#like he'd be fine with them but more like from the distance bc there are more interesting things sort of thing

[starry-bi-sky]

i need to get this out of my head before i continue clone^2 but danny being the first batkid. Like, standard procedure stuff: his parents and sister die, danny ends up with Vlad Masters. He drags him along to stereotypical galas and stuff; Danny is not having a good time.

He ends up going to one of the Wayne Galas being hosted ever since elusive Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham. Vlad is crowing about having this opportunity as he's been wanting to sink his claws into the company for a long while now. Danny is too busy grieving to care what he wants.

And like most Galas, once Vlad is done showing him off to the other socialites and the like, he disappears. Off to a dark corner, or to one of the many balconies; doesn't matter. There he runs into said star of the show, Bruce who is still young, has been Batman for at least a year at this point, but still getting used to all these damn people and socializing. He's stepped off to hide for a few minutes before stepping back into the shark tank.

And he runs into a kid with circles under his eyes and a dull gleam in them. Familiar, like looking into a mirror.

Danny tries to excuse himself, he hasn't stopped crying since his parents died and it's been months. He rubs his eyes and stands up, and stumbles over a half-hearted apology to Mister Wayne. Some of Vlad's etiquette lessons kicking in.

Bruce is awkward, but he softens. "That's alright, lad," he says, pulling up some of that Brucie Wayne confidence, "I was just coming out here to get some fresh air."

There's a little pressing; Bruce asks who he's here with, Danny says, voice quiet and grief-stricken, that he's with his godfather Vlad Masters. Bruce asks him if he knows where he is, and Danny tells him he does. Bruce offers to leave, Danny tells him to do whatever he wants.

It ends with Bruce staying, standing off to the side with Danny in silence. Neither of them say a word, and Danny eventually leaves first in that same silence.

Bruce looks into Vlad Masters after everything is over, his interest piqued. He finds news about him taking in Danny Fenton: he looks into Danny Fenton. He finds news articles about his parents' deaths, their occupations, everything he can get his hands on.

At the next gala, he sees Danny again. And he looks the same as ever: quiet like a ghost, just as pale, and full of grief. Bruce sits in silence with him again for nearly ten minutes before he strikes a conversation.

"Do you like to do anything?"

Nothing. Just silence.

Bruce isn't quite sure what to do: comfort is not his forte, and Danny doesn't know him. He's smart enough to know that. So he starts talking about other things; anything he can think of that Brucie Wayne might say, that also wasn't inappropriate for a kid to hear.

Danny says nothing the entire time, and is again the first to leave.

Bruce watches from a distance as he intercts with Vlad Masters; how Vlad Masters interacts with him. He doesn't like what he sees: Vlad Masters keeps a hand on Danny's shoulder like one would hold onto the collar of a dog. He parades him around like a trophy he won.

And there are moments, when someone gets too close or when someone tries to shake Danny's hand, of deep possessiveness that flints over Vlad Masters' eyes. Like a dragon guarding a horde.

He plays the act of doting godfather well: but Bruce knows a liar when he sees one. Like recognizes like.

Danny is dull-eyed and blank faced the entire time; he looks miserable.

So Bruce tries to host more parties; if only so that he can talk to Danny alone. Vlad seems all too happy to attend, toting Danny along like a ribbon, and on the dot every hour, Danny slips away to somewhere to hide. Bruce appears twenty minutes later.

"I was looking into your godfather's company," he says one night, trying to think of more things to say. Some nights all they do is sit in silence. "Some of my shareholders were thinking of partnering up--"

"Don't."

He stops. Danny hardly says a word to him, he doesn't even look at him -- he's sitting on the ground, his head in his knees. Like he's trying to hide from the world. But he's looking, blue eyes piercing up at Bruce.

Bruce tilts his head, practiced puppy-like. "Pardon?"

"Don't." Danny says, strongly. "Don't make any deals with Vlad."

It's the most words Danny's spoken to him, and there's a look in his eyes like a candle finding its spark. Something hard. Bruce presses further, "And why is that?"

The spark flutters, and flushes out. Danny blinks like he's coming out of a trance, and slumps back into himself. "Just don't."

Bruce stares at him, thoughtful, before looking away. "Alright. I won't."

And they fall back into silence.

Danny, when he leaves, turns to look at Bruce, "I mean it." He says; soft like he's telling a secret, "Don't make any deals with him. Don't be alone with him. Don't work with him."

He's scampered away before Bruce can question him further.

(He never planned on working with Vlad Masters and his company; he's done his research. He's seen the misfortune. But nothing ever leads back to him. There's no evidence of anything. But Danny knows something.)

At their next meeting, Danny starts the conversation. It's new, and it's welcomed. He says, cutting through their five minute quiet, that he likes stars. And he doesn't like that he can't see them in Gotham.

Bruce hums in interest, and Danny continues talking. It's as if floodgates had been opened, and as Bruce takes a sip of his wine, it tastes like victory.

("Tucker told me once--") ("Tucker?") ("Oh-- uh, one of my best friends. He's a tech geek. We haven't talked in a while.")

(Danny shut down in his grief -- his friends are worried, but can't reach him. When he goes back to the manor with Vlad, he fishes out his phone and sends them a message.)

(They are ecstatic to hear from him.)

It all culminates until one day, when Danny is leaving to go back inside, that Bruce speaks up. "You know," He says, leaning against the railing. "The manor has many rooms; plenty of space for a guest."

The implication there, hidden between the lines. And Danny is smart, he looks at Bruce with a sharp glean in his eyes, and he nods. "Good to know."

The next time they see each other, Danny has something in his hands. "Can you hold onto something for me?" He asks.

When Bruce agrees, Danny places a pearl into his palm. or, at least, it's something that looks like a pearl. Because it's cold to the touch; sinking into Bruce's white silk gloves with ease and shimmering like an opal. It moves a little as it settles into his hand, and the moves like its full of liquid.

Bruce has never seen anything like it before, but he does know this; it's not human. "What is it?" He asks, and Danny looks uncomfortable.

"I can't tell you that." He says, shifting on his foot like he's scared of someone seeing it. "But please be careful with it. Treat it like it's extremely fragile."

When Bruce gets home, he puts it in an empty ring box and hides the box in the cave. He tries researching into what it is. he can't find anything concrete.

Everything comes to a head one day when Danny appears at the manor's doorstep one evening, soaking wet in the rain, and bleeding from the side.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc prompt #man i just really need more dpdc stuff where danny and bruce have a good relationship. like man i NEED it. like i need to see these two #bonding together. and not in a cracky 'oh danny is a distant friend/cousin/etc' stuff but like. active participants in each other's lives #or as active as can be in this case. i neeeeed these two getting along and caring about one another #this idea came to me like last night and hasn't left since nd it was driving me up the wall to think about both positively and negatively b #i neeeded someone to hear about this or i was gonna implode #danny is the first son #tried to just get the general gist of the idea down but i definitely thought of the idea that bruce lowkey suspects vlad for having a hand #Vlad allows Danny to sneak off because he thinks Danny is alone. if he knew Bruce was there he'd be piiisssed and would put a stop to it #Sam and Tucker are alive they just got ghosted for a bit by danny bc he was in Major Grief and didn't wanna socialize. He couldn't go to #them because he didn't wanna put them in danger via Vlad. #oh that thing he handed Bruce? Yeah that's his ghost core. I have a headcanon (that isnt always applied) that ghosts can take their cores #out of their bodies at will and painlessly and without issue. and its common practice actually to do so bc they can be a not insignificant #distance away from said core before problems start to act up. and its common for ghosts to leave their physical cores at their lairs for #safekeeping because as long as the physical core is fine: so is the ghost. they can reform if their body gets destroyed. it also acts as a #fast travel sometimes. where they can reform at their core in an instant. its not inspired in the slightest by SU but i do see the overlap #most cores are pretty small for safety sake: its harder to hit if its small. and they're pr resilient too but its better to be safe than #sorry. so yeah. danny essentially gave bruce the physical embodiment of his soul and indirectly said #'if anything happens to me at least i'll be safe with you' #danny doesn't know he's batman btw #starry rambles. #was gonna go into danny becoming a vigilante beside bruce but im sleeeepy so i'll do that in a reblog. he's gonna go by nightingale if #anyone is interested. stereotypical but to be frank it is a *good* name imo. has a good amount of syllables and consonants to it #and the bird theme. and since its part of an ancestral name it has even more backing for it being bird-y without being meta

[bmp-slbp-matchup]

i thought about who would rather count as a dog person vs cat person (didn't consider bird persons or rodent persons etc etc) and was surprised that i ended up with more dog persons than cat persons ???? feel free to not disagree with me

source for the pictures

#no kojuro there is no turtle person category #no kojuro there is no bontenmaru category either #the tokugawa lads like dogs bc there is no way their asses could handle a cat #same for oichi bc you dont want to fight a cat for princess status #unless you like to lose #mitsuhide is outside the scale bc his obsession isnt normal anymore #some might say he's more of a cat person than a person but im not some #saizo is definitely a cat person bc he always gets so whiney when it's loud and boisterous #and i can imagine him being annoyed when a dog licks his face #bc it makes him feel the need to get up and wash his face #and existing is too much of an ordeal let alone getting up #i understand though #hideyoshi was tough though and i realized i can't really see him caring that much for animals? ? #like he'd be fine with them but more like from the distance bc there are more interesting things sort of thing #slbp #table post

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

So Much To Teach

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: quite a few; dom Spencer kinda, oral (f receiving), age gap; reader is 21+ but it's a lil dubious by default bc he's her professor and therefore an authority figure but shhhh its fine shhhh, fingering, marking a little bit, p in v sex, they both talking diiiiirty, minor praise, risky sex, multiple orgasms, edging- I think I got everything??

Genre: Smut

Summary: You want your professor's attention but you had no idea what would happen if you got it- you also had no idea you'd get it by talking to a classmate

Part 2

***

Professor Reid is by far your favorite teacher ever and you make sure to make it as obvious as you can get away with. You're always early to his class, you sit in the front row, ask questions as often as you can, take full advantage of his office hours- all of it. You're determined to make Spencer Reid think of you as often as you think of him. Unbeknownst to you, you didn't need to put so much effort into capturing his attention. Not that you'd ever be able to tell, Spencer is always the epitome of professionalism. Well, almost always. He's human after all and you- you might as well be a siren. On the days you come in wearing your shortest skirts, toying with the hem absentmindedly, it's practically impossible for him to keep his gaze above your desk. He's not careless though, only allowing himself to stare when he's not the focus, during exams for example. He especially loves presentation days because he can spend them shamelessly eye-fucking you while you're busy addressing the class. You never seem to notice the way his attention drifts to you, and he's counting his lucky stars for it. He's plenty aware of the implications of his little crush. He wouldn't be so stupid as to make a move on you, especially while you're still his student. Spencer has spent more than enough time convincing himself that the risks outweigh the reward. For now, he'll have to be content watching you from a distance, even when you saunter into his office in your tight blouses to discuss your homework. On those days he knows the memory of your boobs practically spilling out of those shirts will keep him up for at least another hour later that night.

