. Well aware that you have to get yourself off so Max can have a turn, you find that toe-curling angle with the help of Max directing your hips, holding yourself steady with one hand behind you on the bed and the other drawing rapid circles on your clit. Max moves to let you rest your back along his chest, your frizzed curls a mess as they bounce with your movements. 

The visual stimulation of Daniel in front of you moaning and heaving for more, the frantic twitching of his length inside of you, the sound of your skin slapping against his, and Max’s voice ghosting right by your ear, the ‘good girl’ that left his lips taking a second to process; all of it pushes you into the abyss. You don’t know if it’s you or Daniel that screams, your blood rushing in your ears and your vision flashing white clouds your mind as the explosion of pleasure burns your nerve endings. 

With a choked ‘fuck,’ you slump over, slipping off his twitching cock and slinking down next to Daniel as you shiver and shake through the last dregs of pleasure. Max flutters over both of you, unsure if he should keep pushing the limit, but both you and Daniel yell confirmations of “Green!” that have Max ripping off his briefs, reaching between his legs and whimpering as he carefully tugs out the plug he’s had in for the entire time.

Daniel’s eyes roll in disbelief, his brain exhausted to the point where he can’t string together any words to communicate his confusion.

Max huffs out a hysterical giggle, one hand stroking along his cock as he tosses the plug off the side of the bed. “Fuck–you were in the shower forever, Daniel. I’ve had that in for too long.”

The younger man shakes as he lowers himself on Daniel’s cock, bottoming out with a whimper as he mouths down at Daniel, “Just one more, baby, okay? Make me come, yeah?”

The older man’s moan is curdled with overstimulation, but he finds the will to get his feet underneath him and shakily thrust upwards into Max, hoping somehow that that’s enough. Max lets his head fall back in pleasure, thankful for the moving pressure of Daniel’s cock inside of him rather than the consistent annoyance of the plug holding him open. Coupled with the stretch of his rim and his hand furiously twisting along his length, Max reaches his peak quickly.

Before taking the plunge, he chokes out words of praise at Daniel and you rush to do the same, understanding that Max is attempting to push Daniel over the edge as well. You see tears of frustration build in Daniel’s eyes as he struggles to fully give in, and you fall forward to tug at his nipples with your teeth, reinvigorating Daniel’s attempts at slipping from the silk ties. At the sight, Max shouts, body tightening and then relaxing as he strokes out ribbons of cum. Daniel’s hips stutter when the first drop of cum lands on his skin and you feel his lungs halt as the strongest orgasm—most likely dry, at that—wreaks havoc upon his body.

His body goes limp underneath the two of you, and his hands droop in their binds. You speedily untie Daniel’s arms as Max slowly slips off the man’s rapidly softening length, trying to lessen any unwanted stimulation for the unaware Australian. You catch his arms before they fall against the bed, rubbing your hands against them to coax proper blood flow in them. Spent, Max stumbles to Daniel’s side, taking one arm out of your hands and matching your movements.

“Good job, liefje,” Max breathes out, smiling up at you with an exhausted smile, his hair drenched with sweat and falling in front of his eyes. You blush and kiss him sweetly, “It was your idea!”

Max shakes his head, pausing his hands to reach down and brush Daniel’s curls off his forehead, “No; you made half of the plan. So, it was our idea.”

The Australian groans, eyes fluttering open but they’re still clouded enough that you both know he’s going to need more than enough TLC tonight, “ —idea made me think i w‘sgonna die.”

Max laughs, rubbing circles around the man’s temple, “I guess we forgot to factor in your old age as a variable, didn’t we, liefje?”

Daniel’s face flutters in displeasure at being referred to as “old,” even when he’s not quite come down, “Mean, Maxy.”

You giggle, “That’s what he calls mean out of this entire experience?”

The Dutchman presses kisses to both of your foreheads before he stumbles out of bed, “I’m going to grab some fruit and cream for Daniel’s wrists. Should I grab anything else?” He directs the question to you.

Of course, the Australian jumps in before you have the chance to respond, “Lemonade, please.”

© httpsserene2024

[bookyeom]

to care for you — lc

pairing: dino x reader word count: 4.4k warnings: mention of blood and injuries, mention of fainting, swearing, hurt and comfort, kissing request prompt: Okay so tumblr ate my ask 😭 but this is in response to @darkypooo’s request for Dino + “do you want to kiss?” “Yeah.”

Author’s Note: Yes, this is a Spiderman AU — but you don’t need to know much other than the bare minimum about the Spiderman universe to understand the story :) It’s set in college instead of high school, though. I’m actually so, so proud of this one, and I hope you like it!

Thanks so much for all the support on my 700 follower celebration. You guys rock! I’m doing my best to get through the requests, but there were way more than I anticipated so bear with me!

He‘s exhausted. 

It’s an exhaustion that’s begun to seep deep into his bones lately, but it feels extra heavy tonight. After a not-so-brief brush-up with some bad guys, he’s hurting in places that he didn’t know existed — even after all of his years spent studying science. He can’t remember the last time he got this hurt — to the point where even breathing is hard. All he wants to do right now is give up. He’s not sure what good he’s doing out there, anyway.

He’s exhausted, and he’s hurting all over, and honestly? All he wants to do is see you. 

He feels like that a lot these days.

He knows he’s not supposed to want you like he does, to need you like he does — for so many reasons. First and foremost, because you’re one of his closest friends — his confidante (in everything not Spiderman related, anyway), his safe place. You’re his friend, and friends aren’t supposed to love each other the way he loves you. Besides, he’s Spiderman. He’s not supposed to need anyone at all. In this line of business, feelings are a weakness.

You, thankfully, have no clue about his alter ego… or his feelings.

Well, at least you didn’t know about the superhero part. Until now, when he drags himself into his room and you’re there, curled up in his bed. He thinks he must be hallucinating. He’s too out of it to really register it at first, but then your eyes meet his from where you’re sitting up against his headboard, duvet pulled up to your chin, and he’s frozen. You blink back at him in the dim light of his room, your face lit up solely by the lamp on his bedside table.

“Chan?”

Your voice is small — so quiet that he thinks without his heightened senses he wouldn’t have been able to hear it. He can’t think straight enough to really process that his mask is off — he must have dropped it somewhere between the living room and here. All he can register before he’s stumbled back and slumped into his desk chair, eyes screwed shut from all the pain, is that you don’t look nearly as scared as he thought you would. Then everything goes black.

There’s a warm pressure against his jaw and his cheeks. 

He slowly comes to as he registers the feeling, struggling to open his eyes and find the source of the sensation. He can hear a faint voice call his name, once, twice, and when his eyes finally manage to flutter open just a little, he’s met with your concerned gaze.

“Fuck. Hi,” you mumble, and he blinks. The pure worry in your voice helps to bring him back to earth a little bit more, and he tries desperately to clear his head. How long was he out?

“Why���” He tries to speak but fails, his voice weak and his throat hoarse. 

Why are you here? 

He sees you wince when he tries to move, to shift into a more comfortable position even though he knows nothing will be comfortable right now, and your head is suddenly shaking back and forth so fast that it almost gives him whiplash.

“Don’t move,” you tell him, and he dazedly wonders why you don’t sound mad. Or frustrated. Or anything but concerned, really. He’s confused, his mind swirling even more as he tries to understand why your hands are holding his face like that. Hadn’t he kept things a secret from you for far too long to warrant your concern? Don’t you hate him now?

“I don’t know what’s going on,” you say, and Chan fights the urge to try and speak again, to blurt out everything that he’s wanted to tell you since he met you. Oblivious to his inner turmoil, you hastily continue, “but you have to tell me how to help you, Chan.”

His eyes flutter shut once more at the sound of his name coming from your lips, and he feels your thumb brush against his jaw. 

“Chan,” you say again, and you sound more panicked this time, so he does his best to calm you down. 

“Off.”

You blink at him again as he finally speaks. You’re not sure what he means, and you’re desperate to know, because you can’t look at him in pain like this any longer without doing something to help.

“Off,” he repeats hoarsely, and your eyes widen as you hastily remove your hands from his face.

“Shit, sorry!” Your eyes frantically wander across his face, searching for any damage your fingers might have caused. “I don’t know where you’re hurting, I didn’t mean to—“

As you babble on, all he can do is shake his head minutely. That’s not what he meant. The last thing he wanted right now was for you to take your hands off of him. He manages to lift a hand to press gently against his side, where a dark stain has formed. He glances down at where the material is clinging to his skin before looking back up at you. 

“Oh!” You reply, realization dawning on your face. You try to hide the flush of your cheeks. “Can you stand up to move to the bed so I can help? If not, I can—“

Already, he’s attempting to move, desperate to make any of this easier for you. He wants to apologize, to say he’s sorry, but he doesn’t know exactly what for. For not telling you? For you having to see him like this? 

You help him stand, his arm reaching to rest on your shoulders as you do. You can tell he’s trying not to hurt you with his weight, and you almost laugh — how very Chan of him. You’re grateful that in the shock of survival mode, you’ve managed to avoid for now the way you know your heart is going to break when you register seeing soft, kind, selfless Chan beaten down like this. 

Cry tomorrow, is the message your brain is sending. Figure it out tomorrow. Right now, you need to help him.

“I’m strong,” you try to joke, though it’s a weak attempt, and Chan looks at you in confusion. “You can put your weight on me,” you elaborate quietly. He understands and gives you a sheepish smile, before doing as told, though you know he doesn’t want to. 

The two of you maneuver the few steps to the edge of his bed. Chan hisses involuntarily at the pain as he sits down, and you whisper soft apologies, though he has no idea why. Once he’s down, you immediately get to work, reaching behind him to find the zipper at the top of his suit. You manage to get it down as smoothly as possible, your eyes falling to where Chan is still clutching at his side.

“This part is going to hurt like a bitch,” you tell him softly.

“That’s okay,” he says. “It always does.”

You freeze for a moment from where you were about to begin to slide the suit off of his shoulders, but Chan doesn’t seem to realize what he’s said. You feel a sharp pain in your chest as his words replay, and you blink back tears, taking a moment to steel yourself. 

It always hurts.

You don’t respond, your fingers beginning to move again, and you’re surprised that they’re not shaking. Chan shivers when your fingers brush against his skin as you begin to slide the suit over his arms and off. You ease him out of the material on his uninjured side first, before coming around to the front of him and crouching down. You meet his eyes, his brown ones clouded over with pain, and your fingers gently reach to rest on top of his hand that’s still clutching his side. You give it a squeeze and he nods in understanding, closing his eyes tight, and you help him remove his fingers from the wound. You stand back up, and begin to pull the rest of the suit down his side and to his waist. Chan barely lets out so much as a whimper when you peel the rest of the material off of him. 

His lack of reaction is not what surprises you the most, though. The biggest surprise comes when you reach the spot on his side where you know a sickening amount of blood should be, and you find that it’s all dried — and that the wound has already begun to heal over. 

Huh?

Your brain can’t compute it. You glance up at him in complete confusion, but his head is hung low, and your heart breaks enough to distract you from all of the questions you want to ask. You force yourself to push the confusing mess of thoughts away until later. You can’t think about any of that right now. You can’t. 

“Chan?” Is what you say instead, knowing that you need to keep him awake enough to help him clean up, long enough to know he’s alright. Your hands are on his knees as you kneel between his legs and peer up at him. You have to stop yourself from reaching out to trace the newly-forming scars on his chest and arms, wanting nothing more than to kiss each mark and its associated pain away. You desperately want to know what happened, who hurt him like this, but you’re not sure you can handle it. You briefly register the older, faded scars that mark his skin, unsure of where they end and the new ones begin. 

You can’t figure it out — in front of you sits Chan, but it can’t be the Chan you know. It can’t be the one who giggles at your stupid jokes or falls asleep in your 8am lectures, or the one who remembers your coffee order every single time. The one who you swore had never fought with anyone in his life. The Chan in front of you looks so broken that you can’t put the two of them together. 

“You… okay?”

Your eyes shoot up to meet his again as he speaks, voice cracking and hoarse. Your heart stutters a bit in your chest as he attempts to look down at you, his eyes hooded over and half closed with the effort. He looks like he’s about to fall over, and still, he’s asking if you’re okay.

You’re hit so hard with sudden emotion that it causes you to inhale sharply without warning. Your hand lifts involuntarily to brush his hair back from where it’s falling into his eyes, and as he continues to try and hold your gaze, you register it all. This Chan is still your Chan. It’s the same Chan that has stirred feelings inside your chest that you were certain you could never feel again. The Chan whose intelligence and kindness still astounds you every single day. This Chan and your Chan are the same.

Your head spins.

When you finally make it to the bathroom, it’s all Chan can do to slouch down onto his bathroom floor. You help him out of the rest of his suit before crouching down beside him, wracking your brain for everything you’ve ever learned about cleaning wounds. You remain numb as he gives you single-word answers to where things are in his bathroom. It’s funny — you’ve been in his apartment so many times, but you’ve never needed to know where the antiseptic was. 

Chan’s eyes remain half-open as you work. He’s fighting with all his might, you can tell, and you can feel his eyes on you the whole time. You don’t think his gaze leaves you even once. It becomes monotonous: you clean the cut, he winces, you apologize. And repeat. Your mind wanders in what you’re sure is an attempt to protect yourself.

You’d come over tonight for your weekly movie night, letting yourself in with the code you’d long since been given access to. When hours had passed with no sign of Chan and no texts from him either, your heart had broken a little — had he forgotten? Was he okay? It was so unlike him that you’d stayed just in case, your heart racing with every little noise as you waited. 

You hate so much that your worst fears had come true.

Chan’s pain seems to ease in record time, bruises forming on his skin faster than you’ve ever seen. You have so many questions, but you push it all down, down, down. He falls asleep on his couch and you stay up all night, blanket pulled around your shoulders as you sit on the windowsill and make sure he’s still breathing. 

He wakes as the sun is beginning to rise, and you watch as he shifts to sit up, letting out a breath of what sounds like relief when he’s able to move without much trouble. Some of the cuts on his face and chest are already scabbed over. 

How?

When his eyes finally land on you, he jumps a little.

“Hi.”

”You didn’t sleep.”

It’s an observation rather than a question. You pull your knees up and rest your chin on them. “I was worried.”

It’s quiet, and he doesn’t know what to say. Neither do you.

“Well,” he clears his throat. “I’m glad you stayed.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is small, and he immediately feels guilty.

“I’m sorry.” He’s not sure what he expects you to do, what he expects you to say. You level him with your gaze, searching his face. Your eyes linger on the scabbed-over cut just above his brow, and you bite your lip before you speak again.

