#this self indulgent fic went longer than expected

[galeorderbride]

The Forest For The Trees - Fic Request (Gale x F!Tav)

A Gale smut piece requested by one of my OG readers @meglet1. Thank you so much for the request and for being you in general!! I seriously hope you like what I’ve written for you <3

18+ MDNI (This is SMUT/tags below)

Summary:

After Tav is nearly killed in a fight at Rivington Beach, Gale lets his fear get the best of him and a new couple spat ensues. Leading to a peaceful resolution :)

Tags: PiV sex, semi-public sex, inappropriate use of mage hand, oral sex (m and f receiving, including some choking), words of praise/encouragement, creampie, fingering (vaginal & anal), multiple orgasms, self-indulgent, some references to Tav having body issues.

Word count: 4.7K

Mind the tags, everyone. Fic below the cut:

“I decided to choose you and live, then you go off and almost get yourself killed!”

Gale wasn’t the type to air out his issues in front of everyone, but this time, he couldn’t shake the nervous energy off. Panic and anxiety of balancing on an uneven precipice, powerless. Just days ago, he chose to stay with Tav instead of doing as Mystra commanded him, deep in that haunting colony, where the Elder Brain resided and, because he decided to live, remained a threat to the entire Sword Coast.

Less than an hour ago, he and Tav returned from the beaches of Rivington with their companions. Running into a gaggle of rival gangs ready to slaughter each other. The guild, run by the infamous Nine Fingers Keene, and the new recruits of this Stone Lord everyone was talking about. Gale cared little for whose alliance went where. Not when Tav had decided to intervene right in the middle of things, doing her best to settle scores and ending up having to fight both of them.

In the crossfire, Tav was hit with an electrified weapon, a hammer imbued with thunderous damage effects that nearly killed her with the impact against her spine. Knocked down, she spent the remainder of the fight unconscious, no one having time to revive her until they’d finished the fight. Across a landscape of crime syndicate corpses, Gale watched with intensity as Shadowheart struggled to revive her. The image of her near dissolved heartbeat still aching within him, harsher than the orb. Gasping for breath at the last second when he thought he lost her forever.

She’d regained balance quickly, the powerful healing of Selune now imbued within Shadowheart’s fingers, even if she hadn’t quite gotten to admit it yet. Tav was walking normally, a little fatigued but nothing more than that. Which gave Gale the opportunity to stop being worried for her welfare and be upset instead.

“Do you know how close you came to death? How much I worried Shadowheart wouldn’t revive you? All for a bunch of criminals who would’ve cared for the dirt under their boots more than you!” Gale exclaimed as he paced around the hay shed at their camp outside Rivington. Tav followed, arms across her chest as she tried to contain a frustrated sigh.

“I wasn’t trying to get all of them against us. How many times has convincing people to cool their heads worked on this journey? Times we never expected! I didn’t think this would be an exception,” she replied, her voice soft but assertive in her own defense.

“That’s what happens when you expect things to work in your favour! We can never assume anything is an absolute certainty, and I’ve been saying this from the beginning. I know it’s in your nature to stick your neck out for people, but do recall that I gave up on what might be the heaviest task of my life so I could be with you!” Gale continued, letting his panic get the better of him.

Tav’s eyes widened, now no longer trying to placate. “Don’t you use that against me! My encouragement to have you stay with me is not a blank check to use against me when I do something you dislike. I asked you to stay because I love you! And I had no intention of starting a fight today, nor did I plan to end up in the state I did!”

This was around when the rest of the camp began to hear them arguing. Frigid looks turned their way by Shadowheart, Karlach and Wyll. Eyerolls and mischievous scoffing from Astarion. Jaheira simply shook her head and mumbled ‘young love’ under her breath. Gale pretended not to hear it.

She looked at him with such offense, eyes dotted with the threat of tears from his fury. Any motivation to be cross with her slowly waning each time his eyes met hers.

“I love you too! Which is why I’m so off put by what happened to you. I don’t want to see you putting yourself in danger and disregarding forethought! I don’t think you understand just how much I can’t—”

Gale didn’t finish the sentence, brought on by a fear that he’d overwhelm her in saying such an intense thing. They’d confessed their love in a spur of the moment, when the culmination of all they’d been through was knocking at the front door. Emotions were high, and while he meant every word he said, he didn’t want to cross a line and compromise the start of a wonderful thing with Tav. Deep down, he’d loved her from the moment he saw her, and each day he got closer to admitting that out loud. Precisely why he reacted with such fear to what happened at the beach.

Tav crossed her arms, an expression of seriousness he’d never seen before. Well, not directed at him.

“Can’t what? Don’t let this be the time you don’t use your words, Gale. Because I am this close to storming off,” she said, pinching her index finger and thumb together in an impatient motion.

“I can’t…live without…you,” he said, his voice starting loud and then slowly quieting as he completed the sentence.

The two of them stopped short, silence washing over them as his words sank into both their minds. Memories of their first night together flooding back, when he showed her everything he could offer. A beautiful experience in the Outer Planes, where their souls entwined within currents of raw weave. Expressing their new love in countless ways, too many for one evening, but they did all they could. Loving, tender, but despite it all, not real. Not bodies together, the physical exertion of passionate, violently yearning intimacy. Just what Gale became tempted with after he spoke those long awaited words, as the anger melted from his system and replaced itself with carnality.

There wasn’t time for Tav to respond. Astarion cut in with his usual mocking tone. “Would you two get a damned room? Your voices are grating and I’m trying to enjoy a nice glass of wine I stole from Last Light.”

“I knew that bottle was familiar!” Jaheira cried out, no longer paying attention to Gale and Tav.

Tav sighed, bothered by the chiding of their companions. She felt on the spot, watched in all the wrong ways. Gale gently grabbed her arm.

“Come over this way,” he demanded, short and impatient. Quite possibly the briefest she’d ever heard him speak.

He pulled her away from the camp, a short but fair distance from their companions. Clusters of bushes and broken trees began to fill the space as he brought her forward. The sun was setting above them, hues of paradisiacal magenta and orange above them, beaming through the shaking leaves. Tav didn’t have much time to gaze upon the natural beauty, for Gale led her as if running to safety.

“Gale, where are you taking me?! You’re pulling too much, I’m going to lose my balance,” Tav questioned.

A few seconds went by, Tav’s curiosity getting the better of her as she’d never seen him so flustered. Trees surrounded them, but not enough to block the bustling city lights of Rivington on one side and the fire of their camp on the other. Voices of Karlach and Lae’zel talking could still be heard from the distance they stood. Tav had never been to this side before, but Gale had a way of making her feel safe no matter where.

“Come here, love,” he said, his arms moving to hook around her waist as he pushed her gently against a large tree.

She had little time to take a breath before his lips were on hers, soft but with an ardent passion once resting in bubbling irritation, now sprouting into lust. Their bodies pressed together, hips against hips as Tav began to melt into his wandering touch. Her knees nearly buckled when his index finger grazed the ridge of her jaw, tongue caressing her own. Temptation to run her fingers through his wondrous hair was too great, that strange sensation of a near death if she didn’t, silken texture on her skin enough to forget about everything they argued about.

But his words hung loose in her mind, and she pulled out of the kiss for a moment. Their faces still centimetres apart as she whispered, “I can’t live without you either. I’m sorry I wasn’t careful.”

Gale rubbed his nose against hers, that playful, breathy grin plastered on his face. “Let’s just look out for each other, alright? It’s so easy to get ahead of oneself, and I love you too much to watch idle by and pray you know the risk. You are a powerhouse of might, my love, but neither of us is invincible.”

“I know, I know,” she said in a hushed tone, so whisper thin the crickets chirped louder. Night fell fast, unburdened by clouds and blanched with a sea of stars. Everything was perfect, a moment in time that both of them longed for since their first time together. Opportunities never coming soon enough as their arduous adventures took precedence over everything. Now was the time, when the sky’s darkness masked them from the rest of the world’s troubles.

Gale answered with peppering kisses down Tav’s neck, shivering at the supple softness against such a sensitive area. For the first time since before Mystra, he wanted something purely physical—mortal. Covered in the finite flesh of his new love, giving pieces of themselves as a simple reminder that they remained alive. He’d forgotten the lure of that desire, powerful and impossible to satiate without going the full way, being as close to Tav as humanly possible.

Cracked bark scratched the itches of Tav’s back, pressed ever harder with each kiss from neck to collarbone. Desire budding at the touch points of her body; at the tip of her breasts, the heat of her ears, the tingling between her legs. Those parts growing more swollen with want when she felt the brush of his palms around her waist, fingertips dipping under the hem of her shirt to tickle her lower stomach. They were like teenagers sneaking around behind a schoolyard, eyes darting back and forth to make sure no one saw them enjoy each other. A thrill long forgotten on both sides.

“Gale, won’t someone hear us? We’re still close to camp,” Tav said between laboured, lustful breaths.

“With all we’ve been through, I highly doubt they care. But to ease your anxieties,” Gale replied, waving his hand to create a violet purple dome around them, “A silencing spell.”

“Perfect,” she said.

With a quick maneuver, Gale unclipped the belt of her wrapped shirt, slowly folding the fabric over her shoulders. He took his time, relishing in the pull of cloth from skin, little reveals each second until she bore herself bare to him. A maroon brasier remained, almost black under the moonlight and slipping low. Enough to catch a glimpse of her nipples, begging to spring free from constriction. Meanwhile, Gale spread her longer shirt across the ground, using clothes as a makeshift bed—if not to remedy the future ache of his knees. He unwrapped his robes as well, left only in a white, linen shirt and trousers.

He could hardly concentrate, the beauty of Tav under the moonlight too transfixing to not stare upon. Fitted perfectly in her under clothes, the rise and fall of her chest teasing him without trying. Watching like she didn’t notice, but she did, and began to strip for his pleasure. Removing the straps of the bra first, slow against her shoulders, the perk of her breasts peeking out before the clasp snapped free. Gale stood before her, watching with a subtle grin.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Tav. Do you know how much? How I ache to the point of fever when graced with your presence?” He asked, voice dark with lust, a gruffness she didn’t hear when in the Outer Planes.

“Even as I am? No magic or beautiful strands of starry weave around me? Surely this can’t be as exciting as that time,” she said, not intending to be self conscious, but failing to keep that in check. Not a goddess, not a higher being in the form of a body, but just herself. Scars, blemishes, bad angles and all. Mortal in all the wrong ways.

“As you are is more than anything the weave could offer. Having you naked under the moon like this is a memory embedded in my mind for eternities to come,” he said, stepping over to her to help unbutton her pants. He ensured his fingers touched every part, no matter where, and his breath against her neck warmed and cooled.

“Oh, my, you give me no chance with words like that,” she said.

Between bountiful, romantic kisses, the rest of their clothes were discarded into the flattened pile. Too impatient to go somewhere with room to conjure a full bed, absorbed in the embrace of each other as they fell into the fabric. Tav straddled his waist, lowering down so she could still glide her tongue against his. Never wishing to part her lips from his for the rest of the night. Craving the push of his hands embedded in her skin, down her spine and over the hill of her ass, ending with a firm squeeze.

Not a single part of her didn’t feel something. Her nipples gliding against his chest hair, hardening them in seconds with the playful tingle at the tips. His hands finding purchase, amused enough to spank the right cheek with a hard enough force to have her yelp giggle and yelp out loud. And that irresistible grind of his growing erection pushing against her core, hastier than himself, simply begging to push into that tight, unoccupied hole. Just the beginning, and yet she already preferred being together like this, fully in tandem with each other, nothing but their beating hearts and heated bodies.

Eventually, both of them needed to take a breath, locked in a heated make out for a time they lost count of. Tav lifted her body up, back arched in pleasure as Gale followed teeth-first. Biting, sucking, licking her nipples, each side deserving of his equal attention. Delicate moans grew into hot, heavy woes of passion, caring little for noise control with the purple dome of silence above them. Saliva trailed down her breasts, her wizard so lost in the ecstasy of tasting those pink, round buds. Hugging her in his arms, moving his cock against her to feel the head getting wetter with her slick.

Tav whispered in his ear, fingers tangled in his hair, “Perhaps I should get into danger more often, if this is the consequence.”

Gale chuckled, muffled by the slide of his tongue around her earlobe, “No need. Should you want my services, all you have to do is ask. Nicely. With a very eager ‘please’. Now, I am on the precipice of sliding into you this instant. But I’d have you come first.”

Hands firm on her ass, he pushed her forward, legs buckling over as he laid down. Angling himself so her core hovered over his face as he continued, “On my mouth, darling.”

Unable to contain her giggles, she adjusted her legs to straddle the sides of his face. Too gradual for Gale as he grabbed her hips and pulled her down. Tav gasped from the heavenly sensation, his lips and tongue all over her pussy in seconds, nodding his jaw up and down to stimulate her slit with his stubble. His tongue moved with expert precision, letting Tav take control of the pace as he moaned into her cunt, slurping and sucking at her as if drowning himself in her essence. There wasn’t enough lip biting and stifled moans in the world to keep her from building up to a snapping orgasm, inch by inch as she swivelled her hips around his face. His nose jutted against her pubic bone, mouth focused entirely on her swollen clit, pushing her down to ensure she wouldn’t move away. Even as her inner thigh muscles shook with pleasured tremors.

Tav stuttered out, “Holy fu…ck…Gale, I’m s-so close. Keep going, keep going! Now, yes, now!”

At that point, she was using any superlative her blurred mind could conjure. An orgasm flowered within her, strong, hot and never felt in a very long time. She clawed his hair under her legs, twitching hips riding out a wet climax, dripping into his beard. A taste he’d never get enough of, buttery and sweet on his tongue. He’d be happy to suffocate under her in a bid to have her finish again.

Coming down wasn’t an option, continuing to flick his tongue against her clit even as her muscles relaxed. Sensitivity stung at her pussy, sharp hits of pleasure shining through with each feral moan he made. A sound so enticing, she melted for him, allowing his hands still on her ass to push her further forward, rear completely up. Behind her, he snapped his fingers, figments of magic beckoning around her in a light blue glow. Tav could barely pay attention, lost in the feeling of his tongue lapping at her cunt. Until two fingers pushed into her entrance, filling her quick but smooth in an electrified vibration. A mage hand, finger fucking her from behind. Taking her to a place of impossible pleasure, no choice but to let go.

As Gale sucked at her clit, muffled words came from below her, “Does that feel nice, my love? Can you cum all over my face again? That’s it, let the hand fuck you, good girl.”

“Gods above, Gale, I’m so sensitive! But fuck it feels so good!” She exclaimed, whimpering with each buck of her hips against his mouth, the hand following every angle so not a centimetre pulled out. Pumping into her tight walls, angling in just the right direction to have her shaking for a second climax.

“Let me help you even more,” Gale said, motioning his wrist to command the mage hand to push its thumb at the entrance of her asshole. Prodding in and out, gently easing in enough to thrust in the same rhythm as the fingers, slick sounds of sex invading her ears. She gasped at the hot tightness, cunt thoroughly stimulated in every way. It was perfect, hitting every spot just how she liked, and some she didn’t know existed. Gale was simply eager to please, laughing slyly as he felt her orgasm again.

Tav quaked at her second finish, overwhelmed with searing ecstasy. She cried out, “I can’t take it anymore, please! Too—too sensitive.”

The mage hand vanished with her command, easing the pressure of overstimulation palpating in her veins. Gale couldn’t resist one, soft kiss on her clit before letting her move off of him. Without her body to focus on, the ache of his rock hard cock snapped into awareness. Precum dotting the head, so stiff he feared it might break at the gentlest touch. Proven wrong when Tav brought her lips down to the tip, licking off the salty cum. Giving him a taste of his own medicine as he shivered in sensitive rapture. Both of them had a tendency to get carried away, as what was meant to be a simple tease with her tongue led to her taking his cock into her mouth. Using her hand to pump at the bottom of the shaft, too big to go all the way down.

Choking and sucking sounds filled the air as Gale writhed under the mercy of her mouth. Running her hand up and down his bare thigh, hypnotized by the lusty song of his satisfied whimpers. He wanted to tell her this wasn’t necessary, he enjoyed seeing her enjoyment. But as her throat coated his cock, he was rendered speechless. More so when she bobbed her head up and down, moaning through her nose as he gently joined her by fucking her mouth. Small, quick thrusts in fear of hurting her, but enough to make his calf muscles strain.

Spit and precum doused his cock as she lifted him out of her mouth, a raunchy ‘pop’ sound coming from her lips. Gale’s shaken, pleasured sighs covered the forest, stimulated by the cold air kissing the wet surface of his raised erection. Tav fawned over how it glistened, her core pulsing and tightening with the silent beg to be filled. Surely, she’d pass out if he wasn’t inside her immediately.

Gale exhaled deeply, shaking his head with unfathomable joy. “You will be the death of me. That felt…so good. I don’t even know how to describe it.”

She smiled, failing to contain the blush on her face. How she loved to know he was already satisfied. “We’re not done yet, my love.”

Her leg hooked back over his waist, straddling him again. This time, angling the opening of her cunt right against the desperate head of his thick cock. He looked so beautiful below her, gleaming with sweat and rosy with anticipation. Fingertips tickling up and down the sides of her thighs. Gods, when he laughed, that lusty chuckle of boiling desire had her foolish in his arms. She chased that sound, easing down on his cock until he bottomed out inside her. The stretch and slick of her walls fluttering around him forcing a high pitched whimper from her. Clit shuddering at the sensation of little hairs against it, nearly orgasming right there. Never had she wanted someone so much, craved another’s touch in a way she didn’t know was possible until meeting him. Everything about him was magnificent.

“Moan for me, love. I want to hear your every sound as I fuck you,” Tav demanded, locking her palms on his chest as she began to ride him. Fast, fervently, hips bucking back and forth so good he obeyed instantly. Husky, sultry, moans and even guttural growls with each grind of her pussy against him.