Weeks of your silent game that you're sure he's not actually picking up on have you growing bored of focusing only on getting his attention. Sure you want him to think about you, but you're not so crazy to think he'd risk his job to say, bend you over his office desk like you so desperately wish he would every time you go in there. You're young and in college and while the boys here do not hold your attention the same way, you're not above a little distraction. Which is why today you walk into class chatting with another student, a guy named Matt who has been trying to get you to notice him for a while now. Professor Reid isn't in the class yet and you hop on top of your desk as you talk to Matt about some sports thing. You're not totally following but he's cute so you giggle and pretend you get it, swinging your legs and batting your eyelashes in the way you know college boys respond so well to. You hardly even notice Spencer enter the classroom, but he zeros in immediately on the sight of you smiling at some kid. Matt's a good student, Spencer really has nothing against him, but he rolls his eyes at the two of you knowing that Matt would never be able to keep up with you.

"Quiet down everyone. Miss y/n your butt belongs in a seat, not on a desk and Mister Lewis I suggest you find somewhere to sit as well so we can begin." Spencer addresses you and Matt sharply, catching you off guard. He's never spoken to you that way but you can't help the amused look on your face as you mutter an affirmative and hop off the desk to sit in your chair. Maybe something's going on that put him in a bad mood. The class goes by smoothly after that and Matt is at your desk as soon as Spencer dismisses you all. Spencer has to turn his back to the room to hide the way his face twists up watching you.

The next class again, you walk in with Matt, this time Spencer is there already so you sit directly in your seat but Matt stays and talks to you while you wait for class to officially start. Spencer has to tamp his desire to break the conversation up for no reason until enough students pile in that he begins the lesson. This goes on for two more sessions, you walk in with Matt, twirling your hair, giggling at him, flaunting your gorgeous figure in flattering outfits that he openly gawks at you in, all while Spencer tries to keep himself from the edge of insanity. He has no right to be so put out by this, you're a student for crying out loud. He tries to remember that, tries hard to keep himself in check even as Matt basically invades your personal space as you're sitting on your desk before class again. You let him get entirely too close for Spencer's liking and when he sees you lean forward he can't stop himself from interrupting.

"Miss y/n." Spencer drawls out in a way that makes you want to shiver. "I've already told you desktops are not for sitting. Don't make me tell you again." Spencer says effectively ruining whatever was about to happen between you and Matt. He even backs off to let you get down from your desk.

"I'll see you after class okay?" You tell Matt sweetly and Spencer absolutely cannot take any more of this. He begins his lecture though his mind is somewhere else through most of it. He's busy planning. When the time comes and he dismisses the class Matt is quickly making his way to you and Spencer realizes he has to move now.

"Miss y/n. You don't have a class after this do you?" Spencer asks.

"No professor. Is something the matter?" You ask.

"There's something I'd like to discuss with you. Come with me to my office." He instructs.

"O-okay?" You frown. Matt does too from where he stopped when Spencer called your name. Spencer waits for you to finish collecting your things before he heads towards the class's exit. "I'll- I'll catch you later I guess Matt." You say over your shoulder before following Spencer. You try to think what this could be about. Your last paper was great, you know it was, plus there's no way he's through grading those yet, you aced the most recent test you took- there's no way he's calling you into his office because of the desk-sitting thing- is there? When you reach Spencer's office he shuts the door behind you and stands on the other side of his desk. He doesn't sit- which you find strange but nothing about this has been normal thus far.

"Is there a problem sir?" You ask sitting down.

"Is there a problem?! You- never mind. No y/n, no problem." Spencer forces himself to restrain that overwhelming urge he has to yell over Matt or simply split you open on his desk, or in his office chair, or against the wall- he shakes the thought from his mind, scrambling for an excuse for calling you to his office. "I just wanted to discuss something from- your paper."

"Oh you've started grading the papers?" You ask. He's only just gotten to them. He doesn't even think he's graded yours all the way through yet but he can't tell you the truth, that you're only here so you didn't walk out with Matt.

"Yes I have and there was something interesting... in your paper. I just need to find it, give me- a minute." Spencer shuffles through things on his desk, he's stalling and he hopes you don't notice.

"Professor Reid?" You tilt your head at him.

"Just a minute y/n." He mutters.

"Professor." You frown, your voice is forceful enough that he glances up at you. "I know you know exactly where my paper is. And I know that if there was really something you wanted to discuss in said paper you'd already have it memorized. You're almost irritatingly punctilious, I've been in your office more than enough times to know that. So what's really going on?"

"I suppose I should've expected this from one of my smartest students." He muses with a shake of his head.

"I know we're not friends by any means since you're my professor and all but we're both adults and I hope you'd respect me enough to tell me the truth." You tell him.

"Believe me I am trying very hard."

"To tell the truth or respect me?" You cross your arms.

"I respect you implicitly and because of that telling the truth here is- conflicting."

"Professor Reid, what am I doing in your office? I've asked you much harder questions than that in class."

"If only you knew." He scoffs.

"Professor-"

"You're right. I didn't call you in here to discuss a paper." He sighs knowing he's out of escapes. "It's that boy you've been draping yourself over all month." Spencer says through clenched teeth.

"Matt? You called me in here to discuss Matt? Why? Is he failing or something?"

"No. He maintains a solid B average in my class."

"Okay, then I'm really not understanding professor. What does Matt have to do with anything?" You shake your head.

"It is infuriating to watch him with you as if he has even the slightest chance of satisfying you in any way." Spencer walks over to you as he speaks, punctuating his sentence by leaning against the arms of your chair which forces you to lean back.

"And- what makes you the authority on who could satisfy me?" You ask breathily, blinking up at him.

"Considering you haven't even tried to move away from me I'd guess you know as well as I do." Spencer stares at you intently.

"Are you making a move on me professor?" You ask with feigned innocence that you know he sees through.

"Am I not being clear enough?" He asks.

"I dunno."

"Then allow me to make myself unequivocal." Spencer closes the small gap between you two, pressing his lips against yours fiercely. His hands hold your face as he pours all of his feelings and frustrations into this kiss. You grab hold of his wrists as you surrender yourself to the feeling of his mouth on yours. When he finally pulls away you're both left panting but a dam has been broken with that single kiss and your hands are pulling off his tie before he's even realized it. You stand up and kiss him again, fingers tangling in his hair, while his hands settle against your waist easily. He doesn't let you lead things for long, turning you both to sit you on his desk. "I'm going to show you everything that silly boy could never give you." Spencer grumbles against your lips.

"I never pegged you for the jealous type Professor Reid." You giggle.

"I've never been good at sharing." He quips kissing his way down your throat.

"Go figure." You mutter with a breathy sigh when his kisses turn to nips and sucks. "Careful. If you visibly mark me I'll have to lie." You tell him which only seems to spur him on and you yelp after a particularly harsh bite.

"Lie?" He frowns at you.

"I mean I can't very well say 'Professor Reid gave me those hickies' now can I?" You say and Spencer laughs as he drops into the chair in front of you.

"No, I suppose not, but you can absolutely use them to let people know you're taken." He says shuffling closer to you and pulling your underwear off from under your skirt.

"By people you mean Matt don't you?" You smile, amused at how miffed he is over your little distraction.

"Say his name again in here and I'll turn that ass of yours so red that you'll still have trouble sitting by next class." Spencer glances up at you with a warning look that has your exposed cunt clenching around nothing. An action he doesn't catch, seeing as your skirt is still hiding your center from him. He bunches your skirt up at your hips as he lifts you onto his desk and adjusts your legs so your feet are on it, knees wide so he can simply watch how your pussy glistens for a moment. His gaze is intense and soon you're squirming against the dark wood he's displayed you on.

"Professor Reid, touch me- please." You pout at him.

"Someone's getting impatient huh? You just look so pretty I can't help but want to stare." His words make you blush and the restlessness gets worse as he leisurely folds the sleeves of his button down shirt to reveal his forearms.

"Please professor-" You sigh.

"I like hearing you beg." Spencer's grin is nothing short of sadistic but he leans forward and lets his tongue drag through your wetness with a satisfied groan. He shifts to hold your legs open as he feasts on you like a man starved. It's hard to keep track of his tongue, thrusting in and out of you, circling your clit, disappearing entirely as he suckles harshly on the bundle of nerves all with incredible veracity. It's like he figured out how to read your body before he even began and he's got you teetering on the edge faster than you'd like to admit. Your hands tug desperately at his brown hair as you feel your orgasm building. Before you can even warn him of your incoming release he's switching his tactic, dragging you back from that end, still pleasing you but rather than feeding the fire he's simply maintaining it where it is.

"No!" You whine before you can stop yourself when you feel your orgasm slipping further away. His responding chuckle only adds to your frustration.

"If you're gonna cum princess it'll be when I'm ready for you to. Understood?" Spencer doesn't even lift his head as he speaks. He nips at your swollen clit when you don't answer and after a yelp, you manage a response.

"Y-yes sir." You get out.

"Good girl." He mutters lapping at your juices yet again. Same as before, he easily works you towards the edge with his tongue in all the right places, and like before, when your orgasm is in reach he walks you backwards. This time you manage to hold back your sound of frustration and then his fingers enter the mix and your small whimpers become full on whines as he curls two digits inside you just right to have you arching off of his desk. With his mouth focused solely on your clit while his fingers thrust in and out of you diligently, not to mention the previous denials, you're practically shaking as he works you up again.

"Professor Reid please let me cum this time, please sir- fuck I can't- I need to cum so bad. Please professor- I- I can't. Oh god." Your breathless pleas are barely sensible, but they satisfy Spencer and he doesn't pull back this time, doesn't stop until you're clenching around his fingers and spasming on his desk, struggling to handle the impact of your own orgasm. He watches the way pure ecstasy washes over your face with a smirk on his face as he helps you through it with gentle strokes of his fingers. When your breathless gasps become more subdued he pulls his hand away from your center. Before you can fully recover, Spencer pulls you off of the desk and turns your back to him, bending you over the desk with a hand at your back.