“It was…” You can feel your lower lip start to tremble in an act of betrayal, and you bite down on it to try and stop yourself from crying. “It was terrifying to see you like that, Chan,” you finally manage, and you know that after all these hours, the dam is about to break. You can tell he knows it, too, by the way his brows furrow even more, and his eyes widen just slightly.

“I know,” he murmurs, and that’s what does it.

Your hands move to cover your face as you finally let yourself cry, sobs muffled by your palms. You can hear the couch creak as Chan moves, and you can feel his presence as soon as he’s close. He whispers your name once, his voice breaking, and when he moves your hands away from your face, you don’t have the strength to stop him. He’s sitting next to you on the windowsill now. You sniffle, eyes looking anywhere but at him. Chan holds onto your wrists, rubbing gentle circles against the skin. 

“I’m so mad at you,” you finally say, and he lets go of your hands. He doesn’t retreat to his side of the window though, staying put as he nods, chewing on his bottom lip as he looks down.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you,” he says, voice quiet. “I hope you understand why I couldn’t… but you still have every right to be pissed at me.”

It’s silent, and you stare at him in disbelief. There are so many thoughts running through your head, and it takes you a moment to settle on just one. “You think I’m mad because you didn’t tell me that you were Spiderman?” You finally say, causing him to look at you again in surprise.

“I mean, yeah? Why else—“

“I’m mad,” you emphasize, “because you’re out there getting hurt, and my heart literally can’t take the thought of that, oh my god, Chan.” Your voice breaks, and fuck, you’re about to cry again, but you can’t stop. Your eyes trace over his face, pausing where the bruise is starting to form on his cheek, and you feel frustration begin to build again as you angrily blink back tears. “What the fuck, Chan. Why the hell are you… I mean, if I hadn’t been able to help you last night, I wouldn’t — I just, I can’t even imagine—“

Your words are cut off as Chan’s hands find the side of your face. His gaze is firm as he looks at you, and his sudden boldness catches you off guard, your words dying in your throat. Once he seems to realize that you’re not going to run, his thumb moves to caress your jaw, and you can’t help the shiver that spreads through you at the gentle touch. Your hands lift to rest on his arms where they’re holding you, and you’re speechless, your eyes unable to leave his. He takes in a deep breath, and you follow.

“I’m here,” he says, and you draw in another shaky breath. You don’t think he’s ever been this forward with you before, but you’re grateful for it. He’s warm, and he’s here. He’s alive.You’re torn between wanting to never leave his side again, and needing desperately to be away from him so that you can think.

“I think it might be good for me to go now that I know you’re okay,” you say softly after a moment, and you can see the hurt that briefly shadows his eyes. It’s gone as quickly as it comes, though, and he nods, removing his hands from your face. 

“I understand.”

“And I… I probably need some time.”

He nods again, and your heart breaks at the thought of leaving him, but you have to. For now. Your feet feel leaden as you get up, going through the motions as you grab your backpack from the hook by his door. You barely register putting on your shoes, your mind on autopilot until it’s broken by his voice from just behind you.

“Y/N?”

Your name coming from his lips feels like a punch to the gut, and you almost reach out for him again, but you hold firm.

”Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. Can you just…” he sucks in a breath. “Can you please not tell anyone? About, you know—”

His words hit like a ton of bricks. You cut him off, expression full of silent fury at the insinuation. “Yeah. I won’t.” 

You’re pissed that he even had to ask, and he knows it, but there’s nothing else he can do. His secret is more important than anything — he just wishes it didn’t have to be more important than you. 

It takes three days for you to end up back at his door. He’s missed all of your shared college courses so far this week, and you’re worried. You’re terrified, actually, and you need to see him.

When he opens the door, you do a double take. It’s almost like nothing happened to him at all. The bruises and cuts are barely-there, and you’re reminded of the miles-long list of questions you have stored in the back of your brain. He’s surprised to see you, you can tell, and he blinks slowly before stepping aside to let you in.

“How are you?” You level him with raised eyebrows as you take off your shoes, and he nods, biting his lip. “Yeah, I know. I was worried that—“

“I didn’t tell anyone,” you interrupt. “Don’t worry.” You look down, your heart twisting painfully in your chest when you remember the words he’d said to you. ‘Can you please not tell anyone?’ You cross your arms as you head over to the living room, but you don’t sit down. You don’t really know what your plan had been — you’d just needed to see him. 

“Oh,” comes his soft reply before he adds, “I mean… I didn’t really think that you would.”

Your eyes briefly meet his across the room, confused, before you recover and look back down at the floor. “So then what were you worried about?”

You can feel his gaze intent on your face. “You.”

Your breath catches and your eyes swiftly meet his again. You blink. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Chan,” you say after a moment, trying to push down the bubble of irritation you feel building in your chest. “You didn’t even text me once.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he says quietly, “You said that you needed time.”

“To process, yes! But you didn’t even text me that you were okay. I was worried about you, Chan. Why would you be worried about me? I’m not the one coming through your window and fainting from injury, now am I?”

You can see the guilt flicker across his face. “I know,” he says, and then he suddenly feels the need to apologize again. “I’m sorry that I didn’t message you, but I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.” He pauses. “Ever again, maybe.”

You can hear the sadness in his voice, and your heart breaks. You feel the anger in you start to dissipate as he looks away from you. Your eyes catch on the barely-there faded scar across his eyebrow, and your mind is filled with painful memories of the Chan you’d seen that night. 

“You’re so fucking stupid, Chan.” 

He knows. But judging by the way you sit down on his couch instead of storming out again, he thinks that somehow, his stupidity has already been forgiven. 

It’s quiet as he joins you. You can feel him looking at you, and when you can’t take it anymore, you look back at him pointedly. He blushes, quickly looking away when your eyes meet. You sigh, your head falling into the back of the couch before you turn and curl up against it, your eyes drifting shut. 

"Is that my sweater?" 

Your eyes shoot open, and it's as if he's finally grown the courage to look at you directly again now. His brown eyes search yours, and he motions to the shirt you're wearing. You look down — even though you know he's right — and your cheeks are on fire. You’re wearing the sweater he’d leant you forever ago on a cold night for your walk home — the one you’d never returned. You slept in it almost every night, and he hadn’t asked for it back. 

"Keeps me warm," you mumble, tugging on the hem. It's silent for a beat before you continue, voice even quieter than before. You pause, ruminating on your next words before you take a deep breath and say, “The last few nights, wearing it kind of made me feel like you were safe.”

You can hear his intake of breath before he says, soft, “Are you mad at me?”

You shake your head, because you’re not. You’re scared, stressed, worried sick — but you’re not mad. Not anymore. “No, Chan.”

The nickname sends a flood of relief through him more than your actual reply does. 

“I’m not mad,” you continue, “because of course you’re Spiderman. Of course you’re putting yourself in danger trying to protect others. I love how selfless you are, Lee Chan — I always have. But me? I’m selfish. And I’m scared to death of losing you.”

All he says, all he can say, is, “I’m scared, too.”

You look at him again now. You search his face as you ask, “Of what?”

“Of getting hurt. Of… of losing you, too.”

Your heart is suddenly beating so fast you think it might soon break free from your rib cage. You don’t know why you say it, because you’ve already got his undivided attention, but his name comes out breathlessly anyway. “Chan?” 

“Yeah?” He’s looking at you with those beautiful, big, questioning eyes, and you can’t help it. 

“I think it might be a terrible time for me to say this,” you blurt out, “but I — Chan, I’m in love with you.”

Silence.

Chan blinks.

“Wait, what?”

Your face flushes, and it’s your turn to look away. “Sorry,” you murmur.

“No, don’t — oh my god. What?”

You’re not sure what he wants from you. You’re embarrassed now, pulling your knees up to your chest in a feeble attempt to protect yourself from your feelings. Your face is flushed as you turn to look out the window, and you can almost hear Chan’s brain buffering as he remains silent.

“Do you mean that?”

“Why would I say it if I didn’t mean it?” Your voice comes out a bit harsher than you intend it to, but you don’t take it back. 

“I…” He trails off. He doesn’t say anything more, and the quiet is almost deafening. You’re finding it a little harder to breathe as the seconds pass, and you wrack your brain for something, anything to say to fill the stifling silence.  

“I’m going to go,” is what comes out, and then you’re standing up so abruptly that you feel a little dizzy. The scene is familiar — you, running from what you’re feeling, running from him. 

“Wait,” he blurts out, and you do. You pause in spite of everything in you that’s begging you to run, and then he says, “Can I… I mean, do you want to… kiss?”

You turn back, eyes wide. It’s such a ridiculous question, such an innocent thing for him to ask in light of everything that’s happened in the last few days — but it’s so Chan that you almost forget about it all. This is probably a bad idea, you both know that — and you don’t care. You don’t know how this is going to work, but you’ll figure it out. 

Because it’s your Chan — the one who cares so much, the one who gives you hope, the one who wants nothing but for the world to be a better place.

“I mean — I love you too,” he says into the silence, and you realize that you haven’t given him an answer.

“Yes,” you breathe out before he can panic. “Fuck. I have so many questions, but first, yes. Yes, I want to kiss you, Lee Chan.”

You can hardly believe the giggle and shy smile he sends your way before he kisses you breathless. 

Yeah, you think to yourself as he pulls back, as your fingers lift to gently trace the barely-there bruise on his cheek, as he leans into the warmth of your hand. As you think about how he’s been doing all of this — trying to change the world — alone.

Yeah, you think. You’ll figure it out. 

TAGLIST: @waldau @minisugakoobies @tae-bebe @gyuminusone @wqnwoos @wheeboo @christinewithluv @lvlystars @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @iluvseokmin @seohomrwolf @pan-de-seungcheol @bewoyewo @kyeomkyeomi @mingyuscoffee @harry-the-pottypus @lightprincess-world @icyminghao @bella-l @darkypooo

[leighsartworks216]

My Sunshine

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Part 2 Here: Tumblr link - AO3 link

This is probably definitely ooc but I needed to get it out of my brain anyway. I also have not seen any actual gameplay (aside from the romance scenes) so this won't be 100% canon compliant

For @niermortem bc I need you to read this and suffer (affectionate)

Warnings: alcohol use, swearing, grief/mourning, blood, injury, fluff and angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3,146

Masterlist

AO3

You raised your goblet of wine in the air, smiling blindingly bright at your best friend. "To another case solved, and another criminal behind bars!"

He laughed and clinked his goblet with yours. The red liquid sloshed against the edge, almost spilling into yours. You each drank deeply.

"You make that toast after every trial," he bemoaned, but a stray chuckle ruined his disapproval. "It's a minor court for minor offenses - It's not like I locked up a serial killer."

You huffed and nudged his shoulder. "Don't sell yourself short! What you do is incredible, Astarion. It's so rare for an elf as young as you to get appointed as a magistrate. That's worth celebrating."

He hummed, smirk dancing across his face. "You're younger than me, my dear, and from what I've heard you're doing just as well." He gestured around the room.

The light of the fireplace cast odd shadows of your figures against the wall. Between the flickering shapes, Astarion could see the several paintings hung up on the wall. Portraits, landscapes - all formed with careful brush strokes and intense patience. It was no mean feat. He'd grown up alongside you, witnessed your struggles with charcoal and accuracy. He'd even posed for a few so you could study anatomy and shadow. Pride swelled in his chest thinking of those shaky, rough sketches and seeing the confident, soft strokes that composed the paintings.

You avoided looking, staring into the fire. For the briefest moment, he wanted to smooth out the crease in your brow and remove the frown from your face. Instead he gripped his goblet tighter and took another drink.

"I wish I could be as proud of them as you are, my sunshine. But when I look at them, all I see are mistakes."

He sighed quietly. "Your parents still don't approve, then?"

"They approve my profession - finally - but they think my execution is lackluster. I paint like a human."

"You paint like a god, darling."

“Ah,” you chuckled, “is the praise being turned back on me now?"

He smiled and raised his goblet. "A toast to the greatest artist Baldur's Gate has ever seen and will ever see again."

After a moment's hesitation, you raised your glass and knocked it against his. He threw back the last remaining contents, a drop of red falling from the corner of his mouth and down his neck. He finished off the rich alcohol with a contented sigh.

A clock on the mantelpiece chimed. You leaned back on your hand to look up at the old thing. It was a gift in lieu of payment, handmade, from its gears to its wooden casing. It chimed 11 times in all. Astarion sighed.

"One last drink for the road." You offered him the last of the wine in your goblet, and he drained it easily. “We can finish the rest tomorrow.”

“Mm, and what will we be celebrating tomorrow?”

“Anything and everything.”

He smiled fondly. What gods could have been kind enough to create you?

He rose to his knees and held your cheeks in both hands. “I look forward to it.” You closed your eyes as he planted a kiss on your forehead. It was almost a ritual, after so many years of doing it. Once he pulled away, you rose to your own knees, held his face the same way, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Stay safe on your way back.” You pulled away to look him straight in the eye, an exaggerated expression of seriousness on your face. “If anything happened to you, I wouldn’t have anybody to absolve me in court.”

He chuckled. “I’ll be fine, my dear.”

“You’d better.”

-

You stared numbly at the headstone. Your eyes scanned the words over and over and over again. You could recite it if you wanted to.

'Astarion Ancunin 229 - 268 DR'

He was only 39. He was just a child. A child buried 6 feet under your boots, hidden away, wrapped in sheets and sealed in a wooden coffin. Thirty-nine. He was only thirty-nine.

The sun was beginning to set. There was not a cloud in the sky. No chance for rain. The only water that fell were tears, and yours had long since dried up. Everyone else left hours ago. They'd touched your shoulder, shared in your grief, promised to pray for you and Astarion. If you were perhaps a bit more naive, a bit more desperate, you would have pleaded to the gods to bring him back, no matter the cost.

You inhaled shakily and tilted your head back. The sky was so beautiful; a vibrant array of orange and yellow and blue. You cursed it, for your best friend would never get to share in its beauty with you ever again.

When you looked back down, you forced your eyes not to trace the carved stone any more. It wasn't safe at night. If you looked again, you'd never make it back home.

A hint of white in the corner of your eye stole your attention. A flower. Its petals curled back and around, almost touching itself. Blue and yellow mixed within its center, but the very tips of its petals were bright white.

Your feet felt like lead as you moved toward it. Deep prints were left behind at the end of the dirt mound. Your legs were stiff and creaky from standing so long.