One hand stayed on her thigh and the other kneaded at her breast, his thumb flicking and pinching her nipple while her languid movements continued. By now, he could see when she was close, biting down on her lip to concentrate as she ignored her aching muscles. More warmth and wetness dripped along his cock. He nodded to her, let her use him as a toy for her own pleasure, moving pieces of hair from her face at the same time.

“Let me see you cum again, please. That’s it, ride my cock like that. So wet for me, I can’t believe it. Keep going, yes, very good. You’re doing so well,” he said, words of encouragement coming with his thumb moving to her clit. Rubbing the spot he learned she liked, just a little assistance in getting her over that impossible edge.

Tav’s body cramped up as she squeezed onto his cock, crying out Gale’s name as her third climax ripped through her lower half, felt even at the tingling peak of her breasts. He could’ve done anything in that moment, came anywhere he liked, and she’d be fine with it. Her orgasm all the stronger as she pictured being covered in him from face to pussy. A debauched mess on top of clothes, fully vulnerable to him.

Seeing her above him brought his own release closer. Unable to wait as he pulled her torso down to kiss her hard, pushing his tongue into her mouth with reckless abandon. Tav yelped playfully as they kissed, paralyzed by the ecstasy of being fucked into. Sore, sensitive and hedonistic, she relished in the hard thrusting and the heated touch of their perspired bodies together. Wishing this would never end but craving his release inside her at the same time.

She left the kiss to whisper in his ear, biting his earlobe, licking at him, “Finish inside me. Please, I want it so bad.”

“Oh, gods, Tav I’m going to—right…ah!” He groaned out the unfinished sentence, his impatient cock spilling inside of her tight hole. He pulsed within her, feeling his spine arch as he experienced likely the greatest orgasm he’d ever had. Reaching his entire body, lasting longer, an addicting taste of eternal paradise. Tav’s soft whimpers the final touch to the most wonderful feeling.

She moved off of him, laying flat with her legs open. Gale still felt trickles of desire in his stomach, not enough to get hard again so quickly, but enough to lean over her thoroughly fucked cunt. His breath warmed her skin as he caressed his tongue along her clit, letting his index finger rub her cum-filled entrance as he did. All she could do was wheeze, too tired for a full moan but adoring the feeling of his mouth on her again. He was gentle this time, careful not to bring out the growing soreness. No, he just softly licked, kissed and sucked at her clit, stomach sinking with carnal intrigue as he watched his cum dripping out of her. He wanted to mark his territory, give her one more orgasm to be certain she knew she was his. Even just a little one.

Tav concentrated with the full power of her exhausted mind, feeling herself ready to climax once more. She couldn’t believe how skilled he was, moaning his name out again as he pinched her lips together, pushing her clit further into his mouth. That, mixed with the amazing sensation of his cum inside of her, was enough to inch her into that little release. Her fingers clutching his hair, pulling slightly as she came for a fourth time. A tiny bit more of his seed poured out of her as she relaxed.

“Perfect,” he said, leaving her core and moving to lay beside her, “You are amazing. I can’t believe you’re real sometimes.”

Tav smiled, cuddling into the crux of his shoulder, “I should be the one to say that. No one’s ever been so attentive to me. And by the gods, I have never finished that many times.”

“Oh, my love, I am excited to inform you that wasn’t even all I can do. If I had you in a bed, with a private bathroom, different corners of the room to take you in; you’d have at least six, I’d make sure of it,” he replied.

“In that case, we must find an inn as soon as possible,” she replied, kissing his cheek as he scooped her body closer to him.

They cuddled for a few minutes more, letting the cool, night air dry their sweat-drenched bodies before returning to camp. Hand-in-hand, eyes doled with the fire of new romance and the comedown from lovemaking. What began as the rising moon, evening pink with sunset, had transformed into deep night, pleasantly dark and glinting with fresh, sparkling stars. Neither of them wished for a conclusion, but sleep beckoned and they had no idea what might happen tomorrow. Tav only knew that she’d refrain from taking too many risks, as now she’d become a fool for someone else entirely.

Gale and Tav agreed to share a tent tonight, and from now on. First, she went to the smouldering fire to grab a piece of sunmelon and her water canteen. The rest of the camp now silent as everyone retired for the evening, except for their most nocturnal companion: Astarion. Who had returned from the other side of the woods, pallid complexion brighter than usual, a sign that he just fed on an animal.

“Good hunt?” She asked, finishing off the last bite of her sunmelon piece and throwing the peel in the fire.

“Never as good as the real thing, darling, but enough to tide me over. Perhaps I should’ve saved some for you, tired little adventurer,” he replied, brow raised in that cheeky expression. Always present when he was about to take the piss out of someone.

“Fruit and water will suit me fine. Goodnight, Astarion,” she replied, turning to head for Gale’s tent.

Astarion spoke as she walked away, “By the way, remind your wizard to maintain his silencing concentration. If I’m going to hear your debauchery, I’d rather hear it from the beginning and not halfway through. Goodnight, Tav!”

Tav cleared her throat, swallowing down her growing embarrassment as she walked to Gale’s tent. Knowing fully well what kind of teasing she’d endure the next morning. For now, she would simply sleep in Gale’s arms and deal with the rest as they came.

[r0guedr0id]

The Unknown Regions I

A Din Djarin x Fem Plus Size Reader Fic

Summary: You, a soft astrophysicist, meet the hardened Mandalorian in less-than-ideal circumstances.

Warnings: Expect conversations about weight, body dysmorphia and internalised fatphobia that may be triggering, so read at your own discretion; injuries and blood; canon typical violence; reader is AFAB and user she/her pronouns; no use of y/n; smut to come in next chapters; porn with plot; plot with porn; Din Djarin needs a hug and a fuck.

Word count: 2,631

A/N: This is something I’ve started, 100% self-indulgent since I have been feeling bad about some recent body weight gain. It was going to be just some pure filth with heavy body worship but the plot started to have its own life. This will be probably about 3 chapters long, so if you think it may be something you’d enjoy, I’m grateful to have you here!

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

It had been a long day and you were finally preparing to go to bed. You decided to pamper yourself a bit since you’d been more stressed than usually. So you took a long, hot shower. It was a luxury there in Tatooine, but one of the perks of your workplace were the good job conditions. Nevertheless, last weeks had been hectic and you had to stay at your office longer than normally. You loved your job, but you also appreciated some work-life balance and you weren’t having it at this moment. And your body was taking a toll too.

When the water went cold, you carefully exited the bathtub. Before wrapping yourself in a towel, you examined your body thoroughly and sighed. You had always fallen on the bigger side, and you liked it. Your curves, your softness, they made you feel sexy. But since you started this job, it was clear you hadn-t been taking care of yourself. The long hours at the observatory meant less sleep, less time to exercise and cook homemade, hearty meals. Not only did you feel more tired, but also it was clear that you had gained weight. You observed carefully the new stretch marks, the plush of your breasts and the tummy roll that wasn’t there before. Your new body. It looked kinda cute, but now your clothes didn’t fit anymore and your full bust spilled in every of your outfits. And the other problem was that you compared yourself with the other girls at work. It always escalated until you would start to feel insecure and your confidence weakened.

You sighed again and finally grabbed the towel, wrapping your hair, and then used another one to dry your body. After applying your lotions and skincare, you chose a beautiful nightie and then finally went to bed to resume reading the holobook you had been reading before on your commute to the observatory. It was important to you to have a comfortable nest where you could feel protected from the outer world, so you had invested in the softest duvet to cover you on Tatooine's cold nights. You were perfectly relaxed, even had a scented candle burning to help you decompress, when a blaster shot made you jump from the mattress .

Your first instinct was to drop to the floor and open the drawer on your nightstand where you hid your own gun. Your father had given it to you when he learnt that you would be transferred to the dangerous desertic planet. More shots, men shouting and a lot of metallic sounds. For the Maker’s sake, this compound was meant to be secure, these things didn’t happen to you anymore. It was very hard for you to achieve being in a stage of life where you felt safe. You were feeling afraid, but also angry. These people had broken into your little bubble and ruined your perfect evening.

The shooting continued and with every shot you flinched, but managed to prepare your blaster to defend yourself in case something happened. Maybe you’d have to accept the idea that there wasn’t anything like “safe” on Tatooine’s surface.

You stayed still and quiet for a while until the sounds ceased. Finally you could breathe, your heart still pounding, and dared to move. When you decided that it was quiet enough to stand up, another sound froze your blood. Your front door. There was someone there. You started trembling. You could call security. The residential complex where most of the observatory workers lived had its own since Tatooine’s law enforcement was…well, non-existent. But after a shooting like this, they’d surely have their hands full. Kriff, what if they had been killed? A shiver ran through your spine. There was a stranger at your door. Maybe they were hurt, or worse. You hadn't heard more noises. But the loud clank against the metal surface had been clear enough.

The decision to not be reckless won, and you called security from your holocom. But as you had expected, no one was responding. A low grunt came from the front door. You inhaled sharply.. They were in pain. What if they were some of your coworkers even?

You convinced yourself to bite the bullet and be brave about it. After the rebellion, you decided to not get involved in more conflicts. You had had enough for a lifetime. But there you were again. Laying against the wall in your nightie with your blaster against your chest.

“Hello?” No response. “Someone there?” Anything.

It felt a bit ridiculous to ask politely to a potential attacker. After stewing over for a while, you were determined to check yourself if there was actually someone at your doorstep. Inhaling sharply, you counted to three for yourself and opened the door at the same time you aimed your blaster with determination.

Another clank.

What the kriff.

You slowly lowered your blaster. There, laying on a puddle of his own blood, there was a huge man covered in armor.

“Hey, are you okay?” What a stupid question, of course he’s not. You started to get nervous. There was a lot of blood there. The stranger then said something but his voice was so weak you couldn’t hear him. Never stopping aiming your blaster towards him, you crouched next to his helmet. He repeated his words.

“My…kid…” Maker, there was a child in the shooting? You looked around yourself frantically, but in the dim light only your own lawn was visible.

“Where is he?”

“They…have taken him…” Something in his strained, modulated voice, broke your heart. You’d always had a soft spot about children.

“We’ll find your son. But you are bleeding out and no one is dying today at my doorstep.” You observed his frame and decided that the best was to drag him inside from his underarms. “I’m gonna get you inside, ok?”

He just hummed groggily and you decided to take that as a yes.

You had spoken too soon about dragging him. He was kriffing heavy and you had to use all your willpower to get him in your house. After one of the greatest physical efforts of your life, you finally laid him on your carpet and then sprinted to the bathroom to bring the med kit. Kneeling next to him, you tried to localize his wounds, but with the dark flight suit, it was almost impossible to know if he was bleeding somewhere. Your hands started shaking over the idea that maybe he was actually going to die on your floor. You grabbed your commlink to call the med center, starting to panic.

“I’m calling the med droid, I can’t help you.” You said to the unconscious man, worry drawing a line between your brows.

“No…droids.” You jumped when his gloved hand grabbed your wrist with surprising strength, but the next moment he was dropping it and looking gone for good. Okay, you weren’t the one to contradict the unknown warrior. Trying a different approach, you decided to guess where his injuries were by touch. Some drenched patches between his armor informed you where his major injuries were, so you cut his flight suit there. No time for undressing him.

The wounds looked like knife stabs after you cleaned them. You pressed both the one in his tight and another under his chest plate, to stop the bleeding and then applied bacta spray. But it wasn’t enough. He was growing colder every second and his heart rate was slowing. He was going to die, you realized.

You looked around you desperately trying to think when an idea came to mind. First, you started your stove as fast as lightning and then you chose your largest knife from the drawer. While anxiously looking at him, you put the knife on the flames and then ran to his side again.

“Sorry, this will probably hurt…” And before the knife became cold, you pressed the flat surface of the tool directly against his skin. The smell wasn’t beautiful and neither were his groans of pain, but at least it looked like he wasn’t waking up. You checked the wound and finally it had stopped bleeding. You cleaned the knife and repeated the process in the other stab. After several times, the tissue looked closed enough and only then you started to disinfect the burnt areas with care. They’ll leave nasty scars, but at least when you put your ear next to the helmet, it looked like he was breathing although shallowly.

It was almost dawn when you decided he was out of danger. Exhausted, you finally were able to remove his armor in order to drag him somewhere more comfortable and dress his wounds. It was hard to find the hidden mechanism, but once you got it you were fast. First you removed his heavy chest plate. Probably he’d breathe better without it, Then you put aside the pauldrons and the vambraces, and finally his side and back plates and ended with his legs.

Removing the sticky flight suit and his undershirt was an ordeal, but when the first of the two suns started to appear in the horizon, you had achieved the first part of your mission and his chest wound was fully dressed. While you were bandaging him you hadn’t noticed, but now under the orange light and having finished your task, you could admire the man you had saved. And maker, what a beautiful creature. His torso was strong while lean. You felt bad for the big scar the burn you would leave on his golden skin.

You resumed with his pants and you tried so hard not to look but you were just human and well, wasn’t he gifted there too. Tending to his thigh wounds you had noticed how thick his legs were, but now just down to his undergarments, you noticed the warrior’s actual strength.

You scolded yourself for lusting over the man who almost died in your carpet and was, probably, a criminal. And also a dad. When every wound was tended, you moved to his helmet. Since it had some kind of seal, you hadn’t lost precious time removing it when you couldn’t find the release button the first try. You trashed around the garment until you found said button, hearing a hiss, and put your hands around the helmet to carefully remove it.

The next thing you know is that you’re laying on your back, the warrior on you while he’s pinning your wrists effectively against the bloody carpet, his thick thighs keeping yours in place. You blinked, incredulously. Wasn’t this man on the verge of death? What the kriff?

“What do you think you’re doing?” His raspy, low baritone made you shiver. You should be scared, but your self-preservation instincts had abandoned you. IOn the surface of the T shaped visor, you could see your reflection. Rosy cheeks and doe eyes for the man that was threatening your life.

“Saving your metal ass.” You sassed, lifting your chin proudly. It looked like he wasn’t fully aware of himself since it took him half a minute to process the situation. He then started to release you slowly, but stil tense in mistrust. The skin where he had been grabbing you now felt cold. You looked at each other for what it felt like an eternity.

“M’ sorry.” He finally apologized sitting on his heels, noticing his bandages for the first time. Then he observed you, now on your elbows, your nightie ruined with his blood and purple eye bags under your beautiful eyes. “Did you do this?”

“The stabbing, no. The healing, yes.” You responded while looking for a comfier position on the floor, still on guard but curiosos about him.

“Thank you.” He said after a long silence. You finally released your breath.

“It's sloppy work, I’m afraid it will scar over ugly. Sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter. Thank you.” He repeated. He now looked disoriented , like a lost child. A 180 cm child. Oh wait.

“You…your child, you said someone took him.” He inhaled sharply and his tan shoulders tensed, your words hitting him like a thousand bricks. Then he tried to stand up but almost fell. You stood up fast enough to hold him before he could hurt himself. “Wait, you lost a lot of blood there.”

“I need to find him.” His voice was strained, like he was about to cry. You put his arm around your shoulders and he let you. It was like all the fight energy from before evaporated the moment you named the kid. The warrior’s skin felt warmer now, thanks to the Maker. You only hoped it didn’t become too warm due to infection. He was still heavy without his armor, and although he was making an effort, helping him lay on the sofa wasn’t easy.

“Look, you lost a ton of blood and have poor cauterized wounds from a random girl. You can’t find anyone in this condition.” You tried to not sound too harsh but the truth was there. “Don’t you have anyone you can call?”

He sat looking so defeated it broke your heart, but he finally nodded.

“That’s great, contact them then while I prepare some breakfast. You should hydrate and eat something.” He fixed his visor on you while you went to your room to change into something that wasn’t bloody and sheer to start with. When you returned, he was apparently speaking with a man. You gave him privacy while preparing some scrambled eggs, broth and fresh fruit, considering if you should call in sick to your job.

“They left you for dead, you have that advantage. They won’t expect you when you strike back .” Said the man in the holo. He was middle-aged and looked elegant. He then he spoke again in a kinder voice. “But you should focus on resting and healing now, Mando. Let us take care of it.”

“Thank you Karga, really.”

“Anything for the little one.” And then he hung up. The warrior put his head between his thighs, looking like the most miserable creature in the world. Your chest ached at the sight.

“Here, have some broth, you should hydrate. And probably have a transfusion too.” You half joked, sitting with the tray next to him. Mando, as you heard the bearded man call him, looked at you as if you were a ghost. You handled the tray to him carefully but he didn’t move at all. The longest and most uncomfortable silence went on until you decided to stand up and went to prepare for work.

“If you need to use the refresher, we have warm water here, not just that sonic excuse of a shower.” You started while sipping from your mug trying to look nonchalant. “I need to head to the observatory now, but you can stay as long as you need. That was such a beating you took.” You looked at the bruises that were forming across the golden skin you were desperately trying not to observe all the time. Both of the suns were up now, and they illuminated his frame beautifully. And the mess of dried blood in your floor and carpet, too.

You sighed. “Ok, I need to leave now, if you need anything…” You scribbled your commlink frequency in a holopad. It was strange how this looked as parting with a one night stand you won’t be seeing again. You had a certainty he wouldn't be there when you returned either.

“Thank you.” He finally acknowledged the tray and then nodded in your direction. Confused, injured and desolate, you felt guilty for leaving him there. But today was important since the planet you had been studying was the closest to Tatooine…You couldn’t miss the opportunity even though it felt so wrong.

“Take care, Mando.” You said before disappearing through the main door in a hurry.

Next chapter

[sladesapprentice]

The Presence In Your Silence

Chapter 1 - The Haunt

“It’s over, Slade.”

“On the contrary, Robin. This is only the beginning.”

Read on AO3

A/N: So... I haven't written anything in forever, but I felt compelled to write the most self indulgent apprentice!dick grayson whump fic in all of history. You can expect all the goodies: Manipulation, noncon drugging, stockholm syndrome, dealing with the aftermath of Catalina (which i never got over). I'll try to update on a weekly basis and when i get my ao3 account set up, i'll be posting there too. In the meanwhile, I hope you enjoy! PS: English is my second language, be nice :P

Word Count: 1750

Chapter warnings: Mentions of domestic violence, very brief mentions of rape as seen in Nightwing comic Vol 2 Issue 93, panic attack, Bruce Wayne's A+ parenting, seriously, this ain't your momma's Bruce.