"Fuck- I need a condom." He mutters.

"Do you have any?"

"I- no? I don't regularly fuck people in my office y/n."

"I- have one in my bag. Front pocket." You mutter. Spencer reaches for your backpack and grabs the condom quickly, rolling it on with ease.

"I'm going to absolutely ruin you for anyone else." He tells you before thrusting himself into you. Inch by inch he slides deeper inside you and pinned against his desk all you can do is moan at the fullness. He sets a rhythm as soon as he bottoms out, his dick dragging against your walls with each hard thrust. 

"Fuck- god that feels good." You mewl.

"Yeah? You like the way my dick splits you open don't you? Knew you would. You're absolutely perfect for me. Just me. Isn't that right?" He grunts through his filthy words, each one punctuated with another forceful thrust.

"Yeah- yes. God- yes."

"Say it. Say your mine princess."

"I- I'm yours sir. All yours. N-no one else's. No one else could fuck me like this- m-make me feel like this. Just you. Holy sh-shit." You pant out. Spencer's thrusts are rocking the entire desk at this point and you are sure the skin where your hips are ramming against the edge will be sore tomorrow but right now all you can focus on is how good it feels to be fucked like this. Better than you imagined and god you hope he never stops.

"Good girl." He breathes out.

"Feels so good Professor." You whine.

"I know, fuck I know. You feel so perfect y/n." Spencer groans. His hand wraps around your throat and pulls your back against his chest as he fucks you. Spencer's other hand, slides across your waist, finding your clit easily. He toys with the bundle of nerves and your hands grip the edge of the desk as you whine.

"Oh my god." You gasp.

"Let go for me y/n. Wanna feel you on my dick."  Spencer says, kissing your shoulder. Your hand grabs at his arm desperate to ground yourself as your orgasm washes over you. Spencer hisses, your nails digging into his skin deliciously. His hips stutter and he groans, long and deep, as he spills into his condom, face buried in your neck. You both remain where you are, panting in the aftermath of it for several moments before Spencer breaks the silence.

"Did you have a condom because you planned on fucking Matt?" He asks and you can't help but laugh.

"No, I just always carry some. I like preparedness." You say, stuttering a bit when Spencer chooses to slip out of you while you speak.

"I'll have to start keeping some in here." He says, pulling his condom off and disposing of it.

"Planning on building a roster for yourself Professor Reid?" You quip adjusting yourself to lean back against the desk instead of still bending over it. Your tone is light but you'll admit you won't take it well if he says yes. Spencer frowns at you as he reaches into his desk for something.

"Is that a serious question?" He asks walking over to you with a packet of wipes in hand.

"Well it was a joke really but if you want to take it seriously be my guest." You shrug. He kneels in front of you, his frown deepening as he considers your words.

"No y/n I'm not 'building a roster'. The only person I'm planning on fucking in here is you, but it shouldn't be your responsibility to provide contraceptive methods for that. Also I've been inside you, I think you can call me Spencer when we're alone." He says gently cleaning you up. You try not to squirm at the intimacy of the whole thing.

"Oh. Okay." You can't think of anything else to say.

"Let me make something clear to you I'm not- I didn't just fuck you to get it out of my system and move on after this y/n. I'd actually like to continue something with you- unless of course, you have no interest in that, I won't pressure you. Although I can't imagine you can go back to Matt after that."

"You really hate him huh?" You laugh.

"He's a fine student. I just don't particularly like the way he drools over you." Spencer shrugs. "But it won't matter if you choose to see me again."

"I will. See you again I mean. This was fun." You say. A knock on the locked office door stops Spencer from speaking.

"Professor Reid?" A voice calls on the other side of the door. A student.

"Just a moment!" Spencer says, he quickly takes a moment to adjust your hair for you and pick up some of the scattered things from his desk while you fix your clothes.

"Spencer where is my underwear?!" You whisper at him.

"Oh I'll be holding onto that." Spencer winks at you, tapping his pocket where your panties are no doubt stuffed. You shoot him a look but grab your backpack and head towards the door.

"Thank you for answering my questions Professor! See you in class next week." You say loudly as you open the door. A boy you don't recognize is on the other side of it. He must be from one of Spencer's other sessions.

"Yes of course. See you next week." His response is almost dismissive, enough that this other student should have no idea what was going on before he showed up and only once you're practically out of the building do you let your giddy smile take over your face as you walk back to your apartment.

***

Part 2

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid

[lola-bunn1]

can u do one where neteyam is expected to find a mate and you get distant and all bc yk its not gonna be you and another guy makes a move on u and he gets mad n confession n stuff? i love ur writing

oblivious

❥ genre: angsty ish to fluff

10 years, you've been best friends with neteyam for 10 years. you both saw each other grow up, and now it's over. you know it is

neteyam has finally matured, he was ready to get an ikran, ready to go hunting with the others, and most of all, he was now expected to mate.

you know whoever he's gonna mate with is not gonna like you being friends with him, you admit it yourself, you wouldn't like your partner spending time with another girl. so you understood why it would happen

so you began distancing yourself, as a preparation. but also to ease the pain for when you finally see him with someone that isn't you. it was bound to happen. you were stupid enough to fall for him, and now it was going to be harder than it should be

you cried, you cried at night just thinking about the way life would be, you were sure he didn't feel the same, besides, he was going to be the next olo'eyktan, he needed to have someone proper, someone actually important

who were you to be mating with someone like him? he would probably pick elmirìey, she was a proper girl, a gorgeous one. or maybe he'd pick awia, she was a great warrior, from a great family

not only did you distance yourself from him, but his family too. you were so close to them, hell even neytiri liked you. but now, you acted like you didn't even know them

you sat at a special spot you found in the forest, you and neteyam used to come here but he's too busy now. so its just you

"hey!" you heard a voice behind you

"oh, neteyam" you said

"what a way to greet me, do you not want me around that much?"

"what?" you furrowed your eyebrows

"don't be like that. you know exactly what I'm talking about." he said

"I heard you're looking for a mate now that you've had your ceremony"

he sighed, knowing you're trying to change the subject, "yeah. but to be honest, I've already found one. Just gotta figure out a way to tell her"

your heart shattered.

"oh, that's nice. I um, I have to go" you said

"y/n wait-"

and with that, you ran off somewhere, your tears sliding down your cheeks, how could he find one so fast? does he love her that much? has he been loving her, just waiting for his ceremony so he can finally pick her?

"oh" you heard a voice and sighed

"I'm sorry I ran--" you said, turning around to see that it was not neteyam speaking

"are-are you okay? you look like you've been crying" the man said

"i'm fine, thanks tenio" you said, wiping your tears

tenio was a fine young man, he was actually really nice, but you've never really talked to him

"i was just looking for some fruits to pick for my mother, but ill leave you alone-"

"no no, you can stay uh, i know where you can get the ripe ones, follow me" you said, walking along the forest with him next to you, you two talked for a bit as he was picking the fruit

"i heard you had your ceremony the other day" you said

"yeah, it sucks though." he said

"wait what? why so?" you asked

"well everyone is waiting for me to mate with someone, but there isn't anyone in my life, ill have to mate with some random stranger" he sighed

"oh...im so sorry"

"it's fine-"

"there you are!" neteyam's voice filled your ears, he turned to see tenio there, and his face faltered

"let's go" he said, grabbing your hand and walking away, an angry look on his face, you definitely did not want to do anything to upset him more

"uh, tell your mother i said hi! enjoy the fruits!" you said and he just nodded

once he was out of sight you pulled away

"why were you with him?!" he said

"i was just helping him pick fruits!"

"everybody knows that trick! you help him and he subtly mentions that he has nobody to mate with so you can feel bad"

"you're being insane right now. nobody has ever done that" you rolled your eyes

"they have, you just never realize it" he yelled

"what if i do realize it, hm? what if i want them to do it? why don't you go tell your stupid girl how much you want her to be your mate and leave me alone!"

"i can't go"

"why not!" you yelled

"because she's standing right in front of me"

"what?"

"it's you, y/n. i don't want anyone else why don't you understand that? you think I don't notice how you've been avoiding me and my family too?"

"i-i avoided you because i couldn't stand seeing you with another girl."

"wait-you thought i was gonna mate with someone else?" he asked

you looked down and avoided looking at him, he lifted your chin up with his finger

"i've been waiting for years to finally make you mine, y/n. it hurts me to see you with anyone else too."

"really?" you asked

"i see you, y/n."

"i see you, ma nete" you smiled, and the two of you shared a kiss

how were you so oblivious?

#neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam #neteyam sully #avatar the way of water #neteyam x you #neteyam fanfiction #avatar x reader #neteyam fluff #avatar 2 #avatar fanficiton

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

Hi!! !: I love you're writing! I rarely get into y/n reader stuff but this is really really good and fun!

If you're still taking requests (and if you aren't that's fine) How About Jason Grace X Daughter of Hecate? I love the idea of Son of Jupiter/Champion of Juno hooking up with a child of a minor god.

Anyway keep being awesome!

⋆⭒˚.⋆ jason grace x daughter of hecate! reader hcs

content: jason grace x daughter of hecate! reader hcs warning: minor mentions of what ig could be called bullying and mentions of maiming but no one gets maimed trust author's note: tbh i understand v little about all that witch stuff so if anything is inacurate SAY NOTHING BC MY EGO CAN'T HANDLE A BLOW LIKE THAT FR jk jk i like learning so i can grow and be better than before ALSO you're so sweet and i love you and you know what, i WILL keep being awesome just bc you told me so!!

"hey, sorry, i know this is, er, strange, but uh that bracelet is completely throwing off your energy. could be why you lost that swordfight," you mutter after tapping on jason's shoulder to get his attention before motioning towards the gemstone bracelet on his wrist that hazel had given to him.

"oh, really?" jason asked and you just nodded your head.

jason frowned looking down at his wrist, having grown attached to the thing

it reminded him that there was good in new rome, even just a little

"i could- i could fix it? the energy, i mean?" you offered, rapidly, having noticed the shift in his mood.