When you reached down to pluck the flower, you stopped. Hand outstretched toward its stem. You'd be killing it to mourn your friend. And in an hour, it will be droopy and wilted, dying on top of the grave. But if you left it, come two days from now, it would be closed and dried up anyway.

Your frown dug creases into your skin. Lines around your mouth and between your brows. You never realized before how quickly beautiful things die. The lines smoothed slightly when you brushed the delicate petal with your fingers. It was as soft as his hair had been.

"Look after him for me," you croaked, voice raw and unused. It cracked when you whispered desperately, "Please."

You rubbed your eyes as you backed away. The burn of tears stung the back of your eyes, but no water was produced. And you needed to get out of here. It hurt too much to stay.

You allowed yourself one last glance at the grave, before you turned and left. Your home never felt so cold, so uninviting, and so empty.

-

You’d never been much further than the city’s limits before, yet here you were. Lost, infected, confused. The blood on your hands terrified you, but if you hadn’t fought, you would be dead. A voice in the back of your mind haunted you with memories. Unbidden, you often recalled tidbits of your life 200 years ago. This time it reminded you of Astarion, flipping knives and sneaking up on you for a laugh. He would have been much more suited to this awful situation than you were.

Your hand fell to your pocket, pressing against a hidden journal tucked safely away. You would be lost without it. It’s all that’s kept you sane all these long years.

A shock of white hair up ahead caught your attention. A man, searching down a hill, beckoning. “Hurry,” he urged in a whisper, “I’ve got one of those brain things cornered.” He kept his back to you, but something in the way he spoke seemed familiar. Or maybe you were just so tired. “There, in the grass. You can kill it, can’t you? Like you killed the others.”

You flinched, frowning at the way he said ‘killed’. It shouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did. Perhaps it sounded too confrontational. Perhaps it was the dark turn his voice took. But you swallowed down the discomfort. You weren’t going to abandon someone in need.

“I can.”

You stepped forward, ready to grab at your dagger. It was quiet. The soft rustle of dry shrubs was all you could hear. You stepped a little further.

A loud squeal made you jump out of your skin as a frightened boar ran from the grass. You stumbled backward. Before you could trip yourself up, a rough arm wrapped behind your neck and dragged you down to the ground. A knife pointed at your throat.

On pure instinct, you grabbed at the blade. It dug into your palm and fingers, but you couldn’t let go. You could feel the man applying pressure to keep it at your neck. If you let go… You shuddered to think what could happen.

“Shh. Not a sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours.” Deep crimson eyes stared into yours, contrasted by the pure white of his hair and the smirk toying his lips. He looked oddly familiar, too. Had you passed him somewhere before? No, you would remember a man like him. “Now, I saw you on the ship. Didn’t I? Nod.”

The command has you nodding with no hesitation.

“Splendid,” he purred. His voice turned serious then. “And now you’re going to tell me exactly what you and those tentacled freaks did to me.”

“I haven’t done anything,” you grit out. Blood trailed down your wrist and stained the cuff of your sleeve. His eyes flickered toward it for a moment. “They took me prisoner, too!”

“Don’t lie to me! I- Argh!”

Behind your eyes the tadpole squirms. It’s jarring and uncomfortable, and so are the images that come with it. Dark city streets seen through someone else’s eyes. They scan every passerby, studying them. But just as you urge to see more, it’s gone. All you’re left with is the sensation of fear.

The man grunts again. “What was that?” he demands. He pushed the knife even closer to your neck, despite your best efforts to keep it away. “What’s going on?!”

The fear from the memory quickly intermingled with your own terror. Your heart thumped in your ears. The words came tumbling out of you before you knew what you were saying. “Please, please just put the knife away and we can figure this out.”

For a moment, he just stared at you. Calculating. And then the pressure faded and you could let go of the dagger. His arm let go of you, and he watched as you scampered away one-handed and struggled to your feet. He stood defensively, keeping his hold on the knife.

“You’re… not one of them.” You could feel his eyes searching you up and down. “They took you, just the same as me. And to think, I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards.” He laughed weakly. “Apologies.”

You cradled your hand to your chest with a frown. Nobody would blame you if you shouted insults, left him to deal with this on his own, took care of your own issues. But you couldn’t. “Apology accepted,” you sighed.

He smiled. It felt plastered on, like an actor’s during a play. “I’m out of wine and flowers, so I hope an introduction will suffice. My name’s Astarion. I was in Baldur’s Gate when those beasts snatched me.”

The last of his words was drowned out. Your heart raced, flooding your ears as a tidal wave of emotions swirled in your chest. That name. In all your years, you only knew one elf with that name. What were the chances of another carrying the same one?

Slim to none.

But it can’t be him. He died.

It has to be him. It has to.

“Darling?” He chuckled nervously, waving a hand in front of you. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

If you weren’t so dazed, maybe you would have laughed. But you just stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Your eyes burned. A lump crawled up your throat and you weren’t sure if it was bile or a sob.

“You died,” you finally gasped out. It was only a whisper, but Astarion’s ears picked it up as if you’d shouted it out. His grin faltered, entire aura of confidence and sexuality falling with those two words alone. “You died… My sunshine.”

Astarion stepped back, holding his dagger up as a warning. It still dripped with your blood. His face was dark. You’d never seen it as gravely serious as this. “Who are you? How do you- How do you know that?”

Your old name - the name you had as a child - lingers in the air. He stares at you with eyes hopeful and distrusting. There is a war in his mind. You can see it in the way his dagger wavers in his hold. How he looks you up and down, studies your face. He’d grabbed you, even made you bleed - you weren’t just a fucked up figment of his imagination. But he still couldn’t fathom it.

“Prove it.”

“How?”

“I don’t care how! Just prove it!” The shout is broken and desperate.

You fumbled. Everything you knew about him fled your brain in an instant. You searched for memories in the dirt, in the dry bushes, in the curls of his hair…

Cursing, he watched as you ripped a book from your pocket. Even though you’d grabbed it with your uninjured hand, blood stained the leather binding. You held it out to him.

“These are sketches I have made every day for two hundred years.” You stepped forward, urging him to take it. “All of them are of you.”

A part of him didn’t want to listen. It wanted him to remain unaware and oblivious for the rest of his godsdamned life. The mere idea of the truth - of his past being exposed to this corrupted thing he’s become - terrified him. How easy it would be to run away. To hide away forever.

But he would never be free. Always a slave to the burning questions. Forever wondering just who you were, and if you were telling the truth.

He reaches past his knife and takes the journal. With use of his leg as an aid, he’s able to remove the string tying it shut and flip open the book.

On each page is his face. Several of them. Smiling, laughing, pouting, focused, and a thousand more expressions. After 200 years, he doesn’t quite remember what he looks like. He couldn’t recall if his hair had always been white, nor the shade of his eyes. But tucked away is a crude sketch, not of his face, but of yours. It looks like a child closed their eyes and scribbled. At the bottom of the page, in what is undoubtedly his handwriting, is his signature.

You watch desperately as he puts his knife away. He’ll have to clean it later, but he isn’t thinking about it now. Both hands freed, he flips through each page. At the beginning, the portraits are unrefined and rough. The lines are sketchy and smudged, as though someone had tried wiping away their mistakes. With each page, they get better. The lines become confident and smooth. Even further still, the style is almost elegant, but the face has become unfocused. The eyes begin losing form. The mouth feels off on the face. On one, the face has been erased and redone several times over; so much so the paper has begun crumbling. The last drawing held little resemblance to him anymore. This one was freshly done. The lines were sketchy once more, uncertain. The only recognizable features were his ears and the curls of his hair. Even the shape of his face was lost to time.

“After you… After I buried you, I…” You take a shaky breath, fighting back tears. “I didn’t want to forget you. So I sketched you, every day. I thought I’d always remember that damn smile of yours, but… I didn’t. Little by little, you were stolen from my memories, until all I had left was a vague impression of who you were, what we did together. Even looking at the old sketches couldn’t bring it back. But I kept trying.”

Astarion’s face is the epitome of sorrow when he looks up at last. There are deep set creases around his mouth and eyes, aging him - an odd concept for an elf. He looks so lost. “Where did you go?”

You frowned, and Astarion wished he could smooth out the crease between your brows. How could he forget your face? After all Cazador did to him, made him do, how could he forget you?

“After you buried me,” he clarified.

“I couldn’t bear to stay. I sold all my paintings and I left. I didn’t get very far.” You chuckled weakly. “Just stayed with my parents.”

His face lights up. “What name are you going by now?”

“Tav.”

“Tav,” he repeats. The name is different in his mouth. Not good or bad, simply there. New. He wishes he could have been there when you chose it.

You took a deep breath. It was time to ask the big question, the one burning a hole in your chest. “How are you alive?”

The corner of his lip twitches up, somewhere between amused and dismayed. “It’s a rather long story, my dear.”

“I’ve waited 200 years to hear it.”

He chuckles at that. It’s genuine, but a sour note still lingers. He closes your journal, deftly ties the strings, and saunters to stand in front of you. The intoxicating scent of your blood drives him mad. It’s so close, but he could never forgive himself if he told you the truth and you ran away. Truthfully, after so long, he wasn’t sure how you’d react. But it still felt too heavy an admission.

He slips the book back into your pocket. With both hands, he reaches to cup your face, but he stops. The motion feels wrong. He wants so desperately to hold you again. You even lean toward his palm. The tip of your pointed ear brushes his fingers. But he can’t. His hands fall back to his sides, and he plasters a smile on once more.

“Come on, darling. Let’s get you cleaned up before you attract something.”

You nod and follow alongside him as he begins leading you toward water. The bleeding has mostly stopped by now. The cut still stings, exposed to the air. But the pain feels distant. It hardly matters when the man you’ve spent two hundred years mourning is alive and with you again. And he’s changed - there is no way to deny it. His hair, his eyes, even the way he spoke had more of a lilting tune to it than it once did. But he’s here. He’s real.

“For the record,” you begin, stepping close enough to brush arms as you walked, “it’s good to see you again, my sunshine.”

And, oh, if that didn’t make him feel alive once more.

[moodymisty]

Tumblr most likely ate it. It’s always doing stuff like that 🙄 But the request was a gender neutral reader where reader was captured and Guilliman had to choose between them and the imperium and it turns out fluffy.

Author's Note: Hey! Sorry for tumblr eating your request and taking so long, I hope this is at least somewhat worth it. I feel like given circumstances him choosing to abandon the Imperium isn't an realistic option for him, but I did what i thought would make a good compromise.

Relationships: Roboute Guilliman/Gn!Reader

Warning: Nothing really

Every astartes in the room can hear the metal of the Guilliman’s Armour Of Fate tighten and groan as he squeezes his fists; Even such meticulously designed armor is unable to stay completely unyielding against the full strength of a primarch.

“And what,” Guilliman turns to his men with a fierce gaze, one that can falter all but a few of them. “You just expect me to leave them behind?”

Sicarius looks at him stoic, as always. It makes Guilliman angrier, to not even see a hint of emotion on the man’s face. As if he has no understanding or no care as to what he just implied Guilliman do.

"The Macgragge’s Honour is needed in defense as a Tyranid hive fleet moves towards Imperium space, we can stay here no longer. Not for one person.”

One person. That one person had been the only guiding light in his life for months now, your smile is the only thing that makes him believe that perhaps his endless, tiring, tortuous work means something. He has a thing to work for; His life with you.

Guilliman keeps his face and lips tight, and only parts them to hiss out:

“Your Imperium can wait for a moment longer.”

Sicarius straightens up, even more than the rigid posture he had previous.

“Are you suggesting you would ignore a call for aid from the imperium if your consort was in danger? You would abandon all that your father has made to xenos?”

Guilliman opens his mouth. The rage he wants to spew- about his insult to you, the implication that the Emperor is his father, it is all only quelled when his vox device crackles to life.

“Lord Primarch! We found them! We’re returning to the dropship now.”

Guilliman swears he nearly feels his heart explode from hearing those words. That you’ll be safe and with him soon.

He turns to Sicarius, who is still hot in the face from Guilliman’s implications of abandoning the broader Imperium. Guilliman can see the red heat underneath his tan, olive skin.

“You best remember the words you’ve said here. I will the next time you find yourself calling for aid.”

Guilliman would never consider himself petty. But he would find it difficult to not remember this conversation if Sicarius or his men were ever in need of similar treatment as you. Perhaps he would never act upon it, but he will always remember.

With haste he struggles to remember a time he used last he makes his way to where you've been brought aboard the Macragge's honour; Bruised and cut but not much worse for wear. They've already brought this planet and it's denizens to heel, but if they had more time he would consider far worse for what they've done to you. Your wrists are still clearly raw from being chained, something that makes him grind his teeth when he notices.

But Sicarius was at least partly correct; They are needed to protect against a tyranid hive fleet, and can stay no longer.

Guilliman quickly gestures for his men to leave you both alone, and they do without pause, leaving you and him alone in the hanger in which you both stand.

Once they're gone the primarch falls to his knee with ease, and his armoured hands rise to cup your face.

"You have no idea how happy I am that you are unharmed."

His hands hold your face tightly, covering your jaw with how large they are compared to you. You smile weakly. You must be tired, but your eyes are still so bright, and your smile feels like it warms his cold, old heart.

"I'm so glad to be back with you. And I imagine you'll be better company than my captors," His face stiffens up, but he's still soft.

"You shouldn't be joking about this, you could've been killed."

You raise a hand to hold against his own gauntlet- a gesture he can feel a ghost of despite having no skin on skin contact - before reaching forward to tuck a piece of limp blonde hair behind his ear. He needs a bath, his hair is messy and limp from being in his helmet so often, but now isn't the time to say.

"You do enough of the seriousness for me. I need to balance it out; For both our sake." Guilliman shakes his head and lets out a defeated laugh.

"They wanted to leave you behind. I was considering saying damn it all to this worthless Imperium just to go get you myself." You can't contain your surprise. The Imperium is all you've ever known, how could anyone just leave it all behind?

"You're the Lord Regent, you would abandon the Imperium for-"

"I would, yes." He says with no hesitation, looking right at you. "I have no interest in saving an Imperium without you in it." He ends the conversation with that, and moves to pick you up.

"Lets go. I want to make sure you are well."

You can't make a fuss; He's made up his mind and you have no choice but to go along, holding on and relaxing in his arms as he walks off.