2:38AM.

Early morning and silence.

On many occasions, Richard Grayson’s life had been defined by silence. The silence that reigned after his parents fell, the silence of his adoptive father after striking him, the silence of the night after Catalina…

Before Dick can think too much about it, he looks down at his watch, contemplating how much longer he should wait before leaving the Titan Tower. He settles on ten more minutes. It should be enough to sneak out without any of the Titans noticing, especially Beastboy with his horrendous sleep habits. Though Dick can’t exactly judge. His search for Slade lately has been relentless, bordering on obsession (again) according to Victor, and it’s been impacting his sleep more than he’d like to admit.

It’s been a little while since Dick has been back with the Titans, assisting them with certain missions, though still keeping his independence as Nightwing. What brought Dick back was Victor's request to help with a mission involving assassination, though Victor had begun to regret ever calling Grayson in once Dick started theorizing that it was Slade. Victor thought that Dick as grew into Nightwing, the boy had become more stable, more rational, but he quickly realized that was not the case. Dick’s obsession with Slade never went away, and Victor asking him to help the Titans was just fuel to an old fire.

The minutes pass by slowly, Dick tries to distract himself by checking if everything in his utility belt is in place. Patience has never been his strongest trait, especially when free time means time to reminisce on the past. Before he can help himself, he starts to think about Bruce. His adoptive father was once someone he looked up to, but with time, Dick had begun to see the past Bruce’s carefully crafted façade.

It hurt, to slowly come to the realization that someone who you once looked up to was a hypocrite, to realize that Bruce wasn’t as interested in being honorable as he was in being seen as honorable. Dick often questioned himself, wondering if he was the same, wondering if he fought for others or if he actually fought for himself, for the selfish right to demand respect for being a supposed man of morals. He wondered if he would ever act as Bruce did once no one was looking. Against his better judgment, Dick starts to replay one of his old fights with Bruce, back when he was still Robin and desperately clinging onto that persona.

“You can’t take Robin away from me!” Dick said desperately, hands balling into fists so Bruce wouldn’t see them shake.

“You don’t get a say in this anymore. It’s for your own good.”

“My own good? Were you thinking about what’s good for me when you let me turn into a vigilante at twelve?”

Dick didn’t expect the slap, though he should have, and when it hit, it nearly brought him to his knees. He knew Bruce had been criticized plentifully over letting Dick become Robin, and rusing that against him was apparently not the best idea. Especially when they both knew that Dick would end up becoming Robin whether Bruce let him or not. The silence after the slap had been long. Dick kept his eyes on the ground, incredulous, before slowly lifting his gaze to meet Bruce’s.

“You promised that wouldn’t happen again.” He said in the smallest of voices, his eyes watering. Bruce didn’t bother excusing his actions, he simply stared at Robin with that stone cold expression he always wore. Dick wished he would just say sorry, just once, just something other than Bruce’s silent self loathing. Eventually, Dick revealed what he had been thinking about for a long time.

“I’m leaving.” He said.

He took the time to explain why, to explain that he couldn’t do this anymore, but Bruce said nothing. When Dick got tired of the silence and turned to leave, Bruce finally spoke up.

“If you go through that door, don’t come back.” The words froze Dick in his tracks. It was worse than any slap he received through the years, but maybe that ultimatum was what he needed to be sure he couldn’t stay anymore.

So, he did the only thing he could.

He left.

Dick tries to shake the memory away, chastising himself for reminiscing on things he’d rather leave buried. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the note that had been found on his bed hours ago.

Meet me at the place you never left. -S

He hadn’t told any of the Titans of this note. After Slade left Jump City years ago, the Titans accepted that he was no longer their problem. Dick was sure they'd probably brush the note off as a harmless taunt on his obsession, which Slade was very fond of. At least that's what Dick tells himself to excuse the fact that he's keeping secrets. He puts the note back into his pocket and makes his way out of the Titan Tower, heading for the Jump City’s old industrial sector.

Amongst the abandoned buildings, the Haunt stands tall, just as menacing as he remembers. Memories start to flood as he slips into the dark building.

“It’s over, Slade.” He once said, after first discovering the location of Slade's lair.

Using a flashlight, Dick scans the surroundings, senses on high alert, but it seems truly abandoned. No sign of life. That is, until Dick feels someone walk behind him. In a flash, he grabs the person sneaking up on him, throws them against a wall, and presses a knife to their throat. Dick only realizes who it is when lifts his flashlight and illuminates the person’s face. Starfire breathes heavy under the weight the blade, trying to process the fact that Dick isn't fighting with his usual escrima sticks.

“You wish to harm me, friend?” She eventually whispers. Dick’s eyes widen before VIctor appears behind her, his presence snapping Dick into action, making him lower the knife and distance himself from Starfire.

“What are you doing?!”  Victor asks firmly.

“What do you think?” He can’t help but answer confrontationally.

“Nightwing.” Starfire tries to keep Dick’s focus on her, sensing Victor’s frustration from afar. “We have spoken about this. This is not good for you. Slade is gone, he is no longer. You must let go.”

“Let go? Let go?! YOU EXPECT ME TO LET GO? AFTER EVERYTHING HE’S DONE TO ME?”

“Robin. Please don’t yell.” She whispers, vulnerability clear in her eyes.

“I’m not Robin anymore…” Dick lowers his voice. “And there’s no letting go, Starfire.”

"You said Batman has become responsible for dealing with Slade, right? Leave it to him." Victor argues.

“Ro- Nightwing. I’m asking. If not for yourself, then for us, for the team. I fear for you, my friend. Please… Let this go.”

Dick frowns and casts his gaze downwards. He could tell them about the note, could show them proof that he was being messed with. But a little voice in his head that sounds like Slade whispers ‘would they even care?’ So he lets silence permeate, and it's enough for them to understand he has no intention of ever letting go.

“You’d really choose your obsession over us? Over your family?” Victor asks in disbelief. Dick doesn’t speak. Slade is the reason he doesn’t feel safe with anyone to begin with, is the reason for his nightmares and paranoia. But he’s also the one thing Dick can fixate on long enough so that other things such as Catalina won’t come to mind instead.

“I’m done with you, Nightwing.” Victor sighs. “You have a choice, you either come home with us right now or you go back to Blüdhaven when you’re done chasing ghosts.”

“What?”

“You heard me. If you won’t get this obsession under control, then you have no place at our side.”

Another ultimatum. Another moment of silence. Another choice.

“Nightwing?” Starfire searches his gaze, wishing he would look her in the eyes.

“Leave.” Dick’s voice hardens. Cyborg’s expression turns into one of surprise, as if he didn’t actually expect Dick to make this decision.

“Nightwing!?” Starfire insists.

“LEAVE!” Dick finally looks her in the eyes as he yells a bit harder than he means. Starfire flinches, and the sight of it makes his stomach turn. She nods in acceptance and slowly turns her back. Victor looks at Dick with disappointment before leaving with her.

“It’s over, Slade.”

“On the contrary, Robin. This is only the beginning.”

Dick’s swallows down the tension in his throat before he ventures deeper into the Haunt.  He eventually finds the trapdoor that leads to the underground level of the building. He descends the stairs and inspects the place, eventually coming across the old monitor room where Slade would watch over the Titans vitals while they were contaminated with his nanoscopic probes. But once again, no sign of Slade anywhere. Dick lets out a long breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He places his hands on the control panel before dropping his head.

What the hell was he doing? As he tries to figure that out, his gaze drifts onto the chair nearby. Something was on the seat, he realizes.

A photograph.

Upon closer inspection, it reveals to be a photo of him and Bruce as civilians, standing in front of Wayne Manor shortly after Dick’s adoption. His breathe quickens because what the fuck is this doing in the Haunt? Turning the photograph around, Dick reads a short message written on the back.

Why won’t you go home, little bird?

He… knows.

Slade knows.

Dick starts to breathe fast, eyes widening as fear spreads throughout his body. He looks around, almost expecting Slade to be behind him, ready to rub the knowledge in his face, but no one’s there.

No. No no no no no.

Frustration and panic builds and builds until Dick crushes the photograph in his fist. Dropping it, he runs shaky hands through his hair, pulling at the roots. He starts walking in circles, desperation climbing up his throat until he finally snaps. He grabs the chair and tosses it onto the large screen in front of him, causing it to shatter.

“WHERE ARE YOU?” He screams so hard his vocal cords hurt. His voice echoes through the empty room but there’s no response. “SLADE!?!”

From the warmth of his safehouse in Blüdhaven, Slade smiles, watching Dick spiral into a panic attack.

“I'm right here, little bird. Right here.”

[venus-haze]

Mr. February (Driller Killer x Reader)

Summary: You get an unexpected visitor while looking through the February issue of Playgirl, whose centerfold of the month is doing absolutely nothing for you. Lucky for you, he’s willing to give you the real thing. At least, you think it’s the real thing.

Note: This is a ridiculous, raunchy, and extremely self-indulgent fic that I wrote mostly in three hours so take that as you will. The reader is a cis woman but no other descriptors are used. This was so fun to write because the Driller Killer in SPM2 is nothing if not outrageous. Shorter than what I usually write, but there’s very little plot to this. Do not interact if you are under 18 or if you post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Sexually explicit content including oral (f. receiving), hair pulling (m. receiving), finger sucking (m. receiving), light choking (m. receiving) brief daddy kink. Dubcon to be safe since through most of the fic it's intentionally unclear whether it’s a dream or not. Do not interact if you are under 18.

Mr. February was not doing it for you. Blond hair, muscular build, and a boy-next-door smile as he leaned against the door frame of an auspicious suburban house with nothing but a toolbelt on—no matter how many different ways you tried to imagine the scenario, you couldn’t get into it. When your good friend Brenda had a girls’ night at her place, you lamented your sexual woes over glasses of wine. To your comfort, the other women present also weren’t particularly impressed with Playgirl’s recent offerings.

A little after one in the morning, you called it a night, heading upstairs to the guest bedroom Brenda was letting you crash in. Your other friends lived close enough to walk home if they wanted to and decided to stick around longer. Carefully shutting the door behind you, you looked at the centerfold that the group of you had bemoaned. How could it be possible that a man could be simultaneously so hot and so sexless?

You hoped the half bottle of wine you’d consumed would help get your imagination going, not that you hadn’t gone that route before. Undressing down to your bra and panties, you laid down on the guest bed. You grabbed the magazine yet again, as if staring at the nearly nude handyman would somehow make you suddenly attracted to him. 

Huffing in frustration, you glared at the magazine by your side. Brenda had given you the advice to cancel your subscription and try to find something raunchier, more tailored to your tastes than the generic guys in the safest porno mag you could possibly buy. The more you stared at Mr. February, the more annoyed you felt, his perfect smile mocking you as you slid your hand between your legs, trying to find some way to picture the guy in a scenario that would actually get you off.

Minutes went by, and nothing. He was too clean, too sterile, too perfect. You couldn’t picture him being able to do anything besides a pleasureless and mechanic missionary position that plagued the pill-popping housewives of old. Jesus. You’d have better luck with a fully clothed missionary at your front door than the schmuck on the glossy pages of the magazine. 

You threw your arm over your eyes, thinking instead about how much you’d like to kick Mr. February in the toolbelt. Sleep caught up with you more quickly than you expected, because your frustrated, horny brain seemed to conjure up a man that was far more to your taste. Your limbs felt odd as you sat up from the bed upon hearing a low whistle come from his lips as he stood on the other side of the room.

“This all for me?” he asked.

Black haired and leather-clad with a smile that made you squeeze your thighs together, he stalked closer to you, his tongue darting out from between his sharp teeth. His wild eyes took you in with an intensity that was nothing short of famished. He wanted to eat you alive. Finally.

Leaning back in the bed on your elbows, you gave him a confident smile as you pushed out your chest, welcoming the attention. It was your dream, after all.

His hand ghosted your arm as he picked up the magazine at your side, looking it over for a moment. Shaking his head at the centerfold, he hit it with the back of his hand as if in solidarity with your disdain. This guy, am I right? He closed it, his attention on the cover.

“Playgirl,” he read aloud, before bringing his gaze to you, an amused grin spreading across his dangerous face. “Is that what you wanna do? Play, girl?”

Girl rolled off his upturned lips in coils that wrapped around your throat, rendering you incapable of answering. Girl was demeaning, mocking, as if you didn’t have a full time job that paid for your own apartment. Girl went straight to your pussy as you nodded in response to his question.

He licked his lips, tossing Mr. February aside as he caged you onto the bed with his body. You tilted your head up to kiss him, not bothering with any pretense of testing the waters. It was your dream, and he’d kiss you back how you wanted him to, pent up and passionate with the sweetest hint of desperation. Without hesitation, he parted his lips for you, allowing you to slip your tongue in his mouth, the warmth and taste almost making your head spin at how real he felt. 

Still supporting yourself on your elbows, you threw a leg over his hips, pressing his body closer against yours, only exacerbating the flush of heat that’d spread across your skin. His touch made you feel like you were burning, kissed by invisible flames that left you needy for more. 

Reluctantly, you pulled away, dazed and breathless, though his lips followed yours, starving for another taste of your strawberry glossed lips. His were soft, though yours wouldn’t stay that way for long as he nipped at your bottom lip with his teeth, clearly reveling in the whimpers you barely managed to let out. You were almost disappointed when he showed you mercy and gave you a gentle kiss before drawing back.

“Goddamn, you’re something else,” he murmured.

“What about you? Who are you?” you asked, searching his face for an answer. You must have known him from somewhere, unsure if your subconscious could conjure up someone like him on its own.

“I’m the man of your dreams, baby,” he crooned. “I got the tools to give you everything you need.”

He took your hand, placing it over his crotch, his hard cock straining against his tight leather pants. Your breath caught in your throat, he certainly wasn’t exaggerating. Squeezing his erection, a jolt of electricity rushed through you at his groan, deep and unapologetically loud as he jerked his hips against your hand.

“Not so fast, baby,” he said, his smile almost mischievous, like he was letting you in on a secret. “I haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.”

He hissed through his teeth when you pulled your hand away from his pants, pride bubbling in you for eliciting such a reaction from him, and over his clothes no less. Still, he wanted to take the lead, and after so much frustration on your end trying to make Mr. February fulfill something other than a wonderbread fantasy, you were more than happy to lie back and let your dream lover do the work. He shed his jacket, kicking it to the edge of the bed.

Rough hands glided across your skin, a shiver racing down your spine until he hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties and pulled them down until he threw the garment on the other side of the room. He pushed your thighs apart, and you released a shaky breath in futile preparation for how his tongue would feel on your pussy.

He sure as hell didn’t beat around the proverbial bush, his tongue teasing your clit as he slid his index and middle fingers inside you, as if it’d at all be comparable to what you’d felt in his pants earlier. That wasn’t the point of it, though, not when he relentlessly lapped at your pussy, the sound of your own arousal on his tongue almost embarrassing you.

No one could hear it, not in a dream, so you indulged yourself, grabbing a handful of his greased hair and pulling him closer. He groaned against your sensitive cunt when you tugged on his hair, the sensation making your pussy clench.

“You like that?” you asked, your voice light as you tried not to moan out your question.

He lifted his head for a moment, a fucked out expression on his face as if you’d been giving him head and not the other way around. Your wetness glistened on his lips and chin, as he looked up at you. “Fuck yes, do it again.”

You tugged on his hair again, your fingernails scraping his scalp. He groaned, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Damn, he looked almost…pretty.

His voice was close to a growl when he praised, “Just like that, baby.”

His face disappeared between your legs again, and you choked out a gasp as he licked up your juices before bringing his attention back to your clit with a desperate pull at his disheveled locks. He held your legs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as if to steady himself as he brought you closer to orgasm.

You could’ve sworn you heard a loud bang followed by muffled screaming. It almost sounded too real to be a dream, and for the first time since this mystery man arrived in your bed, the twist in your gut wasn’t from pleasure.

“What was that?” you asked, your voice soft as it trailed off into a moan.

“Nothin’ but a good time, baby,” he answered slyly. “You just focus on me.”

With a curl of his fingers inside your wet pussy, you couldn’t do anything but whimper in response, pulling at his hair again. You struggled to keep your eyes open, and with no protest from him, allowed them to shut as pleasure crept up on you. 

Your hips bucked as he flicked his tongue on your sensitive clit, and with that you were gone. Your moan sounded almost pained to your own ears, but you’d never felt an orgasm so intense before, one that made your toes curl and your pussy ache as it clenched around his fingers. 

When you were finally able to open your eyes again, he was still eating you out, as if to see whether or not he could make you cum again on his tongue. You whimpered, sensitive and breathless as he didn’t let up. 

His name. Fuck, you didn’t even know his name, and your brain was too fuzzy to come up with anything besides an almost pathetic sounding, “Daddy.”

“Say it again, baby,” he groaned.

“Fuck daddy, more,” you pleaded.

Gripping the sheets for some kind of leverage, you came, harder this time as you let out a moan that seemed to echo throughout the room. In the back of your mind, you were wondering if you were moaning so loudly in real life. Would they wake you up? Would they even mention it?

Licking up your pussy again for good measure, he lifted his head, looking to you for your direction. Weakly, you shook your head. He smirked a bit, crawling back up to you and pressing his fingers that had been inside you against your lips which you mindlessly opened your mouth and began sucking.

His eyes were wild again as you sucked your cum from his fingers, dragging your tongue along each one as you looked at him through hooded eyelids. He pushed his fingers further back in your mouth, his knuckles brushing against your lips. 

“You think you can take more, girl?” 

Your whine was muffled from his fingers in your mouth.

“Don’t tell me I wore you out already,” he teased.

Slowly, he pulled his fingers from your mouth before sticking them in his own, to your shock. It didn’t last long, though, because his lips were soon on yours again. You kissed him more passively this time, considering why you felt so exhausted, as if it were real. In a dream, you’d be able to last longer despite your pent up frustration thanks to Mr. fucking February, couldn’t you?