"could you?! that would be awesome?!" mused jason, growing excited at the prospects

a deep blush settled over your cheeks as you nodded, leading him towards your cabin and trying to remember desperately if you made your bed or not

(you didn't, but lou ellen had, being the sweet sister she was)

he talked jason through cleansing the bracelet and what exactly you were doing

jason was enchanted, completely

he wasn't sure if it was the magic or if it was the pretty girl doing the magic

he was hoping for the latter

following your sweet actions of cleansing his bracelet, jason went out of his way to interact with you, every time he did something for you, he claimed it was payback for what you did for him

you'd never tell him that it was quite easy as you were starting to enjoy his presence

jason also went running to hazel, questions about if she could acquire this stone or this precious metal

hazel always did it but when she asked jason why he all the sudden wanted heaps of citrine, he'd always just smile a goofy smile before running away

she'd always just shrug

who was she to question the son of jupiter?

jason would present these to you proudly and pretend he wasn't reading the names off the back of his hand, where he had written them there with pen

and you pretended not to see the blurry pen or the way his eyes squinted desperately to read his own handwriting

tbh, when people heard that THE jason grace was trying to get with little ol' you, rumors quickly spread through both camps

mentions of you doing unladylike things to get the boy into your hold

mentions of spells cast over him

mentions of satanic rituals being planned with jason as the sacrificial lamb

these got back to you, naturally

you were heartbroken that people would even think to think that about another person, let alone talk about it

in turn, you distanced yourself from jason, not wanting to get him roped up with you any more

clearly, you were just sullying his good name

jason noticed instantly but the rumors had yet to reach him

until they did

it was a cold day in camp that day

the rain was hard and stung your skin if you stood under it too long

thunder cracked at every opportunity and lightening flashes across the sky more than it should have

if you stuck your tongue out, surely you'd be able to catch the static electricity on it, it was so thick in the air

and every one knew it was the son of jupiter's fault

jason stood proudly in the whipping wind and hammering rain, marching his way to the dinning pavilion where everyone was eating soggy meals

"jason, would you be so kind to-" chiron attempted to get the boy to turn the weather off but jason just breezed past him, jumping up onto cabin one's table

everyone's eyes shot to jason, who stood, fuming as he overlooked the camp

"you've brought this upon yourselves! if i hear a single word uttered about that girl again, this will look like a walk in the park! do not tempt me, or i will show you what it means to be the son of jupiter!" jason shouted, pointing over at you, causing you to shrink as everyone's eyes turned to you

but, you smiled though the rain and the terrible chill you felt in your bones, knowing that jason would go to the ends of the earth to prove your innocence

jason jumped down from his table and marched back out, everyone slowly returning to their meals

the rain lightened up lightly as you quickly jumped up from your table and chased after the boy

"jason! jason!"

"y/n? did someone say something? i'll tear them limb from limb-"

before he could get another threat out, you'd already thrown your arms around his neck and smashed your lips against his

jason instantly wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer

the rain began lightening up, cheers and praises flowing from the dining pavilion

you and jason didn't hear it though, lips pressed together like it would be the last kiss they shared

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #pjo fandom #heroes of olympus x reader #hoo #jason grace #jason grace x reader

[hutahuta]

Thoughts on Pavia introducing his GF to his wolf family? Maybe they already knew bc he’d come home smelling different and now they know who that other scent belongs to. I love the domestic idea of GF living with Pavia and telling the wolves to “go to papa” like GF is mama to the wolves also

P.AGE OO.5 — 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐔𝐌 & NOBILITY : 交 ✦ ⏱

fem!reader // x pavia

✦ — this is SO cute awkawksjsdksj our precious babyy <33 i love you so much for this wjsjajsjs my heart ;(((

He was never one to settle down for a domestic life. But to think— You'd make such a good wife for him, though. Wouldn't you? Hearty meals every single day, venturing out into the world beyond together and preparing him that tender bath he needed after spilling ever the amount of blood when slaughtering his prey alive when he's out and about on his job.

You, however, have yet to meet his family. Pavia was 100% reluctant at first. This is his blood, his kin. The only family he'd ever grown to have and love. But you're his beloved girlfriend, aren't you? That famous, sweet voice of his bitterly adding the cold tone in which he spoke of.

' Come in, it's fine. Just be careful not to be eaten by them. '

What did he mean by that? Those playful 'jokes' of his always left you rendered silent, but your innocent mind nervously laughed it off.

It was jarring how someone like you could even become his S/O. You're perfect in more ways than one, and he can see it. So why meddle yourself with someone so tainted as him? That man has blood on his hands. Human blood.

Nevertheless, it seemed as though you were adamant on being with him. But he always told you in such a playful manner, that you're an idiot for thinking to fall in love with someone like him. But your persistence and your constant support on his behalf had both annoyed him and made him adore you.

Here you were now, simply waiting under the humble sofa which you had sat neatly atop. Your eyes transfixed on the battered, torn papers left in a mess within the tables, the dimly lit room proved to be no more than his fault.. and this distraction kept you at bay before you felt something wet sniff the bridge of your leg.

Whether you looked down in quiet silence or you freaked out is your choice, but Pavia couldn't help but quietly watch from a distance, not involving himself unless if needed. He saw this as a test of some sort.

This was the only family he'd have back then. Darkness swelled around Pavia, and he'd be forever alone until that faithful day he had met you. No longer shall he fester in silence and fight his constant urge to burn every building within the area whenever he'd spark back to the day he'd been locked up. Everyone has some trauma in them, and it often shapes them how they are today:

For Pavia's case, he may say things that he doesn't mean or struggles to pick up on social cues, but that doesn't make him any less different when you tell him that you love that he's fighting for your love day in, day out.

But the moment his fellow canine friends surrounded you with the constant sniffing and your patient nature making them seem like you're no threat, you were greeted by a sudden lick against your cheek. They knew. Of course they did. They have a better sense of trust than most humans.

You were sure Pavia may have prepared them by adorning his wall with the many pictures of you within his room, and that familiar face definitely echoed something within their minds, but it proved to be all content when Andrea started drooling on your shoes and Pavia seemed to scold her for it; snapping out of your thoughts in an instant.

Your scent to a wolf is everything. This is how they trace you, mark you, and familiarise themselves with you. When Pavia returned home with a different scent to his own, the constant barking to the foreign scent made them seem like you were harming Pavia.

 You didn't flinch, but you waited until their eyes gave some sort of approval for you to touch, and when you did, by the gods did the angels send you directly to heaven when they tickled you with their noses and pulled off one another just to be seated by your sides, or your lap. Constant pets, adorned with kisses on their foreheads, gentle giggles breezed a reminder of how utterly mother-like you are..

To think, Pavia would ask himself. Would you treat his own children like that one day?

The sight nearly drowned the merc in a wave of relief, but a heavy laugh followed over from how you, yourself, were getting mercilessly drowned by the constant affection feeding into you seconds after. You muffled a plea for help and mercy, but your body was overcome with the shadows that happily lapped up heavy affection from just a few touches from you, patience and understanding.

Whether you knew how to handle dogs or not is genuinely your own skill choice, but Pavia will never forget how you willingly offered your safety to allow yourself as to get to know his own kin.

Trust radiated between human and beast, connections transcended out of the boundaries between the ordinary world and it offered them a place where they could wonder the touch of a woman's hand. So gentle and patient, yet firm and strict.

What might've taken a few weeks, turned into months when you were regularly greeted by whimpers that direly needed your attention so often, fur being shoved against your bare skin became a norm for you.

Pavia couldn't hold back the moment you kneeled down and spread your arms for Peter to dash in almost immediately:

Or the time you'd hold back your laughter from the drool being trailed against the floor to the cupboard when Andrea brushed past your leg.

Being patient with Maleficent, offering gentle pats and kisses for all to love.

When they'd all huddle around you, you're constantly in a battle of affection when they'd refuse to leave your side. They've lacked feminine touch, and neither the pups or Pavia realised how much it truly meant for your warmth to strike them all in the gut.

'Go to papa darlings.' ' Go help your papa, okay?'

To say he was astounded by how patient you were with them is something he'll never grow tired of. And 'Papa'? Pavia swooned.

How dare you attack him with that beautiful feeling of a heartache that swelled nothing but love and admiration for you?

When sleeping, they'd all huddle around you both. As if you were their parents, the ones they'd long for. Pavia never realised he needed such a domestic life until he had found you. When you offered that place of comfort, the only thing he'd need to ever worry about was straying too far away from you.

Gentle lips touched his own as you quietly mumble a soft 'thank you' as if to say you were honoured to have spent a lot of time with his blood. He couldn't explain how he wanted to thank you, but no words came out. He just held you. Right there, in his arms. And rocked back and forth as if to claim that he was grateful for all your hard work. Something he truly admired..

Your protection is guided by him, and your kin. You're one of them now, and you're entirely his. <3

#reverse 1999 #pavia #pavia reverse 1999 #reverse #pavia x reader #paviarev1999 #r99 pavia #reverse 1999 pavia #pavia fluff

[cupid-styles]

omg ok so blurb idea for ginger ale bc u said u needed inspo

i know u kinda already touched up on this in the main story but what if mias like completely drained from school like its exam season and she has to study but shes also somehow failing classes even tho she studied and is swamped with work but cant get up to do anything bc shes panicking and stuff and idk maybe she pushes him away bc shes freaked out and hes like huh bc she never snaps at him like that bla bla and then some angst and fluff and comfort 😭

im so sorry this wasnt supposed to be that long but inspiration struck😭💀obviously u dont have to write it jus a suggestion

omg LOVE THIS!!!!! here's a little something for you :))

word count: 1.7k

content warnings: angst (all is solved in the end), harry being a dummy, age gap romance (8 years)

based on this one-shot!

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

Harry has never seen Mia so exhausted before.

Granted, they've only been officially dating for a few months, but she's typically a relatively organized student. It's something that he's always admired about her — he can think back to his days in university and immediately remembers scattered deadlines and far too many hungover mornings, resulting in constantly missing classes.

Then again, he's never seen her during finals season, and it's apparent that she's feeling the impact of papers, exams, and one too many late nights spent studying.

Because of the nature of their lives, finding time to spend with one another without work or school is often difficult. It's important to Harry that they actively set aside an evening or two each week that's just for them. No discussion of board meetings, lectures, or any stressors — he likes to keep it simple with a delicious and filling meal, a movie on the TV (whether or not they watch it is a separate factor), and his girl nestled into his side.

But for the first time ever, Mia's texting him to cancel.

Under any other ordinary circumstance, he'd be more understanding. Truly. But it's been almost a week since he's seen her, and he's feeling... well, needy. He misses her! And he knows that distance is good, blah blah blah, but this is their time — and it feels like she's just brushing him off, as if he barely matters.

It's why he ends up calling her on his way home from work with Reese driving smoothly and calmly up in the front. Harry drums his fingers against his knee as he listens to the dial tone, a frown on his lips as he waits for her to answer.

