#I AM GOING TO STRANGLE THAT BEAR WITH MY BARE FUCKING HANDS

[anachronistic-falsehood]

I AM FUCKING DISTRAUGHT.

#qsmp #liveblogging #NO. NO NO NO NO NO #WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN. WHAT DO YOU MEAN #“A CAGE FOR A CAGE” WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKK #I'M GOING TO LOSE IT #I AM GOING TO STRANGLE THAT BEAR WITH MY BARE FUCKING HANDS

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Thirty (Part 2)

“Fucking hell,” He twists away and grabs the front of his hair. The rain has eased to a mist now but the clouds still shield the sky and block the light out like an early dusk. His limbs become a bit stilted and stiff as though he’s forgotten how to control them. “Fuck,” he says hoarsely, and he drops onto the wet sand and shoves the heels of his hands into the sockets of his eyes “This is it then, isn’t it? Things are over with us.”

I hesitate for a moment before sitting next to him, and the seat of my dress immediately soaks through and I don’t care about it. “Yeah,” I say gently, “They have to be, don’t they?”

“There’s nothing I can do.”

“I want you to go and be happy.”

He lets out an agonised, strangled noise, and it takes me a second to realise that he has begun to sob into his hands, and it’s the strangest thing, but I think I can feel my heart physically breaking inside my chest, tearing apart, ripping right down the centre. I didn’t know that when people spoke about heartbreak that this is what they meant all along. The ache inside me feels unbearable, and I want so badly to reach for him and tell him that I don’t mean any of it, and yes, I’ll take that Green Card and yes, I’ll come and live in Los Angeles, but instead I cram my wrist to my nose and I cry with him because it seems like the only sensible thing I can do. 

And once I’ve started I cannot stop, and the tears come, and they come, and they fill my eyes until I can’t see a thing but the greys and blues of the sea blurring together like watercolour bleeding down the page, and then I wipe them and I look to my right where Jude’s head is bowed and his shoulders are shaking, and I tell him that I’m sorry. He says something I can’t understand because he is crying too hard, but I don’t know that it really matters what it was, because on some level I know what he’s saying. Just like I do, he simply hurts. 

He sniffs and drags the heel of his hand up across his nose. He shakes his head as tears roll off the end of his spiky lashes, “God,” He says eventually, “I just really thought- I think I took it for granted that I’d get to be with you forever, or something, like we were perpetual-” and he bares his teeth and heaves a shuddering sigh into his lungs, eyes fixed on his feet, embarrassed, like he can’t bear to look at me and see what I think of him crying on the ground. “I wanted everything,” he chokes out, “All of the stupid stuff, you know? Christmases and New Years, I wanted to get you birthday presents and anniversary presents and travel with you and just- just wake up with you and make you breakfast and-” he squeezes his eyes shut, “But like, I can’t have any of it and now I just have to live without you, and it’s so horrible-”

I comb my fingers through the back of his hair and I whisper, again, that I’m sorry.

“I love you,” He says, though he knows that it’s not enough, and I know it too, because loving Jude Turner is like loving a memory, the dream, the idea of a man that my seventeen year old self believed would solve me, would prove that I am worthy of happiness only because he loves me back. And perhaps it’s an idea that he loves too, a girl who would make him feel young and careless and reckless, who would expect nothing, ask nothing from him but to be free.

I swipe at my damp cheek, “Yeah but one day you won’t. Someday when I’m long gone you’ll look back on this time and you’ll think about how glad you were that you never compromised or let yourself be held back by some girl. And then-” I sniffle, “-when you’re living this amazing life, and you’re happy and you’re successful and surrounded by people who love you you’ll think ‘oh yeah, her, God, you know, I don’t even remember what her name was anymore.’”

“No,” he shakes his head firmly, “No, I’m going to love you for my whole life.”

And then I make the loneliest sound I’ve ever made, somewhere between a gasp and a sob as I relent and throw myself into his chest so that I can let him hold me. He kisses my hair so gently and rests his cheek upon my head and says simply, “I’ll miss you.”

“And I’ll miss you,” I reply, “And don’t think I’ll ever forget you either. You know that you’re going to be everywhere, you’ll be the ghost that follows me around. Every time I wake up and you aren’t there, or get home and you aren’t waiting at the door, and every time my feet touch this coastline, and I get into the sea, or see the roof of that beach house poking over the dunes I’ll think, you know, I really wish he was here, because everything I did was better when he did it with me,” I exhale thickly, “But then I’ll think of you somewhere else in the world where I know that you’ll be happy and I’ll just be happy to, because I want that for you, I really do, even if I don’t get to be a part of it.”

There’s a long pause while we cry together, and he reaches down to brush fresh tears from my cheekbones, “I feel lucky to have known you when I did,” He says, “When I- When I go to LA, you know, I doubt I’ll be back again for a very long time, and- God, -and by then who knows where your talent will have taken you and what you’ll be doing. To know you now feels like the greatest privilege, and I know that you’re telling yourself that I won’t remember you years from now, but actually I’ll be saying, yeah, I knew that girl once and she was incredible, I caught her in a moment in time and you should have seen her, when talent just radiated off her like the heat from a sunburn and she didn’t even know it yet.”

I turn to face him and look him dead in the eyes, because I don’t know the next time I’ll get to really look at them, “You’ll be happy,” I insist. If I mean it I can make it so.

“You too,” He says , “And maybe when we both are we’ll find our way back to each other again.”

“Yeah, I hope so,” I say, and in that moment the sun finally breaks through the clouds, just a sliver of it, and it hits the side of his beautiful face, glows on his cheek and his hair and through his brown eyes to turn them golden, the colour and warmth of flames.

That’s how I’ll always remember him. 

And when our story is over and the edges of the clouds turn pink and amber, I get up to walk away. I turn to look at him one more time though I can hardly bear to. Standing there in the sunlight he simply raises his hand. “I’ll see you, Evie,” He says. 

“Yes,” I say, “someday.”

THE END To my Tumblr readers, thank you so much for reading along. It's been a pleasure to share this story with you.

For a very long time I knew that I wanted to tell a story like this. I felt like I had so many things to say, about growing up, about this country, about the way it feels to inhabit it, how it felt to be young and bored with no money to spend during the recession era – the uniqueness of that particular moment in time and the feelings, places and people that have changed in the years since, but I just never got around to it.

One evening in July of 2022 my mother, who has become an avid wild swimmer since her retirement, took me down to the beach to take a dip in the sea. It’s a beach I’ve been on a thousand times having grown up just a few kilometers away from it. I’d swum in it, walked it, even worked on it for three summers during my early twenties but for some reason on that day I felt overwhelmingly nostalgic about it. This is not a very exciting beach, I thought, but isn’t it a bit beautiful in it’s own way. From my place, neck deep in the water I looked at the way the marram grass shimmered in the wind and bits of old fishing nets and driftwood littered the coarse sand. A line of identical holiday homes peeped up over a low stone wall, and a little corrugated iron summer house sat right in the middle of the dunes, flat roof, wooden deck. I’ve always wondered who owned it.

Later on I got home and typed a few paragraphs of a story on my computer. I hadn’t written a thing in years. Then I just didn’t stop.

I’d spent the entire pandemic overanalysing my teenage traumas, reliving the things I’d done in college and into the first years of my twenties. A lot of weird things happened to me. Very dramatic things, honestly. I think I am the sort of person that draws highly erratic types to me or perhaps is just inclined to stir up emotionally intense situations, and as a result my life had felt like a whirlwind, some sort of strange carousel until I was forced to step off it in 2020. There’s no point getting into it, really. You’ve read Lucky Girl, so you get the gist.

I have to say thank you to my wonderful friends for being my biggest cheerleaders during this process. They hyped me up and listened to my every thought, proof read, problem solved and helped me to understand that it’s not embarrassing to do this, in fact it’s actually pretty cool to publish a story in this way. Grace & Sarah, thanks for letting me borrow from your lives as much as I borrowed from my own, and for talking in circles with me about everything and anything that came into our heads. I love you to bits ❤

Also to my partner, who never read this story, but tells his friends that his girlfriend wrote a book!! Who brought me tea and cooked me food while I was in a whirlwind of inspiration. He really just wanted me to come into the living room so that we could watch Succession, or White Lotus, or X Files, or whatever else we were binging during the last 15 months, but he never complained. “Ah, sims.” He’d say, and shut the office door.

To my first love and my teenage friends, who I think of all the time. Who embodied a time and a space that I’ll never inhabit again, but I’ll never forget any of it. I remember all of the places or the people who were around me while I lived out the end of my childhood, and when I revisit the places we used to go there are a thousand tiny snapshots of memory everywhere. Of these teenagers that don’t exist anymore, who are all entering their thirties now, of the time we had, the person I used to be and the inexplicable importance of those few short years. Nowadays when I’m there, on those beaches and in those woods I swear it’s like there’s a ghost there with me, and it’s me, the person I used to be. I’m reminded of the incredible distance I’ve come since fifteen.

To my readers most of all, thank you from the bottom of my heart. You really kept me going when it got tough and when it all felt too close to the bone, and I was a bit too freaked out to write. Your comments made this story such a wonderful experience and I’m so glad that I got to share it with you all. I still kind of can’t believe that so many people have read this thing – it’s bizarre. I really didn’t think a single person would care, but here we are. You’re all angels.

All my love,

Hannah.

Beginning // Prev // Epilogue

#lucky girl part 3 #it's over waaaaah #thank you all for reading along #this project was so unbelievably special and healing for me #i'm grateful for anyone who gave it time #now go read lucky boy!!!

[whumpacabra]

Day 1 - “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Alcohol use, nonconsensual drugging, nausea, vomiting, touch aversion, blurred vision, panic, firearm use

[Follows Up Late]

Casey didn’t feel good. Which wasn’t uncommon in general, he didn’t have a lot in life to feel good about. But this wasn’t right, the buzz of alcohol in his blood was singing too loudly, the lights too sharp and the air too thick.

“Hey.” It felt like it took minutes to turn his head to look at them. She was lovely, blonde and young and sparkling with New Years glitter. “You feeling alright big guy?” The thick mascara around her shining brown eyes was all he could focus on.

“‘m fine…” He managed to mumble, hand knocking over his empty glass as he reached for it. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. The woman was still watching him, hypnotic smile baring too-white teeth.

“Let’s maybe get you out of here…”

He didn’t hear her over the blood roaring in his ears, the sensation of her manicured hand on his wrist blinding him with bleary memories he tried to drown in tequila.

Torn between terrified nausea and a panicked cry for help, Casey vomited onto her gaudy purple minidress.

Her shriek of surprise and disgust was enough to draw the annoyed eyes of other patrons in the club. He was just happy that she stepped away, that no one was touching him, that he could brace himself against the bar and force his jelly-kneed legs to hold his weight.

“Sorry, sorry - I got him.” He flinched at the arm looping around his back, a steady hand drawing his own arm over their shoulder, but he knew that voice.

“R…?”

“Yes - sorry, I know Miguel, yes. Put it on my tab.” Their strong and steady steps practically dragged him from the club, the flush of cold air from the alleyway chilling the sweat beaded on his forehead. “Easy, easy now…”

Casey took advantage of their relaxing grip, leaning back against the brickwork and sliding to the ground with a groan. RJ sighed where they stood above him, broad shoulders shrugging off their leather jacket so they wouldn’t have to bear sitting in the fresh winter slush.

“Since when did you start snagging unwanted admirers?” There was an attempt at levity in their voice, poorly executed with their tired baritone. “It wasn’t that woman; I’ve been tailing her all night. American - definitely military.”

“Do you ever stop working?” He was proud he managed to bite out a single sentence. It was his last clear thought before the world lurched, his vision spotted.

“No. There’s work to be done. Now, let’s get you up - oh shit - ”

He could feel their hands on his shoulders, their warm breath sharp with whiskey where they sat in front of him. He could feel tears streaking from his blind eyes. Why couldn’t he see them?

“Hey, stay with me - how many fingers am I holding up?”

He squinted through the blurry darkness. If he applied his imagination, he could just barely make out the corner of his vision where the lamppost would be. He shook his head, a strangled whimper in his chest.

“Fucking - crap.” RJ’s whispered curses were sharp with fear, not warm with their usual vibrant anger. He wanted to apologize - but he could hear footsteps approaching. The sharp heeled stomp of military standard boots across the cobbles.

He opened his mouth to warn them, and was suddenly aware of the lack of air in his lungs. Lungs that wouldn’t cooperate as his diaphragm heaved and panic electrified his skin.

RJ let go of his shoulders, a snarl on their lips as they turned to face the rapidly approaching footsteps. The last thing he heard was the tell tale hiss of a silenced weapon firing.

[Directly before Bad First Impressions]

(Part of my Freelancers: Boy Meets World series)

—

Welcome to Whumptober!

Per my usual monthly prompt tradition, I’ll be using my Freelancer universe to fill the prompts this year. Seeing as some of the prompts are repeats from other monthly challenges I’ve filled for this series, I’m going to explore some ‘prequel’ events and whump some characters I’ve been neglecting to torture ;]

Note that as with other prompt lists these are non-chronological to the in-universe timeline, but they will be added to the chronologically arranged masterpost.

One last thing: any opinion on have a content warnings listed at the top? I’ve always just put them in the tags, which I’ll continue to do, but I think it makes them more accessible to put them at the top of a post. Let me know if you have any strong opinions on the matter.

#whump #whumptober #whumptober 2023 #no. 1 #how many fingers am i holding up? #oc #whump writing #alcohol use #nonconsensual drugging #nausea #vomiting #touch aversion #blurred vision #panic #firearm use #freelancers #beating the autism allegations today by changing my tagging system to respect the event’s tag system o7 akdjdjdjdj #I’m very excited for this month :D I’ve got some SPECIAL ideas I can’t wait to share w you guys 👀 #let’s just say I had one of those writer plot revelations recently and it’s like !!!! yeahhhh boyyyyy this web of lies has entangled us all #also jfc this series is over 50k words 😳 when did that happen. this was supposed to be a drabble-verse.

[westernbitch]

chapter 12!! bar fight ahead:))

Ty pulls up to the front of the house where I am waiting with Beth. "Ma'am, would you mind if I drove Evy to dinner?" I turn to Beth with a smile. "Did you ask her father?" Tyler gets out of the truck and walks to us. "Yes ma'am, I have asked both Rip and John." He takes my hand and opens the door for me. I hop in and get this giddy feeling. I feel a breeze on my chest and look down at my v cut shirt. "Ty, can I borrow a wild rag?" He grins and passes me his one with his brand. "Your wearing the one with my brand on it." I look into the back seat and see four other ones. "Put it on." I put it on and pull down the mirror to take a look, then take it off immediately. He watches me and sighs. "What is your fucking deal Evy? It looked good on you and you know it. It is like every time you like something you try to stop it." I turn toward the window. He hits the brakes and pulls over on the side of the road. He gets out of the truck and slams the door. I swing the door open and stomp to him. "No Tyler, what is your fucking deal? You make fun of me and then lay me in a field and make me want you and you stop. You kiss me on the first night and you come into my life and make me think. I am fucking tired of thinking!" I am pissed, I feel my heart beating faster and faster. I want to hit something, I start pacing. I start to walk away and he pulls my wrist and wraps his arms around me. I pull away but he is too strong. I start banging my fist against his chest. "You are fucking toying with me! Grow a fucking pair and tell me what you want!" I hit and hit, and he takes it. "Evy! Stop! Baby! Evy, I have been cruel. I like you and I want you, but I want you so bad, I can't take it." I crumple into his arms. His arms hold me up. "We gotta get to dinner, your dad is gonna kill me if I keep you from family dinner."

His chest is beet red and so is my face. "I am so sorry Ty, I hate that I hit you." He grabs my hand and walks me to the front of the steak house. He reaches up and ties the wild rag around my neck and places a kiss on my cheek. "I will stop making you mad and start making you very happy." I look into his warm eyes before we walk in.  We are guided to a private back room, Tyler pulls out a seat for me by Rip. He takes the other chair besides me. Rip gives me one look and whispers in my ear,"Evelyn May, tell me right fucking now or I will strangle him with my bare hands." I kiss him on the cheek. "Daddy, it is my fault." His jaw clenches and looks confused. "Tyler why the fuck has she been crying and why is your chest red? She said it is her fault, but boy you better choose your words wisely." I look to see Tyler tense, fear is deep in his eyes. "Sir, I-" I look to the waiter and ask for a big glass of wine. "I.D. ma'am," Rip turns to the man a gets up. "She is a Dutton and if she wants wine you get her wine." The waiter nodded and hurried toward to kitchen. John yelled, "make that a bottle!" He turns back to Tyler, "Son, why did she cry and why is your chest red?" Tyler looked like he wanted to die. "For fucks sake, he wanted me to wear his brand and I tried to deny him. He has been a fucking idiot for weeks. He tried to hold me and I started to hit him. I told him to grow a fucking pair and show me what he wants. I am wearing his brand, so for fucks sake can we have dinner and get drunk?" John stares at me. I feel myself turn red and tears prick my eyes. I hear Rip laughing. I whip my head to him, he passes me the glass of wine. "Do you want me to yell at you too? Dad, I don't think you want to do that. I may ruin you." I hear Beth's drink catch in her throat. She coughs and is belly laughing. "Oh honey! Please poke the bear. I wanna see my girl rip some ass!" 