You felt too good to question it, and brought your hand to the side of his neck, caressing the skin with your fingertips before moving them ever so slightly to squeeze gently. He moaned into your mouth, and you smiled a bit, squeezing again. Placing his hand over yours, he guided you to put more pressure, and with the way his hips jerked when you did so, you were sure he was going to cum in his tight leather pants. It was a wonder he could even move in them, even if he were just a figment of your horny subconscious.

“Aren’t you hot with all of that on?” you asked as you moved your head back slightly, noticing the sheen of sweat on your own bare skin.

He grinned. “I’m hot with it off too.”

You laughed, until you heard the screaming again, but didn’t pay it any mind. Weird things happened in dreams all the time, and you wanted this one to last as long as it could. If not, you hoped you dreamed about him again, that it wouldn’t be something you’d have a fleeting memory of when you woke up, only to forget it the moment you got out of bed.

Unfortunately, he had other plans, as it seemed like you blinked and he was standing next to the bed, fully dressed again, his hair looking like you’d never even touched it. Licking your lips, you took in his appearance. The next time you dreamed about him, maybe you’d have him do something more interesting with the leather. He cracked a grin, as if he knew what you had been thinking.

He picked up the discarded magazine, looking at it once again in amusement before throwing it into the garbage pail by the nightstand. “You’re not gonna need that anymore. Not that Mr. February was doing you any good anyway.”

“Nope,” you agreed. “It’s all you.”

“That’s what I’m here for, baby.”

You tilted your head, unsure of what to expect next. If you were lucid dreaming, couldn’t you wake yourself up? Though, you weren’t sure exactly how to do that. The clock in the room read a normal time, you knew enough that in dreams they’d be distorted. Sighing, you supposed you’d just wake up on your own naturally.

Your dream man leaned down, regarding you with a tenderness that seemed odd on him. He caressed your cheek, the cool leather of his glove giving a slight reprieve to your warm skin.

“See you tomorrow night, sweetness,” he said, giving you one last kiss before you blacked out.

You woke up, a cloud of grogginess still in your mind, a whisper of soreness in your limbs. You looked down at the wet spot on your sheets, brushing it with your fingertips and bringing them close to your nose. It smelled of you and something vaguely familiar, though as much as you wracked your brain, you couldn’t identify it. What a weird dream. At least, you thought so, until you noticed your panties on the floor, right where he’d thrown them.

[bradshawsbitch]

white christmas | bradley bradshaw x f!reader

this is my contribution to @notroosterbradshaw 's #hello december playlist challenge! my song was 'white christmas' by bing crosby - so feel free to listen to that to get in the mood!

what to expect in this fic: Bradley couldn't remember the last time he hadn't spent Christmas on some type of naval base. After all, he figured it would be better to work through the holiday than sit all on his lonesome. Lucky for him, his girlfriend of two years has other plans this Christmas. You can expect northern lights, snow lanterns, a little good ol' whimsical fun in the Swedish wilderness!

warnings: afab!reader, she/her pronouns, christmas content, santa clause, reindeers, foreign countries (if you're not swedish), mentions of ditching a plane, mentions of security measures on planes (listen, I couldn't help myself. I used to be a flight attendant), mentions of alcohol, l-bombs, random information about swedish christmas tradition, fluff, whimsical stuff.

disclaimer: this was such a fun challenge! and I went a little self indulgent and figured I'd teach y'all some swedish christmas fun! I added some links along the way to help visualize some Swedish stuff that people perhaps have not encountered before. enjoy!

Bradley was sat by the window seat of the Airbus A330 from Chicago. Glancing over to his side, your head had already settled on his soft, hoodie-clad shoulder. During your previous flight from LAX (in a smaller Boeing 737-900), you’d been granted the window seat. On this longer flight though, Bradley had offered to sit by the emergency exit over the wing.

The flight attendant had looked so relieved it was almost comical. They were always surveying their passengers, and he was grateful that they took the extra step to make sure able bodied and stronger looking people were sat at the emergency exits should they need to evacuate. 

His girlfriend had given him a small smirk as he’d sat down at the emergency exit seat, and he could tell she was about to tease him light-heartedly. “Oh, I’m a pilot,” you’d giggled, soothing your words with a soft kiss to his shoulder. Bradley had only offered you a smile back, and as he felt the aircraft vibrate for takeoff, he’d smirked and decided to annoy you further, leaning over, letting his lips ghost by your ear as he murmured:

“V1,” as the aircraft hurtled by the last safe speed for which the runway would allow it to stop in case of engine failure or error

“Rotate,” he continued, right as the nose rotated and started it’s ascent, mimicking the words currently spoken in the cockpit by the first and second pilot. He’d snickered as you rolled your eyes, muttering “Show-off,” before turning to read your book. That had been at the beginning of your twelve hour flight, which was now soon coming to its’ close - with you snoozing softly on his shoulder.

He glanced over to the other emergency exit across from him, where a woman in her late 40’s sat with a crossword. Bradley had heard her tell the attendants that she too worked as a crew member, and was very familiar with the procedure should they need to make an emergency landing, or ditch.

Just the thought of ditching this enormous plane made him shudder. He was quite glad that he’d never attempt it in his jets. More often than not, even with a bigger, slower flying aircraft, landing on water was tricky. If the water was rough, a bigger aircraft like this sometimes broke off in the middle. It wasn’t impossible though, and he spent a good 5 minutes thinking of successful ditchings before kissing the top of your head, inhaling the sweet scent - one that instantly brought him peace and comfort. The rest of your flight to Stockholm Arlanda airport was uneventful, some turbulence here and there but it was to be expected.

As Bradley took in the sight of you snoozing on his shoulder, he couldn’t help but smile. Bradley hadn’t asked for leave from work over the holidays since he’d joined the Navy. There was never a reason for him to be home over Christmas, and most years he’d actually ask if there was any available work for him, just so that he’d have something to do on what most would consider one of the more cheerful days of the year. The exception had been last holiday, when you’d asked him if he wanted to come around for dinner with your parents to celebrate Christmas; the year before that your relationship had been relatively new, and you’d exchanged gifts on the 26th instead. 

So, last New Years, after a few too many drinks - Bradley had confided in you his secret of having worked during the holidays since his early twenties - and that he’d often been stationed somewhere there really wasn’t any snow, and how he really wished for one of those White Christmases that you saw on TV. Bradley would be the first to admit he got sappy when drunk, but your response had been so sweet - promising him a white Christmas next year, and he was almost sure he heard you swear that he’d never have to spend Christmas alone again.

And so, a few days into the new year, the two of you had begun to plan the journey you were currently on. A journey that would take you deep into the Swedish snow, up in the north where a small village called Jukkasjärvi lay. You’d decided upon it together, both agreeing that staying a night in the iconic ice hotel was a sure thing for the Christmas bucket list.

Bradley knew his girlfriend had spent the entire year researching everything Christmas-related in Sweden, and he also knew she was dying to tell him every single thing she’d found. The two of them had scoured the internet for fun things to try whilst in Sweden, and they’d narrowed it down to a list they figured they would manage during their two week stay. 

The first week was for exploring, experiencing their bucket list, and lastly, Christmas. The second week would be for lounging, relaxing and just generally enjoying each other’s company in the wooden cabin they had booked for themselves for the second week. Bradley had insisted on one of the cabins that had a sauna, because he desperately felt he’d need one in the cold climate.

You had teased him, asking him if he knew that it was tradition in the northern countries to sauna in the nude, and then roll in the snow in between sessions. He told you promptly that he did not know that. It sounded almost like a torture tactic. After he’d told you so, you’d forgone telling him about the use of smaller tree branches as whisks to whip against your back. He wasn’t ready for that information yet, you’d decided.

As you successfully landed at Arlanda airport, the two of you sleepily made your way underground for the next part of your travel itinerary. You’d decided that you might as well take the night train to Jukkasjärvi as soon as you’d landed, and you’d only have to switch to a bus when you made it to Kiruna, a town that lay only 30 minutes away from your final destination.

Getting comfortable in the bunk bed you’d booked, Bradley smiled as you snuggled up against his chest and fell fast asleep. Bradley, however, found himself too excited to let sleep grasp at his consciousness just now. He was spellbound as his eyes gazed out at the gray night sky, already seeing thick snowflakes falling around the moving train. But soon, the warmth of your body, the gentle rocking of the train, and the flurry of snow outside the window of the compartment had him lulled to sleep. 

Bradley was fucking freezing. Of course, he had anticipated that the Northernmost cities or villages of Sweden would be cold, but this was beyond anything he’d ever experienced. He was surprised to find he liked it. It kept his head surprisingly clear as he inhaled the icy air.

He was suddenly glad the two of you had researched extensively what type of gear you’d need to sleep in a hotel made of snow and ice, because his wool thermal underwear, his fleece midlayer, his balaclava, warm hat and mittens kept his body sufficiently warm in the coveralls the ice hotel had provided you. 

He snuck a peek at you, where you stood, enraptured by the guide that had welcomed you. The guide had first informed you that the temperature was about -15 degrees celsius, which meant that it was roughly 5 degrees fahrenheit. The guide then started telling you about the Polar nights, or as they called it, mid winter nights “Oh my god, Bradley that sounds magical” you whispered to him, your voice laced with an endearing amount of excitement.

He smiled down at you and squeezed you close to his side to show he was excited too. The polar nights were a period of time in Lapland where the sun never dared to show itself, the guide expressed, and the only light they got were two hours near noon that they called “blue hours”, when the night sky turned a little lighter blue, and the white snow reflected that soft light to make it illuminate the nature just a little bit. Your eyes were twinkling excitedly, and Bradley thought he might not have seen anything more beautiful in his life. 

You were looking up at him, giggling softly as the hot breath made wisps of smoke appear in the cold air. “You have ice in your mustache, Roos,” you murmured, in awe of the fact that almost every single individual hair of his mustache had ice crystals on them, on the bottom from the moisture of his lips, and the top from where he exhaled warm air onto it.

Rooster was pretty sure he could feel the hairs in his nostrils freezing as he inhaled - it was a weird sensation, but something he got used to surprisingly quickly. “Yeah, well your eyelashes are icy too,” he mumbled with a quick smile before nudging your side, to make you turn your attention back to the guide. 

The guide was smiling at the two of you, explaining how the inside of the ice suites were actually about -5 to -7 celsius due to the insulation that the snow and ice provided (Bradley thought that sounded like a contradiction if he ever heard one), which was about 19 degrees fahrenheit.

As the tour ended, the two of you made your way into the hotel. Bradley was blown away at the detail with which the artists had sculpted ice to look like art. He could hardly voice how in awe he was, which caused him to just gape and stare at the interior. You, on the other hand, were ohh-ing and ahh-ing and pulling on his hand to drag him further in to explore the ice bar, and the ice church. The two of you shared a very cold drink in one of the bars icen glasses, giggling and sharing an excited kiss over the first drink of the night. 

“Happy holidays, Bradley” you sighed happily, leaning your body into him. Bradley was used to having you close, so the distance your thick clothing provided had him whining softly at not being able to have you closer to him.

“Happy holidays, my love. This is already above and beyond any of my wildest dreams right now,” Bradley confessed into your beanie clad head, pressing a soft kiss to the fabric, hoping you felt the sentiment of it. It seemed you did, since you offered him a breathtaking smile that had his heart doing double time somewhere under all his layers of clothing. 

“We can’t forget to watch for the northern lights tonight!” you reminded him softly, sipping on your drink. He shook his head, smiling at your eager tone. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, sweetheart,” he had listened to your calculations, and the general knowledge you’d picked up about the aurora borealis, and he hoped you’d get to experience one tonight. 

After a chilly night in the ice suite, you spent the rest of the week in your booked warm hotel room, enjoying fancy dinners during the evenings (which, admittedly, didn't always feel like evenings due to the almost constant darkness), treating yourselves to glasses of prosecco and wine. Giggling with each other in the room beforehand as you dressed up fancy. Bradley alternated between slacks and a button-up, and full blown suits. A favorite of yours was his navy blue one, that he wore tonight, on the 22nd of December. 

“Have I told you that you look gorgeous in this?” you said, voice a low murmur as you slung your arm around his neck in the elevator on the way to the dining hall.

“Nope,” Rooster smirked, dropping down to give you a breathtaking kiss “But thank you, sweets. You look real handsome,” he teased, noticing that you referred to him as the endearment he most used for you - ‘gorgeous’, switching up the endearment to the one you most used for him - ‘handsome’. But he’d have likened your look to ‘beautiful’ in all reality, because that’s what he could best describe your deep green attire, hair and makeup all done up and pretty. 

As you sat down to eat, you figured you’d go over the plans you had for the morning. Bradley had been looking forward to this one all year. You’d booked to go sledding, to see the reindeer farm located on the native Swedish land.

Bradley and you had spent countless hours searching for the perfect place to be able to interact with the reindeer, and the perfect opportunity seemed to be close enough, with a museum of the Sàmi customs and cuisine, which gave you a two for one experience - culture and some good old fashioned Christmas experiences. 

“What if we see Santa?” you exclaimed excitedly as you raised your glass to your lips. “Why would you say that?” Rooster furrowed his brows, feeling like he might’ve missed something important here

“Roos, he lives here!” his girlfriend exclaimed, as if mortally wounded that he did not know that Santa Clause resided in Jukkasjärvi. “I thought he lived on the North Pole?” Bradley laughed, and you shook your head vehemently “No, babe. The Swedes insist he lives here, in Lapland. Of course, I saw some forums argue he lives in Finland - but I choose to believe he lives here. Wouldn’t it be great if we saw actual Santa?” 

Bradley could only smile at your satisfied smile over the rim of your champagne glass, a determined twinkle in your eyes. He loved the fact that you were kind of whimsical, trying to make this a real White Christmas for him to remember - and he couldn’t exactly help that it made his heart grow three sizes. 

“And how is it that you know this then?” Rooster inquired, smiling softly as you took a bite of your meal. He had an inkling that you’d gone all in for the research, to surprise him with fun facts during your trip. Your bashful smile confirmed his suspicions. 

“Well, I might have read up on Swedish Christmas traditions - wouldn’t it be fun to follow them? I’ve even booked their Christmas smörgåsbord!” Bradley couldn’t help but throw his head back and laugh at the excited sparkle that hid beneath your lashes, his chest filling with warmth for his girlfriend again. “There’s a Christmas smörgåsbord? Is that tradition?” he inquired curiously.

“Yup! There sure is. They have small sausages, meatballs, of course, and a ham that they eat with sweet mustard - and some weird pickled herring. I’m a bit wary of those, but we have to be brave, Bradley. We have to show the vikings we’re one of them,” your soft giggle mingled with his laughter, as the soft voice of Bing Crosby meandered through the dining hall, singing about White Christmas as the snow fell peacefully outside of the window. 

“Is that on the 25th, then?” you shook your head no, “Swedish folk celebrate Christmas on the 24th. Which makes sense if Santa lives here! He’ll do these countries first, and then come to us. I knew that man couldn’t possibly do the whole world in one day!”

As dessert was served, and your glasses began to empty, the two of you were feeling giggly, sleepy and all around filled with warmth and Christmas cheer. As you stood up after having paid, Rooster wrapped a large arm around your frame, pulling you into his chest to place a lingering kiss on the top of your head. “This was one of the best ideas we’ve ever had, darling,” he murmured, placing a couple of more kisses against your temple as you slowly made your way up to your room.

Cold, biting air nipped at Roosters cheeks as the sleigh moved forwards in the snow. It was a clear sky today, which heightened the chance to see the auroras considerably, you’d told him happily after the two of you enjoyed a lengthy breakfast together. You’d made Bradley try some Swedish spread called ‘kaviar’ to which he retched for a good three minutes, before he swore revenge upon you, making you giggle as he pretended to glare at you. 

Bells were softly jingling as the large horses trotted along the small streets through the tiny village, headed towards the snow clad boreal forest. Bradley was squinting to see the houses that lined the streets. Some of them had snowmen and women in their front yards, but many of them had weird, cone shaped little snow buildings by the entrance to their homes.

He furrowed his brows, pointing with a mittened hand in the direction of one before he asked out loud “What are those little lit up things? Are those made of snow?” he watched as you turned your head to inspect them too, before the driver of the carriage half turned and smiled. 

“Those are snow lanterns,” he spoke, before gently saying something in Swedish to one of the horses to calm it before continuing “they’re made out of snow. Mostly children will make them by making snowballs, and arranging them in a cone shape. Their parents will then put a candle in the cone as the dark falls, and it works as a pretty lantern the children can watch from their windows before they go to sleep. Some parents tell their children that’s how Santa will find their houses.”

Bradley thought to himself that if he ever had any children, he’d make snow lanterns with them to make sure Santa and his reindeers found his house. The smallest stitch of sorrow settled deep within his chest, before he caught sight of your face - looking as enamored as he was by the idea of snow lanterns. 

“Maybe we could make one later?” Bradley told you softly, smiling down at your bundled up form. “Sadly, the snow is too dry to form anything. They must’ve made these earlier in the year, when the snow was still wet.” the driver said before turning around completely to steer the horses into a narrow path in the woods. At this, your face lit up, and Rooster could tell that that was something you had read up on.

“Roos, did you know that the native people of Sweden are said to have about one hundred different lexical words for snow? Like the quality of snow matters!” you looked so beautiful like this. The soft light of the day, the crystal white and sparkling snow whirling all around your face, cheeks cold and eyelashes frosted. He had to take a deep breath to settle himself, a lopsided, goofy smile on his face. “Is that so? What type of snow is this then?” 

“Well, seeing as it’s so cold, I’d say this is probably the powdery sort. The kind that when you throw it at someone, it just dusts away in the wind. I would guess that to make snowmen and snow lanterns, you’d need the heavier, wetter kind that falls in the beginning of the season, when it’s not below freezing,” you surmised, and Bradley just chuckled, ruffling your hat on your head “That’s my smart girl!”