"Hello?"

Relief washes over his chest despite her anxiety-ridden tone. "Hey, I'm heading home from work. Do you want me to have Reese come pick you up?"

She sighs frustratedly, "Harry, I just texted you that I can't come over tonight. I have to study."

"You can't give up a few hours to spend with your boyfriend?" he fires back, an accusatory edge to his voice, "I've barely seen you lately."

"You've been in school before, H, you know how stressful exams season is. I need to do well."

"Mi, you're the smartest person I know, you'll be fine if you take some time away from—"

"I won't be, actually," she suddenly snaps. "I'm already failing one of my most important classes and if I don't get at least a B+ on the final, I'll have to retake it next semester. So no, I can't just slack off for a few hours, I need to study, Harry."

Immediately, he pauses. Mia has never gotten angry with him before, vice versa. And he doesn't think he's being particularly unreasonable — if anything, he feels she is — but he's mature enough to know that nothing's getting solved in this conversation. Not when she's clearly tired and stressed. Instead, he opts for the more caring-boyfriend-approach.

"I didn't know you were failing a course. Why didn't you ask for help?"

"Because you can't solve everything!" Mia exclaims, sending a pang of hurt rattling through his chest. "I need to go, alright? I'll see you soon."

With that, the line goes dead.

. . .

Even when Mia falls asleep on her couch, textbook in her lap and a highlighter between her fingers, she can't believe Harry.

The next morning, when she has a persistent ache in her neck and her back feels like it's broken in two, she knows school isn't the only stressful thing her body's responding to.

She thinks dating an older guy is great. Dating Harry is great. Until moments like this, when he somehow forgets that people — including his girlfriend — need to work to get certain things in life, and that they won't just be given an entire company a month after graduation. She doesn't doubt that he understands that on some level, but from the perspective of a partner — well, she thinks he's being pretty insensitive.

Her fingers twitch at her sides in class as she tries her best to pay attention, wanting nothing more to grab her phone from her bag to see if he's texted her. Midway through the day, though, there's still nothing. She can't believe he still hasn't apologized for how he acted the previous night, and it only makes anger fester in her chest even more.

Finally, by the time she trudges home in the cold (December is nearing, and with that comes miserable gusts of wind and flurries of snow), she's had it with his silent treatment. She's barely through the door when she decides that she'll be the one to break the tension — only, when she kicks her shoes off at the door, she notices that her kitchen and living room lights are on, and she surely turned them off before heading out this morning.

Gripping her phone in her hand, she quietly tip-toes out of the entryway, nervous that there's some sort of... homely intruder eating her snacks or watching TV. Instead, she gasps out in shock, clutching her chest when her eyes fall on none other than Harry.

"What the fuck?!" Mia exclaims, her heart thumping quickly with anxiety. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you."

She squints her eyes, feeling her eyebrows nearly shoot up to her forehead. "So you call. Or text. Not break into my house!"

"You gave me a spare key, Mia—"

"That's for emergencies!" she shouts, suddenly feeling like the living room is slowly getting smaller and closing in on her.

"But you never would've let me come over—"

"Harry, I was literally about to call you when I walked in the door. I'm still mad at you for last night! And you're only making me angrier by being here!"

Tears well up in her eyes as she spits the words out at him. She never thought she'd be in this position with him — it hurts her to even verbalize her anger.

"Wait," Harry stands from the couch, a furrow in his brows as he crosses his arms over the button-up he likely wore to work today, "You're mad at me?"

Mia stares back at him like he has two heads.

"Yes," she slowly replies. "Do not tell me you're mad at me."

His throat bobs. "Yeah. I am."

"For what?!" her anger festers in her chest all over again, exploding like an overflowing pot of boiling water.

"You— you haven't been around lately. You haven't been spending time with me or treating me like a priority."

She squints her eyes, her fingertips finding her temples as an ache begins to settle at the sides of her head. With a shake of her head, she turns around, stomping back towards the entryway of her apartment.

"You need to go," she decides, not even bothering to shed her jacket off yet, "I can't talk to you right now. You're being incredibly unreasonable."

"So you just want to walk away, then? We're not gonna solve anything, we're just gonna keep ignoring each other?"

"I was never ignoring you! I was waiting for you to apologize to me, only to find out that you think I'm in the wrong!"

Harry scoffs as he follows her down the hallway. "Well, I'm not leaving. I want to fix things. And I'm not going until we do."

"Is your approach to annoy me into apologizing?" Mia snaps.

"No," he mutters with a roll of his eyes, "Maybe we're both just being emotional."

She shrugs her shoulders.

"Do you still want me to go?"

Mia shifts her stance from foot to foot. With a noisy sigh, she shakes her head before mumbling out, "No. Let's just... talk about it."

He nods. There's a silence lulling between them as she stands with her back pressed against the wall, stubbornness apparent as she crosses her arms over her chest. He swallows and rolls his lips into a thin line.

"I'm sorry for coming over unannounced. That was very immature of me and crossing a boundary. I wasn't thinking, I just wanted to see you."

She keeps her eyes on the floor. "I just wish you'd texted or called instead. I waited all day to hear from you."

"I'm sorry," Harry repeats, his sock-clad feet taking a hesitant step closer to her, "It makes me feel stupid, how needy I can get. I know we're both busy with our own lives but I adore you, Mi. And I hate being away from you."

"I hate it, too," she mumbles, her bottom lip slightly pouted. "And you're not stupid for being needy... I just need you to understand that I'm working hard trying to get my education, and I need you to respect when I'm stressed or busy."

"I will. I'll do better."

She glances up to look at him. He looks tired, his eyes sad. With a quiet sigh, she lifts her hand to press her palm against his warm cheek. The prickles of his facial hair serve as a harsh juxtaposition from the soft skin beneath.

"I'm sorry, too. I never want you to feel like I don't care or I don't want to be with you. I just get so overwhelmed."

"I understand," Harry coos, wrapping a hand around her wrist to bring it to his mouth. He presses light kisses into her palm. "I know you care. I have to work on being more secure in our relationship."

Mia hums at his kisses, his gentle nature a welcomed change from their arguing.

"You know, you could always move closer," she murmurs with a smirk. He chuckles.

"Yeah. Or you could always just move in."

She rolls her eyes, "Then I'd really never get any work done."

"Mm, but think about how nice it'd be," he mumbles, slipping an arm around her waist to pull her closer. "I'd cook you dinner all the time, bring you snacks and tea while you study... you'd have your own office, of course. We could get a dog or a cat, too. Share a bed every night... you wouldn't have to use travel sizes of all your skincare stuff either, because everything would be there already."

She smiles to herself as she leans her head on his shoulder. The thought is nice. So nice. But they both know it's too early in their relationship, regardless of how deeply they feel for one another. Maybe it's a dream to work up to — a sweet, domestic life together.

"And you know what would be the best part?" she asks, brushing her lips up against the shell of his ear.

"Hm?"

"I'd get to use your heated bathroom floors every day."

#bestie asks #this took FOREVER #sorrrryyyy hehe #sugar daddy h #writing

[loserdiaz]

inspiration saturday! 💌🎸

tagged by @prince-buck-diaz @panbuckley @monsterrae1 and @honestlydarkprincess 💗 thanks lovelies

here's a snippet and a moodboard for my exes to lovers musician buck au (i can't remember if i shared this already bc it's been months but im pretty sure i haven't)

Buck and Eddie broke up on a Tuesday night, because of course they did. 

Buck had been on tour for six months at the time and turns out long distance relationships are way harder than they ever gave them credit for— not to mention the constant scrutiny and rumors they had to deal with. 

Honestly, Buck doesn't blame Eddie at all for finishing things off. Eddie was always too good to be true anyway, and he deserves better than whatever Buck could ever offer. Eddie deserves happiness and he deserves being worshiped and adored… and he deserves peace. Something Buck could never give him, no matter how much he wants to. 

Eddie called him after his last concert in London— it had been almost midnight for Buck but Eddie was just getting out of a shift and the sun was hitting his face in just the right way, making his skin look golden and tanned and so tempting. 

But Buck had immediately known something was wrong by the way Eddie's shoulders had been tense and his lips had been pursed in a fine line. 

"I can't do this anymore." Eddie had said and the wind had been knocked out of Buck in the worst way possible. "I'm sorry."

Eddie's voice had sounded controlled and the man had been avoiding eye contact like the plague. Buck had known right then and there it was over. 

Admittedly, the break up has been hard and he's been heartbroken since that video call— they couldn't even do it face to face, for God's sake— and he's been spiraling more than ever. 

Over a decade as a musician, doing this until he could perform an entire concert with his eyes closed, and he’d never once been as homesick as he was after that call. He'd never been nervous before a performance, but his stomach roiled now ominously. He’d been able to distract himself from the devastating blow, the memory of warm brown eyes and soft skin and a fond smile, for the last two days, pushing the tour crew and himself hard, pouring all of himself over his lyrics, writing heartbreaking songs after heart breaking songs, even booking some studio hours in whatever city he was at the time. If he stopped moving or thinking, there Eddie was, and Jesus, Buck'd fucking lost him. 

His jugular ached from supporting his heart. That’s where it sat after the breakup, every minute of the day; having Eddie in his life had been so painfully sweet. So much better than Buck knew life could be.

And it ended. 

Of course it did.

It always ends, Buck thinks bitterly. 

The fans and the magazines and gossip sites have been speculating about the reason like crazy for months, even from way before Eddie actually broke up with him. (Buck can't help but to resent them a little bit for that.) but nothing prepared him for this.

tagging: @buddierights @alyxmastershipper @prettyboybuckley @bigfootsmom @starlingbite @hippolotamus @the-likesofus @spotsandsocks @elvensorceress @ebdaydreamer @bekkachaos @messyhairdiaz @barbiediaz @dijkstraspath @911onabc @cowboy-buddie @cowboy-buck @spaceprincessem @transbuck @transboybuckley @thewolvesof1998 @diazblunt and whoever else wants to do it <33

#inspiration saturday #exes to lovers fic #fic: we were lucky once (we could be lucky again) #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buck x eddie #buddie #buddie fic #buddie wip #my wips #my writing #911 fic #911 wip #911 on abc

[dumbkatsu]

You ask and I deliver! I'm so happy everyone is enjoying the Mu Qing hc, so let's start:

Mu Qing would notice the littlest things about you.

From how you style your hair, how you prepare your coffee/tea, what you put first in the bowl if it's the cereals or the milk to the little gestures you do when you're nervous.