[miniy00ng1]

Bad Hand

Five Hargreeves x Female!reader

wc: 1576

warnings: swearing, angst?, death (kinda), lmk if i missed anything

find my masterlist here

hi everyone! this is my first piece that ive ever published on tumblr! im a little nervous bc i dont think its that great but i thought id give it a go! sorry for any grammar errors and please give me feedback! thank you <3

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

Ever since you met The Umbrella Academy, your life has been anything but normal–even though you are. Like any other pubescent kid, you admired them and their super abilities. Never imagining in any timeline becoming apart of their mess of a family. And now you couldn’t imagine a world without them.

You remember the day you met the super family. They had saved your life during a bank robbery gone wrong. The siblings came to save the citizens in the bank and managed to disarm every robber except for one. One had gotten away and grabbed onto the closest person they could–you. Your mother yelled and cried when you were pulled away from her.

And you were terrified to say the least. As the robber had his arm wrapped tightly around your neck and a gun pressed to your head you thought it was your last few moments on earth. “You freaks better stop fucking moving or I’m blowing her brains out!” The robber yelled. The Umbrellas stopped in their tracks. 

The siblings eyed each other. Communicating without speaking, their plan was set into motion. Allison shouted at the robber to distract him while Diego had thrown two knives in the robbers direction. One knocking the gun out of the robber’s hand and the other landing into his flesh. 

A bright blue flash appeared next to you and then you felt a rush of motion. You closed your eyes to stop the upcoming wave of nausea from the adrenaline of the situation. Not even noticing you were being held in someone’s arms. A comforting hand was rubbing up and down your arm and whispering calmly that you were safe. 

From then on you were always grateful for the Hargreeves siblings. You had stayed in touch with them and had grown close to them even as they grew apart. You were devastated when Five had disappeared, taking it the hardest as you had grown very fond of the boy who had comforted you during your traumatic event. You were even there for the family when Ben had died.

But now, the world was ending in three days, yet again, and no ones figured out how to stop it. You’ve done it before, in Dallas and the original timeline, but now as everyone has split off and accepted their fate you too start to question if it’s time to give up. 

You glance around from the white table you’re sitting at. Today is Luther’s wedding and  it’s beautiful, although rushed–there’s music, delicious food, and a relaxing atmosphere. Almost as if we have all the time in the world. The thought of losing this family for a third time makes your heart ache. You love them all.

There’s one Hargreeves that you feel differently towards in comparison to the familial love that you have for the rest of the family. Five Hargreeves, stuck in his teenage body after returning home from his apocalypse, was swaying by his lonesome on the dance floor drunk as could be. 

A sinking feeling settles in your stomach, clearly he has given up on trying to save the world–and if anybody had a chance of saving humanity, it would be him. Tears well up in your eyes at the thought of losing everyone you love. You get up in a haste needing to be alone as soon as possible. You head outside for a breath of fresh air, yet another thing that you’ll miss in three days. 

You find yourself quite emotional and you’d like to blame your raging hormones. While  returning from Dallas and escaping the apocalypse a second time, your body had an odd reaction seeing as you were not super like The Umbrella Academy and returned back to its teenage form.  It was quite a shock to everyone but the shock wore off fairly quickly when they were confronted by The Sparrow Academy.

The streets were quiet as you sat on the curb, hands enveloping your knees as you try to comfort yourself. It’s just you out there for a couple of minutes before you hear the door of Hotel Obsidian slamming open. 

Stumbling out comes a drunk Five, uttering nonesense and staggering towards you. “Hey! Y/N! You’re missing the party come back inside!” He hollers as he makes his way to the curb. You don’t respond as he stumbles to sit next to you, the stench of alcohol entering your nose. “Great party am I right?” He laughs out loud. You glance up at him to find him staring at you eyes half closed with a drunk haze clouding his eyes.

“Sure is Five. You seem like you’re enjoying yourself.” You respond glumly, returning your gaze the the empty road. “What’s wrong Y/N? Did you not like the steak they served? It was a bit tough if I do say so myself. But who am I to complain? I’ve had worse food in the apocalypse.” Five chuckles to himself, remembering the days he struggled to survive.

Anger starts to bubble inside of you as you stand up and start to pace,“This isn’t some joke Five. I’m about to lose everyone I love and not a single person inside of that damned hotel gives a shit. Including you.” Five’s faces hardens in response, your outburst seems to have sobered him up in no time.

Five joins you in standing, his nostrils flaring in frustration,“You think I haven’t tried my damn hardest to find a way out of this mess Y/N? Do you think I enjoy knowing that my family is going to die in three days? That you’re going to die. Everytime, I find myself in some apocalypse bullshit and everytime I have to fix it. Me! I’m so sick of trying and trying and nothing that I do works. So maybe, just maybe this time I don’t do anything and let everybody else deal with it because nothing I do ever seems to help!” Five turns away running a hand through his hair before shoving his hands in his pocket.

“I would do anything to live a normal life. To experience the many things I missed out on while I was gone. I want to be a moody teen and a messy 20-something year old. I want to go to experience the ups and downs of a relationship with the woman I love…” Five trails off glancing back at you, “But I’ve been dealt a shitty hand in life, haven’t I?” Five makes his way back to the hotel and you let him, too stunned to call out for him.

The following morning after Luther and Sloane’s wedding, you’re emotionally drained. You spent the whole night in your hotel room thinking about what Five said and how you should apologize. You were so selfish to not consider how he’s been to hell and back, multiple times. 

You head to the lounge area in the lobby, still deep in thought going over all the possible outcomes of your apology. Five, Diego, and Luther are seated at the bar in a hushed conversation as you approach. Tapping Five on the shoulder you ask if you can speak with him in private. He glances at you and says, “No. I have no need to speak with you. I have important matters to address.”

Out of all the things that could of happened, this was not something you considered. You were flabbergasted, hurt even. You knew you were selfish last night, but for him to not even give you the time of day to hear you out. “Woah there Five, you’re being a little harsh there to little Y/N.” Diego says, obviously caught off guard by Five’s attitude change towards you. 

“No, I’m not. I have nothing to say to her nor do I want to hear anything she says.” You try and shrink yourself smaller than you already are. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you as you mutter a quick apology and immediately beeline to the elevator. As the doors close you let yourself go. This is not how you wanted to spend your last days.

In the elevator, you begin to get a weird tingling sensation enveloping your body. Unsure if it’s the feelings from the interaction you just had with Five, you rush down the hallway to your hotel room as soon as the elevator doors open. A wave of nausea washes over you and panic sets in. This must be it. Everyone has slowly been disappearing and now it’s your turn.

Your hands shake as you struggle to open the hotel door with your keycard. You get a glimpse of yourself as you pass by a mirror in the room and it’s not good. Tears blur your vision as reality sets in. You’ll never get the chance to apologize to Five, you’ll never get to see any of the Hargreeves again, it’s over.

On the desk in the hotel room lies a notepad and pen. This is how you let them know. Let them know how much you care and how you’ll miss them. How much you love him and how you wish you could’ve lived a life with him that he yearned for. You try to write as much as possible to The Umbrella Academy but you only have so much time before–

POP

You’re gone. The only thing left is a half written note left for the Hargreeves siblings to find.

[uyuartik]

promises, promises

Aaron Hotchner x f!reader

warnings:nothing actually, just fluff, aaron is barely there tbh, but it makes sense no worries, suggestive themes

A/N: first time posting on tumblr and first time writing about criminal minds! i made this in a hurry, and it's been a while since i used this format, so feel free to correct any mistakes you see. likes and reblogs are very much encouraged, i can't wait to hear your comments. hope you like it!

hope you like it, @eveningserenityyy

crossposted on ao3

When you both returned home from a hard case, all you ever wanted was him. 

You didn’t care how late it was, or how exhausted you two were. Unfortunately, like the last couple of days didn't consume your every waking hour, you weren't totally free once it was over. The flight was long enough to leave your hands itching for a touch, your legs bounced with the urge to carry you to his side. Your eyes were fixated on him, ogling his broad shoulders and strong arms that were pronounced even under his suit. Not to mention the fact that with the effect he had on you would remain unsolved for some time, you couldn't just use this time to take a nap. You'd surely dream, or talk during your sleep, and reveal what should remain private. He was kind enough to show his interest by placing a hand on your thigh during the car ride, though that somehow made things worse as it stayed in the same spot, leaving you to only imagine all the things you’d do once you got home.

But, being the Aaron Hotchner he is, with all his previous cognizance and secret smiles, now he didn’t seem to share your amusement. Not immediately. 

Because when he closed the door behind his back (carrying both of your small suitcases, gentlemen as ever), you were quick to cage him against the same door, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him with the accumulated lust of the previous week. He didn’t reject the initiation, kissing you back with probably half of your enthusiasm, but it was enough to make you moan, and cause him to smile, which you felt more than actually see. One hand was wrapped around your waist, the other in the process of depositing the luggages safely against the wall, but then the now free hand didn’t find its way to you, so you pressed your bodies, reaching in for another kiss. It was in this moment that he held your chin, and said the words that crushed your spirit.

“Take care of yourself, and then I’ll come and take care of you.”

You huffed and whined, grinding on him harder and attempting to convince him with your lips, all fallen to deaf ears as he peppered a kiss to your wrist, and unhooked himself from it, leaving you to stand there. Seeing that you were actually stunned, he called your name with a look that emphasized his words. There was a certain authority to his voice, but the type solely reserved for the ones he loves, a warning that comes from wishing the best for you. Now, it was also laden with a subtle neediness. If you were a little less tired, you'd have been more adamantine in your venture, and you'd succeed, an undeniable probability. Who was he to resist, if you fell to your knees here-

So, with an exaggerated sigh, you stripped out of your jacket, purposely throwing it to the nearest surface. Aaron laughed(you can swear it echoed in the house, the warmth of it bouncing off of the walls and finding its way inside your belly), taking in your attitude as you carried yourself to the kitchen for a handful of snacks and a big glass of water. The next stop was the bathroom, where you brushed your teeth under the tired gaze of your reflection. What was the point of having a shower if you had to take another in a few hours? 

Okay, that was a little gross, but considering the somnolescent effects of the hot water, your battle on the verge of being lost and that irritated you beyond reason, to say the least.

After all that (which took no more than twenty minutes thanks to your work habits, yet it felt so much longer), you opted for his favorite t-shirt and a pair of panties. The t-shirt was another attempt to get him mad, because you knew he'd choose this one in this particular night, and now he couldn't. However, you quickly realised it was not the case, as he finally made his way to bed. You didn't open your eyes, just feeling the dip of the mattress as he settled behind you, pulling you towards his very naked chest. The newly changed sheets (subtle bastard, he was) crinkled under your movement, a sensation you ravished, especially since he was there too.

“You’re too late.” You slurred, too tired even to react when his wet hair rubbed against your skin. His scent was intoxicating, and it was all you could breathe while he buried himself into your neck, starting his sweet assault. His fingers slithered up your leg, creating a tingly route. You squirmed under all the affection he showed, for it was a lot for your poor nerves to handle, and somehow, found yourself pressed to him even closer. Your breathing picked up, and this time, he let himself mirror your reaction. He groaned, his hand now just below your breasts, under his t-shirt. Damn, you were cute with your eyes closed and brows scrunched, weakly holding onto his arm yet strong enough to wriggle your hips against him.

“You’ll see I am a man of my word.”

[corpsebasil]

hi!! since your requests are open I was wondering if you could write a nikolai x a grisha reader that can summon the dead -> when someone from the palace finds out they try to kill her/get rid of her and nikolai tries to keep her safe since she's not evil or harmful <3 tumblr sadly won't let me make this post anonymously idk why though

I can indeed bestie

The Grisha had never seen such power.

They murmured curses and prayers under their breath as she passed in chains, her head held high, refusing to do anything besides look down her nose at the people she’d saved in the battle against the Darkling.

Hundreds. Hundreds of people still lived and breathed thanks to her gift of Summoning. Sure, the Sun Summoner was a Saint thanks to her light, and the Darkling had been revered for centuries for his darkness. But she. She was something different, and had never used her power as a weapon before that day.

“Witch.” A Grisha snarled as she passed, no matter the fact that the word in itself was derogatory towards the Grisha. She turned her head slowly, locking eyes with the man.

“What did you call me?” She asked, voice heavenly in its softness, and his face blanched.

“Y/N—” a hand grasped her arm, the guards around her bristling as the intruder interrupted her path to the dais. Towards the execution that would surely follow. “I’m going to get you out of this. I swear it.”

Prince Nikolai’s eyes were desperate as he stared at you, but a lethal calm had settled through your body, your soul, the minute you had stepped out onto the battlefield. He’d been your lover for the past several months, the fling beginning the moment he’d seen you hiding in the garden, secretly bringing a hawk back to life. The poor thing had been injured and fallen out of a tree, the fall too far for survival, but your steady hands guided it gently from the Afterlife, your heart breaking at the unnecessary loss. The bird loved you, even still, and had perched on your shoulder as you went into war, it’s battle cry vicious when it dove for the enemy Grisha.

“I will accept punishment.” You informed the prince, unused to any show of wild emotion from him. Sure, he’d flirted with you since he’d met you, and was a merciless tease, but the bedroom is where you got the know His Highness very, very well. Hours and hours of lips and tongues and hands, although you always kicked him out after, to his chagrin. “Do not insult me by causing a scene.”

He looked hurt, watching with a panicked expression as you stepped closer to the Queen. She still had the authority until the prince was crowned and, though he had sway, the ultimate decision would be her own. Her last decree, if anything; a last stand to power.

“Do you admit to the crimes against the world you committed during the battle against General Kirigan?” The queen demanded, watching with a sneer as the guards forced Y/N onto her knees.

The girl cocked her head, as if listening to something. She’d always heard the whispers of the fallen, and now they urged her on. Gave her strength.

“I do.” She said calmly, too calmly, and the queen shifted in her seat.

Y/N had walked out onto that battlefield, hawk perched on her shoulder, and Nikolai had balked. He felt fear, genuine fear, when the girl had clasped her hands together and then threw her arms out, raising them above her hand with a clawing motion. As if she was pulling something out of the ground. As if she was Summoning—

The Grisha had screamed, some even wept, as hands shot from the Earth, dragging themselves free from the dirt’s confines. And Y/N had moved forward, flanked on each side by an army, an army, of over a thousand dead Grisha, still able to use their power against the enemy. The opposite side of the war had balked; most ran in outright terror, some fainted, but a few brave souls tried to stand their ground.

But how can you kill the dead?

Afterwards, amid the silence, Y/N had stood still as her army of undead warriors dipped their heads to her, grateful for one last chance to defend their country and home. And when she blew a magic enhanced breath towards them, her hands guiding the air, they vanished in a cloud of smoke and ash, their journey back to the underworld commenced.