As you approached the reindeer farm, Bradley could practically feel you vibrating with excitement beside him, and as the sled came to a stop, Bradley jumped down, offering his mitten clad hands out to you to help you down.

His heart stuttered a bit at the breathtaking smile that had formed on your lips, and he opted to seize you by the waist, lifting you down instead. Your happy peal of laughter as he spun you once, made a large grin appear on his lips as well. “Hi, baby,” he murmured, as your arms snaked around his neck, leaning down to peck his lips lovingly before he let you down. 

The afternoon on the 23rd was spent petting and feeding the reindeer, cooing over how absolutely sweet and adorable they were, eating candied almonds you bought (and learning they were popular here during Christmas), had a glass of mulled wine each with almonds and raisins in it, and learning about native Swedish customs and culture. As the two of you meandered towards the end of the little market they had put up, suddenly Bradley heard his girlfriend suck in a heavy gasp.

“Bradley!” you whisper-screamed, jumping up and down whilst pointing towards the thicker forest a bit away.

There, between the thick cover of pine trees, a soft gold light was moving slowly in the thick snow. Bradley furrowed his brows, staring more intently as he caught a glimmer of red flashing in the soft light.

“Oh my God, Roos!” your voice was borderline hysteric with unbridled, childish excitement, and Bradley himself couldn’t help but feel somewhat the same way as you. There, in the woods, was undoubtedly a man, who was quite large - his thick white beard decidedly not a fake one.

One of the reindeer close to you, heard the ruffle of movement and it snapped its head around to look at the man. It slowly turned and started walking towards the man, and both yours and Bradleys’ jaw dropped as you faintly saw the man chuckling, a small piece of parchment sticking out of one of his deep, worn pockets. 

Bradley hardly wanted to blink, but he had to gauge your reaction - were you seeing this!? Were his eyes deceiving him? But no, as he looked at you, the same stunned, wondrous facial expression was on your face as well. “Baby…” Bradley said incredulously, and when his gaze returned to the spot where he’d seen the man and the reindeer - they were gone.

“Was that…?” Bradley started, and you only nodded mutely, completely flabbergasted at what you’d just witnessed. “I need a moment,” you told your boyfriend and he nodded, only letting one small laugh escape his lips as he shook his head - a new found twinkle shining in his amber eyes as the two of you ordered a cup of hot chocolate, Bradley opting to have the smiling girl clad in a Gákti (a traditional dress for the Sàmi) fill his cup with a minty liquor as well. 

As the two of you sat in the carriage on the way home, silence stretching through the darkness of the night, the moon illuminating the snow enough so that every single detail of the landscape was still dimly visible, you finally spoke.

“That was the real Santa Clause, wasn’t it?” your voice sounded revered, and serious. “I am so fucking sure that that was the real Santa, didn’t you see the reindeer approach him!?” Bradley could barely contain his mirth “Shh, Bradley! No swearing!! He’ll know!” you hissed before triumphantly saying “I told you he lived here!”

“Oh, fuck! Shit, I mean–” he laughed at himself “I won’t swear anymore,” before silence fell between the two of you. However, the night wasn’t completely silent anymore. Aside from the soft noises from the horses, and the bells jingling softly, a peculiar sound met their ears.

The driver smiled softly “I believe we’ll see some northern lights soon,” you gasped softly at the drivers words “Oh my god, I read that some people can hear the auroras,” and as soon as the words were out of your mouth, the sky exploded in shades of green, blue and at some spots violet as well.

The sharp intake of air from you was the only thing filling the night, except for a peculiar crackling sound. It was so overwhelming, seeing the lights dance slowly across the expanse of the night sky. Bradley had never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life, and as the sled slowly came to a stop, he noticed that his tears had already frozen on his cheeks. 

When you’d admired the aurora in awed silence for a few minutes, the driver softly had the horses come to a walk again, sensing that staying still for any longer would have them freeze. However, the lights were still slowly dancing back and forth over the skies, and Bradley was sure he’d have a kink in his neck from the way he couldn’t bear to rip his gaze away from this phenomena.

All at once, Bradley could understand why the Sàmi, and natives in his own home country might believe that a higher being was sending them omens through the lights. They were breathtaking, and if he hadn’t known the science behind the lights - he was pretty sure he too would believe that they were otherworldly. Perhaps he’d choose to believe they were either way. 

The two of you reached your room, drawing a hot bath before peeling your clothes off. When you’d warmed up a little, the two of you chattered excitedly about what you’d experienced that day - arguing over who had been the nicest this year.

“Listen, I am one hundred percent sure Santa saw me give Hangman the last piece of the birthday cake earlier this year!”

“Bradley, that was his birthday cake!” 

“So then it was pretty nice of me to let him have it, right?”

Waking up on the 24th, Rooster nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent as you slowly came to consciousness. “Merry Christmas, Roos,” your soft voice had a sleepy hint to it as your fingers carded through his slightly longer locks.

“Merry Christmas, love of my life,” Bradley sighed happily, placing soft kisses to your exposed neck as his arms wound tight around your midsection. The two of you lay wrapped in each others embrace for a big part of the morning, before exchanging a single gift with each other. 

Later that day, you joined the other residents in eating a Christmas smörgåsbord, listening to Christmas songs, and lastly, dancing around the large tree that sat in the lobby. Drinking Christmas ale, mulled wine and sparkling cider. It was the best Christmas Bradley had had for years, and as the jolly type of music wound down to a beautiful Swedish rendition of ‘O Holy Night’ transitioned into ‘White Christmas’, Bradley once again embraced you, swirling you around in a slow dance.

His lips found yours in a kiss that felt as if the northern lights had exploded within the two of you, and were dancing merrily between you.

“Thank you,” Bradley murmured against your lips “for giving me the best Christmas of my life,” he continued, pulling back to admire your beautiful, twinkling eyes.

“Thank you, Bradley,” you replied softly, squeezing his hand before resting your cheek on his sweater clad chest, swaying softly to the tune of the beautiful song that rang out in the winter night.

a/n: ahhh!!! I hope you guys liked this one! I added links to give a visual to things that not everyone knows of or has seen before. I hope it wasn't distracting! Please let me know what you thought of this whimsical little fun fic! <3 lots of love to those who don't celebrate christmas, or have a hard time with christmas as well - I love you so much<3

[annie-blackhill]

People Watching

Hobie Brown x reader (no use of Y/N)

A/N: Very self-indulgent, I'm just writing this for funsies. Also a lousy try at Hobie's cockney accent lesgooo! This is also my first Hobie Brown fic damn!

You were used to being the third wheel whenever you went on outings with your best friend and her boyfriend. You didn't have many friends. When you had entered university, you had expected to at least gain more friends and start enjoying life more instead of being as introverted as you used to be in high school. But it was all the same, you only had your best friend since childhood as always.

You were used to being the only one attending parties and meet-ups alone. You didn't mind, since you believed that it was better to not love at all if you were just going to end up dating or loving the wrong person.

Maybe your issues with love was caused by something even more deeper, something that latched onto your soul and ate away at yourself. Maybe it was how parents had seemed so in love and ended up breaking apart anyway. Maybe it was how you had witnessed the people around you fall in and out of love so easily, as if the emotion itself was just something extremely fickle. Maybe it was how your best friend had fallen in love so many times with the wrong people and gotten herself hurt or hurt someone else countless times.

Love was a confusing emotion. You can feel it seep deep into your bones and heart as it lays there while it spreads its warmth throughout your entire body. Love can also cut deeper than other emotions. Ironic it is how the emotion that can bring immeasurable joy also causes just as much pain.

It had been a normal party, it was supposed to be a normal outing where you would third-wheel your best friend and her boyfriend again, as usual. But this time, her boyfriend had brought his own best friend.

Hobie Brown was tall, very tall. He was lean and good-looking. It was almost unbelievable how he was also single and being a fourth wheel.

"Oy, get a room you two!" Hobie yelled at your best friend's boyfriend and was flipped off by the other.

Hobie and you decided to stay by the drinks table, the two of you weren't familiar with anyone else at the party save for the couple that had dragged the both of you here.

You observed Hobie out of the side of your eye. Hobie was obviously a punk, his clothing was loud and interesting, it piqued your curiosity. He had tattoos and a piercings. The more you looked at Hobie, you couldn't help but wonder how he was single.

"Ya should snap a pic, dove, it'll last ya longer," Hobie teased, he had noticed that you had been observing him for a while now.

You shrugged off his comment with a chuckle as you turned to face him fully, "Are you really single? Can't seem to believe that someone like yourself would be single."

"Aye, love, am just people-watchin' until I find my one, ya get it?" Hobie replied with a chuckle, you noticed that he was obviously amused by your question.

That caught you off guard. It was rare for you to find someone else that was like you, someone who was just waiting for their one person, while they watched others fall in and out of love.

You took a sip of your drink, non-alcoholic since you were tasked with driving, "Didn't expect that answer, honestly."

"What, ya expected me to be a playboy or somethin', doll?" Hobie joked, drinking his own non-alcoholic beverage.

You chuckled to yourself, confirming Hobie's suspicions, "I'm sorry for assuming, Hobie."

"Nah, yer fine, I've got worse assumptions. Must be mah killer looks, eh? Got you thinkin' I date all the girls I get?" Hobie joked, grinning and laughing.

As the night dragged on, you found that Hobie was really easy to talk to. He was funny and sweet. He never jumped to conclusions recklessly. He listened to you with so much curiosity and even encouraged you to continue talking when you felt like you had been rambling for too long. It was nice. You felt seen and heard. It was rare for you to feel like that with anyone these days.

"I gotta ask though, dove. Why's a nice one like you single?" Hobie had tilted his head to the side as he asked and you couldn't help but compare the sight to that of a cat.

"I'm just waiting for my one, too," you replied with a longing smile as you looked out at the crowd of couples.

Hobie looked in the same direction as you before he glanced back at you. He understood how you felt, he understood the loneliness that came from looking at couples in love.

Hobie seemed to be lost in thought for a moment before he handed his phone to you, the add contact screen was displayed.

"You want my number?" you asked, confused. It was unbelievably rare for your number to get asked by anyone, may it be a potential friend or lover.

"Yeah, dove. You're fun and I wouldn't mind hanging out with you, again," Hobie shrugged.

You smiled as you took his phone from him. You added your number to his contacts and Hobie's face lit up like a child on Christmas, it was a cute sight that made you giggle.

"It'll be a fair exchange if you gave me your number too, you know?" you joked playfully as you handed your phone to Hobie for him to add his number to your contacts.

Hobie was eager to give you his number, it seemed, with the way he took your phone with an excited smile and added his number to your contacts in under a few seconds.

As you checked over his contact info, you couldn't help but notice the contact name: Hobie <333. The contact name made you smile and giggle even, Hobie was really cute despite his rough exterior.

"Ey, dove, look 'ere," Hobie called for your attention as he showed you the name that he had saved your contact info.

Hobie had added hearts behind your name as well. He truly was really endearing.

As the night dragged on and you enjoyed Hobie's company as the two of you shared smiles and laughs, you couldn't help but think: Maybe I wouldn't need to live vicariously anymore. Maybe there's no need for people-watching anymore.

______________________________________________________________

A/N: Thank you for reading! I might write a part two if anyone is interested in this. This was just a fun idea that has been sitting in my mind for some time now. Hope you enjoyed! <333

This wasn't beta read by the way, so please tell me if there were any errors.

Please repost to support!

[lil-melody-moon]

Today is a full year of my obsession with Keith Moon. One year without a day of a break or any shifts of attention to anyone else. It's special to me, because it never happened before that I was this interested in someone, going so far as to get his biography and read it in English - I had no other choice, but I could still give up because it's not translated.

Being his fan brought much happiness to me. The music The Who made helped me carry on in the worst moments at university, it kept me alive, making me realise some things, but most importantly, I think it's beautiful how being Keith's fan fixed me.

I came back to reading and writing, something that was always my passion, I don't feel as lonely as I did two years ago somehow thinking about him got rid of it and I started to feel more like myself again - I'm still in the process of recovering my true self and I think I'm nearing the end of this difficult path, I started smiling more often, feel pure joy, just feel better in general thanks to him and the music he helped to create.

There's no way I could thank him for that, but I do like to believe that he sees everything from up above and he's still happy that he can make someone laugh and not feel sad anymore. I hope I will not lose myself anymore and that I can carry on with him by my side, because for now that's all I want. To always have some means to hear him drum and sing, see him on videos or just to see him in photos.

I adore him more than I thought I will anyone, so that's why, besides this big thank you, I also wanted to write a one-shot. It's a self-insert, self-indulgent piece that's heavily based on what I've read about him. Hopefully, the ones who'll read it will have fun reading it. The fic is under the cut:

It was a lazy, very lazy afternoon at the beach house at Victoria Point Road. Standing on the balcony, the sounds of the sea were the only things heard and that was depressing in a way. So much money went in this house, it was in the best spot somebody could live in. Californian beaches were the greatest as far as the girl could say, but that still didn't push away how lonely it could be there.

Used to the heartbeat of the city, always having somewhere to go, to drink and party usually, this calm was leaving scars on her mental state and her boyfriend's one. Calm days were at hand, she saw him lurking somewhere in the corner with a book, she decided to not disturb him. Not after what happened two days ago.

Keith was almost always drunk and high, exceptions being the days of break, such as these ones. Caroline left the house to go do some shopping, she told Keith where she was going, how much time it'll take her and when she'll definitely be back at home. She was always giving herself extra time if she was to take longer at shopping. Keith was all okay with it until she came back home, late for the first time in a while.

"Where the fuck have you been?!" Came the shout when she closed the door. Only then did she realise she was late and a fight was already at hand.

Keith was drunk, not a single word was getting to him and so the yelling began. It almost ended in a physical fight when Keith lost his temper and raised his hand in an attempt to hit Caroline. She paled at that, but she didn't cover. "Come on, hit me!" she yelled instead. "Your drunk mind isn't capable of doing anything else than that!"

His hand didn't slap her cheek, his dizzy mind reminding him of why he lost his wife in the first place and he forgo it, letting his hand fall down. The relief that Caroline felt didn't show on her face, her expression stayed unchanged, still angry at him for lashing out at her for being late. From the very beginning she knew what she was signing herself up to, she only didn't expect it to be this bad.

A quiet "sorry" was mumbled, the anger disappearing, replaced by an emotion of regret. "I did come back" Caroline pointed out, her tone still cold. "I've got late because of the queue in the shop. I was rushing back home, knowing I might be a minute or so late, not this much." Her voice was becoming softer. She peeked at the clock seeing that she was almost 40 minutes late. Not what she wanted to do.

Caroline could guess that this moment started the calm days again, where Keith took a break from boozing. She only wished for the days to last longer, but she also knew Keith would grew bored of that and start the loop again. A sigh left her lips, these few days were only for her to prepare for the worst to come again.

How many times did she ask him to go seek help? She didn't know.

How many times did she plead him to go to rehab and promise that she'll help him get better? She hadn't had a clue.

How many times she tried to give him hope that they'll find a good psychiatrist to help him with his inner troubles? She would run out of her fingers and toes to count.

Maybe it was the time in which they lived that nobody was out there to help him or maybe fate just wanted it that way. It only left her to wonder on this lonesome balcony, her green eyes watching the waves. A call of her name brought her out of this state. She turned to see Keith walking towards her, his red and black bathrobe covering him. He got chubbier with years, bloated if she could use any other, more correct term, he looked older than his age indicated, but he was still the guy she met after the concert and who suddenly started to keep in touch with her.

The smile she loved apparent on his face when she looked at him. A smile appeared on her face as well, it was impossible to not smile back at him. "Finished with the book?" she asked, starting the conversation. Keith joined her on the balcony, hooking their arms together.

"Not entirely" he said, adding right after. "Felt a bit lonely there."

Caroline placed her hand on his, their hands laying connected on the railing. "You could tell me, I would join you in reading."

Sometimes they read different books and showed each other fragments, commenting on them. Keith was fond of peeking his head above her arm to see what was written on her page, forgetting about what he was reading. His hand was slapping her one when she wanted to turn the page and he didn't finish reading.

"You have your own book." Caroline always said.

"Yours is more interesting." Was Keith's answer.

And sometimes they read the same one, Keith eager to read the dialogues aloud, Caroline taking care of the narration. Keith took care to make the book one hundred times funnier than normally, causing even the most sad part be somehow unnecessary dramatic.

"I wanted to join you here" Keith answered, placing his other hand on her arm, stroking it. "Look, I'm sorry for what happened the day before yesterday." Keith looked hurt at the memory of how he screamed at her, he was truly apologising, like he always did. "I won't do that ever again."

It wasn't the first time he said it. "I know." Caroline shifted closer to him. "I forgive you." She didn't say it for the first time as well. They both knew that it will repeat in a few days at a slight inconvenience, but both couldn't live without the other. Caroline was too forgiving and Keith was out of control, yet the love that connected them made it possible to live together.

"Thank you." It was almost inaudible what Keith said, but the silence at their house made it possible for Caroline to hear it. "I'm so fucking bored" he complained, looking down at the sand.

"We can search for something to do" Caroline suggested and upon seeing Keith's curious expression she suddenly smiled. Freeing her hand, she winked at him, asking him to wait here a bit. She went inside to search for what she brought at the shop the last time. It was impossible for her to not go to the bookstore. It was mainly the reason why she got late, but she had to lie to Keith to not spoil the surprise.

Keith waited for her, seeing her coming back, hands behind her back. "What do you have there?" He got immediately interested, leaving his spot and walking to her, wanting to grab the thing. Caroline took a few steps back, until she hit the wall, denying Keith any access to the thing she held in her hands now pressed to her back. Keith pouted at that.

"Something you'll love" she started mysteriously, seeing that childish glint in his brown eyes. "Wanna guess?"

"This will take me only one try!" Keith claimed surely. "But maybe one tiny hint, please?"

"Hmmm…" Caroline looked up, thinking about a hint. She felt Keith's hands sneaking behind her back, she squirmed, covering the thing, saying: "No cheating Keith!"

"Then hurry up!" He had no patience, which only made Caroline more amused.