He just loves your little mannerisms so much. He finds them endearing.

Even the way every week you organize your books in a different system

He would notice how you sometimes forget to take care of yourself properly so he would help.

If you are a very busy person in the morning and forget to eat breakfast he'd prepare it for you to take away with a sticky note saying: "Don't forget to eat dummy"

When you first introduced him to MBTI he was really confused.

And when you explained the concept to him he low-key thought it would be another zodiac thing.

Which made you really pissed

So you made him do the test.

(And during the test he was a bit bored ngl)

It gave him ISTJ

At first, he was confused but as he read his results he was starting to doubt his convictions and so he became interested in mbti's

Cue you sending him a shitton of mbti memes 24/7

And whenever he saw a meme roasting your mbti he would def sending you

You would def make him dress up as your mbti for Halloween

But he wouldn't mind

Because if it made you smile he would do anything for you

When it comes to communication in a relationship, he can get a bit shy and insecure, so there will be times when he won't say wants to say. But if you talk to him and show him that you can give him a safe space to express his feelings he will become more confident and it will show.

OH! I totally feel like mu qing is the type to avoid you when he realizes his feelings for you (pre-relationship)

If you were close friends before and this starts happening it can be very hurtful.

You try to corner him but to no avail, he just gives a half-assed excuse and weasels his way away from you again.

It takes Xie Lian, Feng Xin, and even a tiny roast from Hua Cheng to make him apologize and confess to you

"Mu Qing you should be honest about your feelings, it's clear that they like you too!"

"Yeah bro you need to go head in and do it, it's been too long and now that you decided to very obviously distance yourself they've kinda been upset these past few days"

"Only a pussy bitch boy wouldn't admit their feelings and just confess instead of causing mindless hurt to both parties, isn't that right Mu Qing?"

"San lang..."

Yes that was basically the last drop for Mu Qing and he decides to drive up to your place

(cliché warning: I'm about to be so corny on this one I hope you can forgive me)

It started pouring rain and Mu Qing cursed himself for not doing this sooner and just being a blatant coward.

When he reached your driveway he calls your phone

"Hey, why are you-"

"Come outside"

"Mu Qing it's raining"

"I don't care just come outside, I want to take you somewhere"

"Fine. Give me a minute"

You basically leave in your pajamas and go on a late-night drive with Mu Qing.

He obviously gives you the aux cord bcs he likes your taste in music

You guys drive for a bit until he stops at a place with a nice skyline

You guys stay silent until he turns the engine off.

Mu Qing sighs to himself as you look at him expectantly

"Look Y/n I'm sorry. I have been a first-class dick these past few days and I really didn't want to hurt you by doing it but...it's just that... " he stops.

The words he wants to say can't get out of his mouth it's stuck in his throat until he feels your hand on top of his giving him an encouraging nod

It's incredible how you make him feel like he can conquer the world without uttering a single word really.

"I have feelings for you y/n. I never felt like this before. I feel like I don't deserve to feel like this, I feel like I don't deserve you in my life because I can't treat you like you should be treated. You've been here for me through thick and thin and I would do anything for you. But I am honestly feeling very fucking scared for what it might happen next."

You stay quiet trying to process all of the information you were just told. It was a lot to take in. Until you broke the agonising silence.

"I like you too Mu qing. I always have" you said with a beaming smile

"And yes you were being a total asshat, I was so confused. I thought you were upset that I ate the last chocolate pudding in your fridge"

"SO IT WAS YOU?? I THOUGHT I WAS FENG XIN! I MADE HIM BUY ME 4 MORE"

You two broke in silly laughter and when you opened your eyes you saw mu qing really close to your face.

He was looking at your eyes with such adoration that it was hard to maintain eye contact with those grey eyes.

He momentarily looked at your lips and his Adam's apple bobbed

He looks back at your eyes again moving closer. Your lips almost touching

"Can I k-kiss you?"

You guys can figure out the rest ;)

#WHOOO finally I let this one out of the drafts #it took way too long #im so sorry for the wait #but here he is #mu qing x you #mu qing x y/n #mu qing x reader #mu qing #i might have went a bit overboard with the angst but that's why you're here #tgcf #tgcf fanfic #tgcf hc #tgcf x reader #katsu writes #tian guan ci fu #mxtx #mxtx novels #heaven's official blessing #heavens official blessing #mxtx characters #fanfic #fanfiction #headcanon

[broodwolf221]

i have a feeling this might be one of my more contentious bits of meta, but - cullen positive!

i just think... i understand why people don't like him and a lot of it is fine, but i feel like there's also some misunderstandings or oversimplifications going around

first: templar = bad.

as an organization, yes! as individuals, no! templars are like horrible magic cops, that's bad, but we have to keep in mind that a lot of them - including alistair, including cullen - were given over to the chantry when they were very young and indoctrinated into becoming templars. some join later in life and those i take more issue with, but the ones who were given over to it young? i find it hard to blame them for becoming templars

second: it's a religious calling.

there's a huge amount of religious/cultural pressure to conform to chantry teachings, and this is the way someone who's not cut out to be a chantry member can still conform and gain social standing and respect. there's also the strong chantry pressure of Mages Are Bad, Actually, so the templars are seen as something of a divine protector of the innocent. obviously this is fucked up and inaccurate, but it's worth noting that the pressure and social gains are real, and that even lower-class citizens seem able to become templars. and if someone was only good at fighting, had little to no educational background, and still wanted to support themselves or their family? what are their choices? become a mercenary, criminal, or become a templar.

third: lyrium

after they take their vows, they're given their first draught of lyrium. so... let's look at this critically for a second. children given over, taught that mages are bad, that templars are good, that the chantry is good, that the chantry teachings are real, and that their faith would be rewarded. they're even schooled by the chantry, so they have little to no access to any points of view outside of it. then, if appropriate, they're asked: do you want to be a templar? and if they say yes, if they take their vows, they're given a drug that creates a profound dependency.

fourth: okay, but this was supposed to be about cullen?

and it is! bc cullen turned his back on all that. i'm not saying he didn't make mistakes - he's not saying he didn't make mistakes, horrible ones! but meredith lied to him in order to keep him committed, because she knew he wouldn't approve of what she was doing.

on a personal level, he was: indoctrinated into a cult (yeah i'm calling the chantry/the templar order a cult bc it is); tortured by the exact thing he was taught to fear and revile; following that torture, tried once again to return to the one thing he knew how to do and was deceived and led astray by a brutal commander who he wouldn't have followed if he'd known what was happening. and what did he do with all that?

he turned away. he rejected it. he rejected a large part of his upbringing, his sociocultural heritage, his faith, his indoctrination - and, oh yeah, his addiction. as a recovering addict, i find his story frankly amazing. he's willing to die to distance himself from what he now knows the templar order to be.

and cole mentions that cullen is one of the good ones when you ask him about templars. cullen has a lot of shit to unpack and a lot of trauma around magic and mages, and he's been cruel and contributed to a brutal system, but he's also grown a lot. like... it must have been so hard. he rejected everything. and sure, now he's serving the inquisition, another facet of the chantry, but even then... it's not the same, not at all. for one, the inquisition and the chantry are constantly at odds.

so he rejected everything he was taught, everything he was trained in, all that his significant trauma taught him, and the pull of addiction. he's changing himself. he's learning and growing. he's catching the remains of his own prejudice. again: if you don't like him, that's fine, i get it. he's far from perfect. but i really appreciate characters who take it upon themselves to question their beliefs, to grow and learn and change.

so yeah. i like him.

#broodmeta #cullen positive #cullen rutherford #honestly i think im gonna end up doing at least one meta post on a LOT of da characters lmao i have Thoughts

[owls-spice-cabinet]

Daybreak

Posting this was so weird bc I didn't want to post it on Ao3 but there was already Part 1 on Ao3 so HERE WE ARE i guess idk it's out there floating in the void somewhere without my name on it bc I couldn't figure out how to post anonymously on Ao3 and it's too late to reclaim my orphan now :) but here's the Ao3 link

ANYWAY. This is a continuation of a previous fic of mine called Dawning. Ao3 link there for everyone. @worldseer @cod-dump @midnight193 anyone not 18 years of age, get the fuck out for legal reasons thanks byyyyee

Words: ~7000 Content: blow jobs, cum swallowing, outrageous flirting, idk it's not that spicy Ship: implied eventual nikpricegraves; it's mostly just nik/graves and price/graves

Phillip had been in London a few times now, mostly either stopping over between flights or meeting up with a new client from somewhere even farther away. He had a few places he liked to frequent when he had some time to himself, although that wasn’t common. Typically, he’d follow his Shadows around like their namesake to various restaurants and bars—sorry pubs. Right now, however, he’d let the more outgoing of them go off while he and the others stayed at their hotel. It was a new place, not one he’d stayed in before with or without his troops, but he’d also never brought this number of troops through London before. When he’d asked Laswell for recommendations, he’d taken her seriously.

For the price, the place was surprisingly accommodating, which probably put it towards the top of Laswell’s list in the first place. It was far from the city center, leaving plenty of buffer room between his forces and the rest of the public. He wasn’t paranoid, he was experienced, and experience told him cordoning off a whole floor of one hotel with armed guards—armed American soldiers—might have raised too many questions surrounded by an entire city of international travelers. Granted, that meant the rooms were a little smaller than some others he'd stayed in, but the management clearly had some experience in putting up soldiers for a few nights.

It did have a nice bar, too. It was backed up against the hotel’s in-house restaurant, so they could share supplies without having the bar as the main focal point to the foot traffic outside. There were numerous tables throughout the space, and a collection of booths set up against the back wall and one of the sides. A large rectangular window ran the length of the wall opposite the bar, and there were two doors out of the room: one exited to the street behind the hotel, and the other went to the rest of the building and the rooms upstairs.

Phillip sat in a booth against the side wall, enjoying the chance to quietly wind down after a more informative mission than he’d counted on. It had been slightly awkward at times, after he’d worked up to returning Nik’s advances where other people might notice it. He hadn’t been making a show of it, just… hadn’t been hiding. It hadn’t been awkward doing it—actually that had been so stupidly easy, it had felt like breathing. Answering very carefully worded questions from his officers had been the awkward part, mostly for them. Especially for Jackson, who’d followed him out of the Marines and had stayed at his right hand for almost a decade now.

Fortunately, no one had been an ass about it. Granted, that was probably a perk of being your own boss. If anyone was dumb enough to be an ass where he could prove it, he could fire them. But honestly, aside from the odd conversations and the usual frustrations that came with dealing with Russians, the mission had wrapped up neatly. Not entirely successful, but certainly far from failure.