She’d been arrested the moment she arrived back at the palace, not even allowed the time to clean up before she was dragged into the throne room. Dark magic, they claimed. Forbidden. Nevermind that she had saved their sorry asses.

“And what—” the queen asked, glaring down at her. “do you think is an appropriate punishment for your…heresy?”

“Is it heresy to save your Grisha?” She mused, eyes narrowing further. “I have used my gifts to defeat the Darkling. I am—”

“Your gifts?” The queen’s tone was mocking and Y/N bristled. “I hope that you mean your curse.”

“It is a gift, Your Majesty.“ She insisted, even as she met the queen’s hateful glare with her own. “Do not mistake me for weak. I do not apologize.”

The queen thrust her hand out abruptly, pissed, and pointed to the nearest guard.

“Bring her head to me.” The queen snarled, and Y/N, despite herself, tensed with fear when the guard approached, sliding his sword out.

Her heart stopped as she swallowed, trying to ignore the blade and what it would feel like striking her neck.

“You will not.” Nikolai lunged forward out of the crowd, stepping into the guard’s path. “She protected you. Defended you.” This he said to the Grisha, his savage glare upon them. “You would allow one of your own to die over—over fear?” He spat on the floor, at the queen’s feet, and his mother recoiled. “The gift for saviors is death, is it?” His tone became deadly, eyes narrowed even as Y/N gaped up at him in surprise. “Then kill me, too. Because I have known of her power for months, and have never feared it.”

Y/N knew that was a lie, knew that he’d flinched when she’d summoned the Grisha, but… could he mean it when he said he believed her innocence? Could the prince of Ravka somehow save her?

“This witch has blinded you.” His mother said, glaring down at the pair. “You do not know what you say.”

“I know she saved hundreds of Grisha.” Nikolai pushed, voice hard. “I know that she hasn’t used her power, has repressed it, until it was completely necessary. I know that I care about her, and if you kill her, you will not have a king to succeed you.”

The queen blanched, Y/N’s mouth hanging open in shock, as Grisha murmured to themselves in the crowd. Nikolai turned and met his lover’s stare with a look of sorrow, before glaring back up at the queen.

“Kill her,” he warned, pointing a damning finger at the queen. “and I’ll follow right after her into the afterlife. I will not live in a world without her.” Then he smirked, half-heartedly, tossing his eyes to his Grisha lover. “Perhaps she’d pull us both back from death if she tried.”

The queen’s face was red hot, but she stood, waving the guards away. When she spoke, her voice weakened, and something in Nikolai relaxed. He’d almost seen the love of his life’s head taken off, for Saints sakes.

“I see you have chosen your side.” She accused him, her expression tight. “Fine. Spare the girl. But if she’s caught meddling with the dead again…” the silent threat was enough. Y/N bristled but stood, inclining her head in the most insignificant motion of deference possible that the queen almost changed her mind.

And so Y/N stood, head high as the guards unlocked her binds, before she strode quickly and stoically out of the throne room.

-

She’d taken one step into her room before her face crumpled, her knees giving out as she slid onto the floor. Her hawk, watching from its perch on the windowsill, clicked its beak at her as if in question.

She wiped her tears away with her hands and heaved for breath, her fear of almost being beheaded gripping her entire body. And then a knock sounded, the door opening slowly as a person moved into the room. He sat on the floor beside her, not speaking, just offering her his company as she calmed herself down.

“Thank you.” She whispered, sniffing as she turned her head to look at him. Nikolai’s expression was pained, full of sorrow and something warmer, and her heart seized a bit inside her chest. “For…saving me.”

“Thank you for saving us.” He murmured, reaching out to hold her hand in his own. He took a deep, steadying breath, before looking up at her. “I will find you somewhere. Somewhere nice to—to live.” He swallowed. “Did you know I own a house not even half an hour away from here? Lovely place. There’s even a small pond you could swim in.”

“Nikolai, I cant—”

“You don’t have to stay here. Not after being so thoroughly disrespected.” His blue eyes were sad, but a small smile still appeared on his face. He had threatened to…to follow her if she was executed. She felt her breathing grow shallow as he spoke, still holding her hand in his own. “Although I will miss you. But I can visit on weekends, or—”

She moved forward, gripping his jacket as she pressed her mouth to his, a tear slipping down her cheek as she kissed him. And when she pulled away, running a thumb down his cheek, she shook her head.

“Where you go, I go.” She promised, absentmindedly wiping the moisture off her face. “If you want to stay here, to live here, then I’ll stay with you.” She smiled shyly, absorbing the look of adoration he was giving her. “You’ll be king. No one can hurt me but you.”

“Never.” He swore, tugging her close as he placed a soft kiss to her mouth. “I’d never hurt you.”

She believed him. And then her thoughts turned mischievous.

“You know what you can do to console me after my near death experience?” She teased, amusement washing over his features as he raised an eyebrow.

“What might that be?” He asked, feigning confused even as he pulled her onto his lap. So she leaned in, murmuring a couple of words into his ear, and the mumbled curse that left his lips made her laugh. And then she squeaked in surprise as he lifted her, locking the door before tossing her onto her bed.

hello I hope this is something like what you wanted

[chasedbyatlantic]

when you wash your hair, joel miller

summary: IN WHICH — you decide to surprise a sleeping joel after you've been working all day outside of jackson's walls, but it doesn't go as you plan.

warnings: gender neutral x joel miller, post outbreak!joel, jackson!joel, mentions of you and joel in a relationship, sub!joel, joel has ptsd, joel almost hurts reader (doesn't tho so dw!), lots of fluff at the end, cute ending, lots of swearing, ellie being annoying as per usual LOL. lmk if there’s anything i missed <3

wordcount: 2.6k

a/n: hiiii this is my very first fic on tumblr! i have been obsessed w/ tlou for the LONGEST time now so why not start writing for my fav fictional mass murderer? anyway- hope u guys enjoy! i plan to post a ton more so stay tuned xoxo

—

You had just finished an ungodly long shift along the outskirts of Jackson, keeping everyone inside safe from- well, whatever lay outside (scary squirrels, mostly). It had been so different since you arrived, with Joel and Ellie. For starters, you weren't kept on edge every single second of every single day - Joel was, which you always got pissed at him for, since you two were more than safe inside these walls. There was also the fact that life had sort of just- resumed, after twenty years of fighting for your life. It was alright, though, a sense of normalcy was nice, even if it were to only last for a little while (you were hoping it lasted forever).

As soon as you were inside the gates of Jackson, you rode over to the stables in which your horse, Leo, was housed at. The big wooden doors were opened by a stable hand that looked no older than Ellie, maybe she knew who this was, you thought to yourself.

You had slid the kid a small "thank you." as they closed the door behind you, and you hopped off Leo. You reached in your bag and scrounged for a second, before pulling out an apple core, the remains of the apple you had eaten earlier. "Here boy," your hand raised towards the horse's snout with the leftovers in-palm, and he took it as if it were the best thing in the world.

Leo munched away while you swapped his bridle for a halter and lead, tugging him to his freshly-mucked stall. He had walked over to his water bucket and you moved with him, undoing his girth and removing his saddle. It was hoisted over your arm as you moved out and locked his stall. "Excuse me," You called over to the stable hand that had let you in as you put all of his tack on the stand in front, "Do you mind brushing him down for me? I've had a long day and gotta get home quick."

The kid nodded their head eagerly, which had earned a smile from you. You weren't lying about having a long day or needing to get home quick - besides, you had always stayed after your shifts, right now you were just craving to see your favourite person (and a warm bath too, you had guessed).

You had removed your gloves as you took one last glimpse at your boy before you left him to be taken care of by the stable hand. As you walked out of the stable, you were greeted with a nice breeze. It wasn't exactly winter yet, but it sure as hell wasn't summer. Autumn was close on finishing, which only meant the days were getting longer.

It took you a mere twenty five minutes to walk back to the Miller residence. If you had a little pep in your step, it would've taken no longer than fifteen. But, being up since before sunrise has its cons. Anyway, it isn't your fault that Tommy and Maria (Joel's brother and new sister-in-law) placed you guys in the farthest house literally ever.

As you approached closer to the home, you could see the familiar little (she would kill you if she heard you describe her as little) girl. The girl took notice of you too, "Fucking finally!" Ellie had kicked up her skateboard, grabbing the tip of it, and came running over. "Jesus Christ, I thought you had got eaten by like- fucking bigfoot out there!", She seemed to be only half-joking.

"I was not eaten out there, Ellie." You sigh as you messed her hair up slightly with your hand, "Is Joel still out on patrol?" You had asked the girl. Her face dropped, earning an "ugh!" from her. "You two love birds are gross. You should care more about me than him! He's a frail, broken, old man while I'm a super cool, and totally awesome young person." You rolled your eyes, an automatic laugh escaping your lips. "Another half an hour out here, Elle. It's almost sundown- and please be careful, for fuck sakes. I don't want to be popping your kneecap back in place because of a fall off that- board."

You weren't Ellie's mom, and you didn't mean to take any place of a motherly figure in her life - it just, sort of happened. After what had happened in Salt Lake City a year ago, and you had fought for Ellie back alongside Joel, you couldn't help but grow so much more attached to her- you and Joel both. This is when your motherly instincts (you were never a mother, not before or during this apocalyptic world) kicked in. You both shared a special bond, one that would never be broken, despite the cruel world you both live in.

A small grunt and a "fine" escaped the girl's lips as she flips her board down and kicks off down the street. You shake your head with an almost disapproving look and walk down the rest of the block to your home. A small smile plays upon your lips as you approach the house with a mailbox at the bottom of the driveway that reads "MILLER". Your last name was not Miller, but you were in a relationship with a Miller, so that could maybe, in the slightest, count as your name too.

Your hand brushed past the rusted metal box as you walk up the paved drive way, you're excited to see Joel. Hell, it feels like it's been an eternity since you've seen that man - when in reality, it's only been since this morning. You climb up the wooden stairs at the front of your porch and remove your boots before entering the house - this saved horrid amounts of mud that would scatter in the small foyer of your home. Once your feet are out of your dirty boots, you silently enter the home.

The door was never locked, not when Joel knew you or Ellie weren't home. You didn't know why he kept it unlocked- maybe in case something had happened and you needed to get home fast, or in case you would lose your keys while out and about. It wasn't that big of a deal, though; nobody else lived in this part of the town (besides Tommy and Maria, who were distant neighbours).

It was dead silent when you entered, too eery for your liking. "Joel?" You called out as you shrugged off your autumn layers. No response. "Joel?" You call out once again, moving to where you had seen the light. You approached tip-toeing, starting to get a bit on edge. Joel was always there to greet you when you got home, unless he had patrol duty himself. As soon as you step foot in your living room, all of the previous worries you had melted away as you saw your favourite person curled up on the arm chair, sitting back and mouth open slightly. You wish you had a camera, god a polaroid of this would be amazing.

You approached him, quiet as ever, sliding the sleeves of your soft-knit sweater over ninety percent of your hands. You had brought your face closer to Joel's once you were close enough. The smell of his vanilla and rose scented shampoo had engulfed you. Joel said he hated it (in reality, he definitely did not), but if it made you love him a little more, he would wash his hair with it.

"You're perfect, you know that." You whisper to him, even though he was sound asleep. From the faded freckles over the bridge of his nose from being out in the sun too much this summer, to the small scars that littered his forehead from years of just surviving, he was perfect.

You breathed hushly as you moved your hands up to his face, to cup his cheeks. You thought it was perfect, for him to wake up to you (as if he didn't every morning) at this moment. You knew he missed you when he wasn't with you, he told you multiple times. This would be a nice thing to make his day slightly better, you had thought. Your fingers made soft contact with the flesh on his face - but, this is where it all went wrong.

Joel had shot up from the deep (well, you thought deep) sleep he was in and grabbed the hands that were touching his face. It hadn't registered to him that it was actually you who was touching his face, and not a clicker, or a raider, or anything else. Rage and a sense of fear filled his eyes as they shot opened, eyebrows furrowed as they looked around frantically - he was ready to fight.

A loud grunt and an "ow." escaped your lips once your hands were grabbed and yanked. It had happened within a blink of an eye. You weren't exactly in the mood for getting manhandled in this current moment, but here you were. "Joel- hey, hey, it's just me. You're okay." You spoke quick, trying to pry him off your hand.

It was now that his eyes had met yours, and it took him a moment (which felt like eternity) to process it was you. "Baby.." His grip immediately loosened and his eyes fell. He looked horrified, at himself rather than anything. "M'sorry." There was a tone in his voice that made him sound ashamed, like he had just broken bad news to someone he loved.

"Don't apologize to me, Jesus Christ." You spoke almost too fast and brought your hand to his face again, you felt bad for scaring him awake- your plan had massively backfired. It took Joel a minute before he melted into the touch of your hand in his cheek, something he will only do when it is only you and him around each other. "Shouldn't have been sleepin' while you weren't home." He muttered, his eyes looking everywhere but at yours.

Your heart ached, he shouldn't feel like this- fuck, you're so stupid for doing this you thought to yourself. "Don't apologize baby, hey-" You brought his focus to you, and only you, "-listen, you're alright, okay? We're safe here, you know. I'm safe, Ellie's safe, you're safe." You reassured the man in front of you. "If you want to sleep all day without a care in the world, you can do it."

Joel was being extremely vulnerable right now- and he knew that you sensed it. This part of him never came out, he was always the strong one in the relationship (not that you weren't, he just had that aura linked to him). Your finger rubbed back and forth over his cheek. "M'sorry for waking you from your nap- I was just too jealous of how peaceful you looked. All comfortable in your blue sweater.." your eyes started to trail down his body right in front of you, "-your sweatpants.." you snapped yourself out of the trance you had fallen in, your eyes reaching back up to Joel's.

He was just quiet, in his own thoughts. "Ya'know I love you." you told him. He looked like he snapped out of his own thoughts once you said this to him, the smallest smile known to man appearing on his face (it was genuine, though). "I know, darlin'." This was your cue, you reached forward and placed your lips onto Joel's. Now this, this was home- god, you could've had your lips on his all day for eternity. Joel melted into the kiss, and placed one of his hands on your thighs.

Things had got heated between the two of you within seconds, suddenly the positions were switched and you were straddling Joel on the armchair in your living room. It wasn't until you tore apart from his lips that it hit you. "Ellie’s going to be home soon, baby. We can't have her catching us like this- not again." You tell him as you catch your breath. His lips find your neck, he only hummed in response. After a moment of no proper response from him, you tap his shoulder, "Seriously, Joel!". He had grunted, basically forcing himself off of you. "So let her see us, not like she don't know 'bout it." He muttered, leaning back in the chair you two were in. "Oh, suddenly you're mister PDA?" You asked as you got up, stretching.