I feel like I am floating on the way to the truck. Rip has his arm around my shoulder and is holding me up. "Daddy! Lets go dancin'!" Rip nods to Tyler and lifts me up to the truck. He drives toward the bar down the street. I hop out and run to Beth. John leads Lynelle into the bar. The music is loud and starts to buzz around me. Ty leads me to the dance floor and swings me around. I feel myself giggling and smiling more than I have in years. He passes me to John, "I am sorry grandpa, I was disrespectful earlier. I will make it up to you I promise." He winks at me, "don't worry about it darlin'. I haven't met a 16 year old like this, well, besides Beth." He walks me to the table and hands me a drink. I took a drink and made a face. "My turn," Rip grabs my hand a leads me out again. His stone appearance melts a bit when I start to laugh. "Daddy, I am sorry. I never want to disappoint you, I was awful bac--" Rip dips me and swings me back up. "Don't you dare apologize to me. I have only loved two women in my life, Beth and my momma. That was until God gave me a daughter. Never apologize to me." He pulls me in and kisses my head. "I love you too, daddy."

I found my way to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I was smiling ear to ear. I have a dad. A dad who loves me and protects me. I walk out to find the table when I feel a hand slide into my pocket. "Ty!" I feel the heat on my neck. I turn to see a random man. I tried to jump back, but he grabbed my hips and pulled me in. I feel my heart pounding through my chest. "Get the fuck off of me you piece of shit!" I scanned the room looking for Rip. The man reaches his hand down and I feel it grip me between my legs. I screamed, "Get the fuck off of me!" I grab at his hands and pry them off me. I start hitting and scratching him. I feel my fist connect with his face. A hand drags me down by the hair. I picked myself up and started hitting the woman who grabbed me. "You little slut!" The woman swung at me again. I caught her fist and threw her elbow down over my knee. She screamed in pain. I felt myself getting pulled away, I was pulling and trying to get away. The bouncer puts me in a head lock and drags me. The woman comes and punches me. In the face and then the stomach. I fall on the ground. "Don't put your fucking hands on her." Rip starts pummeling the mans face. I roll on the ground trying to gasp for air. I feel fire in my chest, the burning won't stop. Beth starts with the woman and is pulled away by John. Lynelle steps up, "get out of the fucking bar!" She hissed it and threw a bottle toward the woman. Beth turns back to me and comes to the floor. "Honey, breath, are you hurt?" I try to talk, but my lungs burn, begging for air. 

#rip wheeler #john dutton #beth dutton #bar fight #dutton family

[nightwishesworld]

Jealous

Warning: NSFW

You sat up on the bed once Alcina kneeled in front of you. She began to take off your pants while you unbuttoned your shirt, revealing more smooth skin. Alcina kissed your navel and guided your pants down your legs. Your body tingled as her lips began moving slowly below your navel. You opened your mouth, but only air seeped out of it. She continued to kiss and nibble your lower torso, simultaneously guiding her hands across your butt cheeks. You reached behind her head and tried to fight the urge to push her down to where you really want her. Instead, you grabbed Alcina’s chin and leaned down to kiss her.

Your tongues continued to passionately dance around each other as she gently pushed you to lie back and climbed on top of you. At the same time, you subtly started thrusting your hips against her, getting more and more aroused.

“Wait-“ You push her away and look towards the bedroom doors. She gives you a curious look but doesn’t hesitate to give you space. “I forgot I’ve got Jacob bringing me my tea. He should be here any minute.”

She rolls her eyes and continues her assault on your neck. “Is that all? Forgive me, I thought it was something important.” Alcina began moving her lips down from your neck to your shoulder. Each section of skin that was explored by her tongue made you moan, and every time she found a spot she hadn't previously kissed, your moans became more intense. “I don’t like him.”

“I know you don’t,” you say with a shaky voice. “I don’t flip over him either, but he’s one of our best staff.”

“He wants you. He looks at you like I look at you.” She bites down on your collar bone. “Like he wants to worship your body day in and day out.”

You held her head in place, one hand behind her head, and the other stretched out to grip the bedsheets. “No need to be jealous, Alci. I am loyal to you and only you. Besides, he knows his place.”

"That doesn't mean he gets to admire what isn't his."

You could feel yourself slipping, losing control, becoming more in tune with Alcina's body, and less present with the real world. The thought of what was happening made your heart skip a beat. Alcina pushes a stocking-covered thigh between your bare ones, and you gasp at the pressure. Alcina’s eyes light up at your reaction.

"I'm going to fuck you all night," She growled when your mouths finally parted, her fingers reaching under your clothes and curling inside you.

"Yes, Al!" You groaned as Alcina smiled lewdly at you. The hand between your legs never relented, soft fingers probing into warm, wet depths. The other hand came up to cup your breast. Then, you felt lips and tongue working over your nipple.

You gasped, and squirmed, your senses on fire.

“That bastard thinks he can have you, my porumbel mic? Fuck no. You’re mine. Only mine.”

You nodded and bucked your hips slightly, feeling her fingers surge into you deeper.

You gasped as the kisses trailed lower, and could feel Alcina’s tongue working over your soft skin. The matriarch pressed her body tightly against you and slowly slid lower, positioning herself between your legs, now spread and held in place.

Alcina’s eyes were filled with lust and the heavy feeling of power, as she looked up at the beautiful woman held captive and in her thrall. The heavenly scent of your arousal filled her nose, and Alcina’s mouth started to water. Her fingers were still inside her lover, and the vampire could feel how tight and aroused you were.

"You are mine and mine alone. Do you understand me?"

You groaned softly and nodded. "Yes, Lady Dimitrescu.”

Alcina smiled at her title and rewarded her love with a slow, trailing kiss over the inside of your thigh that caused you to squirm. She slowly removed her fingers, leaving you squirming and whimpering.

"What, porumbel mic? Do you want something?"

"Please, Alci...."

"Please what?"

You only whimpered, and it made Alcina smile. The dominant woman pressed the tips of her fingers gently against your wet, swollen opening and entered you again, setting a much faster pace this time. The instant vibration made your hips buck, and you cried out in pleasure.

Slowly, Alcina pushed deeper into you, watching you squirm and writhe.

Alcina leaned down and inhaled your scent again. It was too much to bear. She leaned forward and kissed your sex.

The sensation of Alcina’s tongue and lips against your clitoris was ecstasy. You couldn't stop the cries of bliss that escaped your lips.

Alcina dove into your swollen womanhood; her fingers pressed deeply inside you now, her lips and tongue working over your soft nether lips.

The feeling of your thighs brushing against her face, convulsing around her head, your hips bucking against the vampire’s face was so sensual, so sexy, it made her ravenous.

Alcina’s tongue flicked your clit again and again and again to lap around your nether lips, trying to catch the delicious nectar of your arousal.

You could feel her tongue as it traced lovingly over your sex, never a single spot left unkissed.

She could feel you coming closer and closer to orgasm; the fine muscles clenching around her fingers told her of what was about to come.

"Not yet, my beautiful, not yet," she murmured, as she slowly pulled her tongue from your throbbing pussy. She smiled in pleasure as she heard you whimper as she removed her fingers.

You suddenly felt empty, almost painfully so as you hovered so close to orgasm. “Please, Lady Dimitrescu. Let me cum please.”

You look up to see her staring at the bedroom doors. Her eyes are glowing with mischief.

“Is he there, Alci?” You ask in a low voice.

She only hums in response, never breaking eye contact with the door. “He must have heard you. His heart rate is rising. Wanna get rid of him?”

You bite your lower lip in an attempt to try and hide your broad smile. “Wanna give him a show? Remind him who I belong to?”

“I thought you would never ask.” She kissed you quickly and stood before you lost control again, making her way to the bedside drawer.

You feel yourself become wetter as you watch her slip her dress off and exchange it for a strap-on and harness. “Eight inches, darling?”

You nod your head eagerly.

Alcina grabs you by the waist and flips you over effortlessly. You turn to smirk back at her, letting her know you’re on board by climbing up to your hands and knees and slowly swaying your hips from side to side. Alcina’s eyes glint back at you and she makes a soft noise of appreciation, hands running slowly up your thighs before smoothing over the round globes of your ass and gripping your hips. You shiver, desperate for Alcina to be back inside you.

"Please don't tease, I need you." She lines up the toy with your entrance.

"Think you take the whole thing at once?" She asks.

"Oh yes." That was all she needed to hear before she slowly pushed the full length into you, filling your pussy. "Oh fuck! Yes, fill me, baby. Don't hold back, fuck me hard. I want the whole castle to know how good you fuck me.”

That was already the plan.

She starts with a slow pace as she stretches you. Even when you’re blinded with ecstasy and wanna be fucked into the mattress, ALCINA always makes sure to be careful with you. But right now, you are far too impatient for her to be gentle. You squirm and tried to squeeze your thighs together.

She kisses your shoulder, withdraws the cock slowly one more time, and then slams into you hard. She doesn’t don't tease anymore. She’s fucking you hard and fast. As deep as she can. The sound of your flesh hitting the toy as it moves in and out fills the room, it sounds absolutely obscene. You let out a moan.

“Louder, Love, I want the entire staff to know you belong to me. I want HIM to hear me fuck you.”

You cry out her name as she turns you around and lifts you. Your legs wrap around her waist as your arms go around her neck. She bounces you up and down on her cock and you yell out her name.

"Alci, please, oh Lady Dimitrescu yes! I love you so fucking much!" She looks pleased enough.

Her vampiric senses are telling her Jacob is still standing just outside of the door. His heart rate is frantically climbing. His ear must be pressed flat against the door listening to your euphoric cries. It turned her on knowing her “rival” right outside listening to her fuck you senseless; claiming you as hers.

She then brings her hand to your clit. She must have really meant it when she said she wants everyone working at the castle to know that you are hers and hers alone. You let out a loud cry, her hand on your clit is driving you so close to the edge.

You’re thankful Alcina can carry you without a problem. Because there is no way you’re going to be able to walk any time soon. "Fuck Alci. I’m so close baby. I’m gonna cum- I'm going to come on your cock. Please don't stop, Alci, I am all yours and only yours!”

She bites down hard into your neck. Not sinking her fangs into you, but more than hard enough to leave you marked. “That’s right, porumbel mic, you belong to me and only me. You’re a slave to my love and no one else gets to feel it. Do know how good you look? How fucking tight you are on my cock?” Alcina growls darkly, moving back to nibble at your neck, hips still moving to fill you. “So fucking good, better than I ever dreamt.”

Her mouth drops sloppy kisses at your nape, exerted, choked moans released with them as Alcina fucks you into oblivion. She's nearly sobbing, short of breath, broken encouragements barely articulated as she moves her pelvis as best she can.

“Come for me, Love, I'm so damn close...shit, you feel so good, come for me, yes...”

Alcina’s commands whispered into your neck finally send you over the edge; you push back into her until it hurts, wanting as much of Alcina Dimitrescu as you can take, cresting with a strangled scream. Your body convulses, white-hot from head to toe as your neck snaps back and momentarily blinded to everything that isn't raw sensation. You collapse down on Alcina’s front and she reaches back to thread her nails through your hair as she thrusts erratically, and comes shortly afterward with a guttural moan.

You both stay like that for a few minutes, simply basking in the afterglow before Alcina shifts to remove the toy from inside you. She laid you down carefully on the mountain of decorative pillows

After regaining some of her composure, Alcina lifts you off the cock as tenderly as possible and tucks you under the covers. You move to pull the covers down on her side and wait for her to join you in open arms. She kisses the top of your head while undoing the harness. "In a minute, darling."

She slips the harness off and tosses her dress on, making her way to the doors.

"Where are you going?" The vampire only turns back to wink at you before swinging the door open to find the servant adjusting his trousers. Alcina glares down at him, arching a perfectly sculpted brow as if she isn't aware of what he was doing.

"L-lady Dimitrescu," he bowed. "I was just bringing some tea to-"

Alcina takes the now cold tea from his trembling hands. "I find it incredibly unprofessional of members of my staff to be eavesdropping on my private affairs."

His face flushed a deep scarlet. "I-I'm so sorry, Lady Dimitrescu. I had no intention on-"

"You're lucky your employment falls under my partner's jurisdiction; if it were up to me you would be stripped of your employment here and right to wander my corridors. My daughters would haul you off to the basement to do with you what they wish, is that what you want?"

Jacob shook his head vigorously. "No, Lady Dimitrescu. I beg for your forgiveness, this will never happen again."

"See to it that it doesn't or else your fate will be in the hands of my daughters. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, Lady Dimitrescu."

"Good. Any repeat offenses will not be tolerated from this moment on. Now go and fetch us a pitcher of water and a bottle of Sanguis Virgini," Alcina steps away from the door just enough for the man to peer in the room. His jaw almost hits the floor when he sees you laying in bed naked under the sheets, chest rising and falling in rhythm with your heavy breathing, and the obviously used cock and harness abandoned on the floor. If he were paying more attention to Alcina he would have noticed the very proud smile on her face as he's put back in his proper place. "My poor porumbel mic is simply exhausted."

"I'll return with your drinks as quickly as possible, Lady Dimitr-" She slams the door on him and returns to join you in bed.

"Was that really necessary, my love?"

Alcina shimmies out of her dress and climbs into bed with you, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you against her. "No, but it was certainly fun. You should have seen the state we put him in," she laughs and kisses your shoulder. "He'll be back again shortly with my wine and water. I'm afraid I was a little too rough with you."

"But you're forgetting something, Alci."

"What's that, dear?"

"I love it when you're rough with me."

#lady dimitrescu x reader #tall vampire lady #alcina dimitrescu #Lady Dimitrescu #resident evil village

[asweetprologue]

Nili’s Benchmark Geraskier Fic Rec List

hey yall! I officially hit 750 followers (a few days ago, I blew past the benchmark without even realizing!), which is... insane. I truly can’t believe that so many people over the last year have enjoyed my presence in this fandom enough to continue to follow my work. you guys are so great and I love you all so much, so I decided to put together a gift for you!

this is a list of my favorite geraskier fics from the fandom, which I have been putting together over the last year or so. a few of these are big in the fandom, but a lot of them are smaller pieces that I feel deserve more attention! I have provided ao3 and tumblr links where I could find them, as well as ratings and summaries. Most of these are canon!verse because I’m not personally a big fan of modern au’s, but there will be a few of those scattered throughout as well. I’ve divided the fics into two sections: oneshots and multichapter. See the list below the cut!

Being in this fandom truly has gotten me through the pandemic in a big way and I have made so many good friends while here. thank you all for validating my weird obsession with these characters and enabling me in these trying times <3

Oneshots

all that was good, all that was fair (all that was me is gone) | M | 7517 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions Of Violence | @xdandelionxbloomx

Somewhere, deep in a forest, a man drags himself from his grave by sheer power of will. He lies gasping on the forest floor and does not know who or what he is. The world is wide and wonderful, though, and there is so much to see.

Or, Jaskier is so stubborn that he literally comes back from the dead.

Another fascinating addition to the mythology of the Witcher. Jaskier’s slow rediscovery of himself is so well done here. One I’ve come back to again and again. 

As Fast As Love Can Go | T | 9628 | @bygodstillam

There are Faeries in the Wood.

That's what everyone said, at least, not that there was any solid proof. Jaskier had tried, more than once, to find some. Just a hint somewhere, of a real story, of real magic. But all anyone seemed to have was stories.

Jaskier was determined to find proof. He wasn't expecting to find a witcher in the process.

Fascinating fic with some really interesting worldbuilding, and a fresh new take on True Love’s Kiss. Also with some great art by @hehearse!

beautiful, he stirs up still things | T | 2575 | @alittlebitmaybe

“You’re not asking me to dance,” says Geralt.

Jaskier turns his palm up on his knee, offering it. “I think you’ll find I am.”

Just them dancing. This is a lovely sort of pre-relationship dynamic. So soft.

Dialogue Prompt | NR | 2932 | @reinvent-and-believe

Dialogue Prompt 48: “You make me want things I can’t have.” Wordless I-love-you 50: buying them a special treat when you go out shopping

Geralt gets Jaskier a gift, which prompts some confessions.

Even a small love | E | 22,272 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con 

“Well,” Jaskier replies distractedly. “Lots of things want to strangle you.”

“You don’t.”

It isn’t a particularly troublesome accusation, or even necessarily an accusation at all.

This is one I read early on in the fandom, and it really stuck with me. The dynamic between Jaskier and Geralt is perfect, and the misunderstandings between them feel so realistic. The non-con is not extreme, but do mind the warnings. 

For the Space of a Heartbeat | T | 2021 | @drowningbydegrees

As it turns out, falling into bed with your very best friend who you are privately very much in love with isn't nearly so nerve wracking as waking up with them the morning after.

Just sweet, morning after discussions. I love to see them talking for once.

Greensleeves | T | 10,414 | @rebrandedbard

When Geralt crosses paths with Jaskier in the spring, the world is dressed in green. Quite literally. Everyone everywhere is wearing green, and it all comes down to a song Jaskier has written that, to his mortification, has become popular throughout the Continent. It's torment, being forced to preform the song over and over again and have his heart broken anew. But who is this Lady Greensleeves the people say Jaskier is so maddeningly, heartbrokenly in love with? At the baron's wedding party, Geralt is determined to find out.