Phillip got up and walked over to the bar. One of the bartenders, a woman with dark red hair and glasses whose nametag read Shelly, took notice and put a smile on as he came within conversational distance.

“Is everything alright, sir?” she asked.

“Just fine, thank you,” he answered politely. He set his half-finished whiskey on the rocks down on a coaster. “If I ask you to keep an eye on that while I go use the restroom, would you do that?” He figured it wasn’t much to ask, considering there were all of twenty people in the room, and all but three were his Shadows—his quieter Shadows.

Sue him, he was a little paranoid. He was military, he’d just pissed off some Russians, and he wasn’t at his home base. He was allowed.

Shelly smiled and nodded. “Absolutely, sir. I’ll put it over here for you,” she said, picking it up and setting it behind the bar near her station. “Just ask when you’re back.”

“Much obliged,” he said, taking note of where it had ended up. Then he left.

-scene break-

When he returned, he heard the hum of chatter in the room was about the same as he’d left it. Nothing much had changed. It was still only barely 21:45, so no one was in a hurry to get to bed—not even his Shadows, who’d had a long flight today. Phillip eyed his Shadows, scattered at various booths and tables throughout the room. They seemed to be exactly as he’d left them as well, gathered in their groups of three to five and talking quietly amongst themselves.

The doorway that led down to the restrooms was on the far end of the room from the bar. He’d emerged behind most of the other people in the room, giving him plenty of time to survey the room. He looked around to where he’d been sitting earlier, and stopped.

Now that was fascinating.

Laswell had recommended this hotel, he recalled. She knew it had the capabilities to keep him and his soldiers safe and happy for the time they had to be here. Except, Kate Laswell was not an officer of any military force. She had no troops to command, and rarely traveled in groups who needed such accommodations. Why might she have known about this little place, then?

Phillip smiled to himself, recognizing the back of Nikolai’s head and shoulders at one of the tables near the rows of booths against the back wall. Looking around, he saw John Price standing at the bar, making small talk with the other bartender whose name Phillip didn’t know. He almost did a double-take, then stared, trying to figure out what about John’s person had suddenly made it almost impossible to look away from him.

He figured it out as he walked silently up behind Nik’s chair. Nik, John, and Sergeant Garrick had all had to leave before the mission in Urzikstan had officially resolved, so he hadn’t been there in person for Phillip to share all the amusement he found in putting a few puzzle pieces together about himself. For example, he’d figured out, after those three had left, why he had felt so differently towards Nik when John had clearly been flirting with him over roughly the same amount of time, and Phillip had been just as clueless.

The answer was surprisingly simple. Surprising to him, at least. Again, he had been clueless.

See, Nik had started out as something resembling a friend. If John hadn’t been in the picture, Nik was someone Phillip would have asked out on a date, held hands with, watch a movie with—all those horribly romantic things he’d always felt weird about before.

John? Not quite the same thing.

He’d finally figured out he wanted John to absolutely ruin him, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what that would entail.

And while the dark blue collared shirt and grey jeans John wore now were nothing particularly special on their own, it was the first time Phillip had seen him out of field uniforms and a tac vest. The outfit was nothing if not encouraging.

When he reached Nik’s chair, he put one hand on the back of it, careful not to touch Nik more than brushing his shirt with the back of his knuckles. He knew sneaking up on people with combat training was a gamble already.

“John oughta be more careful,” he said in a low voice, “leaving such a handsome man like you unattended in a bar at night.”

Nik had tensed initially upon realizing someone had snuck up on him. But he had long since recognized Phillip’s voice. He hummed, giving no verbal answer, his shoulders relaxing.

Phillip leaned over, placing his other hand on the tabletop so he was hovering beside Nik’s head. “But then again, with an ass like that, maybe he doesn’t need to be careful,” he said, tilting his head slightly in John’s direction with a small smile.

Nik’s own smile turned a bit devious as he followed the indicated line of sight to John’s ridiculously attractive backside. Then he looked back to Phillip. “Are you suggesting I only stay with him for his looks?”

Phillip turned his head to meet his gaze. “I wouldn’t dream of such an insinuation, Nikolai. I have it on very good authority that you have excellent taste in men.”

That made him laugh softly, his dark eyes crinkling. Phillip had missed the heady, fluttery feeling he got seeing it. The whiskey he’d been drinking earlier couldn’t compare. Nik lifted a hand to place under the far side of Phillip’s jaw, turning his head just a bit more until he could lean in to kiss him.

Phillip gave a silent sigh, leaning into him in return. Yeah, he had missed this too. When Nik released him, he checked the bar and found John hadn’t moved.

“How long are you here?” Nik asked him.

“Just tonight and tomorrow night,” he answered, a little distantly. He was thinking.

“Don’t stare too hard, you’ll burn a hole in those very hard-working jeans,” Nik said with a smile.

Phillip ducked his head and smiled. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and glanced back up at the bar before looking at Nik again. “He was flirting with me half the mission.”

“He was, very badly. It was funny when you did it back, though,” Nik said, reaching up to trace the underside of Phillip’s jaw with a fingertip.

He nodded his agreement. He’d only managed it once or twice before John and the rest had left, but the effect had been priceless. The look of shock all over his face right before he’d muttered something like “fuck off” and stalked away had entertained Phillip for days the first time.

“I don’t want to interrupt your evening, but I also feel like you’ll understand perfectly if I tell you this,” he said, keeping his voice low at Nik’s ear.

Nik’s hand remained tucked under his jaw. “I am listening, Лучик,” he murmured.

Phillip was glad the light in the room was low enough to help disguise whatever blush was creeping up the back of his neck. Just because he’d admitted it to himself didn’t mean he knew how to admit it to other people. He’d meant it when he’d said Nik would understand—he was counting on it, actually. “I have been wanting that man to fuck me into oblivion for weeks.”

The smile on Nik’s face widened, gaining a sharp edge. His dark eyes glittered when they turned to him. “I don’t think I would mind such an interruption at all,” he said in that low tone that made Phillip’s knees wobble a bit. “I have it on good authority that he is very good at such things.”

Phillip could practically feel the blood in his body draining south—a fairly novel sensation, he might point out. He hadn’t realized what proper sexual arousal felt like outside of physical stimulation until about a month ago, and that had been almost as groundbreaking as realizing he hadn’t actually been romantically invested in any of his previous relationships.

Nik wasn’t finished speaking, however. “I do have two conditions,” he said. “One, you are doing the work of seducing him, because I want to see that. Two, I will allow the interruption tonight, if I am allowed to have you to myself tomorrow night?” He accentuated the last phrase by taking hold of Phillip’s jaw, turning his face to him, and gently running his thumb across his bottom lip.

This man would be the death of him, Phillip was sure. He grinned, barely resisting the urge to lick his bottom lip. “You got yourself a deal, handsome,” he said. He lifted his hand from the back of Nik’s chair, setting it on his shoulders instead. Before he stood up, Nik pulled him in for a peck on the lips. He squeezed his shoulder in return as he straightened up from where he’d been leaning on the table.

Nik and John must have come here before, he was starting to suspect. John had been standing at the bar, chatting with the other bartender for a while now. Even the most complicated cocktails on the menu here didn’t take that long to make, so there must be some history there. Plus, Phillip remembered he still had to retrieve his own drink from Shelly. He did that first, walking up to her with a polite smile.

“I’ve kept it safe for you sir,” she said, setting it in front of him.

“Thank you very much,” he said, picking the glass up and taking a drink from it. Then he turned to face down the bar towards John. “So why don’t you ever wear jeans in the field, John?”

John stared at him, blue eyes dark and impassive. The bartender he’d been talking to took note and set about actually making drinks. John was silent for a long pause, like he was waiting or looking for something. “Thought those lot might be military,” he said gruffly, gesturing to the nearest table of Shadows.

They weren’t in uniform exactly, but it wasn’t far from it. A few of them wore the company-issued sweaters or jackets. Hell, Phillip himself was wearing a black collared shirt with the Shadow Co. insignia stitched small over the left breast. He was allowed to wear his own merch, he’d founded the damn thing.

“Yeah, we’re stopping over for a couple nights on our way back across the pond,” Phillip explained, stepping closer. “Laswell recommended this place, actually. Guess I know why now, seeing as you’re both lookin’ pretty cozy around here,” he went on, tipping his head towards Nik watching from his table.

John grunted, accepting a pint from the man behind the bar. “Yeah, funny thing,” he muttered, taking a sip, then licking foam from his mustache.

“Gonna answer my question?” Phillip prompted, leaning an elbow on the bar. “Saw plenty of the guys wearin’ jeans in Mexico. Never seen ‘em on you ‘til now.”

It was clear John didn’t quite grasp what he was doing here yet, but was still valiantly trying to figure it out. “We have dress codes for a reason,” he answered, holding his gaze. “They work for job.”

Phillip nodded like he’d actually cared about the reason why. He hadn’t, not truly. “Well, I guess I’m grateful you follow dress codes, then,” he said, raising his glass a little.

He got another outwardly impassive look in response, only briefly interrupted by the bartender placing a second drink near him, presumably for Nik since Phillip had seen vodka go into the mix. “Do I want to know why?” John asked, sounding the slightest bit genuine.

With a slow grin, he leaned in. “’Cause I would’ve been dead six different ways if you’d had these on out there,” he said, helpfully casting his gaze down John’s person to make his point. “’Specially considering you like to lead up front—” He sucked air through his teeth, quirking his eyebrows a hair higher. “Distracting.”

John caught on, finally, rolling his eyes and turning back to his pint. “Fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered, taking another, bigger, drink from it.

“Oh, you can dish it out, but you’re not taking it?” Phillip asked.

“I was not—!” He cut himself off sharply when he caught the smirk on Phillip’s face.

He raised an eyebrow at him. “You weren’t what?” he asked. “When you were watching me check over my weapons and you made me do it twice because you wanted to see how I handled the equipment, and then said I had good handling skills for an American, you weren’t doing what, exactly?” He was being nice enough to keep his voice down, but it did mean he had to get a little closer than a usual conversation.

He would admit, he did enjoy the stern glare he was getting out of this. After a few confusing weeks at the mercy of Nik’s very purposeful flirting and John’s only sometimes purposeful flirting, it was nice to be on the same page for this exchange.

“None of your boys is here, no need to worry about a reputation,” he added quietly. “I’m certainly not.” He wasn’t worried about his reputation, no, but there were plenty of aspects of this conversation he was largely bluffing through. But what else was new for him?