"It's something that has a treasure hidden inside" she finally said, making the hint as general as she could to not give him an easy one.

"Something like a box that has a hidden thing inside?" Keith asked, not caring if it was against the rules.

"No." Caroline shook her head. "But it has a treasure nevertheless." She giggled, adding another hint. "A treasure you need a map for."

Keith's eyes shined when he heard that. "A map that was left by someone? A pirate, perhaps?"

The childish grin that appeared on his face when she nodded could make her forgive him for everything. Sober Keith was the one who was hidden beneath that mask he was putting on when he was in public. It was her childish, insecure boy who loved a certain story. "Is it a book that you got?"

"Yes!" Caroline exclaimed, taking out from behind her back a new release of Treasure Island. "Look what I've found at the bookstore!"

Keith grabbed the children's book, not believing his eyes. He had to flip through it and read the fragments to really believe what he was holding in his hand. Caroline knew it was his favourite. Keith knew it by heart, but it never hurt anyone to have a copy at home.

"I thought that maybe… We could read it together?" Her suggestion was finally out, Keith hearing her still too mesmerised by the book to answer. She neared closer, looking with him at the text and drawings. She wrapped her arms around his waist. "What do you say?"

There was a moment of silence before she heard Keith's voice change, knowing that they will be busy with the book and acting for the rest of the day. "You can count on Long John Silver, my lady!"

[pilotinthestars]

the new millennium's helen of troy - chapter 2: midnight blue

rating: m | total word count: | @today-in-fic

--

It had been over a month since Scully’s spring cleaning day and the boxes, filled with various items she no longer deemed as necessary in her life, had been long sent to Goodwill. One of them had indeed been the bubblegum pink slip. When she’d made her decision and taken it out of her closet, she hadn’t suspected Mulder to take any interest in her donation bins, much less the piece of lingerie her college-aged self had bought, trying to feel grown-up, trying to feel different.

The incident hadn’t come up since. She expected Mulder hadn’t thought anything of it. On the other hand, it hadn’t left her mind.

It had been a long week at work and though they’d had dinner together, Mulder had opted not to spend the night, a rare occurrence these days. He needed to tend to his apartment and feed his mollies and even though it would likely just be one night apart, her heart missed him nonetheless.

After Mulder left, she went for her evening shower, debating what she wanted to do for the evening. There was a stack of medical journals by her computer she had wanted to go through and a novel her mother had given her last weekend. She could even possibly find something to watch on the TV. But honestly, none of that interested her. She’d done enough autopsies this week that the FBI ought to give her a raise, and right now all she wanted was to curl up in bed. 

With a sigh, she walked to her dresser, dropped her towel, and surveyed the topmost drawer’s contents. She was a woman in her mid-thirties, she’d had her fair share of lingerie over the years, and she liked to think her tastes had improved with age.

Along with age came experience; she personally thought she ascribed to plenty of feminist ideals and did agree that there was plenty of lingerie that was impractical, especially for her work life and schedule. But… she couldn’t deny that it was fun from time to time. Covering up satin bras with her dark suits, thigh highs rather than regular pantyhose, sliding into her freshly washed sheets in her silk robe. It was an indulgence, one that she rather enjoyed. And it had really only been for her, at least for the past six years.

--

Read the rest on AO3. Mind the rating bump!!

[hlficlibrary]

umm hello, i need your help... i havent read a fanfic in a few months and it's starting to feel weird coz i'm literally always reading but now whenever i open a new fanfic i end up skim-reading it and it feels like a dishonest thing to do

so could you please recommend me some angsty fanfic under 20k which are very gripping....

THANKYOU

Hello, anon! You're very welcome! This was an interesting challenge because I wanted to get you closer to 20k than super short ones. And for some reason the angsty ones I could think of are either short or over 20k. That being said, I knew I'd be able to find you some. (ALSO, I promise you that just skim-reading something is a perfectly fine thing to do and there's nothing dishonest or bad about it. Sometimes, we just find ourselves in a place where it's harder than other times to get into a story. That's no one's fault! I do understand the feeling of wanting to really get into a story though, so I hope these fics will do that for you!) I'll put the word count with these so you know how long these are and also I fudged the first one because I think it's JUST what you're looking for and it's just a little over 20k.

what's left of my halo's black by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove (E, 22k)

As Harry sucks lovebites into Louis’ neck, Louis hopes that one day those marks will cover the way he can still feel Alex’s handprints burned into his flesh.

As Harry’s nails drag scratches along Louis’ back, Louis hopes that one day the scabs on his heart will heal and drop away just like the scabs on his skin.

As Harry fucks him down into the mattress, the bed shaking with every thrust, Louis hopes that one day his mouth will forget the shape of Alex’s name, won’t trace it over and over as the heat builds inside him, won’t want to scream it when he comes. Maybe one day he’ll open his eyes, as he slowly floats down from his post-orgasm haze, and won’t expect to see Alex’s face smiling back at him.

But today is not that day.

A year after a devastating breakup, Louis is still trying to put himself back together - but getting over a breakup is hard when you work as a wedding planner. Thankfully, his coworker Harry is the most supportive friend Louis could ask for. But Harry has some secrets of his own, and they send Louis' world spinning off its axis all over again.

bonded by @juliusschmidt (M, 20k)

Louis cannot remember his life before Harry. He had one- Harry is, after all, two years younger than he is- but he cannot pull up even one memory that is not somehow intertwined with Harry.

the one where they are bonded, but it's not like that and they have to pretend like it is

No Easy Love (Could Make Me Feel This Way) by @allwaswell16 (E, 17k)

There’s never been anyone for Harry but Louis. He had always thought their love would last forever, despite society’s pressures on an alpha/alpha relationship. When Louis breaks up with him and moves to Chicago, he’s suddenly left behind to pick up the pieces of the life they once shared. Instead of moving on, he finds reasons to keep Louis in his life and in the process begins to piece together what went wrong.

Or an Alpha Louis/Alpha Harry au where they get a second chance to make things right with the love of their life.

You're A Universe by Jiksa / @jiksax (E, 15k)

Harry doesn’t ever mean to hurt him; Louis doesn’t know how to tell him that it’s the only thing he ever does anymore.

Or, Louis’s a stay-at-home dad in London and Harry’s a business expat in Qatar. Louis doesn’t know how much longer their marriage can survive the distance.

give me things to stay awake by embodied (E, 10k)

It’s shitty and it’s counterproductive and it’s self-indulgent, but he lets it become a thing. On Saturday nights Harry goes out and gets so pissed he can’t stand, and when the bartender cuts him off he rings Louis and is in his car within an hour. It’s not a cycle he’s proud of, but it’s also something he can’t resist, and he keeps doing it as long as Louis keeps showing up.   AU. It's been a year since Louis broke up with Harry.

[tinycactusfromarizona]

How does your depiction of Bella and Alice differ from canon Bella and Alice? This can range form their personality to their fashion style. Info-dump as much as you want! I would love to hear your thoughts on this cause your art is wonderful and I will read your fics! I promise you that!

Okay so like i've wanted someone to ask me this forever!! so the fic Overcast is my canon Bellice, my partner wrote it for me so that's definitely somewhere to go to if you're curious. but i also have my own headcanons to add towards them. so bella is not super different, but definitely a lot more masc leaning. sure she keeps her long hair but in her style. im drawing a lot of inspiration from ellie from the last of us in her style (thats another one of my hyperfixations) personally wise, at first she's very meek and shy. but it's probably because she's new to Forks. she's really come into her own. and calmed down. once she's comfortable in her relationship with Alice she's definitely a lot more charismatic. she still loves to read, she goes through books ravenously. but also she joins Jacob and Rosalie with mechanics. she loves being able to put things together and make them work. And it's a way her and Rosalie get closer. they end up having a really great relationship. and that also goes for her and Emmett. they're probably the closest outside of her and Alice. they're basically long lost siblings. and they get into all kinda shit when they're together. They terrorize Edward it's hilarious honestly.

With Alice, She’s fairly the same in the roots. Much less problematic than how she is in canon. She doesn’t want to dress up Bella like a doll, sure she’ll have an influence on her fashion. But she wont dress her up. She respects her and loves her. I’ve made her kinda self indulgent to my tastes. I made her goth since it’s a style of fashion that i love so much. And personally i think it suits her incredibly well. At first i wanted some E-girl influence but as I got more into developing it I’ve started drawing some influence from trad goth. It makes sense since Alice lived through the inception of the goth subculture. She probably went to goth clubs and danced the night away back then. And honestly i think thats beautiful. I think she probably was attracted to all types of alternative subcultures. Being a little strange herself, she felt a kinship with outcasts. Not only that but also being queer and despite Jasper not being so into the idea of queer culture. (Straight white confederate soldier man, smh smeyer what were u thinking) She like all vampires can’t use modern smart phones due to modern touchscreens use bio electricity to work, since our vampires are undead and don’t produce bio electricity. So they’re stuck with either using styluses or dumb phones. Which I think is hilarious. Due to Alice’s being subjected to electric shock therapy she still has memory loss and on top of that she has developed a reading disability. I think she’ll want to look into her human life and look for her sister Cynthia. But I haven’t thought that far ahead of what goes on with their story. Her relationship with Jasper was inherently abusive, due to him abusing his gift of emotional influence on her to trick her to think they were mates. (Go read overcast if you want more of that storyline) So as expected they don’t last much longer after Bella comes into her life. I think it’s sweet that they end up saving each other in their stories. Alice helps Bella come into her own and gain her confidence, Bella helps Alice escape the abuse she wasn’t even aware she was being subjected to.

In my own personal head canon, vampires can change forms. Depending on anger and bloodlust. They become much more monstrous. Gaining a mouth full of sharp teeth, jaws unhinging, claws forming and body frame distorting into a much more animalistic or demonic body. I want them to become so scary. Not just the pretty marble statues that Smeyer depicts. Vampires are monsters and i want them to look the part when they let their humanity go. I have a few drawings of Alice showing her monstrous side, but not going that far into it. Vampires are one of my hyperfixations so i go pretty in depth on twilight vampires in my head. A big part of why i like them is the creatures they are, the politics of covens and the Voltori. I just think they’re just so interesting. Not only that me and my partner dive into werewolves and the difference between werewolves and shapeshifters in our twilight universe. (It’s all in overcast and full moon so please go read those fics if you want more of that)

I have drawn some personal pieces for them (mostly nsfw) but tumblr is not nice to those kinda drawings so they stay in my personal collection. Unless like y’all want me to start up a Patreon or something idk.

I want to draw more for them but like I’m a bit burnt out at the moment, I’m focusing on stuff I’m hyperfixating on right now. But I’ll come back to twilight, it’s my great love and bellice is my otp so don’t worry, I’ll be back soon. This is everything I can think of at the moment but like if you want me to elaborate on like specifics I’d be happy to talk about more. I love twilight and i love to talk about it. I really appreciate you asking me about my personal headcannons and the bellice i draw, so thank you!!

[slashingdisneypasta]

I know nothing about the DmD trio other than from your blog... But you already know how in love with the Tinman I am XD I had to send an ask for my random few thoughts.

- please- indulge me for a moment. You know that ship dynamic of the gentle giant and the overprotective short stack? That's what I've been imagining with Tinny. Him getting an S/O who is smaller than him (though that wouldn't be hard, I guess XD), but I will absolutely throw hands on his behalf. If he could without hurting them, he could pick them up and set them aside before dealing with the danger himself. Because he'll fight for them too ^^ (Also made me think; If Scarcrow got a Tinman's second in command!S/O and Lion has a Scarecrows assistant!S/O, what if Tinny got a Lions best warriors!S/O? Assuming he has his own army. Or someone associated with Lion?)

- TINMAN FEELING SO GUILTY WHEN HE ACCIDENTALLY CUTS YOU AND APOLOGIZING SO PROFUSELY, EXPECTING YOU TO YELL AT HIM LIKE DOROTHY, ONLY FOR YOU TO ASSURE HIM THAT YOU KNEW HE DIDNT MEAN IT 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

- In general; Tinny knowing what it's like to be loved through you ^^ and just- realizing he's no longer in an abusive relationship the longer you two are together 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 you don't yell and insult him, you don't order anything from him, and you never expect him to commit terrible crimes for you. You just want your lovely tin man <3

- Imagine taking in interest in his crafting hobby and sitting with him, or even asking him to teach you! Even if you just want to enjoy his company and have no desire for metal bending, Tinny will be so so so happy and elated to have you here with him ^^

- KISSING TIN!!!!! Holding his cold, metal face delicately while rubbing a thumb along his cheek, maybe brushing against his sharp overbite, your guys' eyes filled with love for each other before you lean in and carefully press your lips against his needle like teeth and lips??? SIGN ME UP! 📃📃📃📃📃

- TIN BEING TOUCH STARVED TIN BEING TOUCH STARCED TIN BEING TOUCH STARVED-

(.... Uh... *cough* I'm not sure if Tinny still has the ~equipment~ or the ~desire~, but you can try to grind on a smooth part of him, or convince him to get extensions. I'm certain he'll want to make happy in bed as well 😏 ok bye-)

- hm... Ngl I'm already wondering what a Yan!DmD!Tinny would be like... I have no self control 😅 of course you know his character more than me, but I like the idea that if he truly went full yandere mode, completely love struck with someone more hopelessly than with Dorothy, he would be more persistent in gaining their affections. It feels like with Dorothy that he'll try something with her, she'll hurt him, and he'll give her some space before trying again. And was slowly realizing that she didn't love him, before Glinda stepped in. But he still hasn't given up. Can you imagine how amplified that'd be if he were yandere?? Maybe even fully deluded that you'll love him instead of just listening to what others tell him? 🤔 what do you think? If you want to comment.

All I've got for now XD as you can see, in my mind, we're already married, live in a cottage in the woods, and are raising three robot children that we built togetger XD (omg this is another example of us falling in love with partner characters(?) You have Scarecrow, and I have Tin... It sounds like we might share Lion though XD) I hope these make you smile! ^^

THIS MADE ME COMBUST.

C OM B U S T.

I- HMMMMMM *BUZZING FROM EXCITEMENT* WHERE DO I EVEN START-

Okay first of all OMG YES!! It is another Norman/Wayne / Psycho/Greasy / Granny/Big Bad kinda situation!! 🤣🤣🤣 I love this, I love that we do this XD YESS Lion is like Wheezy, we both love him and need to appreciate him more XD

And second of all- YES! TIN MAN IS GONNA GET A FIC WHERE HIS S/O IS CLOSE TO THE LION! THAT WAS THE PLAN FROM THE START! XD I love sympatry.

Okay okay okay now onto your actual points- I must take a deep breath first XD

... hoo, okay. Let go.

Gentle Giant/Over Protective Short Stack: Yessss 🥺🥺🥺 Oh boy, does he need it. He needs someone who will CROSS the throne room the millisecond that Dorothy crosses the line and curse at her like a sailor like how DARE you!?- And that second part?? Tin picking his crazy small S/O up (Very carefully, with those fingers of his) and placing them somewhere to the side (Maybe into the arms of one of his tin soldiers- yes, he has entire army fully at his command. They're tin/biology hybrids frankensteined together by Scare) before Dealing with the situation himself. I can see it so clearly it is making my heart ache. Tin scooping you up, saying 'thank you, spring blossom (he'd use all sortsa cringy cute names like that genuinely XD ), but please, please let me handle this for you. The last thing we want is for you to be hurt', and carefully passing you off to another soldier he trusts. He carefully pushes some of your hair behind your ear, then turns back to the threat; straightens up to his f u l l building-like height, and takes care of shit. And the whole time, he wouldn't let even one piece of whoever he's Taking Care Of to hit you (The man is THOROUGH).

Tin Accidentally Hurting S/O:

He was on his knees, again. You told him a million times he doesn't need to do that, but the sweet, dramatic man just cant help himself. And honestly? You don't mind it, actually- You can kiss him and fluster him a lot easier this way. But this time?? This time he was on his knees profusely apologising. And you couldn't take it!! There was no need!! He just accidentally sliced you across the cheek with one of his fingers- he didn't mean to, and you both know it! You hear Dorothy give a snigger from her throne nearby, baring witness to this. You also see the Scarecrow drops his head backwards and sigh heavily at the display- but you don't care about Tin's so-called friends. You care about Tin. You take Tin's big metal head in your hands. " -so sorry. I don't know what came over me, I can do better. I would never, ever fetter your perfect skin on purpose- " "I know, I know." Instead of insisting he don't be silly and he cant help it sometimes!!, which is what you want to do!, you focus on calming him. Because everyone is watching, and he's probably mortified. You just want him to be okay. "Please Tin, its fine. Everyone knows you wouldn't hurt me on purpose." There's a hint of panic in his voice when he speaks next, a little quieter; following your lead and acting as if its just you two, here. Just him, and you. Safe. "Someone might think they could care for you better then me." "Doesn't matter." You whisper. "I know, they couldn't."