This is one of my personal faves - there’s just something about Jaskier’s feelings being put on blast while Geralt remains totally oblivious that I think is so very them. And the resolution at the end is delightful.

I Don’t Wanna Fall (If It’s Not In Love) | E | 13,902 | @writinglizards

The first time it's out of desperation. Things get rapidly out of hand from there.

OR the building of a relationship through mutual wank sessions.

I love everything Ashley writes, but this one was the first fic I read by her and it still has a warm place in my heart. I also highly recommend It’s Been A While (makes me cry every time) and Tell Me Honestly

Like a Storm, Like a Flood | T | 1065 | @valdomarx

Jaskier is leaving for the winter, and Geralt can't bear the thought of not seeing him for months.

It was soooo hard to pick only one fic by George, but this one is so soft and sweet and yearning I just had to go with it. This is really just about Geralt finally hitting a breaking point and saying enough is enough.

one flesh | E | 10,763 | WARNING: MCD 

“Well, then. I’m a ghost.” Jaskier spread his arms grandly. Geralt held his gaze for a moment, then dropped his head and laughed. Jaskier put his hands on his hips. “Do fill me in on what’s so funny.” It wasn’t funny. It was just so - ridiculous, the things Geralt’s fucked up brain would invent. This had to be the last nail in the sanity coffin, it just had to be.

Or: Jaskier is a ghost, and Geralt is a mess.

Jaskier dies and comes back as a ghost to haunt Geralt into taking care of himself. Geralt does not handle this gracefully. This fic is so sad and heartbreaking, but the ending is so sweet.

to render it transparent | E | 23,901

Geralt wakes up warm, peaceful, and utterly content, which is how he knows that something is severely wrong.

Sigh. This fic. This is a time travel fic - Geralt ends up in the future living with Jaskier on the coast, just after the mountain. It’s slow and beautiful and extremely bittersweet, all about how we choose to love people despite how much it can hurt us.

With All the Continent A Stage | M | 4745 | @greyduckgreygoose

Later, Geralt learned that the play was four hours long. Four hours long. It didn’t feel like it. Most of it passed by in a fever dream of ominous music, dance-fighting and dryads in gossamer leaves, swinging from hoops attached to the ceiling. Yennefer made an appearance, played by Priscilla in a glittering negligee. She sang a song to Geralt about putting him “Under Her Spell”, and they had a sensual dance number which was made a little strange by a sickened Jaskier (played by Jaskier) coughing loudly in the background.

(Jaskier invites Geralt to a musical production inspired by his own life.)

Jaskier basically writes Geralt a love letter in the form of a four hour long play. Geralt is an idiot about it.

Multi-Chapter Fics

A Lover’s Lament | M | 25,364 | @somedrunkpirate

So,” Jaskier begins, as casually as he can, “you are telling me, that in theory, if I were to be in love with someone — anyone — that person could well be in terrible danger?”

Of all terrible and ridiculous things that have threatened Geralt’s safety, Jaskier’d never thought that loving him might be what will get him killed.

I honestly can’t count the number of times I’ve read this fic. The monster is so interesting, and the mythos of it fits seamlessly into the world of the Witcher in my mind. Jaskier being so afraid that his feelings are going to put Geralt at risk, clearly unable to see that Geralt is going through the exact same thing. I think about the scene with them looking at each other almost daily. 

A Pair of Gloves, the Scent of Roses | M | 24,134 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence

In the bustling days before the Midsummer festival, Geralt is sent into the countryside to deal with a monster - with Jaskier once again by his side. But the bard has not forgiven him, and while he's not hiding his contempt for the Witcher, he is recalcitrant about revealing his true motives for joining him. As the hunt turns into a desperate mission to save an innocent man and the monster is not what is seems to be, Geralt learns a few new things about his old friend and decides to finally attempt to mend the rift between them...

This is one of my favorite’s in the fandom - it feels so believable, the world is so rich and the oc’s are convincing and charming. Geralt and Jaskier feel so honest here, stumbling around each other but still drawn together. Beautiful beautiful beautiful

Bearing the will of the flower | NR | 11,449 

The way Jaskier sees it, his hobby of following a witcher around was always pretty likely to get him killed.

The fact that it's happening now because the witcher in question doesn't love him, he thinks as he coughs up crumpled flowers, hardly makes a difference.

My favorite hanahaki fic in the fandom. I’m such a sucker for these, and these two idiots being so incapable of talking about their feelings really makes them prime candidates. 

Food of Love | T | 22,488 | @wallatile-qvibbler

I brought a dead princess back to life through the power of song is the kind of thing that would have got an eyebrow raise even from the stone-faced Geralt of Rivia, so it's a good thing he and Geralt will probably never see each other again.

(or: the one where Jaskier channels magic through his songs, and it almost never goes as expected.)

This is a Jaskier and Renfri centric fic, which wasn’t something I knew I wanted until I read this. Jaskier is a bard which in this AU comes with magical powers, but it feels so well integrated into the universe that I wish it was just... how the Witcher is. Renfri is so good here, and even though Jaskier and Geralt barely even interact you can feel the tension and love between them. Cannot recommend highly enough.

friends and allies of the witcher | T | 10,312 | @theamazingbard

Yennefer crawls over to her newest cellmate. They’re curled up on their side. Breathing, but only just. She’s not sure what she’s hoping for when she turns them over. Still isn’t when she sees that it is indeed Jaskier.

“Shit."

Yennefer and Jaskier each suffer in more ways than one at the hands of Nilfgaard.

Yennefer and Jaskier get capture by Nilfgaard and tossed into a cell together. Exactly what I want out of season 2 honestly. Their interactions are gold.

I’d Be the Choiceless Hope | E | 45,188 | WARNING: Rape/Non-Con | @lesdemonium

As a baby, Jaskier was visited by a fae, who gifted Jaskier's mother with Jaskier's obedience. As Jaskier grew older, the "gift" became more of a curse.

You know I’m not gonna make a rec list without listing Zoe’s Ella Enchanted au. Need I say more?

Silver and Copper | M | 56,139 | WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence | @kaer-cuan

Geralt is just supposed to pass through the quiet Lettenhove area. He's not anticipating being begged by its people to help save their viscount from a curse that keeps him from daylight. Lord Jaskier, they call him, and he's likely dying.

As Geralt struggles to untangle the ugly web of history that has lead to the increasingly complicated curse, he finds himself spending more and more time with the strange young viscount and wondering just what he might have been before the curse, and who he might be after. But things are not always as they seem, and as the curse tightens its grip on Jaskier, Geralt is forced to face the fear of failing yet another person whose choices were stolen from them.

Or-

Jaskier is kept from becoming a bard. Geralt finds him anyway.

This is a fic that haunts me. It’s very scary in parts, and mind the tags - there are some very heavy themes here. But it’s beautiful and touching, and Jaskier feels very true to himself even though his origin is so different.

we could be married (and then we'd be happy) | E | 50,222 | @a-kind-of-merry-war

Jaskier reached into his pocket, fingers grasping around the little box. He pulled it out with what he hoped was a romantic flourish, flipping it open to reveal the simple gold band inside. “Geralt,” he said, confidently, cooly, like this wasn’t terrifying, “Will you marry me?”

Geralt and Jaskier fake marriage proposals to get free deserts and shit but it goes tits up when Vesemir catches them in the act. Not knowing how to fess up, they go along with it for a while, which is hell because they’re both pining like mad. As I said, I don’t love modern au’s, but it’s merry so of course this one had to end up on my list.

~

And that’s it! 20 fics for you, and hopefully you can all find one or two you haven’t read before. There are a lot of people and fics that I didn’t include in this list only because I was trying to not put a million down (which I could). I highly recommend anything by @wherethewordsare, @julek, @contemplativepancakes, @witcher-and-his-bard, and @inber, as well as those linked to fics above, and I’m sure there are others I forgot to mention. Yall have truly made being in this fandom worthwhile <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic recs #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #witcher #fic recs #fic rec #I'm certain i missed a lot of good ones I've read over the years but I didn't want to risk making this super fucking long anyways #if you didn't see your name listed it isn't bc I don't adore you and your fics it's because i'm stupid <333

[itsallyscorner]

This could be a request or not depending on how much time you have 😅 but for your information, yes, I am thinking Tom giving y/n hickies on her neck like the night before a bunch of interviews the next day and she's like, "Are you serious?" and he's like "I couldn't resist, I just love you so much!" and when y/n shows up the next day wearing a turtleneck after she told Zendaya that she would be wearing a dress Z immediately gets suspicious and figures it out bc I feel like she's like that 😅😂

Hehehe I haven’t written anything smutty lately and I miss it. So thank you for requesting this anon, much love to you🥰 Ugh, the thought of this gave me butterflies in my stomach😭 Happy reading!❤️

Also, little note for everyone who’s sending me requests! Yes, I see all of them! Part of the reason why I haven’t done some of them yet is because I have to think of concepts on how to execute them properly. So bear with me, love you all🥰

💌.

Love Bug

My soft boi🥺

Warnings: implied smut

(Gif from Pinterest)

The AC in your bedroom was just not doing you justice. The Californian heat was at an all time high today and has transformed you home into an Easy Bake oven. Though you were probably exaggerating, your thin crewneck sweater still clung onto your skin, making you uncomfortable. Peeling the sweater off your body, you toss it into your laundry basket. You’re left in a tank top and some lounging shorts as you sprawl yourself out on your bed. The coolness of the comforter bringing your body some relief from the heat.

Sinking into the sheets, the hustle and bustle of the day finally hits you. You’ve had a long day of press with your cast mates, promoting the movie you were all in, Spider-Man: Far From Home. You loved your job, but the press tours could just be so tiring. You were forced to wake up early in the morning and sit in a room for how many hours of the day to only be asked the same questions (most of the time). Though press tours did have its pros, meeting fans around the world and traveling to new countries was something you always looked forward to.

Marvel being Marvel, they always had to make it big. For the last few weeks you have all been traveling around the world, tired but nonetheless having an amazing time. Thankfully, this was the last stop of the press tour, California. You were back in your own bed and your boyfriend was staying with you for the time being.

You were on your phone, going through Instagram and looking at various photos that were taken today during today’s press engagements. You’ve even made your own contribution and posted your own batch of selfies and funny videos.

The door to the connected bathroom in your room opens and reveals your boyfriend. Your eyes break their focus on your phone and shift to the man in front of you. You smile and turn your phone off giving him all your attention. A smile forms on his own lips as he crawls up the bed to join you.

“Missed you all day.” He whispers against your skin, placing his head on your chest. His arms are wrapped around your figure, one leg hooked over yours. You move the hood of his sweatshirt from over his head and began to run your hands through his hair.

“Mmm, I missed you too.” He cuddles closer to your chest, arms tightening around you. His eyes momentarily shut, basking in your soothing motions.

“How was your day with Jake?” You ask him. As much as Tom wanted to do press with you, he was stuck doing them with Jake, while you did your interviews with Z and Jacob. Tom enjoyed having his interviews with Jake, but he missed being near you, even if you were just a room away.

Tom shifts so his lips are near the skin of your exposed neck. He hums against you before his lips come into contact with the soft surface. He had been tempted to mark you up all day. You wore a beautiful spring dress with a low neckline that displayed the skin of your neck. All he wanted to do was scatter red and purple love bites all over you, letting the world know you were his.

You gasp as he nips on the space between your neck and shoulder. “Interviews were good, but I just couldn’t get you out my head.” He slots himself between your legs and presses you down into the mattress.

“Teasing me with the pretty little dress of yours. Just wanted to kiss you and mark you up.” He says huskily against your neck. His breath sent shivers down your spine as goosebumps formed on your skin. His mouth sucks harder on the spot, teeth nipping gently, while his tongue soothed the bruising spot. He moved up so one of his hands are holding him up beside your head while his other strokes your side.

“Baby, we have an early morning tomorrow.” You didn’t want him to stop, but it was currently 2am and you were both expected to be awake by 6am.

His lips have made their way to the other side of you neck, pressing light kisses that turned to open mouthed ones. You giggle gently pulling him away from your neck so you can look him in the eyes.

“Babyyy.” He whines trying to shove his head back into the spot. A pout is on his lips, which were now a darker shade of pink from how much he was sucking on your skin.

“Tom, we need to be up at six.” You reminded him. Tom leans closer a boyish grin now on his expression. You couldn’t help but kiss him back when his lips captured yours. You feel him smirk against you as he pulls away.

The hand on your side moves to cradle the side of your face, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. “We’ll be quick, I just wanna feel you. Please?”

You stare at him for a moment as his hand drifts down your body and by your shorts. Excitement swirls in your belly as his fingers get closer to your growing heat. He kisses your cheek as his hand slips past the band of your shorts to cup your mound. The wetness brings a smirk to his face as his dark eyes gaze into yours.

“Baby, look how wet you are.” He praises you as he moves your panties aside and dips his fingers into your wetness. You sigh, eyes slightly rolling back as his fingers spread your wetness on your folds.

“Fine, but—“ You bring your finger to point again him, “No marks on my neck, I’m wearing a dress tomorrow with a low cut again.”

Tom nods connecting your lips again, “Don’t worry, don’t worry, I’ll be careful.” He assures you before diving his head back into your neck.

~next morning~

You enter the bathroom, tying your hair up to keep it away from your face. You turn the shower on and wait for the water to warm up. While you wait you take a look at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes widen when you get a glimpse of you neck. You gasp out loud as you see the sides of your neck with red bruises with hints of purple on them. You had them on both sides of your neck and a small one almost on the center of your throat.

“TOM!” You yell, your voice echoing in the bathroom. There was some rustling behind the door before it was yanked open. Tom entered in nothing but his boxers looking disheveled, hair pointing in all types of direction and his eyes barely open.

“What happened?” His voice was raspy, something that usually made you swoon but right now you couldn’t even focus on it.

You turn to him, aggressively pointing to your neck. “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful!” You mock him, repeating what he said to you last night before he railed you into the mattress.

Tom’s eyes widen as well before he cringed. To be fair, you did warn him. He just didn’t know how to hold back when it came to you. He cautiously approaches you a sheepish grin on his face.

“I know it looks bad..” he begins. You shoot him a look, “Are you serious right now? Tom it looks like an octopus strangled me!”

Tom moves back to look at you, “Well you weren’t complaining last night.” You shoot him another look and he nods knowing you were annoyed with him at the moment. He stands behind you looking at the mirror you were both in front of. His arms wrap around your torso as he tries to soften you up.

“I’m sorry, I just love you so much and I couldn’t resist it. I love making love to you and I just get so lost in it and I know you warned me too, I’m sorry.” He apologizes hugging you from behind. You could tell he actually felt bad by the genuine look in his eyes. You sigh leaning back into him and resting your hands above his, interlocking your fingers.

“I forgive you, it happens.” You mumble, head trying to come up with ways to cover up your neck. “How do I even cover this up?”

Tom looks at your neck through the mirror, “Makeup will work right? Just put on some concealer or that color corrector thing you use.”

You nod at his suggestion. “That’ll work for a few hours, but makeup wears off. What if I accidentally wipe it off?”

Tom pursed his lips together in thought, “You could ask Laura to bring you something with a turtleneck.”

“It’ll barely move and your neck will be covered the entire time.” He suggests.

“Yeah, it’ll probably work. I just hope she hasn’t left yet, I should text her.” You move from Tom’s hold and turn the shower off. Before you leave the bathroom, Tom pulls you into a hug again. His face nuzzles against your hair, “I’m sorry, again.”

You smile and stroke his back, “I told you I forgive you, it’s ok love.” You pull away and peck his lips. Tom smiles and leans down to kiss your shoulder. Something he always did when you guys were having a moment. Instantly, you jump back and push him off, “Get your fucking lips away from my neck. I don’t need anymore hickies right now.”

~later~

Your stylist, Laura, ended up bringing you a stunning white dress that stopped above your knees. It was short sleeved, hugged your curves perfectly, and had a turtleneck that covered your neck. She gave you a pair of leather knee high boots which pulled the look together. Your hair was curled, pulled back into a half up and down style while short strands of hair framed your face. Compared to the panic you felt when your first saw the hickies, you were relieved when you saw yourself in the mirror again an hour later. You felt like a modern Go Go Girl as you admired your outfit.

You arrived at the hotel where all the interviews were being held. You make your rounds of greeting everyone, saving Z and Jacob last since you’ll be with them the whole day. You enter the room and see the two of them already sitting in front of the cameras. Jacob spots you first, “Aye! Good morning!”

You smile and walk up to them, giving them both hugs. When you pull away from Z she gives you a look. Her eyes scan you from head to toe, squinting at your dress.

“Weren’t you just complaining that yesterday was too hot? Why are you in a turtleneck?” She interrogates you. You smile nervously at her while you settle in the seat on the other side of Jacob.

“Um, you know, it’s a bit chilly today.” You lie. Jacob eyes you as well catching on Z’s point.

“(Y/n), it’s 95 degrees outside.” He tells you eyes panning around the room. Zendaya smirks leaning forward to get a better look at you, “I think someone was busy last night.”

“No, I wasn’t. I had a very nice sleep, thank you very much.” You sweetly smile at her crossing your arms.

Jacob snickers beside you, “I bet you did.”