He said something under his breath that you couldn't catch, but chose not to pressure him about it. "But hey.." You grab his hand and help him up, "Maybe you could help me in the shower, hm? Let me borrow some o' that good smellin' shampoo ya' got? Wash my hair for me?” Your eyes met his, a smile completely lighting up your entire face. "I'on mind, doll. Maybe you could help me with a few things too," He reaches down, pressing a wet kiss onto your lips.

You take this as the perfect time to slip your fingers between his, and lead him up to the second floor of your large house. Even though you had completely scared the shit out of Joel earlier, and you thought you were a dead man for a split second, he forgave you. He always forgives you - this is why you love him.

Joel had promised you that he would always stay, no matter what had happened between you two. After years of being together, through your ups and your downs, through your serious arguments and your little scares (like this), he was yours. Joel was always yours, and you were always his.

You two come laughing down the stairs, completely soaked from the shower you had taken together. Joel was back in the clothes he wore when you got home, and you were changed into one of his shirts and a pair of sleeping shorts you had. He had his hand in yours as you lead him down the stairs. Before you could even step foot on the first floor, an "ew!" was yelled by a familiar voice.

"That is fucking disgusting- I cannot believe it! I can't leave you two together for more than thirty minutes before you turn into fucking rabbits. I may as well start thinking about names for the baby!" Ellie over exaggerates, acting completely disgusted from you and Joel holding hands.

Joel shoots Ellie a death glare as he drops his hand from yours momentarily, about to open his mouth before you interrupt. "Do I need to send you to your room, or something? You're so fucking crazy Elle!" You had let the little nick name slip out of your mouth, "You know I would never do anything unholy under the same roof as you." Well, you weren't lying. You and Joel never did it while Ellie was there, you didn't want anyone hearing what happened while you two were alone.

"Don't care, that's gross! Dinner is already made, I am GOING TO BED!" She had yelled as she was already half way up the stairs to her room on the second floor. Joel's hand snaked around your waist from behind as you tsk. "We got stuck with the most batshit crazy kid, I'm telling you."

Joel's hand tightens a smudge when you say that, "I love her though, and you I guess." He rests his head between the crook of your neck and slightly lets go once you add that. Even after the little bicker between the teenager, you couldn't help but smile to yourself.

Even though you were in the midst of an apocalypse, life couldn't have been anymore good to you. They gave you Joel, and you were content - more than content - with it.

—

when you wash your hair, matt maltese

[thatwritterbeach]

About that alley .7

^^ me trying to get this story back on its og track but it keeps writting itself and straying

jason Todd x ofc Alex

dc masterlist

Unedited***Also I swear Tumblr is messing up my spelling on purpose cuz everytime I re-read something I know I fixed it's wrong again

Alex: short, curvy, red hair, green eyes, redheads go through pain meds way faster than normal people to the point I personally don't even take them, it's a joke, they last 30 min at best

Summary: Alex finds out her bf is red hood, after she spills some not so great secrets to the masked man while stitching him up.

Warnings: Vaginismus* angst, sexual assault, self-harm, depression, drug use by Alex, violence, cursing, NSFW, self-hate, insecurities, eating disorder, weight loss, smut smuttety smut, oral fem rec', face sitting, over stimulation, Jason being a horny bastard, Jason is the best at oral get in line to fight me on that. This part writter with a little bluetooth keyboard so sorry for typos

A/N: I do not own dc booho

not my gif^^

"Babe!"

"Yeah?"

"Can I please go out," Alex shouted down the long hallway of their hideout.

"No," Jason called back.

"I'll let you eat me out!"

"You'll fucking what," He shouted excitedly appearing in front of her.

"Well you keep saying-"

"That I don't care if you can't pleasure me but it would be an honor to have my face between your thighs for eternity?"

"That and-"

"That I would do anything you asked if you sat on my face or rode my thigh."

"Yes, so if you let me go out, or go out with me, cuz I'm bored, I will let you eat me out, in a position of your choice."

"Really, any position," he all but squealed doing a little happy dance.

"well-"

"No take backs."

"When we get back, not before," she said, holding out her pinkie which he looped with his. She'd been in this cave like safe house for two full weeks, and she'd read every book in the place plus the ones he'd brought back for her, but she was going a little stir crazy. The food was ok, the bed wasn't hard, she was safe, she knew she shouldn't complain, but come on, did he really think the bats would take her again. Alex rolled her eyes at Jason practically skipping away to get ready to go out, she followed behind a bit slower to get dressed.

Jay took her out to eat, to the bookstore, a small clothing shop, then dragged her into a toy shop with an evil gleam in his eye. She'd perused the shelves with light interest but was content to let him pick out a few things. He found a dark red bullet vibe, a light pink butterfly vibe, and much to her amusement a fuzzy pair of cuffs.

"For me," he said with a wink while they were being scanned. They took the long way back so she could stretch her legs but far too soon they were back in the boringness and she sighed while he plugged in the new toys.

"I'm gonna shower, do you want me to shave or..."

"Nope, want ya just the way ya are, princess."

She used her good sugar scrub, and vanilla scented lotion then tied her hair into a braid with shaky hands. Knowing it would be off in seconds she didn't bother to pick out anything pretty, just threw one of his shirts on with nothing underneath. Deep breath in, and out, in, and out. Head up, shoulders back and walk. Jason was sitting on the bed in his boxers scrolling on his phone but he looked up with a loving smile when she entered.

"Can I request the shirt stay," she asked looking anywhere but him.

"If it'll make you more comfortable," he said tossing his phone to the side and reaching out to pull her to him. He buried his face in her stomach just breathing her in for a moment.

"How do you-I mean where should I..."

"I would love for you to sit on my face but we can work up to that, just lay on your back, sweets," he said into her shirt. She combed her fingers through his hair then grabbed the strands to pull him back a bit, careful not to hurt him. She kissed his forehead and stepped away to climb on the bed. He smirked at her when she adjusted the shirt for modesty as she got situated but when she started to say something he lowered himself over her to capture her mouth in a slow loving kiss. Her brain gave a heavy, dreamy sigh, and all worry left. One strong arm was holding him up while the other was holding her, gentle but firm and so Jason that she melted into the sheets. When she couldn't breathe anymore she broke away panting but he had far more lung power than her and he hardly sucked in a breath before he was peppering her in kisses, her cheeks, he nose, her lips, her throat. Everywhere he could reach without shifting weight or removing the shirt she wanted on. He was intent on foreplay, teasing her with his eyes and his mouth until she was wet without being touched.

"Love you," he said into her skin trailing a hand down her curves to rub her thigh.

"Love you too," she whispered, letting her hands fall from him as he slid down her body. he was huge, she always forgot how big until he was over her, her entire body able to fit in his torso area so when he settled between her legs her hips twinged at the stretch. The mans shoulders were insane and when he looped his arms under her ass to hold her open and against him she felt like a mouse caught by a wolf.

"So pretty," he cooed, nudging the shirt up out of his way. She was working on her breathing while he took her in like a fine painting. One soft slow lick and she jerked away from him, well tried, he had a good grip.

"Easy tiger, haven't even started yet."

A whine forced it's way from the back of her throat. He raised a brow in a silent ' are you sure about this' but she nodded with a shaky smile so he winked and licked again. She didn't jerk this time, but fuck, she'd never felt so good and he'd done almost nothing.

"Hope you drank enough water, gonna keep ya here all day pretty." He punctuated this by spreading her folds and sealing his lips around her clit sucking with enough pressure to make her see stars. Breathing through his nose he kept her bud between his teeth sucking and flicking it with his tongue for at least five minutes until he felt her slick coating his chin.

"Jason," she whined.

"That's my name," he said smoothly. His tongue moved to dip inside her the shallow penetration just starting to hurt and he felt the muscles tense against him so he moved back to her clit. She was giving him the tiniest little moans and he felt on top of the world. With a quick re-adjust he slid his arms out from under her so he could use them to better access her sweet sounds. Using his fingers he spread her folds and moved the hood so her clit was fully exposed and he blew on it.

"Fuck, what the fuck," she whimpered jerking back away from him.

"Never taken the armor off the solider," he asked with a laugh.

"No." He did it again and she gasped. Then he licked and her heart stopped. He laughed again and used one hand to keep her open and the other to tap, tap, tap, slow stroke, swirl, tap.

"F-fuck, why does-Ah!" she interrupted herself when he pinched and rolled. He kept at it, rolling her clit until she was whimpering, begging. She could feel the pressure building, that delicious burn creeping through her.

Right as she was about to cum, the knowledge enough to make her shed a tear it stopped. Jason had doubled his efforts intent on making her orgasm, but it wasn't enough. It was like her body got close and just shut down acting like it didn't feel a thing.

"Sorry, nothing," she told him unable to look him in the eye.

"It's ok, we'll get there." But she knew better, she'd been trying all her life to 'get there' and she was ready to give up.

Some time after they showered and had gotten into comfy clothes Jason opened his mouth to ask her something but closed it when she tilted her head at him.

"What?"

"Why did you fake it before?"

"Fake, what my orgasms?"

"Yeah, I mean I slightly understand why you had sex with me, still not over that, but why fake the o's why not just tell me you struggle with that at least?"

"Jay, I can't do it anyway and on pain killers I lose most of the feeling so there would be no way to get me off, I didn't want you to feel...unmanly, when you couldn't do it."

"I'm not fragile," he snorted in disbelief.

"I'm not saying that, I'm saying...remember when I made those oatmeal cookies cuz you said you wanted to eat cleaner? The recipe was shit, but since I don't eat oatmeal I never tried them and it took me two-ish months to catch your face when you bit into one. You looked pained to be eating it, but you never said a word. Then the cookies magically turned into chocolate chip from then on."

"I don't follow?"

"My orgasm is the cookie and you're the baker, but the cookies are never gonna taste right."

"That's a weird comparison." She shrugged and snuggled her face into his neck.

"Are we gonna be out of here soon?"

"Only if you promise to come to me next time," he said, tapping a spot on her ribs. Shit.

"How'd you know," she asked, lifting her shirt to assure him they weren't infected.

"When I got back the other day you looked like you were about to tell me you were cheating on me. Since I knew that wasn't it the next jump was this." He ran a finger over the scabbed over marks, so gentle, so soft she could have cried.

"I cleaned them," she said like it made it better.

"I know. Need to see what you use, love." Her heart beat skipped.

"Why. It's clean."

"Baby, I know I can't stop you, and I would feel better knwoing what you use than picturing you with shards of glass." She was shaking her head, wiggling away from him and off the bed hands yanking the shirt back down.

"It's just a pocket knife. It's clean and sharp, and-and-" She couldn't breathe again damn it. He couldn't know. She couldn't tell him.

"Alright, it's ok," he whispered sitting up on the bed and not making another move towards her. He assumed she was freaking out because he might take it from her but he was off, way off. She didn't want him knowing she used the knife he gifted her what kind of weirdo does that? It had started out as more of an oops I don't have my other blade, this will have to do for now, but it was a damn good knife, solid handle, razor sharp, the best she'd ever owned and it was on her at all times so she just kept using it until it was the only thing that touched her skin and now... fuck he would blame himself, she knew he would and she couldn't let that happpen. but she didn't have the old blade she used to use, never carried it anymore, she didn't have anything in the hide out but that one. Even if she lied and said she'd only ued it the one time he would 1. feel like shit anyway, and 2. know she was lying because all her marks matched, made by the same blade matched and he was a damn good detective.

"I'm not gonna take it from ya, don't want you to feel like you have to use your finger nails or something,' he tried to use dark humor knowing she prefered it.

"later, when we get back to my place," she assured with a huffed out laugh, a forced laugh.

"I can live with that. ya got any other spots?" Shit, yeah, she'd been bored and alone and her thoughts had run wild when he was gone on patrol, she had at least fifty.

"umm, a few." She didn't alaberate, sure as hell wasn't going to show him and he wasn't pushing, not for now at least. he looked like he was about to ask about them so she did the only thing she could think of and blurted out something reiculous.

"maybe if you used the helmet!"

"uh what?"

"I've always had a mask and helmet kink, and obvi a biker kink so maybe if you fingered me with the mask on, or bent me over your bike, or if I rode your thigh while you were in gear," she rambled, more so to distract him but none of it was a lie.

"You want Redhood to fuck you?" He wasn't aposed, especially if it got her off, hell he'd dress up as santa clause if it helped.

"yeah," she feigned a shy look, well she hoped it looked like she was flustered not like she was about to puke from nerves. he sucked in a breath and fidgeted with his pants for a moment.

"In gear?"

"yeah, sometimes i dream about you coming back from patrol, all sweaty and pissed off, tearing off my pj's and making me ride each of your thighs until I'm begging-" She stopped at the sound he made, the half groan half growl that should have sounded like a threat was like pure molten hottness to her ears and she worried he would make good on that dream here and now.

"You can't tell me things like that. I know you're just trying to distract me."

"thought about being on the front of your bike with one of your arms around me to pin me to you and your other hand in my pants. thought about you bending me ovr the batrhoom sink and watching in the mirror. You spreading me out on the table and eating me for breakfast. Having you inside me all night-" There was that sound again but this time it was accomponied by him flying off the bed to pin her to the nearest wall, her legs around his waste and arms above her head before she blink. If avoiding touchy subject was a sport she would have the gold.

"I dream about my issue not being there so I can have you inside me all the time. Want to sleep with you in me, sit on the couch and watch movies in your lap with you inside me. Straddle you in your big chair with my legs wrapped around you just like this my head on your shoulder while you read your books and act like I'm not whinning for you to move and fuck me senseless."

"Playing a dangerous game here sweets."

"You won't hurt me," she said kissing his nose. " i trust you. Please make me cum?" The request and the 'i trust you' had his head spinning and his mouth watering.

See masterlist for more

[shawol-lisa-lee9]

TSC has been in my greedy hands for almost 48 hours now, and I managed to read it two and a half times already.

So many things to say about it, so little words I have to be able to do that. So, first of all

1) "Neil is such an unreliable narrator" not true, but can we talk about how Jean is just as much as "unreliable", but in a very different way? In the first three books we had a boy who cared so little about anything that wasn't exy (or Andrew) that he just didn't know/notice/cared enough to even acknowledge important things. In TSC we have a boy who knows SO LITTLE about anything in the World after being isolated for such a long time, that he sees everything through a distorted lens, and even when facts are right in front of him he just doesn't get it. They are not unreliable, they were forcefully taught to focus on things different than the whole picture.