Having a Healthy Relationship with Tin: My heart <3 Yes! I can see him struggling with that- even before Dorothy went bad he was willing to give her anything. But imagine any time he offers you something, you're like 'oh that sounds nice! good idea Tin! lets do it together ^^' and leading him off before he can protest. And he s l o w l y starts to feel so so comfortable with you <3<3

"Moon flower, could I get you a drink?" "Oh yeah, I'd love one! Thank you! ^^ Lets go, and we'll get you some oil as well, love." *connecting arms and towing him towards the kitchens* *Eyes wide* "Oh- but I'm fin- " "I can hear you squeaking. Lets go!~ " *gentle voice* "You don't need to worry about me, my love." "No, I don't need to, but I don't mind." *pats his arm gently*

Crafting Together: WAHHHHHHHH, JUST IMAGINING SITTING THERE NEXT TO HIM WATCHING IN UTTER ADORATION AND AWE AND HE DOESNT EVEN NOTICE, JUST ENJOYS TELLING YOU ABOUT HIS THING, UNTIL LATER LION MENTIONS HE SAW YOU HIM AND 'YOUR LADY FRIEND LOOKED BESOTTED, OLD FRIEND'

Kissing, Affection & Sex: Yes yes yes kissing Tin <3<3<3 Oh my goodness. Cupping his large face and stroking his cheeks, leaving feather-light kisses all over his smooth metal cheeks and underbite, gently scraping your nails down his chest or any other smooth part of him and he SHUDDERS (I don't know how physical feeling works for him, especially since Scare was able to pop open his chest and enhance his heart without Tin feeling a thing but when Amy sliced it open it hurt him, but I don't care. It works. It is all in working order because I say so XD), curling your fingers between tangled springs and wires and hearing him gasp, kissing the side of his pointy nose, absentmindedly and gently sliding your finger along the dull side of each of his fingers, etc. Him stroking the dull side of his pointer fingers under your chin when he wants you to look up so he can see your pretty face, him being afraid to touch you or kiss you himself but asking you to touch/kiss him, him raising his hips or his leg (Or wherever you've deemed it safe to rub yourself) in an effort to make it feel better for you- aghhhhh XD I'm not okay XD

And- EXTENSIONS?? Omg yes he would absolutely do that for his S/O XD You wouldn't even have to ask man!! He'd anticipate it, once you two actually got together!! XDD But like, the thing thats getting me here?? SCARECROW IS THE ONE WHO'LL HAVE TO MAKE THOSE ADJUSTMENTS XDD

"I'm sorry, uh, old friend, let me just... let me see if I fully understand. You want to...? " "I want to make some necessary improvements to my body for the sake of my human love's pleasure. At night." "... uhuh. And that means?" "I would like to be fitted with the tool's a human man has, or something better, for- " *impatient with Tin's awkward pussy footing* "Are you asking me to attach a Dick to you, Tin Woodman!???" "... Yes. Will you do it?" "... Fine... For Science."

Yandere Tin Woodman!!!!!: Oooooookay. I'm struggling to gather my thoughts here XD To an extent, I think Woody is actually already kindof Yandere XD I mean, before Dorothy even shows her 'true colours' herself, he's doing some not-so-above-board things for her. Like forcing his people (The Winky's) to walk for days non stop to the Emerald palace to be her army. And then, when she seems displeased, letting Scarecrow do what he wants with them (He's shocked when he finds out WHAT Scare did with them, which was Frankenstein them of course (which killed a good portion of them before he got the procedure Right), but he was miraculously easy to convince that it was a good idea when Scare and Glinda said Dorothy would like it). As well as letting Scarecrow adjust Tin's own heart with magic For Dorothy. So... yeah, to an extent, Tin is already obsessed with getting her to like him. But if he was All The Way Yandere like you're thinking... oh boy.

There would be no getting away. Remember how he's got a whole army at his disposal?? And d u n g e o n s??? 👀 Yeah. He'd be like 'I know you don't love me yet, and it is painful my sunlit dandelion, but you will eventually. You'll fall for me, eventually'.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS ASK!! Aghhhh, you're really enabling me here XD

[silkendandelion]

All This For A Coin (One-Shot), A One Piece fanfiction

Trafalgar Law x OC (male) Words: 2.7k Genre: Fluff, humor, tiny bit of sauce

Summary: Set almost 3 years after the events of Mirage In The Desert. River and Law seek out the Cross Guild to buy an important artifact, and Crocodile comes to meet them. The former lovers remember what they once had, while River reflects on the love of the present.

Rated Teen and Up Audiences for sexually suggestive content and language.

Cross-posted to ao3, here. Check out my ao3 of the same url for more fics. Likes and reblogs are always welcome. And as always, thanks for reading. Cheers to another fic done, cheers to self-indulgent fluff.

~*~

“Captain, 2 kilometers to land!” called Bepo from the control room, met by Law in the doorway in his navy blue, feathered coat.

The helmsman’s gaze scanned repeatedly over the sea. “...I guess the rumors are bogus, I don’t see Bananawani anywhere—AH!” They screeched from behind their mask when their observation screen darkened, blocked completely by a reptilian eyeball.

“Hold your fire! Be calm,” Law gritted out, standing firm despite the sweat on his forehead. He turned to the man that trailed behind him, draped in a cloak of peacock blue and green, his long hair pinned away to show off the jewels that hung from his ears. Even in the dim lighting of the control panel bulbs, his easy smile was brilliant, a sign for the Heart Pirates to be soothed.

Nearly 3 years ago, they had groaned and rolled their eyes at every appearance of the showy revolutionary, uncaring for how he spoke so casually to their captain, especially after saving his life in the aftermath of the battle for Marineford. Now, he knew all their names, knew which ones preferred hugs and which preferred handshakes. Were he anything less than a friend, they would have protested more to their Captain informing them they were traveling to meet the so-called Cross Guild.

The stacked heels of River’s boots clicked on the submarines metal floor as he went to place his palm on the warm glass. “We are expected. Crocodile said the wani would be fed prior to our arrival, and it appears he has kept his promise.”

“Preparing idle procedures, Captain. We can wait here as long as your business takes,” the helmsman informed him.

“Not as long as it takes those things to get hungry again, right?” Shachi said from the door.

“I don’t plan to be here any longer than absolutely necessary,” Law said, already on his way to disembark.

“Yes, leave the engine rubbing,” River said as he followed.

“Leave the engine what—” They raised their eyebrow behind their mask. “Hm. He almost got that one right. He’ll get the hang of the common language eventually.”

“At least he’s not saying, ‘Room, shingles’ anymore.” Bepo said, leaning in his chair and idly popping a snack into his mouth with a big paw.

“I miss that one, actually. Made the Captain smile.”

~*~

The Cross Guild’s temporary headquarters of operations was far removed from the luxury preferred by it’s founders, though the clown seemed to be determined to thrive under less-than-ideal circumstances. Damaged stone walls and drafty corridors, tattered tapestries and dark halls, all the qualities of a defunct and usurped former fortress, for all it’s wilting splendor, was still a fortress when packed with the new organization’s loyal mercenaries.

In the main hall and draped across a chipped stone throne, his segmented legs fidgeting with the singed carpet, sat a yawning Buggy, suddenly all too eager to address the pirate and revolutionary in his home.

“YOU two?! The insufferable Trafalgar Law, and—” He made an embarrassing grunt, no doubt remembering River from his Impel Down escape, and the indecent comments he made about his figure when he first mistook him for a woman. At least, until River yelled his refusal at the clown with what was decidedly not a woman’s voice. No, Buggy really wasn’t living that one down.

“How DARE you bring those legs—I mean your face in here before me! How did you get passed the wani? Didn’t that bastard Crocodile say those beasts would—” He clapped his mouth shut on a squeal when said bastard Crocodile appeared at his side.

“Are you treating our guests well, Buggy?”

The clown watched his own reflection swallow in the golden curve of Crocodile’s hook, watched it nod his acknowledgment.

“I called them.” Crocodile explained calmly. “Seems I’ve found an eager buyer for our cargo in one Trafalgar Law.”

“No shit?” Buggy looked to them both, all curious eyes as his limbs floated back to him.

“Be a good clown and show him to the store room.”

“Me?! I mean, why should I—”

Crocodile’s withering stare suffocated him appropriately into submission, and Buggy obediently slinked off down the hall with a wave for Law to follow.

“I’ll wait for you here, Law. It’s okay.” River smiled at him, though he could see it gave little comfort as his gaze darted suspiciously between him and the former warlord, once, then twice before he followed slowly down the path Buggy left.

Honestly, at least one of the two smart men should have assumed their reunion would be a little awkward, if not a little feisty, bloody maybe. Anything besides the cloistering silence.

“… I’ve been catching up on your publications since last we saw each other,” Crocodile broke the quiet first, ashing his cigar on the patched floor.

“Do you like them?” River leaned into his opinion, let his gloved hands fidget.

“Your prose was always a touch flowery for my tastes, but anyone who reads your work can tell how intelligent you are.”

“A high compliment, coming from Sir Crocodile.”

“There’s also talk about your unpublished adventures.”

He squared his shoulders, unsure whether he was about to be scolded or complimented again. With Crocodile, he never could tell.

“The pirate Trafalgar Law has lost his title as Warlord.”

“That’s common knowledge.”

“And has taken a lover, a showy mercenary with hair like a black flag and twin silver swords.”

River frowned that such a personal rumor had appeared about them. Not that River wasn’t used to his private life being flayed apart for the circus of the newspapers and Marine correspondence alike, but to inflict such poor taste upon Law’s reputation was unforgivable. “Is that what people are saying?”

“I paraphrase. You know how the masses chatter.”

“They’re right this time, even if it’s none of their business. I am in love with him, and he loves me.”

Crocodile sigh condensed between them in smoke, a familiar shroud. “Can you even trust him? He’s made an entire career out of playing both sides. Even for you, River, that is reckless. Did you learn nothing the first time?”

Did I teach you nothing?

“I trust him with my life.” River insisted.

You trusted me.

“Young men are fickle,” Crocodile argued, uncaring how flimsy the grievance sounded to both of them. He would not see River hurt, not by the same mistakes again.

“He had his reasons for everything he’s done,” replied River. “Good reasons. Both in and out of the veil of the world’s watch.”

“Does he satisfy you?”

River scoffed at the abrupt shift in subject, though incapable to not turn a little pink. “To be a true gentleman is to never tell, and to respect your competition.”

“Don’t quote your father to me, not when I’m asking if that brat has taken the time from his ambitions to care for you, the way you deserve.”

“The way you did?” His cheeks darken.

“… How I wanted to.”

Crocodile’s pause is unexpectedly genuine, sentimental, and River feels his face cool, if only to be replaced by a tingling up the back of his neck. “You’re different, Crocodile. And yet I would recognize you anywhere.”

“Do you miss it?”

“I…” He searches for words that would neither damn him nor give hope where there is none. “Look back on us fondly.”

“I’ll give you another moment to answer me truthfully.”

His skin prickles in goosebumps beneath the layers of his clothes, the looming darkness of Crocodile into his personal space is familiar—and warm. He’s close enough to kiss him if only he leaned into the vector of them, hurled himself towards a bliss not forgotten over years and other lovers.

“And does he trust you?” Crocodile rumbled between them, his voice reverberating inside River’s lungs and caressing along the curves of his ribs.

They were a storm once.

Lightning trapped in a bottle, pin-prickles of electricity racing over flushed skin and along sore tongues in hot mouths. Crocodile can recall with a cursedly perfect memory the sight of him, chest heaving and flushed with a new orgasm. He could still taste the humid tang of saltwater in the folds of his body.

As did River. With only his eyes closed, he could feel a wide palm on the length of him as if it was real, hear Crocodile rumble the sweetest promises into the space between his shoulder and ear while he pulls him apart by the ends of his threads. Look at you, my love. Perfect, and all for me.

They were almost married.

But in the present, and with all the warmth and fondness he still had for him, River finally answered his question.

“Completely.”

The smile that forms around Crocodile’s cigar is contented, pleased to see River is exactly as he remembers, perhaps better. “Good. I will accept nothing less.”

River huffs. “As if you would ever be asked to approve,” he says cheekily, with a swish of both his colorful coat and the hair that drapes over his shoulder.

“If I ever believed you were being mistreated: I would not ask your permission.”

Now that gives him pause. Beside him, Crocodile is as serious as he had ever been, falsely bristled and deadly calm, a threat to the distressing thought of his River abused.

His always, even when his no longer.

River smiles back with a gentle calm that disarms him, reassures him he is safe. “Thank you, Crocodile. I shall return the favor.”

“Tsk.” His teeth click around his cigar.

“What? You don’t think I can handle one clown and the world’s greatest swordsman? Well, I can certainly take the clown.”

“It was good to see you, River.” He tapped him ever so gently on the nose, just to see him grin. “Fair seas. I suppose clear skies mean nothing to a submarine.”

He’s still smiling when Law returns, just in time to see Crocodile vanish around a bend in the hall. To say the doctor is unimpressed would be irresponsible, nearly incorrect. River might describe him as all the usual emotions he acquired when Crocodile simply appeared in conversation, let alone in the flesh: miffed, vexed, agitated—pissed off.

“What did he say to you?” He began without a hello, his stance wide and stare fixed to the end of the empty hall.

“He said hello,” replied River, an answer Law hadn’t expected if the appearance of the wrinkle between his eyes was to be believed. It was, no matter how permanent the wrinkle was becoming.

“… Fine. He’s allowed that much, I guess.” He broke his gaze away to finally acknowledge River. Instantly, his eyes and heart softened. “I wont ever let him hurt you again. I promised.”

That’s what he said about you.

River’s answer, his gratitude, came as the gentle kiss he placed on his warm, suddenly pink cheek. Blushing, after all they’ve been through? The doctor continued to be the most endearing man he had ever met, capable of turning River’s heart to honey syrup despite all his jagged edges, his tongue sharp with sugar crystals. Melt him, and see how he shines.

“You have your prize then, mi lao?”

Law fumbled with the parcel in his coat pocket, hands clumsy at the Oasin phrase of affection he still wasn’t accustomed to hearing, especially not from the flashy revolutionary that had always, always flirted with him, flirted with countless people. Even when his insides were on the outside, his wounds leading him to Seth’s door in a breadbasket, when it was completely not appropriate to flirt, well, then there was River.

But he didn’t flirt anymore, no more than could be considered a jest, and Law struggled to accept he stood on the other side of that line alone. The only one who received River’s simpering affection now, the only one he gave those eyes to, the only one he allowed to touch him.

It made his fucking chest hurt.

“I got it.” He said, most articulately. “Look.”

He unwrapped the wrinkled newspaper to show off a rare-mint coin, void of dings and scratches despite the thick layer of tarnish that stained Law’s fingertips as he held it up to the light.

“That’s beautiful, Law,” River gasped, though he had exactly zero idea why the coin was rare or which historically significant event was stamped onto it’s opposite face. “How much did the clown ask?”

“Shh.” The doctor held up a stained finger, breaking into a mischievous smile as he grabbed River’s hand.

‘Crocodile! Hawkeye! Find him and kill him!’ They heard a furious Buggy screech from down the hall, vaguely muffled and thumping from the inside of what sounded like a locked treasure chest.

“Room.”

“Shingles? Yes, let’s go!” River cheered over Law’s “shambles”, and the pair blinked out of existence, reappearing inside the submarine control room with a flicker of muted blue light.

“Captain! What happened?” Bepo greeted them, at first gleefully, then shocked.

The crew hadn’t been expecting their Captain and River to return by Room, nor did they expect the sight of him smiling, still holding River’s hand and nearly doubled over with what could only be described as an honest, full-bellied laugh.

“Oh—shit.” He wiped the corners of his eyes with his sleeve. “Full speed, crew. Let’s get out of here.”

“Y-yes, Captain!” The navigator fumbled to punch buttons and pull levers in the appropriate sequence after such a lifetime event.

Law flicked the coin off his thumb, caught by his palm, and held up to the ceiling light. “How mad do you think Aurelio is going to be that we made him wait?”

“Tell him it was very important,” said River.

“I’ll tell him it was your idea.” Law smiled again when River clicked his teeth at him. “It’s a reasonable strategy.”

“You’re incorrigible. And I love you.”

Law dropped the coin to the floor with a clang and a mumbled “fuck”, only to find himself staring at the faces of his crew when he stood back up. Bepo, the masked helmsman, Penguin, Shachi and more all crowded in the doorway while they waited for him to make the appropriate response.

“… What?” His face was already redder the emergency lights with what he could assume they wanted.

‘Say it back.’ They all demanded of him.

“I—” His face darkened further, the hand without the coin attempting to pull his hat down as far as it would go. They were ALL getting painting duty for this. “I love you too. River.”

“You jerk.” Shachi teased him. “Was that so hard? How long do you expect someone to wait until you say it back?”

“I say it back!” Law barked, his blush refusing to dim. “Just not in front of you all! It’s private!”

River just chuckled beside him, met with Law’s accusatory finger. “You, be quiet.”

“WHOA now, Captain, be nice to River!” Shachi yelled too loud to not be on purpose, as targeted as the way he leaned out the doorway to make sure the entire sub heard him.

‘He’s not being mean to River, is he?’

‘We love you, Captain, but you have to be nice to River too!’

‘Yeah, we won’t stand for that!’ They all heard various shouts on either side from the echoing metal hallways of the submarine from the enthusiastically protective crew. Protective of all their friends, it seemed.

“You are ALL going on painting duty for this,” he growled.

“But we just painted the sub last week,” Penguin said dryly.

“Yeah well, you paint it when you’re bad!”

“We’re out of paint, Captain, can’t be done.” Shachi reminded him.

“BUY more paint!”

River smiled, unbelievably soothed by the bickering and love that overflowed on the Polar Tang. For all the years he’s spent traveling the ocean, searching for somewhere he loves as much as his home, he thinks this little pocket of air beneath the sea must be the place he wants to stay.

[sillymarieee]

Okay so- I tried my hand at writing an OC x Canon tickle fic of my own. It involves Villain!Tina and Albert Wesker (what a surprise) It’s very self indulgent, with plenty of teasing, and I’m honestly a little embarrassed to post this-? I have made a second part to this short fic, so if you guys are interested, I will also post it. As always, MINORS DNI. I’m serious.

Word count: 886

I also don’t know what to name this- XD

It was another long work day at the Umbrella facility. With the Uroboros project still in motion, everyone was busy either advancing their researches, or working on the improvement of the virus itself.

Of course, no one was spared from the amount of tasks to do, including Albert Wesker himself. Leading the project, he had to ensure everything went according to plan, not a single mistake could be made.

Only that day, while everyone else seemed to be drowning in work, Tina wasn’t. And, having nothing better to do than wait around for something to happen, the woman thought her best option would be to pay her beloved Wesker a lovely little visit down in his lab.

As the elevator doors slowly opened, Tina emerged from the small space, her footsteps echoing as she walked down the hall. She carefully pushed opened the large double doors of Wesker’s lab, spotting him standing, perched over his desk, using his hands to lean against the cold surface.

As Tina stepped towards him, the man turned his head slightly, before letting out a sigh.