“I guess Thomas couldn’t keep his hands off you last night.” She teased, exposing you.

“Or his mouth.” Jacob quickly adds smirking. Your cheeks get flustered squeezing your eyes shut. Jacob and Z burst out laughing at Jacob’s comment.

“I don’t even have a come back, blame Tom.” You throw your hands up in the air giving up. Z calms down and leans over Jacob to rest a hand on your knee.

“Hey, it’s ok, man. If I were Tom, I wouldn’t keep my hands off you either.” She tells you jokingly, helping you get over the embarrassment of wearing a turtleneck. You catch on and wink at her, “Aye, say less.” Your hand resting on top of hers.

Jacob puts his hands up looking shocked, “What did I just walk into? I—I gotta go.” He pretends to shove your hands away and gets up from his seat.

“I’m telling Tom about the sexual tension I felt in this room.” He yells over his shoulder as he walks out the room. You and Z look at each other amused, “Is he actually?”

Z shrugged, “Honestly, he’s probably getting some water. He was thirsty.”

The two of you catch up with each other. Talking about the press tour and what you were both planning on wearing for the premiere. You were in the middle of describing your dress when Tom bursts into the room with Jacob trailing behind him.

“STAY AWAY FROM MY WOMAN.”

#marvel #mcu #avengers #Tom Holland #Tom Holland x reader #Tom Holland smut #tom holland drabble #tom holland one shot #tom holland headcanon #ally’s requests

[fearnedorym]

this is an extension of these two posts essentially. i haven’t written for anything before, let alone cr, but i am so sad to see dorian leave and the exu three, 3xu as i like to call them, really have a strangle hold on me. here’s 2k of fearnedorym angst. takes place immediately post c3e14, so spoilers ahead.

orym realized couldn’t sleep on her legs any more. not with dorian gone away. that would be wrong. he didn’t know what to do when they got back to the inn. he couldn’t bear to be alone, he didn’t want fearne to be alone, either. so they got into their room, finally free of the pitying glances and touches from the rest of their party, and they didn’t say anything. they’d barely spoken, not a word between each other, since the little girl with the blonde hair had plucked dorian’s ship out of the air and ran off with it.

ashton dragged everyone out to breakfast, and orym was grateful. he couldn’t bear to be in eshteross’s manner for one more second. they went to the weary way, ashton and letters peeled off to heal, launda and imogen went back to the windowed wall, and chetney stared at his mug of ale blankly. the little man was sad. for all the shit he gave dorian, orym could tell he was going to miss their the bard.

“chetney, do you--” fearne’s soft-spoken voice was even softer than usual. it warbled, and chetney looked up from where he remained at their breakfast table at the weary way, his big gnome eyes filled with sadness.

“i’m gonna go to my room, fuck,” he said, sliding off his seat and muttering as he skittered away and up the stairs.

fearne turned to orym. “well, eshteross said to get some rest and i just wondered... i wondered if he wanted to maybe be in our room since, you know...” she looked away as she trailed off, overwhelmed.

dorian’s not dead. no one is in mourning.

orym raised a hand to her arm. “he needs some time.”

fearne folded her hands on the table, still looking down. she was exhausted. he could tell. they hadn’t slept at all, instead choosing to spend their final last moments the night with dorian in the living room of the eshteross estate. they talked and drank, and watched the sun barely start to lighten the canvased high windows in the house. orym had night watches before. staying up was something he could do, easy. fearne, on the other hand, needed sleep. she just did. she wasn’t at her best when she was tired, and without dorian he they needed her at her best.

“c’mon.”

he tugged her gently, getting her up from the table and leading up the stairs to their room. orym somehow still had the key, and was pulling it up when fearne spoke up.

“what if we went out?,” she said. “what if we didn’t go to sleep and we just went out and saw the town and got drunk and--” she was gesticulating in that way she did when she was avoiding something, or telling a lie.

orym could already hear dorian’s wry-smiled reply. “now fearne...”

dorian wasn’t here. dorian couldn’t answer.

but he could.

“fearne,” he said, firm but gentle.

she huffed indignantly and looked down at him, but her eyes were so sad. he could tell she hadn’t done this before. a lot of feelings were new to fearne, and he was learning to work through them every day. dorian was better at it than he was.

he swung open the door and walked into the room, immediately drawing the curtains on the far wall. it helped fearne to sleep in near-darkness when she needed rest. he turned around and saw that she was still standing in the hallway, chewing on a fingernail and looking into the room apprehensively. he fought down a sigh, summoning patience, and moved forward. “fearne...”

she snapped her gaze down to meet his, her bottom lip shifting as she fought the urge to pout. she was trying to be brave, he could see it. but she didn’t have to be. that was his job. she was supposed to be beautiful and effervescent and so goddamn confusing and not sad, not like this. orym would’ve done anything to protect her from feeling like this, but he couldn’t hurl his body in front of loss. he couldn’t goad and parry grief. he’d sat in it long enough to know.

she walked into the room slowly, unsure, and tentatively sat down on the end of the bed. she awkwardly patted the mattress twice before folding her hands into her lap and looking at the floor, her hooves scuffing back and forth across the wood. she was trying to be still, which didn’t work for her because she’s a fidgeter, but orym didn’t want to disturb her. sometimes fearne felt like iron, but right now it felt like he was dealing with glass. dorian would know what to do. a suggestion, perhaps.

she looked like a mess, beautiful, as always, but a mess. there was dried black ooze still flecked on her skin, and her hair was stuck together, knotted around her horns. they’d left their ball clothes with eshteross and changed back into their normal wear, and fearne looked deflated in her usual pink and green.

orym didn’t have a suggestion, but he had a decision. he wasn’t like dorian.

he climbed up on the bed and using some spare cloth and a day-old pitcher of water on the bedside table, he wiped off fearne’s shoulders, neck, and back, trying to get rid of as much of emoth kade’s remnants as he could see.

it took fearne a moment to realize what he was doing, and she held her hair up to help him reach the back of her neck. “thank you, orym.” it came out as a whisper.

“no problem,” he said.

he unwrapped her until she was just in her shift, which was what she slept in, and he nudged her. “lay down.”

she paused. he knew she was tired. he knew she was fighting sleep, possibly for the same reason he was. but she was stubborn in even exhaustion. “oh,” she said, in her quaint little way, like she was realizing something for the first time. “but what about you?”

orym dumped some water back on the cloth and hopped down so fearne could see him, and ran the cloth over his arms and across his face, not a whole lot of anything coming off.

“i’m good,” he said, throwing the cloth back on to the small table.

“wait.”

fearne reached down and brushed gently under his eye, getting something he probably couldn’t see, and let her hand move down and around to cup the side of his face. her touch was warm and he wanted so badly to lean into it, to close his eyes and nuzzle in and take the comfort offered in her touch. instead, he nodded towards the pillows at the head board. “lay down.”

she scooted back tentatively and laid down on her side, tucking one arm under a pillow. orym remained on the floor, unsure of what to do. they were missing a middle spoon, dorian would say big. the teasing from the group before dorian left was brief but true. it had been the three of them for so long, packed into tiny, shitty inn beds, smushing onto a single bed roll, sharing an airship cabin, choosing to forego separate offerings at the lodge housing in zephrah in favor of the same room in the same bed.

their equation was missing its solution.

orym was tired, too, more than he would admit, and he was trying to just think about the next thing, not look back dorian. but there was nothing else to think about dorian. they were at a stand still for a moment, an impasse, a pause, and it gave orym’s thoughts time to catch up with him dorian. there was no need to take watch. he didn’t need to throw himself over fearne and dorian if dorian wasn’t there.

he climbed up on the bed and sat at the end. maybe he’d curl up right there. give fearne some space. she slept like the dead most nights, a reliable pillow. it felt like there was a hole next to fearne, and he certainly couldn’t fill it.

maybe he’d polish his sword, refit his armor, do something else while she sl--

“orym?” fearne’s voice sounded tight, as he looked over his shoulder, she was staring right at him.

“yes?”

she silently tapped the pillow across from her. he froze. that was dorian’s spot. he looked from her face to her hand and back to her face, and he realized she was crying.

“fearne...” he crawled up to her while she furiously wiped her tears away.

“i don’t like this feeling,” she said, barely above a whisper. she raised a hand above her heart. “it hurts.”

his heart broke for her. he forgot other people didn’t constantly live like this, that the pain stopped and started for some and was completely new for others. he laid down across from her, anything to ease her suffering in this moment, and looked into her eyes. her long lashes had tears on them like dew, and something in his chest was spurned, stirring up the indescribable feeling he got when he was with his partners friends almost lovers companions companion.

it was just the two of them now, just him and fearne, despite the kiss that still lingered on his forehead hours later. as he laid down, he noticed the room lacked color, light, warmth. it wasn’t devoid, but it was less.

where was dorian now? already on the ship? already over the ocean? too far to catch up to. maybe it was best, the things left unsaid. it had been too good to be true, and probably never meant to be. those things don’t happen to soldiers. those things--

“what do we do?” fearne said, pulling orym out of his head. “i mean, with him gone... i just don’t know. we still have your thing to do, but once it’s done, we can go get him, right? we can go back to tal’dorei, and we can find dorian, and we can... we...”

he didn’t want to break her heart any further, tell her that’s not how it works, how things were rarely ever that simple, that sometimes ships pass, so he brushed some of her hair behind her ear and scooted closer. “we’ll be fine. it’ll be okay.”

“well, i don’t, i just don’t know. i don’t know how we’ll be,” she said, more bitter than he’d ever heard her, even when she snapped at cyrus last night. she was so tired. he was too.

“get some sleep,” he said. “c’mon, just close your eyes. you’ll feel better.”

fearne huffed but obliged, reaching forward to grab orym since she didn’t have dorian to hold. he let it happen. he could do this once. he could get tangled up, now that the danger had passed, now that what he wanted and he was afraid of was no longer an option. he flipped around so that he was at least facing the door, his sword resting just out of vision against the bed.

as fearne’s breathing evened, orym closed his eyes, grateful for the warmth and the comfort of her arm around him. he steeled his resolve. never again would he let himself feel this way, let his friends feel this way. he would fight, kill, and die for it.

there was nothing he could do to stop dorian from walking out of his life, so he would die to keep fearne. he would do this one thing. it was the only thing he was good at. he was a fighter, and a protector. trying to let himself have something he shouldn’t only ended in pain. he’d do well to remember his creed and his purpose.

the tempest guard slept closest to the door. the tempest guard were always on the ready. the tempest guard kept the longest watch. it was an honor to serve. it was an honor to protect. they would give their life to this, if necessary. yes, they would.

#cr spoilers #fearnedorym #dorym #orym #fearne #dorian #bh #c3 #cr #a little fic #fic #no beta we die like men

[darkistmalfoyhead]

You’re My Everything

“Did you see that?”

“What the f-”

“The correct answer is no, no you didn’t. Now walk faster.”

Draco Malfoy grabbed her arm, pulling Hermione into the crowds shuffling the streets of London. There was no time. He didn’t care that muggles could see them and people were staring. If they didn’t go now, she would get hurt.

For shits sake, why of all days did an Auror have to insert their ass into his business. And why, of all people, did it have to be her? Not that he didn’t mind having her around- quite the opposite, really.

More heads were turning. He picked up speed, cursing. It didn’t help that she doubled as a popular figure in the parliament for the Ministry. Or that she was wearing a now-muddy ball gown as they dashed through the sidewalk.

“Draco Malfoy I am going to murder you in five bloody seconds if you don’t tell me what’s going on,”

Her eyes were blazing. A hand shot out, reaching for a seam in her dress. He barely managed to intercept it, lacing her fingers in his.

“If you pull your wand out, in five seconds we’ll both be dead,” he snapped, ignoring the warmth of her skin. Instead, his attention was directed over his shoulder. Ice settled in his stomach as hundreds of leathery, winged creatures exploded into the air behind them.

“Shit,”

“What the hell are those?” she breathed. His hand fumbled for hers and within seconds they were off. Screeching filled the air, unearthly screams following them. This time she ran without complaint.

“They wouldn’t be here if you’d let me finish the damned ritual,” he growled, tugging her into a dank alley. “Thanks to your meddling self, there’s a giant hole between the demonic plane and ours. Climb.”

She stepped up onto the fire escape, quickly scaling the rusted metal.

“I think I ought to ask why you were illegally summoning demons in the first place,”

“And I think you shouldn’t,” he retorted. She smirked, grimly shaking her head.

“Typical you. We go out for drinks on Saturday and once I’m convinced you’re mentally stable, you decide to end the world,”

It was becoming increasingly difficult to not look up her skirts. Apparently Hermione was having similar thoughts because with a loud crack she disappeared, reappearing on the fifth story.

“Put your wand away,” Draco barked, flinching as a deep purple thing swooped over the stairs. He uttered a strangled noise, nearly falling off the fire escape. Hermione amusedly drummed her nails on the brick, waving her wand. With a sudden jerk, he appeared on the roof.

“I just saved your life. If you’re going to take me away from my job of saving those down below, at least try to have some sense in your brain,”

“We’re dead, you idiot,”

She looked at him with confusion.

“Why are we dead? Pray tell me, who do you think is responsible for dragging me onto a roof where demons are trying to claw my face out?”

To make her point, she drily lifted her arm, incinerating a bat-like creature in the swarm above.

He hissed. “Get down. Now.”

“Not this stupid listen-to-my-command-bu-,”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence. Draco tackled her, covering her on the concrete with his body. Hermione flailed and protested beneath him, making him painfully aware of her proximity.

And the screeching began, followed by the whooshing of wings.

“You’d better shut it,” he murmured in her ear. “These things only have one way to stay anchored here. Magic fuels there existence so they need to consume it non-stop. They don’t need your precious muggles. At the moment, the only people who can summon it in the middle of London are us,”

“But I’m a muggleborn,”

Her breath was hot on his cheek. “You just did magic three times, no? The problem with muggleborns is that because they don’t have magic in there blood they instinctively draw in impossible amounts before casting spells. You just let hundreds of fucking demons know that you have what they want.”

She shuddered, her breathing becoming uneven. Her irises dilated with fear. In response, he pressed himself harder against her, covering her face in the crook of his neck.

“You want to stay high,” he continued, his voice becoming hoarse, “Because the wind carries your signature away. If we didn’t keep moving after you apparated, it would have been suicide. And I’m in this ridiculous position because if demons can’t see you, it’s immensely hard for them to find there target,”

He shuddered as the sound of wings thundered closer. She was trembling now, her wand freely rolling away.

“Why do you care?”

He stiffened, fingers digging into the ground.

“I’ve known you for two years and in all that time you hardly ever do anything for anyone. For crying out loud, you missed Pansy’s last birthday to stay at home with your cat,”

His jaw was clenched, firmly tucked over her head as he tried to regain some semblance of control. “Because I don’t have any attachment to anything anymore. So I thought that after I accidentally unleashed hell, I might as well save someone I know,”

He felt her smile into his chest. The sensation caused him to inhale sharply. She did it again.

“At the very least I can say that I’m glad it’s you I’m pressed up against and not the councilman,”

“I’d bash the bloke’s nose in if he went anywhere near you,” he growled.

“Nice to see therapy is helping your violent tendencies,”

Draco smirked, trying to ignore the feeling of claws on his back. Don’t move or they kill you. Don’t speak(he wasn’t doing so well with that one), don’t do magic. He resisted the urge to thank his dead father for his useful advice on killing demon hordes.

“Linda’s great. It’s just the fat bastard isn’t,”

“Mhm,”

Suddenly there was an ear-shattering scream and hundreds upon hundreds of wings flapped around them, the feeling of cold weight on his skin growing worse. He closed his eyes, pressing his nose into her hair.

They were clawing at his body. It was almost like she was too powerful for them to ignore.

“We’re going to die aren’t we?” she whispered, her voice cracking. He squeezed her tighter, covering her eyes so she wouldn’t see his blood. Or the silent screams of pain now etched on his face.

“I suppose I’ll confess my secrets,” Hermione continued, her voice wavering. “I once stuffed Ron’s teddy bear down the toilet because he was being a prat,” This earned her a weak laugh. “And I happen to like you a bit more then I should,”

And in that moment, he froze completely.

“Too much, hm-?”

Draco Malfoy guided her lips against his, ignoring the pain, the noise, the sheer terribleness of the environment around them. He’d wanted her for so, so long that the ache where she was supposed to be had grown into a dull throb. Now it was back but this time it felt like paradise.

She groaned, causing him to growl in response. He pressed himself into her, drinking starlight and parchment.

And then he shielded her between his arms, calmly, sated as the demons ripped away at his clothes, his body. He remained unwavering.

Because it was his fault.

Because she was truly his everything.

Because Hermione Jean Granger was worth more then his life.

He remembered her cries, her pleas for him to wake up. The weight began to leave his body as his blood spread around her, smothering her scent.

All was quiet. Draco Malfoy died smiling with his hair stained crimson.

#dramione #dramione ficlet #dramione angst #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #draco pov #draco malfoy #hermione granger #harry potter #post wizarding war #dramione au #ministry of magic #hp #i dont know what this is but enjoy if you can #character death

[thewitchandtheassassin]

What Would An Angel Say, The Devil Wants to Know Part Four (Lena Luthor x Reader)

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

Summary: Why can’t you learn to control your emotions?