2) Jean to me is so much a mixture of kevandreil it hurts me. He went through so much and yet gained so little it hurts. He has the same desperate will to live as Neil, the same "do what you want to me but keep X out of this" as Andrew (+ a lot of traumas), he has so many mental issues only Kevin can understand and a similar attitude. This not to say he's not "original", he's a very different person from the original trio, but he just... Has all of it. He combines other's main visible issues in one single person and it just hurts to see how much he's hurting but still wants and needs to carry on.

3) Neil X Jean scene at the end hits too hard on my heart. I do not presume to know exactly what my Goddess Nora was attempting to do with that, but my mind has found multiple possibilities on why Neil did what he did, and after all the times I read AFTG (which now amount to at least 35 rereads in a span of 3 years) only one has managed to grab my heart and never leave it. So, the main ones:

- As Jean thinks, Neil took care of Grayson because he is valuable in Ichirou's eyes, so Neil felt the need to protect Jean.

- Neil is aware of what Jean went through and is human enough to care for him, now that he knows he's not just a dick, and is willing to make sure Jean feels safe.

- Neil, being the person he is and having seen what Drake did to Andrew's mind, is not going to let Grayson do the same to anyone, especially someone he knows. As someone said here on Tumblr, "Neil is not gonna let a rapist alive if he can".

As I've come to understand the characters, for the first one, not even Neil is that cold that would just care about a person if they are valuable enough to him. In the second hypothesis, Neil is not the type of guy to just care that much about someone outside the foxes lot, but it's still a realistic idea, considering what Jean did for him in TRK. Third scenario, the most realistic and authentic one to me, he's not willing to let anyone get away with forcing themselves on another, even less if it's someone he knows and can do something about it. Which is also the reason why I'm obsessed with this scene and I would pay gold to see it in Neil's pov even when I know it's not possible.

4) Last point for this useless rant, CAN WE TALK ABOUT WYMACK? I swear to god that man is my absolute nightmare (in a good way), I just can't get over how much of a saint he is with those idiotic children he cares for + Jean. I just love him so much. He is rude and raw and can't be truly nice to save his life, but he cares, he cares about them with all his soul and he's not going to leave them alone when they need a helping hand the most.

I kind of wish coach Rhemann was like him, but at the same time I don't because a) if he was he would probably be at PSU, and b) I want him to be a completely different kind of dad to his boys and girls. (but I'm still going to cry on all of his scenes because that man is just too much for me (and for Jean), understanding but not pushing, being respectful of boundaries and "This was the belligerent stare of a man who’d haul Lucas out of there by force if Jean indicated he didn’t want to be alone with him.". )

So, yeah. I'm probably going to read it a third time tonight.

[heejayy]

Shuri U. || Liar

Warning • swearing, suggestive

Genre • lil angst, fluff

Pairing • Shuri x black Fem! Reader

Word Count: 1.4K

A/n: no this isn’t a toxic Shuri fic I’m not good at writing those so don’t get ur hopes up 😭 also I think i broke my tumblr 🫤

You lay on your bed completely heartbroken. Shuri promised you months ago she’d clear her schedule for a full weekend to come visit you on your birthday, but where is she no where to be seen.

[2 hours ago]

“Sooo” you giggled giddily “you still coming for my birthday?” You smile wider knowing the answer.

“Uh about that usana…I can’t make it, there was an emergency outside of the borders with traffickers and they need me.” Well that wasn’t the answer you were hoping to hear.

“Oh- well are they alright?” You asked sadly but still concerned for their wellbeing.

“They will be. We’ve tracked down the hostages and we will rescue them tonight”

“Well I know you’ll get them home safely, but still I want you to stay safe-“

“Ok sthandwa i have to go love you.”

She’s gsaving lives doing something important and I’m moping over her, was all you could think as you drifted to sleep.

She’s gsaving lives doing something important and I’m moping over her, was all you could think as you drifted to sleep.

She’s gsaving lives doing something important and I’m moping over her, was all you could think as you drifted to sleep.

You woke up exhausted feeling like absolute shit, your eyes were red and swollen and your head ached from crying yourself to sleep but hey it’s not a birthday if you don’t cry at least once.

You checked your phone noticing you slept in late- really late. Your eyes flickered to the date reminding you it was your birthday, the big two-one. You wish you were more excited but you weren’t. You were going to cut class and work to hang out with Shuri but oh wait she wasn’t here.

You lazily put together a decent outfit for the day and finished your morning routine even though it was evening time.

As your mind was preoccupied with other things you walked right out of your dorm room down the hall completely missing Riri.

“Damn I was gonna tell you happy birthday but you act like you didn’t even see me” startled you shook your head turning around.

“Ah shit my bad my mind was elsewhere” she frowned, you guessed she knew.

“Yeah she told me she wasn’t gonna make it I’m sorry boo” you waved her off sighing.

“It’s ‘ight” she nodded taking a second to observe your outfit.

“The fuck are you wearing? It’s your birthday not a damn funeral” she said wearing a disgusted look as she stared at you. You frowned looking down at your outfit, you had on black flared leggings, a black long sleeve shirt with red and black vans.

“What I’m just going to class?!” You whined slightly offended. I might as well try to make it to my last class you thought.

“What the hell?! CLASS?! Y/n we’re going out…like now so go change” she spun you around by your shoulders pushing you to your dorm room.

“But what’s the point of going out? My plans are ruined” you sulked stomping down trying to stop her.

“Just because your lover girl isn’t here” she spoke between grunts trying to get you to budge “doesn’t mean you’re having a shitty birthday. No ma’am not on my watch.”

“Ooh yup I like this one- oh yes this one and…oh that’ll look absolutely amazing together!” You sat on the floor picking at your fur rug watching Riri put together your birthday outfit. As much as you appreciated this you still couldn’t bring yourself to celebrate without your girl.

“Come on y/n/n stand up get ready we don’t have all day!” She yanked you up by your arm throwing a bunch of clothes you forgot you had into your arms.

“Ok so I paired that white body con mini dress you had with that beige coat along with those white thigh high boots… oh my-“ she took a pause placing her hand on her chest pretending to cry “you’re gonna look so fucking good” You rolled your eyes slightly laughing at her being dramatic. As you watched her wonder around your room looking for other accessories a concerning thought popped into your head.

“Ri how’d you even get into this building- wait let alone this campus there are no visitors allowed?” she peered at you puckering her lips.

“I might’ve hacked the security system- but it was only to see my favorite girl for her birthday don’t judge me” She rolled her eyes turning back around to finish finding accessories.

While Riri was in her own little world singing, you stared out the window watching all the street lights blends together.

“Oh my god are you gonna wear that long face all night? Y/n cheer up you’re twenty one you’re finally allowed to drink!” You shook her head at her liveliness.

“I don’t drink” your comment was met with a drawn out ‘Lame’ from her.

She swerved into the parking lot behind a moving line of cars out of curiosity your peered out the window reading the bright lit sign.

“Nobu?! NOBU?! Riri we’re two broke college students you think we can afford Nobu?” She rolled her eyes “just get out” You huffed following her lead as she gave her keys to the valet.

She strutted up to the lady behind the reservation desk “excuse me we’re with Ms. Udaku” the hostess nodded smiling “right this way ma’am”

You followed behind them thinking you’ve lost your entire mind, did she say Udaku? Like Shuri Udaku? My Shuri?!

Your questions were quickly answered when you came to a secluded area of the restaurant, and there waited Shuri sitting with a smirk in her face.

“Surprise!” Riri grinned giving you a big hug, you were so out of it you barely hugged her back.

“Wha- I- Shuri!” Shuri’s smiled grew wider as she stood to greet you. “Sthandwa you’d think I’d truly miss your birthday?” She brought you into a tight loving hug. You missed her hugs, so warm, they felt like home. You wrapped your arms around her loving the feeling of being in her arms again. As she pulled away you caught a scent of her perfume, god you could sniff her all day. She smelled like heaven.

“You know I absolutely hate you guys I can’t believe you lied to me” they both shrugged giggling evilly.

“I can’t lie though Shuri, it was hard I almost gave in a few times I mean she was just so hurt” Shuri pouted at Riri’s confession.

“Awe my usana” Shuri cooed pecking your lips, that peck turned into a full kiss and then Shuri found her hand creeping up your thigh.

“Well that’s my cue love birds, I’ll see you at the hotel we can gift give there. Also thanks for the dinner Shuri” Riri said scurrying away before Shuri could say you’re welcome. You giggled watching her leave, but Shuri gently grabbed your chin bringing your attention back to her.

“Don’t look at other women you’ll make me jealous” she gazed at you with sultry eyes as her thumb grazed your bottom lip. You rolled your eyes not even bothering to fight back a flustered smile.

“Don’t think you’re in my good graces cutie, your sweet words and this tennis bracelet isn’t gonna cut it” you said referring to the gift she gave you when you first arrived. Although you couldn’t lie it was beautiful, it was a vine tennis bracelet from Tiffany and Co. and you were positive it costs a pretty penny.

Shuri tilted her head fake pouting “maybe this’ll make up for it?” you felt her place her slide closer up your thigh, the more it crept closer to your heat the wetter you became. You could feel it soaking through your thin panties you wore. “God you look so sexy tonight” she whispered near your ear sending chills down your back. You haven’t seen her in so long you almost forgot how her touch affected you. As your lips were inches apart, you could feel her breath hitting yours and the more you leaned in the more she pulled away. What a tease.

“Would you like dessert to go?” You snatched back looking up at the waitress. She wore a small smirk holding a tray as she piled your dishes on. You blinked rapidly feeling your entire body heat up with embarrassment, damn you forgot where your were.

“Yes please” Shuri calmly answered as if nothing happened. The waitress gave a smile nodding “I won’t take too long.” She winked leaving.

“Oh I so hate you” you muttered still flustered from her.

She chuckled “No you don’t.”

Shuri Masterlist

©heejayy 2023 — any reposts outside of tumblr or translations of my works are strictly prohibited unless granted permission 🤍

Borders- @firefly-graphics

[aftgficrec]

Hi!!! Do you have any recommendations for Kevin/Jeremy/Jean fics? Both more canon compliant ones or AUs are fine. Thanks!

I’m pleased to say there are some fabulous fics in our previous recs, and I found quite a lot more Kerejean for you here. - S

Previously recommended:

In the Light of Day here

‘when i kissed the teacher’, ‘Lap Sitting’ and ‘Spice the Eggnog Ch.8’ here

‘Daylight, Sunsets’ here

‘Belief’, ‘Our First Christmas’ and ‘Kerejean soulmate au’ here

‘Funeral Pyre’ here (updated)

‘Best of you’ here (updated)

‘To Be Certain We'll Be Tall Again’ here (completed)

‘Coming Home’ here

‘Enby Kevin/Kerejean Request’ here

text me (when you're home) by Anonymous [Rated T, 11007 words, incomplete, last updated Sept 2024]

After a summer of radio silence Jean finally reaches out to Kevin in form of a text. It goes from there. or a kevjerjean texting fic

'tis the damn season by footnotesforfoxes (y2beans) [Rated M, 7155 words, incomplete, last updated Aug 2024]

BREAKING NEWS - Exy star Kevin Day suffers extreme knee injury! Will he ever play again? Kevin Day, Jean Moreau, and Jeremy Knox have never been able to leave each other alone. That is until five years ago when Kevin chose his future in Exy over making a life for himself with a couple. After a career-altering injury, he is forced to face the mistakes of his past and find that love that still waits for him.

tw: negative self image

So Dark the Hunger, So Sweet the Ruin by NikNak22 [Rated M, 7233 words, complete, 2024]

This is a story about a boy, a monster, and a curse. It is about a sun, a moon, and some stars. It is about longing, words unspoken, and scars that never heal. It is about things scuttling around in the dark that should never be seen. It is about wanting something so badly that you would sacrifice everything to keep it safe. Even from yourself. Aka in a world where Kevin doesn't have a soul mark, what is the point of him falling in love?

tw: depression, tw: self esteem issues, tw: negative self talk, tw: implied/referenced suicide attempt

Haunting Spirits by fullyvisible [Rated T, 13637 words, complete, Daylight Savings Fest 2024]

Kevin's life is going wonderfully until the fifth anniversary of Riko's death catches him by surprise, and he realizes his happiness--and his sobriety--may be more precariously balanced than he had thought. Kevin is desperate to keep it together well enough to prevent anyone from noticing, but Jean and Jeremy know him better than most.

tw: alcoholism, tw: ptsd

Because, Despite, Still by codename_adler [Rated T, 11047 words, complete, Daylight Savings Fest 2024, locked]

"No matter what Jeremy thought he knew, no matter his meticulous observations and incessant pleas for Kevin to come and fix Jean, Kevin could see plainly that perhaps he should not have trusted the USC Captain on that one. Every time you show up on TV or any of us talk about you, he shuts his eyes for a few seconds. Like… Like he’s looking for you, inside himself. There’s nothing… There’s nothing else I can give him. I swear to you Kevin, I would if I did. I’m well aware this is most certainly going to get uglier before it gets better, but that’s a knife I can’t remove myself. Only you, Kevin. Only you. Please come home to him."

tw: implied/referenced abuse 

NB: you can find a link to a playlist for this fic on the author’s tumblr post

The "Ex" Protocol by KweenDay [Rated M, 14151 words, complete, Daylight Savings Fest 2024, locked]

Jeremy has heard about Jean's high school boyfriend, Kevin, of course, but he's not jealous. He doesn't get jealous over exes. Except... he didn't know ex-Kevin was THE Kevin Day, Exy royalty extraordinaire. And no, he's still not jealous... or obsessed with him. So what if he keeps finding a way for the three of them to be in the same room time and again? It's for research! Obviously.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced cult membership

In The Middle by KweenDay [Rated E, 6894 words, complete, 2024, locked]

Jean has always looked at his life in two segments - the one when he loved Kevin Day and both, pleasure and pain, were inextricably linked; and the one when he loved Jeremy Knox and he learned that loving someone could come without the threat of pain looming over his head. But in the past few months, both of those segments are bleeding into each other. The shadows of the past mixing with his present, and Jean thinks maybe this is a whole new chapter. Something different. Something good.

tw: explicit sexual content

Break the Ice by noNic02 [Rated E, 25396 words, incomplete, last updated Feb 2024]