"I hope you didn’t come here expecting my attention… I happen to be very busy at the moment."

His voice, cold and stoic, showed a bit of annoyance, expecting Tina to execute her usual antics. To Wesker’s surprise, she slowly wrapped her arms around his right, looking over his paper work with interest.

"Don’t worry, I’m not here to bother you. I have nothing to do, surprisingly.. so I figured that I could be of help around here."

Tina gave him a soft smile, to which Wesker chuckled.

"Hmm.. well, I do appreciate that. Perhaps I can give you a few minutes of my time after all…"

As he said this, his hand glided down to Tina’s hip, his gloved fingertips affectionately stroking over her side, a gesture that Wesker paid no mind to.

Tina held back a smile, trying to hide any suspicious reaction she could give away from his touch. Except, Albert wasn’t the kind of man to glance over tiny details.

He could tell she was trying to keep something in, which got him curious.

His eyebrows furrowed into a confused frown, looking down at her through his tinted glasses.

"What’s the matter, dear? You seem oddly… fidgety."

Tina glanced back at him, sensing his stare onto her. "Hah- what? N-no, I’m fine-!"

This entire time, Wesker was still lovingly touching her side, which was not helping in any way. Her eyes kept glancing discreetly at his hand, then back at the paperwork.

Wesker raised an eyebrow, his head tilting slightly to the right. "Mmhmm.." Suddenly, he noticed her quick glances, understanding she was looking at his hand. Unaware, he gave it a firm squeeze, which caused Tina to let out a soft squeal.

Immediately covering her mouth, both surprised and embarrassed, she slowly looked back at Wesker, who stared down at her again, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip.

"Don’t tell me…" Wesker whispered, giving Tina’s side another quick squeeze, causing the same reaction from her again.

"EEHEHE-! HEY!! Will you stop that??"

Tina stammered, her soft giggles lasting a little longer this time.

Although, her smile dropped the second she noticed the grin that was slowly forming onto her lover’s face.

Before Tina could get away, Wesker wrapped one of his arms around her torso, pulling her back flush against his chest.

"You’re so predictable, Tina… I’m surprised I didn’t figure this out sooner. Now, let’s see.."

As Tina tried to wriggle away, mumbling some dumb excuses to talk her way out of this, his free hand went right to her side, scribbling his fingertips all over. Tina’s knees buckled and she leaned forward, loud, bubbly laughter leaving her lips.

"W-WAHAHAIT!! WEHEHESKER!!"

The man only chuckled, almost mockingly, his hand now moving to her stomach, poking and squeezing the skin through her clothes. He didn’t let up, his grip remained tight, switching between spots to keep her on her toes.

Tina could only laugh, struggling was pointless. Who could fight against one’s superhuman strength?

"I can’t believe someone as confident and determined as you, is weak to something so childish such as tickling..~" Wesker teased, all while Tina tried to wriggle away.

"STAHAAP IT!! EHEHEEE!"

Her cheek were turning a soft shade of red from his words, unable to hide her embarrassment from him.

"PLEHEHEEEASE! Y-YOU PROVED YOUR POINT-!"

Her words were drowned in her giggles and squeals, struggling to stand as the sensation grew overwhelming.

Wesker chuckled once more and finally relented, catching her softly while she regained her composure.

The man affectionately pressed a small kiss onto her flushed cheek, smirking.

"I suppose that’s one more thing I can use against you… as I’m sure there’s more to it, isn’t there?"

Tina gave him a playful nudge, fixing her tight shirt as he let go of her. Although, the smile on her face was undeniable.

"Yeah yeah, we get it. Aren’t you supposed to be working right now?"

Wesker gave her a knowing smile, before turning back to his desk, the paperwork still laying where he had left it.

"You are correct, my work must be attended to. But don’t worry, we’ll have more time later for this little game of ours..~"

[mossysmolboy]

I really wanted to make a Viktor fic, plus this was kinda self-indulgent when I wrote it so like... Expect more Viktor fics!!

----

Very Pretty Pumpkin

Viktor x little nonbinary reader

Reader pronouns: They/them

Word count: 392

----

"Papa?" You called to Viktor, wanting to take his attention away from his work and to you. He didn't even look up from his book for more than a second and said, "yes pumpkin?" You'd jumped up onto the couch next to him, put your hands on his leg and he gently waved you off. 

"Go play baby, I'm a little busy at the moment," he said and you huffed through your nose and sat back on your feet, crossing your arms. "I don't wanna," you said, pouting a little. He finally looked up from his book and gave you a questioning look and said, "why not pumpkin?" 

"Cause..." You stopped and thought for a moment, "I don't know, I just don't wanna" you said, pushing your legs to the side so you weren't sitting on your feet. "Just give me a little longer and I'll come to play with you, okay pumpkin?" Viktor said, you huffed and nodded, getting down off the couch and finding something to do. 

After a little while, you'd found your lip gloss you'd gotten yourself a little while ago, you were bored and so you put it on for a bit of fun. It was a little, but you were still bored. 

You whined and went back into Viktor and sat next to him, putting your head on his shoulder and holding onto his arm. Viktor smiled and kissed your cheek, "why don't you go get a book or something pumpkin" Viktor suggested and you nodded, "okay" you said quietly and got up, going to get your book and the book that Viktor had been reading you, neither of you read the book without the other. It was your shared book. 

When you came back Viktor put his pen between the paper and shut his book, you sat next to him and he gently took your shared book from you asking, "would you like me to read more of it?" You nodded and said, "yes please, Papa" with a soft smile. 

"What's on your lips?" He asked, tilting his head to the side slightly and you smiled, "lip gloss, am I pretty?" Viktor smiled and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, bringing you close to him so you could see inside the book and said, "you're very pretty pumpkin" and started reading the book to you. 

[lesbenson]

set out to write something about dime sized pupils and ended up with a scene fic ? of the um.. diner scene.

tw for brief mentions of lewis and bx9 (non graphic) and semi graphic descriptions of violence (quite literally. just what we saw in the last three clips of the promo)

(pretty sure fin and ayanna are not with them in that diner scene in the promo. but ask me if i gaf)

Olivia is wholly convinced of two things, at the very least. God won’t let her just have things, and he won’t let her die until she stops wanting to. Two sides of the same dirty coin in her opinion. In dreams of a rusting beach house, she can still feel the moment her stomach fell out with the aching sincerity of a prayer for her old partner. At the time, she had wanted him to come kill for her more than she had ever remembered wanting to live to see such a thing. Simultaneously she had felt a lot less justified in killing someone out of self-defense than, say, employed partnership. She hadn’t felt whatever instinct to protect herself that Elliot had felt towards her. At least not physically. At least not then. 

Noah changed things. She knows this and she’s sure Elliot can see it. Rolling on cold gravel and clutching her belly she could really only see his big eyes in the doorway. Letting the nurse stroke the tender spot on her lower back, biting back another wave of tears, Liv had again wondered if protecting Noah over herself was only her short term goal. It’s not really protecting him if you die on the job. She still can’t really extend herself the sympathy she does everyone around her. She had been working on it with Lindstrom, before everything went down. Duarte had warned her that it was a weakness, before- right before he was killed. Which again makes her wonder how the fuck she can be expected to take everyone’s two cents into account, if they’re gonna keep getting struck down for telling her to chain her big heart to the nearest tree. Look where it got him.

Look where it’s gotten her. Thigh pressed against Elliot’s in a cushy little diner booth, smiling indulgently through Fin’s jokes to Ayanna, who literally cannot stop raising her eyebrows at Elliot. Liv finds it annoying on Elliot’s end — she can only imagine what Ayanna has sat through him bitching about and it makes her want to pinch him. When he laughs too hard at Fin, she does. To his credit he doesn’t startle much, but he does lightly knock her knee with his, glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes with a smirk that only makes her want to grab him harder. She knows she looks at him too long, then. She knows everyone in the entire restaurant can probably hear the breath she takes. 

She feels, just a little bit, like it’s fine. They still aren’t anything more than what they’ve always been, which is everything without a name. But lately, the air isn’t as thick. It’s been staying sunny longer. He’s wearing his ring again, and once she gets herself past the initial gut punch of it she thinks it might be a better development than it was when he said he loved her. They have also always operated in a very roundabout way. It is, of course, in the same instant that she feels a warm floating affection for him that she hears the hissing, the screams. Her eyes water- they burn, and then all hell breaks loose. A table on the opposite side of the room clatters with silverware and plates as he passes, a lanky guy with a big coat, big gas-mask, big gun.

Oh fucking Christ she thinks, launching up with her gun in the same second Elliot ducks down beneath the table and around the booths. Always so in sync. It all gets faster the longer it goes on, and by the time she can register the crack of the guy’s shotgun she’s already screamed on impact. 

She collapses out of the booth, barely breaking her fall with her arm before rolling breathlessly onto her back. Liv reaches for her gun when it clatters, small smears of blood on the checker tiles where her wrist rubs. 

Elliot falls somewhere next to her and he doesn’t look behind him once before he army crawls to Liv and scoops her recoiling body up close to him. 

Somewhere miles away she hears Ayanna yell “He’s down!” and Fin’s thudding footsteps catching up to her. She breathes out once, sinking into Elliot’s hands under her back, her neck. 

“Liv. Liv. Liv-“ His eyes are so big and again, all she can see is blue. 

“I’m hit.” she can feel tears on her face, rolling into her hair, breaths coming out short and harsh. It’s all she tries to say, a shaking hand reaching for the spreading blood, but Elliot shushes her loudly. The sound won’t stop, his big hand stroking the hair up off her forehead, out of her face, his breath matching hers. He moves her hand away to pull up the hem of her shirt, the soft stretchy fabric warm and red, his fingers working fast. She gags out a pitiful sound and he doesn’t even try to hide the sob he lets out behind it. 

“Shh- shh, stay with me baby, I’ve got you, I’ve gotcha, not going anywhere, it’s okay, it’s okay.” He’s pressing a pile of napkins into her stomach with all of his strength, fumbling for his radio with his other hand, soft reassurances falling from his lips as sweat rolls down his head, his neck. “It’s okay Liv, you’re okay- 1013 1013 we got an officer down,” he practically throws his radio on the floor when he finishes calling for help, his hand flying back to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking, his whispers frantic. “Please stay with me, please hang on for me, Liv. Just this, for me. You’re gonna be okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

“El…” She thinks she should tell him she loves him. It’s the last thing she remembers doing. 

——————————————————————————————

Ayanna is there when she wakes up, smiling warmly as Liv snorts herself back into consciousness. God, her fucking head hurts. Everything hurts, come to think of it. She groans, because she’s curled up in a big metal hospital bed and she thinks she is allowed the slightest bit of exasperation.

She wants him there, like she always does, always has. If Bell can’t already see it in her eyes, she knows who Liv’s head is whipping around for. 

“I made him go get some air, and when he finds out what he missed in those five minutes he’ll probably try to get my shield taken away.” 

Liv laughs, then winces. “Take his first, they’ll probably make you a police chief.” Ayanna sniffs out a laugh. “He’s okay, though?” She can’t even pretend to be indifferent right now. Ayanna nods quickly, tells her the team is fine, two civilian casualties. The guy is in custody. Liv tries to react before she hears the door creak open.

“Hey-“ He’s muttering to Ayanna when he gets close enough to see the way her soft eyes are open, trained on him. “Liv,” he rasps out, practically launching himself across the room, grabbing at a chair to the side of her bed and oh, he’s been by her side this whole time, hasn’t he. 

“Hey.” She says softly, weakly lifting a hand for him to- to what? She doesn’t really know, she wasn’t thinking about it, and she certainly wasn’t prepared for him to raise it up to his lips and press a firm kiss to the back of it, holding it close to his mouth for so so long. Before she can try to tell him not to cry she feels all of it caught in her throat, spilling out of her eyes, fizzing in her blood. She pulls her hand enough to grab at his, tugging him down to her and God they can’t do that right now. She just wants to melt into him. He hovers, bent at his waist with his face a foot away from hers and he looks like it is taking all of his strength to innocently tuck a piece of her hair behind her ears, letting his thumb rub over her earlobe, his fingertips dragging over her neck.

Ayanna’s phone goes off, and the start it gives all of them shakes Liv out of it, just for a second. “It’s Jet, I’m gonna get out of here. Glad you’re okay Liv. Stabler.” She nods at both of them, a knowing but gentle smile on her face, and they thank her in unison.

The door clicks closed and really she should be embarrassed by how suddenly she hears herself say it. “Hold me?” Her mouth in a sad little smile, her eyes darting over his face.

Elliot looks like he says yes before it even hits him, what she’s asking for. And then he’s scrambling to sit on the edge of the bed, lifting her up under her back like he had done before. This time, he scoots next to her enough to lower her back onto his sturdy chest, wrapping protective arms around her chest, trying to avoid where he knows her bandages are. She sucks in a breath, easing into him as she touches his arm where it holds her. He manages to get a hand to the side of her head, stroking her hair and planting kisses behind her ear, and she just can’t help herself, she wants to say it again. 

[kay-elle-cee]

Happy birthday Kelsey and congrats on the milestone!

I believe the first work of yours I read was Magic Like This when it was published last year, and I absolutely adore it. James is so soft and sweet and I love how you wrote Lily embracing her growing feelings for him.

Then, a few months later, I rediscovered you with A Thrill Divine, Down My Spine (so incredibly fun 🤌) and was pleased to be reminded of Magic Like This (because I'm notoriously bad at keeping track of first I love). And then I went down the rabbit hole of all your other fantastic works and here we are. I am a huge fan. 😁

I love restless waves rise and fall. It might be one of my all-time favorite Jily AUs out there. The backstories and universe you've created have been so fun to explore, and the micros you occasionally write bring me so much joy.

I especially love how you wove thematic imagery throughout. A scene that comes to mind in particular is when James and Lily finally talk at the end of chapter 5 about their feelings...Lily "anchoring herself to her spot," her "bursting through the surface" as she admits her feelings, "a swell of emotions eddying within her." The imagery truly elevates the emotional climax of the story, and you should be proud of what you accomplished.

Now...a couple fan questions if you'd want to share your thoughts on one or both of them.

1. Do you have a way in which you envision James and Lily admitting they are in love with each other? They're clearly very close to that point by the end of the main story.

2. Do you have any insights you'd want to share about what was going through James' mind during my waves meet your shore (forever and evermore) - specifically re: "our ship" and also when Lily confesses what she said to Petunia?

Thank you for all you bring to the Jily community - we are lucky to have you! ❤️ (Also, sorry this became way longer than I anticipated lol)

Okay hello first of all you should know I've reread this like updwards of 20 times because oh my god this is so sweet? This makes me so giddy? Truly truly truly makes me warm and fuzzy, thank you SO much for all your lovely words!

Magic Like This was really the first fluff piece I wrote and I did not expect the reception it got, but I'm so glad people enjoyed it! A Thrill Divine was something that took over my mind that I HAD to get out, and is probably up there on the list of my favorite things...it was my first magical AU and just so much fun. I'm glad you enjoyed them both!

Okay okay okay you have to know how NOT chill I am about your words for restless waves rise and fall. Like. That is my baby. My first born child. My first multichap, my first AU, it's SO close to my heart and to know people love the little self-indulgent cross section of HP and pirates (because yes I also used to write POTC fic) just 💕💕💕💕💕 I promise I have SEVERAL more micros planned out because I have so many Thoughts about them all the time.

I had SO MUCH FUN with the thematic imagery in that fic, playing with the water metaphors, etc (which I know I'd done elsewhere, but felt more fitting here), and I'm glad it enhanced the fic for you and didn't feel too on the nose 😅 Now for your questions...

1. Yes. Yes I DO. I've had that scene envisioned since ending restless waves and I've been MEANING TO WRITE IT. It was always my intent to write it but then my waves meet your shore got way out of hand (after the Lily & Euphemia scene, the characters absolutely took control of the narrative) and I've been writing in that timeline knowing how much I need to go back and write the I Love You scene. I don't want to give too much away but I will say there is a phosphorescent bay involved.

2. AHHHH Yes I am HAPPY to talk about this (but will put under a cut for spoilers and also length because I feel like I will be RAMBLING)...

Follower Milestone Celebration

OKAY so "Our Ship". James is so attuned to Lily in this conversation with his parents and the Dursleys. She's not really engaged in the conversation, she's putting on a brave face but he knows her footing is off—here on land and in the presence of her sister. So, this is absolutely James' way of bolstering her both in the conversation and in their presence, as if reminding her "You have something. You are someone. And they can't take that from you." I think he also realizes that there is no way to hide what they do from the Dursleys, so before it's revealed Lily is his First Mate, he positions her more as an equal than anything else.

And then this poor man his brain is SHORT CIRCUITING during that moment when Lily tells him that she told Petunia they were married. He's got the family ring in his pocket, he's got the proposal all planned out for their next stop, he's got her to meet his parents, and she's just jumping ahead. I think it's definitely really heartening for him to hear that she jumped to that (and him) as a way to support herself/protect herself from her sister, but also while they unDOUBTEDLY love each other, maybe there's this one underlying fear that this woman who's been at sea all these years living an untraditional life doesn't want a traditional marriage and maybe a partnership like they have is good enough for her. (And I think this kind of comes up at the end where she points out a lot of priests probably wouldn't marry them. Maybe it's something she's just resigned herself to). BUT the fact that she reaches for marriage with him as a lifeline just makes his heart swell.

And he is so. happy. It's that kind of moment where everything aligns and it's like oh we're on the same page and also just like....their whole life flashes before his eyes in that instant and he just gets consumed by the need to propose NOW. He's the one that pushes on past the "oh yeah we're married, sorry we didn't tell you," and proceeds to tell her exactly the moment he wanted to propose in a code that only the two of them know. He literally can't stand the fact that she doesn't know the depths of his devotion for her in this minute and wants to give her that reassurance and security that everything she said is what he wants. <33333 OH MY GOD I LOVE THEM SO MUCH.

AH. okay I'll chill. But thank you SO MUCH for asking about my bbs. <333 You are an absolute GEM.