Words: 1576

Warnings: Language, angst, talks of violence.

Taglist:  @natasharomanoffswife @natasha-danvers @aaron-despair @username23345 @xjiasx @nowthisisliving27 @higherfurther-romanova @summergeezburr @marvels-writings @onlyafewfindtheway @captain-josslett @hayleyokami​ @aznblossom​

A/N: So I did a thing. And here we are.

-X-

Planning a demise wasn't terribly time consuming when someone like Lockwood was helping. Dastardly and vile, his ideas were straight to the point as you discussed your options. While you couldn't outright end the human's life with your own hands, he was quick to point out the most effective options that even a great angel like Lena couldn't stop. Cars were too uncertain and, while the elevator had been a good touch, something like that was too preventable.

"You need quick. Abrupt. No possible room for survival," Ben advised, sunglasses obscuring his face despite having no need for them as he eyed the blonde strolling briskly past you, none the wiser of your existences.

"True, but we have to be smart," you added, glancing around in search of Lena's tell: her "heavenly" glimmer.

"Yes, yes, I know. Your little angel is cunning but I think you give her too much credit," Ben replied, his eyes undoubtedly rolling as he sneered at the humans walking along.

Snorting, you jabbed your dagger into his side, ignoring his hiss of pain or the way he swatted at your hand. "No, I'm just not arrogant enough to underestimate her."

Your eyes strayed back to Kara as she slipped back into her office building and then - only then - did you seem the shine of the angel that often haunted your thoughts. The cretins of the earth couldn't see her but you could, her dark locks fluttering in the wind as she gazed back at you pleadingly.

Pieces of you hated her. Truly. Deeply. You would bear marks for the rest of eternity because of her.

But in the same token, you couldn't deny that your memories with her often left your stomach twisted in knots as you reminisced over the smile that made your heart ache. It hurt, remembering how things had once been. Before you were forced to fight with her; fight for your life.

You could see Lena's expression shift the moment it dawned on her who was standing beside you. The way her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed, defiantly glaring at the smug demon beside you.

"Uh oh. I think your little angel recognizes me," Ben cackled, fingers curled into a taunting wave.

Snarling your lip, you growled, "She's not my angel, you ass. Now shut up before I cut your fucking tongue out."

Ben clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Testy, testy, (Y/N). Such a killjoy."

Cutting your eyes at him, your grip tightened on your dagger. "Shut. The. Fuck. Up."

You glanced back over to the building, but Lena was nowhere to be seen.

-X-

Querl studied his ward curiously, occasionally reading whatever Nia was writing though his stare always returned to the woman he was sent to protect. She was so entrancing and for once in his existence, Querl wished to be human again. If only for a day.

So enthralled by Nia, he didn't notice Lena's presence until her voice startled him off the desk he'd been perched on.

"Gods, Lena, you scared me!" he yelped, clutching his chest as he stared at the openly bothered woman.

"Maybe if you had been paying attention to your surroundings and not gawking, you would've noticed me," Lena scolded, though her words held no real bite to them.

"You seem troubled." Querl's brows furrowed together worriedly. "Are you okay?"

Shaking her head, Lena snagged her bottom lip between her teeth before sighing. "No. Complications have arisen and I'm unsure of what's going to happen."

"What complications?"

Peering over at Kara's messy desk, her nostrils flared slightly. "It appears (Y/N) has been given a helper. Lockwood."

Inhaling sharply, Querl's eyes flitted between Nia and Kara. "What should we do?"

"Be watchful. And careful. (Y/N) might have once been a friend but with Lockwood here, we must be vigilant or they'll both be dead before we can stop it."

It was difficult, accepting your new role in her life. Mortal enemies instead of teasing rivals you'd once been. Friends no longer, especially if you were willing to work with him.

A monster in every sense of the word.

"If she's working with him, you need to be careful. This seems way more personal than just an assignment," Querl advised sagely. "I want to believe it isn't but I can't imagine Ben will let this finish without trying to end you. Or having her try to kill you, to prove herself."

Your punishment had been no secret, most of the guardians far too aware of what your friendship with Lena had left you with, the bad blood thick and the scars deep.

"(Y/N) wouldn't..."

"Maybe the old (Y/N) wouldn't but now? Everything is different, Lena. You must accept that. Putting too much faith in her could cost us everything."

Swallowing dryly, the angel nodded. He was right...

She just wished he wasn't.

-X-

"We could always send a helicopter crashing into the building," Ben mused, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "If that didn't kill the human, surely the building collapsing would."

"That would kill too many others," you argued, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose. "We're supposed to be discreet. Dropping a building on a bunch of them definitely wouldn't be discreet."

Lockwood shrugged, completely unbothered by his suggestion. "The human must die. At least we'd know for sure she was dead. Plus Querl's little charge is up there. Two sad, pathetic birds. One mighty stone."

"Not a chance, Woody, pick a new idea."

Ben sneered. He hated that nickname and you knew it, only using it to get under his skin. "Fine."

Smirking at his obvious annoyance, you peered up at the sky absently, noting the darkening clouds. You couldn't remember life as a human (if you'd ever been one to begin with) but you almost wished you could if only to feel the rain on your skin. It seemed like such a peaceful experience, the water trickling over flesh, soaking into clothes instead of rolling off dark wings.

"I'm going to see if I can come up with a better plan," you jeered, heading for the building before he could reply.

Stretching your wings, you kicked off the ground and slowly maneuvered to the floor your mark resided on, eyeing the oblivious blonde through the window. You were well aware you'd be attracting unwanted attention but you couldn't stand being around Ben any longer. If you didn't get a few minutes of space, you were likely to ram your dagger into his throat and send him back to the underworld without his body.

The shift of the air was apparent and you smirked knowingly at Lena's reflection in the glass.

"Stop smirking at me," Lena demanded, arms crossed in frustration.

Snorting, you twisted to face her, brow arching in amusement. "Or what?"

"You're working with Lockwood now?" she questioned, ignoring the challenge hidden in your words. "You hate that spawn of Hell."

You shrugged nonchalantly, peering at the throngs of people below. "He's my ticket to survival."

"He's a slimy coward who wants you dead!"

"Clearly so do you!" you shouted, eyes narrowing into a venomous glare dripping with disdain. "At least he's trying to keep me alive a little longer."

"You're an idiot if you really believe that."

Rolling your eyes, you inched closer to the infuriated woman. "No, I was an idiot thinking you ever cared about me, Lena. At least Lockwood doesn't lie to my face and pretend to be my friend."

"I am your friend!" Lena screamed, the green of her irises dissolving as energy flowed through her. "I don't want you to die!"

As if sensing the tension, the sky went alight with lightning as rain began to flow, startling the humans and hurriedly soaking them to the bone. If only it could wash away the anguish and pain twisting your insides; silence the beasts banging around in your head.

"Bullshit! You pretend to be some pure, precious guardian but you're really just as manipulative and cruel as every other angel. You think that energy of yours makes you above everyone but you're no better than me! And I should've seen that instead of falling in love with some white-winged bitch!" You shoved her, hard, barely containing the want to strangle the guardian who'd ruined you.

Fury washed over you in waves, rendering you heedless of the unwitting admittance that had passed your parted lips, only the sounds of your enraged breathes ringing in your ears. A flurry of emotions crossed Lena's features but you didn't care, simply wanting to either bolt away from the angel or toss her into the sun.

Whichever was easier.

"Y-you're in love with me?" she whispered, the power draining away and leaving behind imploring emeralds that were glassy with something.

The blood drained from your face as you poured through your last words. You had never meant to say that. Because you weren't in love with her. Couldn't be. There was no love in your heart, especially for her.

"I..."

Lena's fingers twitched, the urge to reach out overwhelming as she silently begged you to stay. To help her understand.

"(Y/N)-"

Shaking your head violently, you jerked backward. "No! No, no, no. I don't - I can't - fuck!"

Red lips dipped open but you didn't stay long enough to hear what she had to stay.

Fire erupted...

And then you were gone.

#lena luthor x reader #supergirl imagine #lena luthor imagine #dc comics imagine #arrowverse imagine #lena luthor #dc imagine #supergirl #reader imagine #reader insert

[mod-kyoko]

Okay um, here goes nothing, could i request a Nsfw fic of makoto with a Dom! male!S/o (if not then just a Fem!S/o) who takes His anger Out thru Spanking Bic Mac, and one day he has a terrible day at Work, and Goes all out on Makoto when he gets home.

hiya flsjdfjfhsl thank you for the request fldkdgkgjsb

fun fact: this is my first time writing smut on this blog, but i do have experience writing it so no worries

this is gonna be fun to write >:]

side note: the request said nothing about actual se* but i wanted to write it anyway, so i will just warn you when the actual se* starts just in case that's not what you wanted!! other than that, there are a lot of suggestive themes beforehand, and if that's not what you wanted then i wouldn't mind rewriting it!!

***remember*** makoto naegi is an adult

CW: straightup smut, spanking, male reader, male anatomy, oral, fingering, anal, degradation, lil bit of fluff at the end

makoto x dom!male!reader

♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

everyone has those days that are just the absolute worst. frustrating people, frustrating jobs. though, not everyone has such a cute little toy at their disposal for when they have days like this. for you, work was much more difficult than usual this particular day. you had gotten in trouble for something another employee had done, and it was just this big mess. thankfully, you had only been reprimanded for it, but of course, the anger and frustration was still there. luckily, you knew just how your anger would find its release tonight.

before you began your drive home, you picked up your phone to text your boyfriend.

'had a bad day. you know what that means. be ready.'

after setting your phone down, you shifted in gear, and began the drive home. a deep sigh rumbled from your throat as your head was already filled with lewd images of what tonight would look like. halfway home, you felt your pants tightening around you, a bulge forming in your crotch. every image of your pretty little boyfriend gagging with your cock down his throat made you even harder, eager to get home. the ride was almost too long to bear, and by the time you had unlocked the door to your house, you were painfully hard and sweltering hot.

makoto was nowhere to be found, which probably meant he was already waiting for you in your room as you demanded. you slammed the door shut in eagerness and sexual frustration, letting him know you were home. you quickly strode towards your shared bedroom, welcomed by a blushing, naked makoto kneeling on the bed.

a smirk spread onto your face as you stepped towards him, shutting the door behind you. reaching out to ruffle his hair, you leaned into his ear. "good boy. you'll get a treat for that later. but for now, i need to take out my anger." the blush on makoto's cheeks spread rapidly as he furiously nodded. you settled onto the bed behind him, reaching your hands around his throat.

"are you ready?" you asked your small boyfriend, groping his perky round ass. with a nod, he bent over your lap. with a slight chuckle, you brought your hand up, then brought it down with full force, smacking his cheek. a loud, strangled cry rang from his lips, his legs already shaking.

"count," you growled into his ear, massaging his sore skin.

"one," he whispered, gritting his teeth.

you hit him again with the same amount of force, a high-pitched moan escaping his lips this time. "two!" he called out, panting as you brought your hand up yet again. by the third spanking, you noticed your boyfriend's dick had gotten hard, bouncing with every hit. your own bulge started throbbing under your clothing. you couldn't wait.

"you need more?" you asked him, pinching his bruised ass.

"p- please," his voice shook, a breathy moan falling out through his mouth as you spanked him again and again, each time earning a wince and a cry. by the time you reached fifteen, you decided he had enough, so you picked him up by the waist and sat him up next to you. a few tears had escaped his puffy eyes, but the moaning you heard earlier seemed to mean he was enjoying it.

**schmex starts hereee**

with a devilish grin, you grabbed his face harshly in your hand, bringing it towards your lips. your mouths crashed against each other in a sloppy, wet kiss. makoto whined into your mouth, his hands reaching for your clothed bulge. you grabbed his hand before he could touch you, squeezing it hard.

"did i tell you you could do that? do you want to be spanked again?" you whispered, causing a shiver to go down his spine. he shook his head, whimpering a little bit.

"please," he could barely meet your eyes, instead staring down at his knees. your eyes trailed down to his hardened dick that was practically begging for attention, precum leaking out the top of it's pink head.

"is that all you know how to say, slut? god, you're such a whore for me, yeah? you want me?" you teased, guiding him to kneel on all fours. he eagerly stared up at you, mouth wide open. taking your zipper into your hands, you slowly unzipped your pants, feeling a big freer. after sliding your pants off, along with your underwear, your hard cock springing free from it's cloth prison, almost hitting makoto in the face.

"suck," you commanded, glaring down at makoto.

you didn't have to tell him twice.

first, he licked up the length of your shaft, grabbing onto it. the sensation of his fingers grasping you like that sent an electrifying feeling up through your abdomen, earning a slight sigh from you. leaning your head back, you felt makoto take in your entire length between his lips, his thick saliva coating it as the inside of his throat bobbed around it. you finally let out a moan, as he gagged around you. but it wasn't enough.

you grasped onto makoto's hair, yanking it forward and thrusting your dick into his mouth, drowning out his cries with your moans as your length went in and out of him at rapid speed.

"you're doing such a good job for me baby, oh god yes," you praised him, thrusts slowing down as you felt a knot form in your stomach. suddenly, you took yourself out if his mouth, a long string of saliva pouring out through his lips, his tongue lolling out of the side. he was a bit gone after being throat-fucked like that. you gave him a light smack on his ass and he bounded back to life, whimpering.

"ass in the air, now," you demanded, hands on his hips. he complied immediately, silently getting on all fours, his ass poking up in the air. to prepare him, you reached for his mouth. "lick my fingers." he took them into his mouth graciously, covering them in his spit. you then brought your fingers up to his hole, rubbing it around the rim to tease him. he immediately clenched up, anticipating the pleasure.

"please, s/o!" he yelled out.

"you keep saying that. please, what?"

the blush returned to makoto's cheeks as he muttered. "please finger me," he shyly answered, clutching the bedsheets below him.

your middle finger penetrated him first, only halfway, before you pulled it out. for the millionth time that night, a smirk made its way onto your face as you continued doing just that, causing your boyfriend to squirm in front of you.

"you want my fingers so bad, huh? you want me to finger fuck you until you collapse? can my little slut handle that?" you teased, sliding in two fingers instead of one. makoto gasped, his hole clenching around them, a wet squelching noise coming from his ass as you pumped your fingers in and out, getting faster, and faster...

you added a third finger. his moans got louder, begging for release as your fingers came to a stop, deep inside him. you slowly pulled them out, making sure to leave him in agonizing desire, slapping his hole. he let out a yelp as you picked him up again, flipping him over on his back.

you took your cock eagerly, and rubbed the head around his hole, pushing it inside slowly. the two of you moaned in unison, his insides clenching around you, your dick throbbing with heat.

"oh yeah, you feel so good," you sighed, giving him a moment to adjust. makoto grabbed your hand, letting you know he was ready. with a low whine, you started thrusting yourself into him, hiking his legs up for more access. you watched his body bounce up and down as you forcefully pushed inside him, in and out, ruthlessly picking up the pace.

"fa- faster!" he screamed, moans echoing throughout the room as you grunted, in and out. once again, you felt that familiar knot in your abdomen, that feeling of something building up inside you. makoto screamed under you as he felt his climax build up as well, clenching around you as he cried.

finally, you felt you were about to come undone.

"i'm gonna cum, baby you're doing so good."

"i'm gonna cum too!"

with one last deep grunt, the knot came undone, your cum forcefully spilling out of your cock and into your boyfriend's little hole, all of your muscles relaxing after your release. shortly after, makoto's moans reached their loudest as his own liquids spilled out onto his stomach, his breathing raggedy and uneven. you grinned down at him, cupping his face in your hand. dragging your thumb across his cheek, you leaned down to place a sweet kiss on his lips.

"i love you makoto," you come back up from the kiss, pulling out of him. you marvel at the sight of him on his back, covered in your release, such a lewd face. since he looks tired, you get off the bed to go fetch a wet towel. you come back to find that his eyes are half closed, looking like he might fall asleep.

"go to sleep, baby," you reassured him, patting him on the head as you wiped up the mess all over his body. once he was clean, you tossed the wet rag into a basket, and laid down beside him. after draping the blankets over the both of you, you placed another kiss to his temple, before closing your eyes.

♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

:0

that's all i have to say, just :0

kidding, i have more. uh,,, WOW. that was so fun to write, and i am by no means a makoto simp but even i was tingling a bit during that- okay tmi mod kyoko.

(i'm very sorry BAHAHA)

hope you liked it :]

-mod kyoko

#mod kyoko #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa headcanons #danganronpa #danganronpa x reader #thh #trigger happy havoc #makoto naegi #makoto naegi x reader #danganronpa smut #dra fluff #smut #cw smut #smut cw #male reader #dom!reader

[confused-as-all-hell]

Nina Zenik's trade was love.

Her lips were the colour of teenage breakups, her eyelids dusted dreamy gold. Her kisses tasted like melting chocolate, and the touch of her bare hands was wildfire, burning, destruction. Within a cage of ribbon and bone, her heart wept for quiet.

Her smile could have set the world aflame.

Nina had ridden desire until her body gave out, had slept with infatuation in her bed, had risen to the prying hands of lust. She had never known gentle touches or warm butterfly lips; men and women both saw her body, saw an opportunity, a conquest.

She loved, my god, she loved.