Things are finally looking up for Jeremy Knox. He moved to a new city, he likes his university program, his roommates are great (mostly), and he started hooking up with one very attractive Jean Moreau. There's really only one problem - Jean's roommate hates him.

tw: explicit sexual content, tw: scars, tw: implied/referenced abuse

Tell me where it hurts most by xxhearttommo [Rated T, 1828 words, complete, 2024]

Jeremy is on a date with his boyfriends when he answers a call from his mother and finds out his father has passed away. Jeremy is hurting. Jean and Kevin help him get himself together and go through a rough patch.

tw: death of a parent

suneater by REDRAGEOUSED [Not Rated, 11371 words, incomplete, last updated Jan 2024]

Jeremy reaches over and messes with Kevin’s hair, nails scratching his scalp lightly, and he leans into it hard, barely noticing it when he turns to whisper to Jean that “they should probably get him home.” Then the car is starting and Jeremy’s hand pulls back and this time, this time Kevin holds back the whine, but he’s still feeling fucking ridiculous because what grown man enjoys being pet. Kevin is not built for this, he is not built for affection and soft touches, he is built to be hit and bruised and pushed to his limits so this is just all fucking wrong. kevin day is desperate and fucked up and everything wrong with the world. he's not sure how they haven't realized yet.

tw: implied/referenced eating disorders, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced abuse 

through numb lips by REDRAGEOUSED [Not Rated, 2494 words, complete, 2024]

Kevin isn’t really sure why they’re whispering, but given the way he has to swallow, thick and heavy, to answer, he thinks it's probably for the best. He says “I think- I think I’m high.” He doesn’t know why he says it like that, but then Jean, vaguely somewhere up laughs, and he’s glad he did. kevin day gets high & gives the best blowjob of his life

tw: explicit sexual content, tw: recreational drug use

Lagom by NikNak22 [Rated E, 19399 words, complete, 2023]

When his kingdom falls, Prince Kevin Day is ripped from his golden cage and thrust into reality. With no skills to speak of and his title gone, he has to work long and hard to learn how to survive. It is only through the grace of his teachers (or captors or liberators, depending on how one looks at it) that he has succeeded, allowing him a kind of freedom and self-sufficiency he's never known. Together, Jeremy, Jean, and Kevin form a tenuous bond of loyalty and obligation, allowing them to co-exist peacefully. It is a partnership built on mutual understanding and respect. One with clear lines and boundaries. One that reminds Kevin daily of his place. Until one day, it all starts to unravel.

tw: explicit sexual content, tw: self esteem issues

The Love We Unravel by fullyvisible [Rated T, 10049 words, complete, 2023]

Jeremy deserves a comfortable, safe life; Jean knows he can't give it to him - and neither can Kevin. But they don't consider whether Jeremy thinks they're a risk worth taking. Inspired by Midnight Rain by Taylor Swift.

Birthday Wishes by fullyvisible [Rated T, 2595 words, complete, 2023]

It's Jean's birthday, and he expects to spend it alone - which would be fine, if he hadn't gotten so used to spending his time with Jeremy and Kevin.

Beach Trip by fullyvisible [Rated T, 4592 words, complete, 2022]

When Jeremy finds out Kevin and Jean have never been to the beach, he decides to take them for a day in the sand, sun, and waves.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced scars

Optimiste by mitigates [Rated M, 28838 words, complete, 2022]

“Riko is- is dead. I am- I am- I am alive-” Jean sucked in a gasping breath that made his chest ache with the force of it. He gripped Kevin’s collar until his breaths calmed into a slow aftershock.  A soft gasp in the doorway revealed Jeremy’s presence. Jean turned on him, eyes flashing. He said the words harshly in French, “This does not concern you!” - or - Jean loses his memories after an accident. In his mind, he's barely survived Riko's last beating, Kevin left him alone at the Nest, and Jeremy is nothing more than a strange captain from another team.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: major character injury, tw: nightmares

can you show me how to make it true? by Flowerparrish [Rated E, 11071 words, complete, 2021, locked]

It’s not that Kevin and Jean don’t text. But one day, Kevin gets the text.

tw: implied/referenced alcohol abuse

doomsday by erosandhades [Rated T, 4810 words, complete, 2021]

He remembered every drink Kevin had thrown at him, then the shots, then moving to the next party, then Jean. He remembered thinking “fuck it”. He remembered doing three more shots with Kevin and two with Jean. Now, he didn’t remember how he got there. Or that tweet "one time at a party i kissed someone's girlfriend and to make sure he wasn't mad about it i just kissed him too... i blacked out and woke up to a text in a groupchat with both of them that said "did you make it home safe baby? <3"' but make it Kerejean.

One, two princes kneel before you by moonqueerdom [Rated T, 10084 words, complete, 2021]

Once upon a time, on a cold, dark night in the Central Court of Arcane, the annual winter masked ball was held. Faeries danced majestically all over the place, for the song being played by a charming group of faeries was enchanted (more literally than not) and the folk wouldn't miss the opportunity to celebrate the solstice. The winter flowers were blooming inside the castle with all the magic bursting from the Land and from the folk, and snow was falling outside the transparent plasma-gloss walls. And, last but not least, two princes and a guard were about to meet among all those partying people. A fairy tale about three faeries who meet at a masquerade ball and accidentally start a new folklore. And they're a chaotic mess.

Ask me to kneel by moonqueerdom [Rated E, 15404 words, complete, 2020]

Jeremy Knox meets Jean Moreau and Kevin Day in a BDSM club after some time without seeing them and finds that they have quite a Dom/sub dynamic that interests him immediately

tw: explicit sexual content

Stuck With U by moonqueerdom [Rated M, 21198 words, complete, 2020]

Jeremy and Jean go to Denver and stay at Kevin's apartment, but then the quarantine starts and they are forced to spend much more time than they expected in the city. And at Kevin's apartment.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: anxiety, tw: implied/referenced suicide, tw: alcohol abuse

Art

cuddly kerejean by @ohsleepie on X

cold weather is better if you have two boyfriends to be your personal heaters🧡❤️💛 by @princesoleil29

highkey in love w them ? by @redrageoused

I’m supposed to be working but I needed everyone to see my vision by @thepriceofsurvival

Hockey is rotting my brain , but so is Kerejean  by @jeremy-knoxs-on-wood

[kaydenverse]

a/n: ohmygod the ghost blurb did numbers im happy eee! thank you so much!! here’s something else i just thought of, i tried a new format style I’m trying to get back into relearning how to use tumblr again (and get back into the swing of writing it’s been… a minute) do give me a sec to figure it out lmaO also send requests or your headcanons on task force 141 if you’d like!

-

ghost going non-verbal after really intense missions and gets a little clingy with soap during this time.

-

the first time ghost did this, soap is a tad confused but he doesn’t question it. he’s pretty quick to catch onto the things that ghosts needs or wants during this time.

ghost trusts soap the most during this vulnerable time period. not that he doesn’t trust the rest of the task force when he’s non-verbal, it’s just that soap gets it ya know?

ghost silently following soap around once the two get back on base as they strip off their tactical gear and head to debrief.

soap will ask ghost a question and when ghost doesn’t respond, soap just smiles a little, pats his friend’s (they are more than friends but don’t realize it yet) shoulder, and mutters. “tas alright, take as long as you need.”

it makes ghost just a little (a lot) giddy. he feels safe and understood.

anything ghost needs to say, soap has this talent of just knowing before ghost even attempts to write it down somewhere.

“anything to add, ghost?” price turns towards the masked man.

ghost simply looks at the scottish man sitting next to him as he drums his gloved fingers on the arm of his chair.

soap barely looks out of the corner of his eye before he snorts, his lips tugging up into a smile, and says “he said can we please wrap this bloody meeting up, he’s tired.” ghost nods in agreement and price just stares at the two, baffled while gaz barks out a laugh.

“i’d have to agree with him.” soap grins

depending on how intense the mission was, ghost can be silent for a few hours or sometimes a few days but soap still remains patient and helps ghost whenever he can.

sometimes ghost will even stay with soap on their days off after missions at soap’s house and that leads to ghost flying through soaps sticky notes until he’s verbal again.

soap spends an abnormal amount on sticky notes for this reason. he even goes out of his way to get a few nice pens for him.

ghost doesn’t know but soap keeps a lot of the sticky notes and pieces of paper that have ghost’s shitty handwriting sprawled across them. soap’s favorite one says “fuck you.” with a little heart drawn next to the words.

when ghost speaks again, soap is always caught off guard. ghost finds this incredibly amusing.

soap stands in his kitchen, humming softly to himself as he flips the grilled cheese he’s making for himself. well, he already made himself that sits on a nearby plate. this one was for ghost who had walked into the living room where soap was, reached over the back of the couch, and slapped a sticky note that read “i’m hungry” onto the shorter man’s forehead before leaving the room immediately after.

“you’re out of laundry detergent.” a deep british voice speaks and soap’s soul nearly leaves his body as he says various swears in his heavy scottish accent.

“for fuck’s sake, simon! make yourself known when you enter a room!” soap whips around to find ghost standing at the counter with his hands shoved in his sweatpants pockets.

it’s been about two days since soap had last heard the man speak. soap buries the thought of having missed his teammates voice before it has the chance to fluster him but he can’t stop his warm smile in time.

ghost shrugs and soap catches the amusement in the other man’s eyes through the mask.

“you just need to just be more aware, sergeant.”

-

MY BOYS, MY PRECIOUS BOOYYSS

[dbnightingale24]

Getting Lost In The Silence With You

An Emmett Lovestory

~~

~~

Surprise, and Happy Halloween!!

I just wanted to make something fluffy and loving, since I'm always giving you guys angst and despair 🙃 anywho, I hope you all enjoy this little story, I hope you're enjoying one of the best days ever, and please be safe! As always, thank you to @fuckingbyefor the amazing moldboard, and for just existing. Alright, enough of my rambling, enjoy!

Like always, Tumblr is on it's bullshit, so I'm only gonna post part of it here, and leave the link to my AO3 if you wanna read all of it.

Word Count: 15,618

Warnings: SMUT (18+ Minors DNI), Swearing, Drinking, Heartbreak, Dealing with Loss, FLUFF, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Self Doubt, A Bit of Self Loathing, uhh...I think that's it?

Song(s) That Inspired This Chapter: You Are The One I Waited For, I Knew It All Along

~~

I do not give permission/consent for my works/stories to be posted elsewhere.

~~

You keep your giggles quiet as you feel something tickling your toes.

Emmett.

‘Happy birthday,’ he smiles down at you after your eyes finally open.

This has been routine for the past three years now, and you can’t help but smile at the fact that you and Emmett have had each other to lean on. You wonder how something so beautiful came from such an ugly turn of events.

When Emmett found you, you were both wary of one another. He hadn’t meant to find you, and you hadn’t meant to find him. He stumbled across where you’d been hiding, searching for materials to stock up on. The second he found you hiding, you both pulled your guns on one another. While you were more than sure that he could see the fear in your eyes, you saw the emptiness and despair in his. Yet the longer he looked at you and the more you shook, the softer his features became.

He held a finger against his lips, a sign for you to be quiet, and slowly led you out of the closet. You warily grabbed the few of the things you had and followed him. You’re not sure why you followed him to this day.

“What were you doing there?” he asked softly, once you two had reached where he was hiding out, putting away the few supplies he was able to scrounge up on his trip.

“The same thing everyone else who’s alive is trying to do. Hiding.”

“That’s a terrible hiding spot.”

“It worked out just fine for me for the last two months.”

“Are you alone?”

Silence.

He turned around to see you standing there, eyes watering as you tried to look anywhere but at him.

You’d been alone for a year at the time. There hadn’t been anyone you’d confided in, and you didn’t find yourself wanting to know anyone. The last person in life died in your arms and you’d decided to keep to yourself from then on out. It just felt like the best idea; the safest in this world surrounded by danger.

“I don’t mean to be harsh, you just...that spot was dangerous. Even more so if you’re alone. Have a seat. Have you eaten today?”

“Don’t eat much,” you mumbled, taking a seat at his table, looking around the empty space. “I don’t hunt unless I have to.”

“I’ll get you something, just sit tight,” he told you softly. 

You looked around and saw the different drawings, a few pictures, and wondered how long it’d been since he lost everyone.

“Th-thank you,” you told him softly, pulling out a bottle of wine and setting it on the table.

Seemed like a pretty decent peace offering. 

“Where the hell did you get that?” he half smiled, coming over and picking up the bottle in admiration. 

“Some of it’s self made, others are from...before.”

“How old are you?”

“What’s the date?”

“October 31st.”

You smiled and shook your head, wiping away a few tears, “I’m 27 today.”

He offered a sympathetic smile, “happy birthday.”

And that’s how it started. You never intended on staying with him, and you’re more than sure he never meant to let you stay, but you both soon found that you enjoyed the company of each another. It’d been a long time since either of you had people in your lives, and it just felt nice to have someone around.

Even if you two didn’t say much to each other for the first few months.

Every once in a while, he’d hear you crying and sit by you, softly placing his hand over yours and you’d squeeze it softly. Other times, he’d have restless nights, tossing and turning for hours, and you’d just sit by him and take his hand until he felt at ease. In exchange of him getting food, you taught him how to make his own wine and vodka. You would share books, and every now and again you’d both go to the nearby falls together just to hear something.

This stayed a constant for months until he found you listening to your iPhone one day.

“How do you still have one of those?” he marveled, putting a plate of venison in front of you.

Deer was his specialty.

“My best friend figured out to make a battery one night,” you laughed softly. “She was drunk as shit, but real determined to make it work. She refused to lose all of the comforts from the way things used to be. It was the last gift she ever gave me. I’m not the best when it comes to things like that, so I try not to use it often. I don’t wanna end up breaking it and being fucked,” you finished with a scoff as you pressed ‘pause’ and set it aside.

“What’s special about today?”

“It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Explains why it’s so damn cold,” he muttered, and you laughed softly. “Anything good on there?”

“Depends on what your definition of good is,” you smirked, pouring the both of you a cup of wine. “Being a Jersey girl, there’s a lot of Springsteen on there-”

“You’re from Jersey?” he questioned before he realized he cut you off, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

“No, it’s okay. We’ve never talked about it. Um yeah, I was born and raised in New Jersey. My parents moved to Millbrook after I went off to college. I was here visiting when...when everything happened. Got stuck,” you chuckled humorlessly. “At least I don’t have to worry about paying off my college loans,” you muttered as you cut up your deer and Emmett laughed.

It was the first time you’d actually heard him laugh.

~~

You can read the rest here.

taglist: @autumnrose40