But nobody had ever loved her.

Some tried; they took her to quaint little cafes and pretty sparkling monuments, but her laugh was too bright, her grin too wide, she was too much to be managed.

Her friends did their best to cheer her, and their kindness was often her lifeline, but Inej’s comforting hand never struck out, and Kaz’s vicious mind never bent towards anything but his studies, and Jesper was too busy with his boyfriend for more than a friendly hello.

Nina had never expected them to wage her wars, but some little, nagging part of her mind longed to be fought for.

So when she met Matthias Helvar, she hated him.

He was gentle, kind, waited on her opinion, halted before kissing her fingertips. His warmth, she thought with breathtaking terror, was just a ruse.

No person on the entire fucking Earth could romantically love her.

She knew that her giggles were just too raucous, and her body too curved, and her wit could have cleaved the moon. She knew she was too much, and she knew she wasn't enough.

When she was studying, when she was jesting, when she was laying on top of Matthias' broad frame, the vines crept in.

When she heard him sneer at a young woman, when she heard him degrade her, their, rights, those tangling vines nearly fucking strangled her.

For the first time in her life, Nina fell silent. The stars spun before her eyes. The ocean was in her ears. The hatred and bewilderment clouded her lungs.

When she mentioned it to Kaz, he only frowned. "Helvar isn't known for his humanity," he said fairly.

Nina didn’t shake. She didn’t sob. She didn’t bury her face in her hands and weep.

She was still Nina Zenik, and she would not lose her heart over a hateful boy.

She only turned to Kaz, seated at her desk, and Inej, cross-legged on the bed, and Jesper, sprawled on the floor.

And Nina did what she had forsworn eight years ago.

She begged.

They were good to her, her friends.

They worked quietly and quickly, abandoning their piles of homework to soothe her furious heart, ditching their responsibilities for her anger.

It was their love she clung to when red flashed before her eyes.

Yes, she cared for Matthias, more than she ever wanted to admit.

But she was proud to be a female, and prouder still to be a feminist. She refused to dissolve her values for a few hours of sex.

They worked through the dregs of night, and when the first wisps of sunlight spun around the stars, Nina at last sat back.

Later that day, Matthias Helvar was expelled.

She had been staring at his back during one of their lectures, silent silent silent, as Inej squeezed her hand tight.

When the announcement came, all she felt was a bitter surge of terror.

The look on his face, the misery and humiliation and awful bewilderment, it would fucking haunt Nina forever.

He turned to her, eyes full of hope. "I was with you that day," he said softly. "You know I didn't."

Matthias, bold and kind and gentle, the god of burnished gold, a saviour like none she had ever known. His kisses tasted of salvation, his laugh sounded of redemption.

And fuck if the pain on his face didn't break her damn heart.

I'm wrong I'm wrong I'm wrong.

For just a second, Nina wondered if she had acted too harshly. But the image of the girl, sobbing into into her hands, screaming she was worthless and awful and didn’t deserve to be called human….

“I am so sorry, Matthias,” Nina said softly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Months later, Nina still dreamt about the hopeless look in his eyes, the way he would pick her up and kiss her neck, how his kindness was her tether.

Did she love him?

Yes.

She loved him, simply, bitterly, indomitably.

It felt like dying.

It felt like waking up in the middle of the night, heart hammering, and trying to shift the veil of sleep from your gaze because something's wrong, something's out of place, and fuck if it isn't a boy with pretty blue eyes.

It felt like searching for your oblivion in someone else's body, and their hands are too wide, and their breath too rough, and the fury that lights your bones aflame is too fucking much.

Nina was no stranger to heartbreak. Many, many boys had shattered her courage, her wit, her pride; she had built it up again, a fortress of red silk and crimson anger.

But to break someone else's heart, to dream of a guileless laugh like rumbling thunder, to think of his coffee order whenever Inej asked her what she wanted for breakfast, it was nearly too much to bear.

She tried to heal herself.

She tried changing her perfume and restyling her hair, tried shedding the skin of a rash, reckless woman, and dressed in the suitable tones of a graceful lady.

But a quiet life did not suit Nina Zenik.

The roar in her head could have broken queens. The hum of adventure in her veins moaned for one more taste. The tide of kindly words and gentle smiles were unfamiliar in her mouth.

Her friends always did their best to extend a hand, and it was due to Kaz's ability to hack the school website that her grades remained polished. It was thanks to Inej's quiet that Nina could breathe for just a bare second. It was put down to Jesper's raucous laugh that she clung to life.

How stupid, she told herself, to cry over a boy.

But she knew there was no shame in crying over a boy. It was natural to mourn a relationship, a missed opportunity, and it didn't make her less.

What she really meant was: How stupid, to cry over an awful person.

Was Matthias awful?

That remark, that stupidly bitter remark, was terrible, yes. But she in her indomitable fury had reacted so harshly.

Worse men than twenty-three-year-old Matthias Helvar had learned better. Couldn't he?

For a second, hope lifted her heart on the wind.

The very next morning, she hurried out to the center where Matthias was doing his penance, and she begged to speak with him.

When he stalked out, tall and breathtakingly handsome, aurete hair brushed back and glacier eyes gentle... fuck if she didn't lose her damned mind.

"Nina," he whispered, so softly, as if her name was his salvation.  As if they were back in the safety of her bedroom, bare among the silk sheets, limbs intertwined as he gasped for her to keep going, not to stop.

"Hello," she said shakily.

"Nina, my love," he said again, his words heavy with sorrow. “My sweet garden flower.”

Her joy rose like a crashing wave, and for just one second, it felt like she might conquer the entire fucking world.

"Matthias," she said, her voice strangely airless.

He rushed towards her, fingers reaching, and she dared to close her eyes. His calloused palms brushed against her bare throat.

"My darling," he murmured into the hollow of her ear. "Oh, Nina, why would you come here tonight?"

"Am I unwelcome?"

He laughed, but it was injected with something akin to misery. "You were always welcome, Nina. I never turned you away from my door. My bed was yours. My hands, yours. The key to my dorms hung around this pretty neck. When have I ever denied you houseroom?"

"I thought you might hate me," she admitted, still trembling. The idea seemed ridiculous now.

"Hate you?" Matthias echoed, thumb grazing her pulse point, pressing down gently. "My fucking god, Nina, I have detested you since the very moment you said my name in that damned lecture hall."

Her heart stuttered.

"Every aspect of your pretty fucking face," he whispered, still soft as if he was kneeling for his confessional, "reviles me. Your laugh, your grin, those little melodies even the birds cannot mirror. The way you write your birthday cards. The way you sat by while I was convicted for a crime I did not commit."

He kissed the corner of her mouth, light as a butterfly's wings. "Oh, my darling, but you knew. Was I so terrible to you? Did I not sing you to sleep and hold your hand and bring your spring blossoms?"

She tried to croak his name, but he ghosted a finger across her lips.

"I loved you, Nina Zenik," he said. "I love you still. But send me to fucking hell if I wouldn't drive a blade through your heart." He pressed his mouth to her own again, so delicate, so careful. "I thought you cared for me."

But Nina was beyond responses. She was dashed on the rocks, laying on the stretcher, amid the ashes of her ancestors.

"No?" said Matthias gently. "Very well, my sweet love. Go to your grave in my arms, as I went to heaven in yours."

His fingers brushed her lips, grazed the swell of her breasts, closed around her throat.

When Nina woke the next morning, it was to her own unmade bed. Her neck was so swollen, peppered in bruises and markings in the shape of broad fingertips. She could barely speak.

She didn't know if she would have, even if given the choice.

The words within her, the lovely ebb and flow of their comfort, had washed away with the tide at last.

Within a few days, the markings on her skin had nearly been scrubbed away, and the gasping pressure of her larynx had eased up enough for her to cry.

She felt like an untethered ship, bound for no shore, alone on the ocean with no hope of salvation. No matter how loud her desperate screams, there was no lighthouse beacon shining through the storm, no gentle arms to welcome her home.

Her tears fell like raindrops, pattering into her morning tea and onto the silk of her pillows, rolling down her face and staining her clothes with salt.

Inej tried to soothe the grief, and her grace was often enough to hold the hurricane at bay. She slept in Nina's bed, hands outstretched as if beseeching forgotten gods, the set of her delicate face troubled.

Kaz worked hard to keep her grades high, and he seemed to take her desk as his own, working there until the latest hours of night whenever Inej ran late. He was always there, irate and dry perhaps, but there.

Jesper, newly engaged to bright-as-the-stars Wylan Van Eck, could be counted on for mindless chatter and familiar jests.

It helped, of course it did.

But nothing filled the hole in her armor, the pride Matthias had so aptly destroyed.

Some people had thought of Nina's rage as a monster, a beast slithering through the night, a serpent prone to striking first and thinking later.

But she had loved that fury, loved her pride. It gifted her a defense against sneers and remarks and hatred. It had given a little girl with happy eyes a purpose, eighteen years ago.

Nina blazed like fire, lovely and breathtaking, but so many forgot that her flames were not just pretty. They were scalding, awful, burning hot to the touch.

And she had been fucking stupid enough to think Matthias could withstand the inferno.

And she had been fucking stupid enough to think Matthias could withstand the inferno.

It was ten months before she saw him again.

Nina was leaning over the counter at a little cafe, doing her best to remember her friends' orders, touching her fingers one by one.

A laugh, like the demanding rumble of a hurricane, crested over the cafe.

Her heart fucking stopped.

Matthias was seated at a rickety table, arms tucked behind his head. He was grinning at a boy seated across from him, one of the number who had snickered at his remark over that weeping girl, all that time ago.

He glanced to the side, laughter on his soft rosy lips, and caught glimpse of her.

It was too late to smooth her straight dark hair, or wish she had worn a ball gown instead of ripped jeans and one of Jesper's T-shirts.

It was far too late to do anything but stroll up to his table and lean across the wood.

"Aerts," she said with a click of her tongue, indicating the other boy. "Darling, and I thought your sad little gang provided good company?"

"No complaints," Aerts said with a roguish smile. "You look pretty enough to whine in my ear, though, Zenik. You fancy a tumble?"

There was a shuffle, and a loud thud, as if Matthias had swung his foot into Aerts' shin.

"Fuck off," Matthias said jerkily to her.

"I'd much rather get off," Nina said dispassionately.

His ears turned red. "You've grown more petulant than ever."

"You didn't mind my whining," she said airily.

A hand flashed in the air; Kaz, waving her over impatiently.

Nina waved to signal her understanding before turning back to the boys. "How about it, Helvar? For the sake of nostalgia. I'm going home with somebody tonight, might as well be you."

Aerts didn't seem offended she'd turned him down. On the contrary, he grinned shiftily at his friend. "Go on. It'll be fun."

They barely made it to an alleyway before Matthias was kissing her.

The sex was quick and rough and furious, bruised lips and roaming hands, gasping moans and clever fingers. It was Nina with her head thrown back against the wall, eyes fluttering like the wings of a dove. It was Matthias bent down over her, whispering I hate you I hate you I hate you as though the words were his litany.

When he knelt before her, the sun was in his skin, his hair, the brush of his tongue.

And suddenly they were in their first year again, learning to love and lose and grieve and gift.

He bought earrings shaped like little stars for her because he had seen the way her eyes lit up.

She left a bouquet of white lilies on his bed because he had once mentioned they were his favourite.

He kissed the curves of her body because he had seen the disgust which others regarded them with.

She let him cry on her shoulder the anniversary of his sister's death because it hurt it hurt it hurt.

But just like in their first year, they parted.

He would always be the boy with some semblance of poison in his heart.

She would always be the girl who was simply too much for anyone to love.

And if they met, again and again, in thrift shops and opulent restaurants and beaches and nightclubs, they could pretend it away. They could smile, wave, sleep at night with the memory of a sweet laugh ringing in their ears.

Maybe one day, another day, a kinder day, they met again.

Maybe this time, Nina would ask him to heal the hatred in his blood.

Maybe this time, Matthias would tell her why he had hurt that girl.

Maybe they would love each other anew, a spring blossom eager to flower again, an old oak tree strong enough to outwait the storm.

But for now, the blossom will wither and die every winter, and the tree will go gently to the hurricane.

For now, it is Matthias, the king of ice, Nina, the queen of fire.

For now, love is simply not enough.

#nina zenik #six of crows #matthias helvar #crooked kingdom #king of scars #rule of wolves #anyways i put this in someone's inbox but thought i would share anyways #here #sorry if it sucks #im so fuckin tired

[mollymauk-teafleak]

honey don't feed it

Just some Hades smut! Please reblog and comment over on Ao3!

------

Thanatos has told his love a thousand times to be careful when overindulging in boons from the Olympians. Too many, too much from one god and he starts to get some strange side effects.

Ares' boons make him angry. Dionysius' made him laugh.

Aphrodite's do something entirely different.

------

Thanatos read the note a few times over, hearing it in his lover’s voice.

I need you. Please come home. I love you.

“Let me guess,” the grin on his twin’s face was far too smug for Than’s liking, “You’re taking your break now?”

Than gave him the kind of dark scowl that had been cowing the unruly dead for years but had never seemed to work on anyone who actually knew him. He folded up the note and stowed it in one of the many hidden pockets of his flowing robes. I need you.

“I don’t just drop everything and go running when Zagreus clicks his fingers,” he muttered. Please come home.

“Never said you did,” Hypnos shrugged, leaning back and putting his slippered feet on the desk in a way that was quite unprofessional, not that Than would look anything but petulant if he said so, “Just thought your face really lit up when I said Zag had left you a message…”

Than really hoped his cowl hid enough of his face that his blush couldn’t be seen. Something about Hypnos’ widening grin told him his hopes were in vain. I love you.

“There’s a gap in my schedule,” he sniffed, sheathing his scythe and gathering his robes with as much dignity as he could muster, “An unrelated gap.”

“Sure,” Hypnos shrugged, marking it down on the time sheets, “I’ll tell anyone looking for you to check Zag’s place.”

I need you. Please come home. I love you.

“Best not, I think,” Than said flatly, turning away quickly so he didn’t have to see the expression on Hypnos’ face.

He’d catch up on the work he missed later.

He knew what the problem was as soon as he walked into their chambers. Their chambers, not Zagreus’, it had taken some time to get used to thinking of it that way. But when he hadn’t slept in the Chthonic Wing once since they’d begun openly courting, when half of the items in the close, comfortable room were his own, when the word home evoked images of this place and the godling he shared it with, he’d settled into it.

It wasn’t a smell, not exactly. But it was a presence in the air, like a heat without the warmth or a sound without its timbre. And when Thanatos felt it play across his skin, like a ripple of energy that somehow tasted of pink, he stopped. And he realised how this evening was going to go.

“Tough run today, my love?” he said delicately, hanging up his cloak and moving deeper into the room.

His answer was a low, affirmative grown from Zagreus, curled on his side in the middle of the bed they shared. Around him the aura grew even tighter, thick enough to taste. There was a faint pink flickering behind his green eye, a tension in his muscles as he held himself, an unusual rosy colour in his veins, standing out starkly in his corded wrists as he gripped the sheet underneath him.

Thanatos sighed softly, pushing all thoughts of returning to work out of his mind. He knew the signs of overindulgence in a god’s boon, as varied as they were, there were always common threads. When Zagreus depended too heavily on one rather than using them sparingly and variedly as he’d been told half a hundred times, he would begin to shake, his eyes would unfocus and flicker, he’d experience deep instinctual urges that were nigh on impossible to ignore. What his body demanded, how his brain responded, well that depended on which god he’d been indulging in. Dionyseus’ boons made him slur his words, lose the ability to walk straight, laugh helplessly at anything. Ares’ were especially worrying, making him violent and bloodthirsty, filling him with the need to strike out at something and not stop until exhaustion collapsed him. Too many from Hermes and he would be filled with energy that crackled and sparked, putting him on a level with a small child who’d eaten their body weight in raw sugar.

But none of those gave Zagreus this tense, hungry energy with it’s tinge of rose pink and it’s smell of amber and heat. That was solely the symptom of far too many boons from one goddess of love and lust. That was all Aphrodite.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Zag groaned, his voice strained and coming through clenched teeth. He seemed to be fighting to keep himself still.

“What am I going to say, beloved?” Than murmured, golden eyes sweeping over him, assessing just how far gone he was. There was a shine of sweat pooling in his collarbone, an unmistakable dampness on the inside of his thighs, the red fabric turning dark.

“That I’m an idiot,” Zag moaned, “That I went too far again, that I need to listen to you.”

Thanatos considered that a moment, confirming to himself that he’d locked the door firmly behind him. Then he calmly unclasped his robe at the back and swept it over his head, leaving him bare but for his jewellery, all in one smooth, efficient stroke. He moved to the bottom of the bed, joining Zagreus up on it, setting his hands lightly on his lover’s knees. He knew from experience that far too much sensation right now could easily overwhelm him. Sure enough, just that barest touch of Than’s cool palms through the fabric of his trousers dragged a strangled noise from Zagreus.

“What I was going to say,” Than said patiently, eyes glowing in the candlelight, “Was that I love you too. And I’m here for you. Alright?”

Zag swallowed hard, eyes wide and wet, fixed completely on his lover’s face. Too many of these boons and it wasn’t just what was between Zag’s legs that took control, it was his heart as well, love and lust together. Than knew he needed gentle words, soft touches, closeness. That and to be bent near in half.

After a long few days of solid work, of being apart more than they were together, Thanatos was rather ready for both.

“I love you,” Zag nearly sobbed, whole body trembling with tension that needed release, “Than, please…”

“Slowly,” Than promised, moving to unbuckle his sword belt and unwind his tunic. His lover hadn’t even undressed himself before he’d fallen to the bed, likely nervous of what he might do without even the feeble barrier of fabric, “Gently. I’ll give you what you need but not more than you can take and you’re going to listen to me. Yes?”

“Yes,” Zag was panting as Than rolled his leggings down, casting them off the side of the bed though he wasn’t entirely sure they were salvageable, “Yes, gods, anything. Just fuck me or kiss me or let me fuck you, I’m dying here.”

“You’re not dying, we’ve done this before…”

Than kept his voice level but there was something in the heat rolling off his skin right now as he took away the last of his adornments, the salt and musk smell of him, something animalistic about it all. He was finding it hard to concentrate. Or he would, if such a thing could pull his focus at a time like this…

“Come here, my love,” he moved Zag’s lean thighs apart, making him whine at just the slight touch of his breath, “I’ll take good care of you.”

Zagreus nearly came the moment Than’s tongue touched his flesh, a kind of electricity seizing him. But it passed, achingly, and then his fingers were in Than’s hair, taking full advantage of how long it had been getting of late, how easily Than had bowed to a sleepy, murmured comment from his lover a few weeks ago that he looked beautiful with it long. He tugged needily, hungrily, but still not enough to truly hurt, as Than fluttered kisses between his lips. He built slowly, starting to lap and suck and slip his tongue into him only when he was sure Zag could bear it. Every movement drew more gasps and moans from his lover, more grasping at his hair, strained whispers of muddied devotion.

Than had seen the sea of course, it claimed so many souls he had to go and collect, even some that were peaceful. He’d stood on it’s shores, felt it’s salt sting the inside of his nose and throat and wanted badly to be able to swim in it. When Zagreus came, sudden and sharp and with a high, wild cry, Than felt for a moment as if he had.

“Well then…” he drew back, wiping at his mouth and cheeks with the back of his hand.

“Than…” Zag moaned, relief in his eyes but only for a moment, the aura still twitching and writhing around him, “S’not enough...still burning…”

“I know, my love,” Than was already moving, taking his wrists now, immediately feeling his racing pulse under his skin, “I cleared my schedule, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, your workload was my biggest concern, just edged out my cock literally feeling like it was on fire…” Zag said dryly, making Thanatos smile. If his lover felt enough like himself to crack his little jokes, then his work was having the intended effect.

“Let’s see what we can do about that then, hm?” Than grinned, bending to his task again.

It took another half hour of slow, almost lazy ministrations between Zag’s thighs, a gradual introduction of his fingers, all very cautious and almost worshipful before he judged his lover ready for something more without it breaking his brain. He was still burning hot, the sheets under him near ruined, thighs shining with slick in the low light. But he could speak without that wanton whine in his voice, he could focus on something other than Than’s fingers or tongue- he’d had him reciting poetry a moment ago just to prove he could- and his eyes looked their usual colour. The boons were slackening their hold on him, bit by bit, as the seconds ticked by and Zag’s needs were filled.

But that didn’t mean they couldn’t have a little more fun before it was over.

“Want my cock?” he purred, licking his fingers lightly as he sat back on his heels.

“Gods, yes, you tease,” Zag groaned, eyes closely following the play of his lover’s fingers, the way his tongue ran across them, “I’ve only been begging since you walked through the damn door.”

“And if I’d given it to you then, you’d have ridden me until you blacked out while scratching my back to ribbons,” Than explained with prim patience, “What happened to listening to me?”

“Sorry,” Zag muttered, his kiss swollen lips sliding into a needy pout, “I’ll behave. I’ll listen. Please?”

Than smiled crookedly, drawing their hips close, throwing his lover’s legs over his shoulder, “Seeing as you asked so nicely.”

“Watch the feet, you’ll singe your hair again,” Zag hummed with a hint of smugness rather too strong for someone in his situation.

“I thought we agreed never to speak of that again, my love…”

Than pressing into him chased the look off Zag’s face, replacing it with one of mixed relief and rapture. Than had to bite down on his own gasp as his lover’s body opened up to him, he’d been neglecting himself as he’d focused on Zag’s predicament and was only now realising how much.

“Oh gods, yes,” Zag moaned, eyelids half closed, head tilted back, “Right there. That’s where you belong, my love, my heart…”

Than swallowed hard, bracing himself with his hands bracketing Zag’s head. It was the effect of the boons, he told himself. They were not two lovers in a sappy play whispering ridiculous, overwrought words of passion in some moonlight drenched garden.

But wasn’t it fun to pretend.

“My beloved,” he answered, voice a little strained as he began to thrust, “I’ve got you, you’re here with me and I’m going to give you just what you need...”

Zag whimpered helplessly, legs locked tight as chords around him, soon unable to do anything but gasp his name and strained pleas for more, faster, harder. Than answered, giving him everything he could, everything he had left, kissing him through the surging pink haze until he wasn’t quite sure who it was coming from or who it was ensnaring any more. And he wasn’t fully certain he could care, not when the world shrank down to Zag’s hands on his face and in his hair, his warm, wet heat around his cock, his breathy gasps of his name, how could he care about anything else? How could he care about anything but the one he loved?

“Come with me,” he whispered into Zag’s mouth, hips working hard and heavy.

Apparently he’d just been waiting for permission, as soon as the words left Than’s mouth, Zag arched up and came hard with a strangled cry of his lover’s name that sounded as sweet as any prayer. Than was helpless and could only follow, tumbling over his own edge, filling Zag deeply, crying out in a way that was very undignified and very un-death like.

When his vision cleared and his brain felt connected to his limbs again, Thanatos opened his eyes to see his husband smiling crookedly up at him.

“I think I’m all set,” he chuckled, eyes a little unfocused but very much his own beautiful colours, the only thing in the air being the smell of sex and candles that had guttered out while they’d been distracted.

They untangled themselves carefully, cataloguing their various aches and pulled muscles, collapsing over each other against the pillows.

“So,” Than shifted so Zag could pillow his head on his chest, “What are we going to do next time?”

“Use the boons sparingly,” Zag just sounded exhausted now, Than was beginning to suspect the much needed bathing would have to wait until after a brief nap, “Vary them. And listen to Thanatos.”

“Good boy,” Than laughed, stroking his hair back from his forehead, “And?”

Zag thought before frowning sleepily, confused, “And...and I don’t know.”

Than leaned down and kissed him softly, lingering before murmuring tenderly, “And I will always come running whenever you need me because I love you.”

Zag smiled at him, reaching up to trace the curve of his nose, “I love you too.”

Thanatos knew Zagreus was satisfied, he could go back to work and catch up on the souls he missed, the ones that were probably mounting every second he spent watching his lover drift into sleep.

But still he didn’t move, he didn’t stop letting the silky black hair run through his fingers again and again, admiring his beloved’s face, relaxed and peaceful in sleep. He would go back to being the emissary of Death, he’d pick up his scythe and he’d return to work. But not now.

For now, how could he care about anything but the man he loved?

#hades #smut #thanzag #zagreus #thanatos #hades game

[bakubabes-tatakae]

Pairing: Dabi x Reader {NSFW}

Summary: With the new year slowly approaching Dabi just wants to have a sense of normal for himself. He wants someone to call his own and to feel love and compassion with someone. So when he meets the lovey Y/n he knows he’s met his match.

A/N: This is piece one of three for my contribution to the Konoha Simps Server Collab. You can find the rest of the amazing works right here! If you want to be involved in future collabs or even just be in a place to meet new people and talk about anime feel free to join us. 🥰

Konoha Simps Discord Server

Warnings: tobacco use, unprotected sex, 18+ content, public sex, intoxication, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 1.8k

Dabi couldn’t believe how the past year had gone for him. It was like he couldn’t catch a break. The only thing in his life that had been constant had been the revolving door of women that had been coming from his bedroom of the Leauge of Villain’s hideout. He had lost so many people in his life that he had never wanted to lose. There had been so many changes that it made his head spin. He just wanted some normalcy for once.

As the new year barreled toward him he was holding out hope that for once something would go his way. That finally he would have some kind of constant that he didn’t have to worry about changing all the time.

So when Toga approached him and told him that there was a plan to have a New Year’s party at the hideout he was very against it. He didn’t want to risk the possibility of someone turning in the League. He didn’t want to have a bunch of people that he didn’t know in his home. It wasn’t normal. But he would never tell Toga about any of this. Grinning and bearing it was something that Dabi was amazing at.

So when the night of the party came around and things didn’t seem like they were going to change for him anytime soon he did exactly that.

With a drink in hand and a fake smile on his face, he slowly made his way through the crowd of people. Desperate for some air, desperate to take a drag from the cigarettes in his pocket. The window that they used to get onto the roof seemed so far away as he stalked toward it.

As he reached the window and climbed out the familiar scent of burning tobacco filled his nostrils. He hadn’t expected anyone else to be out here. Hadn’t expected that anyone else would even think to head for the roof, but he ignored that and climbed out anyways.

As you heard the sound of someone else coming through the window you jumped a little, quickly finished your drag from your cigarette, and turning toward them. “Sorry, I can totally go back inside if you don’t want me here.”

Dabi grabbed the pack from his pocket and placed his drink on the flat edge. “Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.” He watched your figure as he lit a flame on the end of his finger and lit his cigarette. The feeling of the nicotine filling his lungs as he took a drag, almost instantly calming him down from the chaos going on inside.

You patted the roof next to you. “I promise I don’t bite.” A small smile spread across your face as you tried to reassure him.

Your words had gotten a small chuckle from him. You hadn’t expected it to sound as attractive as it had. His chuckle was angelic, music to your ears as you watched the smile that you could tell was so obviously fake turn into a sincere one.

He grabbed his drink and walked over to you, sitting in the place your hand had just touched. The lights of the city around you lit up the sky. He had never seen it so beautiful before. He took another drag and blew the smoke into the sky, watching the stars above him as they shone overhead.

Dabi knocked the ash from the end of his cigarette and looked over at you. But as he looked at you this time he caught his breath. The lights of the building and street lights gave a glow to your skin and he couldn’t help but stare.

You noticed his eyes change as he watched you. You cleared your throat and looked back down at the roof. “I’m Y/n.” You looked back over at him nervously.

He took a sip of his drink, the buzz from the alcohol that he had ingested this evening hitting him harder than he had thought it would. A warm, fuzzy feeling filled his body as he spoke back to you. “Dabi.”

“Well Dabi, it’s nice to meet you.” You flicked your now unlit cigarette in front of you where a pile had already started to form. “I’m friends with Toga. In case you’re wondering how I got here.”

Dabi leaned against the side of the house. “I live here. That’s how I got here.” He watched as you laughed at him. “How does a girl like you get to be friends with a little psycho like Toga?” You could tell by his tone that he hadn’t meant any harm with his words, but you left it unanswered. The mystery of it all making him more even curious.

As time passed you hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. Dabi climbed back out the window and toward you again, drinks for each of you in hand. “I figured we could use a few more drinks.”

You grabbed your phone from where it sat next to you and checked the time. When you had checked the time after Dabi came out it had been 9 pm and as you looked now it was 11:58. The sound of everyone gathering around the television brought the two of you out of your conversation. Dabi grabbed his drink and took a swig. He raised his glass and held it out, waiting for you to touch yours to his. “To another year gone by.”

You touched your glass to his and smiled. “To another year.”

But as the ball dropped and you listened to the crowd inside counting down you slowly stood, Dabi taking a place beside you as you both watched the moon. But as the countdown hit one you felt a hand touch your cheek, the staples on his hand cool to the touch even in the night air. And without giving you time to react his lips touched your own. A quick peck, but as he broke the kiss you saw a grin spread as a look of bliss crossed his features.

* * * * * *

As you looked back through the window you noticed that there was no one left inside the house. “Holy crap. Look at the time.” 2 am flashed across the screen as you took a sip from the drink and handed it back to him. “I should really get going. I’m sure you would like to get to bed.”

As you tried to walk around him Dabi placed his drink down and grabbed your arm, spinning you toward him. “Wait, don’t go.” His eyes showed nothing but worry as he had watched you walk away. It wasn’t like Dabi to feel this way. He had never felt this way before. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but he didn’t want to let you go. What had that one kiss done to him? “Do you want to stay here tonight? I’d hate for you to be out walking home right now.”

You swallowed hard. A lump forming in your throat as you watched the hunger in his eyes forming, overpowering the worry. “I… uh, I don’t know if I should.”

You felt Dabi’s hand relinquish from your arm, but it found its way to your lower back, pulling you toward him. Your heart felt like it would jump up your throat as it beat against your chest, until you felt his lips touch your own once again.

Dabi had expected you to pull away, he had expected you to detest him, to run in the other direction from you. Shock set in as your lips danced against his. His hands met your waist and slowly pushed you against the house, pinning you to the wall. But you still didn’t try to get away, most people would have tried to run at this point.

Your hand gripped his white t-shirt, tugging on it as you tried in an attempt to bring him closer to you. He spoke against your lips. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Your hands slowly slid down his chest, grasping the waistband before moving to his belt. You couldn’t believe the lust that you felt coursing through your entire body. You had never felt it this strong.

His hands balled up your skirt and pushed it up before placing his hands on the back of your thighs to help you hop into his arms. Dabi’s hand slowly slid under your skirt and just the feeling of his fingers rubbing against your fold through your panties had you throwing your head back and crying out.

He heard him huff against your neck and a smirk spread across his lips. He fumbled around with his pants and his erection sprang free. With a rough thrust, Dabi sent waves of pleasure surging through you. His girth filling you perfectly, every movement hitting just the right spots. The fact that the city below was in full view hadn’t even affected either of you. It was the middle of the night. Who was wandering around at this time?

You wrapped your hands into his hair and tugged on it, causing a growl to leave the back of his throat as his pace quickened. It had been so long since you had had anything this intimate with another person. The one night stands that you had been used to lately had been nothing more than rough and quick. Dabi was different.

As the coil in your abdomen tightened you could feel your impending orgasm threatening to take over your senses. As your cunt clenched around his cock Dabi ran his hands through your hair, his voice a mere whisper as he spoke into your ear. “You like that doll?”

You could barely hold yourself together as his voice rang in your ear. “F-fuck Dabi…”

At the sound of his name rolling off your tongue and the feeling of your cunt clenching around his cock he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He unloaded himself inside you with a strangled sound coming from the back of his throat.

He pressed his forehead against yours and smiled. “What do you think, dollface?” He smiled. “New year, new me. Go on a proper date with the new Dabi?”

You softly placed your lip to his. “I’d love to Dabi.”

And as the words left his lips all the stress of the new year now bringing Dabi what he wanted in life floated away. The normalcy that he had wanted to feel so bad was just barely out of his reach, but getting closer with every passing moment. And he hoped he’d reach it with you by his side. No more heartache and no more nights where he wondered who would even care if he didn’t come back from a mission. He wanted you to be with him every step of the way. Wanted you to be the one that would be happy when he came home.

#dabi x reader #dabi imagines #dabi x y/n #mha x reader #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #my hero x reader #boku no hero x reader #dabi fanfic #dabi fanfiction #dabi smut #konoha simps discord server #server collab #dabi #dabi mha #dabi bnha #mha #bnha #boku no hero #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #my hero

[crispyjenkins]

Secretly married obiwan x quinlan

(thank you all so much for your patience on this one! still figuring out my routine around my family and who i am as a person, but prompts are back to sunday and monday uploads!

i guess i just like the idea of quinlan and obi-wan gettin’ hitched really young? it certainly sounds like smth quinlan would do. HOWEVER can you just imagine them not getting into a relationship until the clone wars? (ノ*´◡`) maybe they’ve been dancing around it since they were padawans and finally decide to just say fuck it like anidala. 

that is not this story.)

  The greatest injustice of it all is that Quinlan and Master Tholme had just left the Temple when the council had sent him and Qui-Gon to Melida/Daan, just as Quinlan had not been there when Obi-Wan had been sent to the Agricorp. Quinlan had almost strangled him for that, when he’d shown back up from Bandomeer trailing behind his new master, and, honestly, Obi-Wan hadn’t blamed him.

  When the contingent of Jedi and their padawans arrive in the capital city of Zehava to help negotiate with Neild and the Young, Quinlan hugs him instead. 

  And Obi-Wan hasn’t eaten properly in weeks, he’s been sleeping in the sewers, and Cerasi’s blood is still caked under his fingernails, and Quinlan nearly knocks him over with the force of their collision. He wraps Obi-Wan up so tight it almost feels like they’d never even left the créche — he’s always felt more like home than the Temple, anyways.

  “Let’s not do that again,” Quinlan says, surprisingly in control of his voice for how wrecked he’d sounded after Bandomeer.

  With shaking hands, Obi-Wan hugs him back, twisting his fingers into the back of Quinlan’s robes until he can’t feel them anymore. “I’ll say goodbye properly, next time,” he promises hoarsely, feeling Master Qui-Gon prod at his mind in concern before Master Tholme leads him away. 

  Quinlan makes a distressed noise and hugs him tighter. “Or you could stop kriffing almost getting killed every mission, yeah? I swear by the Maker that if Master Yoda has to sit me down one more time to ‘break the news’ to me that you've gone awol, I’m going to throw you into a sarlacc.”

  Obi-Wan does suppose it’s a little unfair to do this to his friends nearly every time he leaves the Temple, but with a galaxy so big and so full of need, he knows he can’t promise that. 

  So he presses his forehead into Quinlan’s collarbone, releasing his hands just long enough to tuck himself into Quinlan’s robes instead, and nods against him anyways. “You’d have to find a sarlacc first, Quin,” he says, like making a joke of it will excuse that he’d almost gone and left Quinlan alone again. 

  “Don’t worry, I’ll just stick you on a desert planet, and with your luck, the sarlacc will find you.”

-

  The greatest injustice of it all is that Obi-Wan knows before Qui-Gon even opens his mouth what he’s going to say. No one ever looks at someone like that with good news.

  They excuse him from his last lesson so he can find a private meditation room to process, but Obi-Wan goes to Master Tholme’s apartment instead. He leaves the bedroom doors closed, the quartermaster will send someone to sort through their belongings later, and he settles on Quinlan’s meditation stool in the main room. He knows Quinlan has more belongings than is typically appropriate of a Jedi, but Tholme keeps the living spaces clean and bare, neutral colours blurring together until the white walls stare back at Obi-Wan in accusation.

  He should have known he wouldn’t be able to meditate, anyways.

  After Qui-Gon goes to bed, leaving Obi-Wan with murmured words of assurance and a ruffle of his hair, Obi-Wan slips out of their quarters in his darkest robes. He meets Luminara and Bant in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, and they know it’s impossible that their little escapade has gone completely unnoticed, but no one stops them from winding through the different fountains until they reach the one modeled to resemble a spring on Kiffu. None of them had ever been to Quinlan’s home planet, but Obi-Wan had come here often with him even in their créche days, and dropping to sit in the yellow dirt doesn’t hurt as much as he thought it would.

  Luminara sets a simple clay incense burner on the edge of the fountain wall, lighting it as Bant lays out a small offering plate with Quinlan’s favourite sweetcake; they don’t make Obi-Wan help as they go about fixing an altar with little bits from all their cultures, the water-filled quiet between them heavier so heavy it reminds him of those nights on Melida/Daan.

  “Did—” Obi-Wan swallows even though his mouth is dry. “Did you all do this for me, before?”

  His friends exchange a look before nodding. “Both times,” Bant says softly, lighting the last candle before joining him on the ground and for once not worrying about laying out a blanket first. 

  “Quinlan almost didn’t come to the second one,” Luminara admits, standing over the altar with her eyes closed as she breathes in the incense. 

  Obi-Wan simply nods, because that does sound like Quinlan, and he feels horrid all over again for making Quinlan go through this, twice. Inhaling a sigh, Obi-Wan finds the holodisk hidden away in his robes and sets it next to the incense. 

  None of them can bear to turn it on.

-

  The greatest injustice of it all is that, for some reason, Master Tholme did not contact the Temple before hitching a ride back from the moon where the unhappy locals had bombed their ship. And Obi-Wan knows Master Tholme didn’t tell the council they were in fact alive, because then the council would have told Obi-Wan.

  He feels it the moment their ship docks, Quinlan’s presence flooding his mind until his fingers tingle with it, and he shoots to his feet.

  The class of senior padawans stare at him in surprise, and Master Prweex stops mid-lecture, chirping in concer. “Is everything alright, Padawan Kenobi?”

  Breath caught somewhere in his throat, Obi-Wan doesn’t answer, and instead scrambles from the classroom, opening the door with the Force before he can slam into it. 

  Despite popular superstition, Jedi cannot teleport, but Obi-Wan honestly couldn’t say how he made it from the lesson halls to one of the main hangars, where a small group of Jedi masters stand next to a shamble of a ship that spews smoke from several panels. And, there, Master Tholme looking ragged and tired, robes still stained from the explosion and with a cast on his right arm, but Obi-Wan’s eyes snap immediately to the padawan on his side.

  Quinlan is a little worse for wear, and his braids hang around his shoulders instead of pulled up, not that Obi-Wan cares as he sprints the last few yards and launches himself at his friend. The masters step cleanly out of the way, likely having sensed his approach from a few hallways away, but Quinlan clearly hadn’t, yelping as he stumbles to catch him. It isn’t until then that Obi-Wan can accept that, yes, he had mourned him, but for some reason the Force had decided “not yet”.

  “Obes?” Quinlan asks softly when Obi-Wan doesn’t pull his head away from his chest. 

  “Hmm,” Master Rancisis chuckles, the sound edged in saddness. “Perhaps Kenobi needs a moment, Padawan Vos; it has been a long few weeks in your absence.” 

  And Obi-Wan is more than content to stay there the rest of the day, even though Quinlan smells like he hasn’t bathed in a week – and he probably hadn’t. Quinlan still hugs him back and bleeds worry into the Force, as Master Tholme gently runs a hand over the back of Obi-Wan’s head and sighs.

  “I know what Melida/Daan did to my padawan, so I can imagine what you’ve been through the last few weeks.” When Obi-Wan still doesn’t pull away, he continues, “You know, now that I think about it, during their clan wars the Stewjoni had a special marriage rite, when one thought dead returned to them.”

  “Master?” Quinlan asks in confusion, but Obi-Wan grips his robes tighter. He does remember Master Nu mentioning something...

  Master Tholme laughs, only a little rough, and steps away to join the other masters who have started slowly making their way from the hangar. “I suppose I thought it funny, padawan,” he says, “that, if I recall the ceremony correctly, you’re both halfway there already. You will meet me in the Halls of Healing when you’re ready? I’d like to get the cut of yours looked at.”

  “Of course, master. Gimme a few minutes.”

  “Of course, padawan.”

  Tholme sometimes did that, dropped little bits of trivia any time something jogged his memory, and he didn’t often mean anything by it; even with this in mind, Obi-Wan can’t help but hope.

  Quinlan waits until the masters’ footsteps recede, before gently tugging on Obi-Wan’s nerftail until he looks up. “I’ve got an idea,” he says with a roguish grin, and Obi-Wan is young and stupid and scared, and knows exactly what he’s planning.

-

  “You ready?”

  “This is probably illegal, Quinlan.”

  “Not according to Master Nu, it isn’t.”

  “Well, I’m probably going to Stewjoni hell anyways, I guess.”

  “Before we do this, I need you to promise me something, Obi-Wan.”

  “...”

  “We can’t let this get in the way, we can’t... We’re almost knights, Obi, we’ve worked too hard to lose that now. We’ll always have to come second to the Order, you understand that, right?”

  “Quinlan Vos, are you backing out on me? This was your idea.”

  “And you agreed! Stop laughing, I’m serious.”

  “I know you are, Quin. I’m somehow more ready now than I was ten minutes ago.”

  “Good. Because you know I would follow you anywhere.”

  “And I would follow you into this.”

  “Good. Now shut up and light the candle.”

-

  It’s Kit that brings Obi-Wan the datapad with all the forms for his induction onto the council, along with advice and a smile that makes Obi-Wan think maybe accepting the position had not been a mistake.

  Unlike either his master or his own padawan, Obi-Wan is efficient with his paperwork, he knows the quicker he gets it done, the more time he can spend not doing paperwork, just as he knows that to be thorough the first time is to avoid having to do it a second.

  Only one question on the forms gives him pause:

  Is the inductee married in any culture(s)’s customs, accidental or not?

  Well, it had been fifteen years since Quinlan had knotted a scrap of his own robes around Obi-Wan’s wrist, as Obi-Wan had done the same, and the Jedi Order is not made of fools, so he checkmarks the Yes box and adds Stewjoni below it, because he can’t imagine that at least the masters haven’t noticed by now.

(He would come to find that, no, they had not.)

-

i got a little carried away with this one, and didn’t entirely follow the prompt oops

#quinobi #quinlan/obi wan #prequel trilogy #au #secretly married au #i don't.... hate how this came out #obi wan kenobi #quinlan vos #tholme #qui gon jinn #crispy writes #fanfiction #prompt #prompt fill #ask #anon #ask box is always open! #angst with a happy ending #obiquin

[yuziyuanapologist]

all my rage

the chengsu (jiang cheng/qin su) agenda - 1.7k - canon divergence from episode 40.

mild content warnings for canon typical discussion of qin su’s parentage + jin rusong’s death. (sometimes im a jgy apologist but not in this fic.)

[AO3 link!]

It’s late into the evening of the banquet when Qin Su appears at the door to Jiang Cheng's guest rooms, tears streaming down her face, her sobs interrupting the breaths she takes, and her hand half raised from when she had knocked. 

"Jin-furen," he greets, brow furrowed with concern - her proper title not a common thing from his lips, and from the way she flinches at it, it's an address that he now regrets. "Qin Su, what's - what's wrong?" 

She opens her mouth to reply, but it's drowned out by renewed tears, a hand to her chest as she gasps, other hand against the door frame to steady herself. 

He falters for a second, unsure - but it's all he can do, to stand aside, and allow her entry into his rooms. He shuts the door behind her; it’s perhaps improper, but it's not something that he cares about at this moment. 

“Qin Su -” he moves forward, a hand to her shoulder. “Would you - would you like to sit?” He gestures to the table, and tries to encourage her forward without pushing. He’s still - still - not good at comforting, but she needs it, so he grits his teeth and walks with her across the room.

She gives a shaky exhale as she sinks to a kneeling position. Her shoulders still tremble as she rests her forearms on the table, hands folded together, as if playing at composure. Jiang Cheng sits beside her, watching closely, carefully, desperate to give her anything that she needs, however ill-equipped he is for it.

"Jiang-Zongzhu," she whispers, her eyes shut tight, tears still escaping. "Jiang Cheng, I-" She shakes her head, once, again, again. "I can't - it's shameful, I -" 

She sobs once more, and never has Jiang Cheng felt helplessness like this - or not - not now. 

He puts a gentle (is it gentle? He hopes so. He lost that touch a while ago, if he ever had it) hand on her forearm, and his thumb soothes circles through her thin sleeves, a trick he learnt from - from - whatever. 

"Qin Su, what can I do?" 

"Nothing - oh, nothing! There is nothing that can be done, except to -" She lets out a frustrated sound akin to a growl, a scream, a cry. And, at the tail of the sound, as it quiets to a breath, she speaks. 

"I received a letter," she says. Another quivering breath, and she continues. "A letter which revealed the truth of my parentage."

Jiang Cheng stops his words before they can escape; he does not need to interrupt. If left the space to continue, she will - he knows this. He knows her. 

"He-" it's spat out, a strangled sound. Furious, and Jiang Cheng understands that feeling better than anyone. "I am a child of assault," she spits. 

"I'm sor-" Isn't that what he's supposed to say? But she cuts him off. 

"I am a child," she continues, teeth gritted. "Of Jin Guangshan." 

Of - of - what? 

"And he knew!" it's more of a wail, now. "A-Yao knew, since before the wedding. But he thought it better to keep quiet, because it was - after A-S-" She doesn’t seem able to say the name - understandable. Sometimes Jiang Cheng struggles with the same thing. With others, too.

He still has his hand in her arm, but now she takes it in one hand, then both, gripping it tight enough to hurt, tight enough for him to feel the ring of Zidian making imprints in her soft skin.

They had both loved A-Song. A friend for A-Ling, and a sweet boy, with his dimpled smile and eyes filled with wonder. He had been so joyful, listening intently to every word his mother cooed to him in the cradle, and he had laughed with delight when Jiang Cheng lifted him high into the air, something that A-Ling had been too big for by then. 

It had always been strange how distant Jin Guangyao had seemed to keep himself from his own son. Jiang Cheng had written it off as the panic of fatherhood, and understood it, having felt almost the same way when - but - but this is - 

"Jiang Cheng," Qin Su says, her words now deliberate and emotionless, as if it’s the only way she can force them out. "He killed my son." As soon as she has spoken, she gasps, and lets the despair take her again.

"He - how-" Words fail him. Anger is familiar, yes, but with his hands held so tightly in hers, his concentration is on Zidian, on not letting it spark out the rage it knows he feels. 

"He set it up!" she cries. "He set it up so that - in case A-Song was -" 

Her voice tails off, and her tears come silent now, mouth open in grief that she can't express - grief that she has never been able to express. 

He's not very well going to be any help with that. Instead, he lifts his other hand, covering hers and his with it, and channels his anger to his voice.

"I'll kill him." 

He's not saying it as he once did, half in jest, more frustration than rage - no, this is cold, hard, the steel edge of his lightning anger. He knows he can say nothing to ease her pain, and he knows that she doesn't want to hear anything else. This, though, this he can say. 

"Or I will," she forces out, voice cracked and broken and yet fierce. 

His right hand is numb from her grip, but in some soothing way it helps. The absence of feeling there is a distraction, a grounding force, because if he could stand and leave, he'd do it, he'd go straight to the Fragrance Hall and he'd - 

There's a knock at the door. A familiar, soft, fucking patronising tap, and a horribly familiar voice calling through. 

"Jiang-Zongzhu," It's oozing politeness, dripping saccharine syrup and burning into Jiang Cheng's ears. "Do you know where A-Su is?" 

Qin Su's grip on his hands tightens yet more for a second, and then, with a sharp inhale - loosens. She extracts her hands from his grip, forcing herself into a cool and measured manner, and pushes herself to stand, wiping her sleeves beneath her eyes. All of this before Jiang Cheng has even been able to speak. Without Qin Su's hands on his own, they've curled into fists that he can barely relax. 

"Why would I?" he calls in response to Jin Guangyao, attempting the offhand gruffness that he's perfected these years, but it falls short. 

Qin Su shakes her head, and takes a step towards the door, wobbling only a little. Inside her sleeves, her hands, too, are curled into fists. 

In this moment, he's somewhat afraid of her. And then - all at once - his mouth is curling into a prideful smirk at her power, anticipation for what will come, and he stands, following behind her to the door. 

"Give me a minute," he calls roughly to Jin Guangyao. Make him wait. 

Just before Qin Su can put a hand on the door to open it, he takes her arm with his left hand. "Trust me," he murmurs at her look of alarm, and lifts his right hand to hers, fingers curling round her wrist. 

He's never done this before, but he shuts his eyes, and whispers to the lightning anger. 

Slowly at first, then with a smooth speed, Zidian slithers across to her wrist, making itself at home against her delicate skin, the ring winding itself around her middle finger, and sealing itself. It looks as though it belongs there - Jiang Cheng almost can't bear to let go, not least for the strange calm he feels without the static flickering on the edges of his consciousness. 

She gives him a sort of smile, a tear left unshed at the corner of her eye, marring the perfect picture of callous anger. He nods once, swallows, and lifts a thumb to brush away the tear. 

She slides the door open, and Jin Guangyao is there, all smiles, all relief to see her. All that and sticky sweet falsehood, and at the edge of it, a calculating glint in his eye. 

"A-Su," he says, "I've-" 

Jiang Cheng hears the crackling before he does, sees the flash of purple before Jin Guangyao has a chance to react. 

He's felt Zidian's sting himself only once before, and it was only the laughable mistake of letting a young Jin Ling play with the weapon, a mild hit compared to some. 

This - this is full force and heavy, throwing Jin Guangyao back across the courtyard, into the decorative pond in front of the opposite building. This is what he deserves. 

"A-Su-" he struggles to stand. 

She whips him again, and this time he stays down, blood dribbling from his mouth as he looks at her with wide, frightened eyes. 

She's beautiful like this. Fearsome, proud, her slight stature almost unnoticeable with the amount of rage that she holds inside. Jiang Cheng could watch for - forever. 

Jin Guangyao croaks from the pond he’s slumped in. "Please, A-Su, let me -" 

Once more, and he's unconscious. 

The commotion is stirring people from the surrounding buildings now, running footsteps and voices audible, and though Qin Su’s face is etched with a cool, triumphant smile, Jiang Cheng knows to act. 

"Qin Su," he urges. "Quick. Give me Zidian back, say it was me." 

Her eyes flicker with defiance, but she climbs down from it, her breathing quickening. "I -" 

He takes her hand in his before she can argue, and summons Zidian back. 

"Jiang Cheng-" The beginnings of panic are showing in her eyes as she glances to where the sounds of crowds are coming from - but at least the satisfaction shows no signs of giving way to regret. 

"We'll work it out," he says, and then swallows all his past down to continue. "Come back to Lotus Pier with me. You'll be safe there." 

She meets his gaze, and he hopes it holds all the truth that's in his heart, all his intentions. 

Letting go of her wrist, he lets Zidian crackle once, twice, between his fingers, and searches her eyes for the answer. 

A moment later, she gives it, a gentling of her eyes, a sadness to her smile, and she nods. Whispers "thank you," and lifts her hand to press a brief touch of palm to cheek. 

He nods, trying not to let his breathing stutter, and turns back towards Jin Guangyao’s unconscious form, moving to stand in front of her as the crowds rush into the courtyard. 

Behind his back, he moves his left hand. A second later, she takes it. 

#jiang cheng? falling in love with woman who can injure him? its more likely than you think #the untamed #the untamed fic #cql fic #mine #fic*