John rolled his eyes minutely. “You’re fuckin’ insufferable since you figured yourself out.”

“I was insufferable before, too. But even then, I couldn’t manage to get under your skin the way I can now, so what does that tell you?”

“Fuck all.”

Phillip smiled again. “Does it bother you that you’re no longer automatically controlling the conversation now that I know what you’re doing?” In his periphery, he saw John’s hand flex and tighten around his pint glass. “I wouldn’t be too concerned. I mean, you’ve still got plenty of experience in other areas that I don’t, so I’d probably let you push me around a bit if you wanted.” Never mind the fact that, like Nik, John’s arms were incredible, and he probably wouldn’t have minded in the first place if either of them wanted to push him around at all.

Huh. Go figure.

For the first time since Phillip had walked over here, John’s eyes weren’t carefully unreadable. Something about his expression had darkened almost imperceptibly, and Phillip couldn’t decide how he felt about the shudder that it sent down his spine.

This time John leaned in a little. “Don’t make an offer you’re not willing to follow up,” he said.

“When have I ever backed out of a good deal, John?” he replied, keeping an easy smile on his face despite his heartrate ticking up just from the tone of John’s voice.

“A deal?”

“I get what I want, you get what you want. Mutually beneficial arrangement.”

A small smile appeared on John’s face as he moved his pint glass a little farther from the edge of the bar. He leaned an elbow on the wooden surface, mirroring Phillip’s position. “You know what you want, just like that?” he asked, his tone finally picking up some of the playful tone Phillip had been using.

Phillip answered truthfully, because it didn’t seem like a good idea to bluff this one. “I’m open to negotiations, if you’ve got ideas all of a sudden.”

It looked like John hadn’t been expecting that answer. That was fair, since Phillip wasn’t particularly known for his abounding sense of humility without ulterior motive. John looked at him silently for a second, then turned back to his pint on the bar. “Damn you,” he muttered as he took another drink.

This was fun. Phillip grinned again, turning his back to the bar and taking up his own drink at last. It was almost gone by now, and he had no desire to stick around to order another one. He found Nik still sitting at his table, watching them both from across the room. He caught Phillip’s grin and smiled.

“He put you up to this?” John asked. When Phillip glanced at him, he added, “Nik, I mean.”

Ah, right. “Nope. Not his idea, just his blessing.” He drank the last of his whiskey and set his glass down on the bar. “Tell you what,” he said, pulling his hotel keycards out of his back pocket (because they always gave you two even when you were clearly one person). He slid one out of the little paper envelope with the room number scrawled on it, and put it back into his pocket. “I will leave you with options,” he said quietly, reaching over to slide the extra keycard with its little envelope into the breast pocket of John’s shirt.

John let him do it, following his every move carefully, but remaining still.

Then he walked away, down the bar to Shelly to pay for his drink before he left. It took great effort not to glance sideways at John still standing at the other end of the bar. He almost broke when he had to look back up at Shelly with a polite smile and wish her a nice evening, but he held his ground. He put his wallet back in his pocket and left the bar.

-scene break-

Just over ten minutes after Phillip had arrived back in his hotel room, he heard the small beep and click of someone using a keycard to open his door. His initial reaction was one of relief, because the past ten minutes or so had been some of the most uncomfortable in his life for many reasons—not least of which was he couldn’t recall a time in recent memory he’d literally been so horny he couldn’t think straight.

No, the comedy of that phrase was not lost on him.

He closed his laptop, pushing his chair away from the desk where he’d been using his emails as a distraction. John closed the door behind him and came forward to stand in the doorway where the main room met the little entryway. He folded his arms and leaned against one wall, crossing one leg over the other as he did. Phillip didn’t try to disguise the fact that he was staring.

“You still open to negotiations?” he asked.

Phillip leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out and setting one stocking foot over the other. “Yep. Get any inspiration on your way up here?”

He supposed in any other situation, the look in John’s eyes would have set him on edge the same way a raid siren might. It was a dark, intelligent, dare he say hungry expression, and all it did now was make a low heat ignite in his gut and his dick twitch in his pants. John pushed off the wall, unfolding his arms as he walked over to Phillip’s chair. He set the keycard down on the desk, then grabbed an arm of the chair to turn it so they were facing each other.

“I’m going to ask you some questions and I would like honest answers to them,” he said, now leaning over him with a hand on each of the chair’s arms. “Think you can manage that, Phillip?”

Phillip’s mouth went unexpectedly dry. He nodded, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “Doesn’t sound too difficult, no.”

John gave a small smile, but his eyes still held that focused, almost predatory expression. “Good. Am I allowed to kiss you?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t kiss him immediately, which might have fried something in the back of Phillip’s brain out of sheer anticipation. Unfair. “Good,” he went on instead. “Downstairs, you’d said I could push you around a bit. Did you mean that literally? Am I allowed to pull you around a bit?”

Fuck, of course he’d remembered that. It took a considerable amount of willpower not to curl in on himself under John’s gaze, but he didn’t. He gave another nod while his tongue caught up with his brain. “Yeah, I meant that literally,” he breathed, feeling like a bug pinned to a board. Only, he’d crawled onto the board himself and stayed put while the pin came down.

John nodded once. “You understand that if I say or do something you don’t like, you will say something, and vice versa, yes?”

Phillip gave him a flat stare. “John, I’ve had sex before. I know how consent works.”

“Fine then,” he said. He grabbed both of Phillip’s wrists, one in each hand, and hauled him bodily upright out of the chair.

Phillip made note of two things. One, the show of strength had been undeniably hot and had flooded his brain with another wave of arousal that quickly drained right to his dick. Two, John was still in his shoes whereas Phillip stood in socks, which made their height difference that much more noticeable. All told, he felt almost… small. Before he could think further into how he felt about that, John’s mouth had found his, and thinking was no longer important.

Admittedly, he’d thought about what it would feel like to kiss John. He’d never kissed anyone with facial hair, after all, because Nik preferred a clean face, and it had obviously never come up in his previous relationships. Turned out, Phillip didn’t really care. Yes, he could feel it tickling his face, and yes, it required a bit of maneuvering sometimes, but he didn’t care. Possibly he didn’t care because he’d been dying to get his hands on this man for weeks; possibly because he was harder than he’d been in recent memory and the prospect of relief was overshadowing a lot of other things at the moment; and possibly because John had just shoved him up onto the desk he’d been sitting at, and keeping his balance took the rest of his brain power.

“Fucking shit,” he hissed, once again aware of how achingly uncomfortable his jeans were becoming. He’d never been pushed around like this—he’d been the one doing any manhandling, usually because the lady had asked very nicely. But fuck, he could understand the appeal.

“Good?” John asked. He’d long since let go of Phillip’s wrists, now gripping his hips instead.

Phillip didn’t bother answering such a stupid question. He hooked his left arm around his neck and grabbed his collar with the right hand, pulling him back in to keep kissing him. John lurched forward with the usual grace of someone caught off guard, inadvertently pressing one of his thighs (his large, muscled, and horrendously attractive thighs) directly into Phillip’s groin.

Phillip moaned into his mouth, his hips involuntarily pressing forward against the pressure. He broke away to breathe, to try to clear his head that felt like it was swimming with want. He barely got a breath in when John’s hands pulled his hips back against his leg, and the rush of pleasure forced half the air from his lungs anyway. He growled, catching a glimpse of the smug smile on John’s face right before he kissed it, perhaps a bit more forcefully than was strictly necessary. Judging by the noise it got from John, though, neither of them cared.

He felt John’s tongue press against the seam of his lips with clear intent at the same time he felt the man’s hands tugging his shirt out of his waistband. He let both happen, groaning softly when John’s warm palms fit snugly around his ribs and his tongue slid into his mouth. Again, it was something Phillip had never understood to be particularly pleasant, let alone attractive, but he was discovering a lot of things made more sense when he was actually attracted to the person in question. John’s leg ground up against him again, drawing a quiet groan from him as he tried desperately to hold onto his composure.

It wasn’t easy. The warmth from John’s hands was making goose bumps erupt in their wake along his sides, across his lower back, and slowly trailing higher. The movement of his leg against the bulge in Phillip’s jeans turned slow and repetitive, pulling small noises from his throat even as he tried to hold them back. He could feel his body heating up as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him, until he realized the situation was heading towards a conclusion far faster than he’d wanted.

He reached up with the arm still looped around John’s neck, weaving fingers into John’s hair and holding him there when he broke away from the kiss. “Will you cut that out,” he said, breathing hard, “and do something more constructive?”

The smug little smile was back on John’s face. He squeezed Phillip’s ribs and leaned in until their foreheads were pressed together. “You were making such pretty noises for me, though,” he murmured.

Phillip turned his head away, blushing deeply. That only gave John the opportunity to duck his head and start covering his jaw and ear and neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Without really thinking, Phillip tilted his head back, allowing him more room.

He gave a small gasp when John began sucking a mark below his ear. “Fucking Christ, John,” he whined, dragging his fingernails through the short hairs on the back of John’s head. “Please—shit, John—"

John made a low noise in his throat, detaching from his neck and licking over his handiwork once or twice. “God, if I had the fucking time,” he said into his ear, sliding his hands back down to rest on Phillip’s hips and squeezing, “I would keep you here for hours with just my fingers until you couldn’t remember your own name and just begged me to fuck you properly.”

A shudder ran down Phillip’s spine, making his stomach clench and his hips twitch forward of their own accord. Evidently, he wouldn’t mind that at all. Great. Not currently helpful, however. He closed his eyes as John once again mouthed at the underside of his jaw, struggling to put together a sentence that made sense. “Yeah, okay. But since it sounds—hah, fuck—like you don’t have the time, what—mm—what are we doing now?”

John pulled back to look at him with the same infuriating self-satisfied expression. “Impatient—”

“Yes.”

That made his eyebrows lift slightly. “Fine. Can I suck you off?”

Finally. “Yes, you can absolutely—” Phillip never finished the sentence.

As soon as the first word was out of his mouth, John pulled him off the desk, turned him around, and pushed him onto the foot of the nearest bed. He only managed to stay upright by grabbing onto one of John’s biceps. It didn’t really matter, though, because the second his ass hit the bedspread, John’s mouth found his again, and he felt himself being eased slowly and very deliberately onto his back. John licked into his mouth again, and his hand not currently supporting his weight snaked up and into Phillip’s hair, gently pulling his head back slightly. Fuck, did it feel good, too. If his eyes weren’t already closed, they probably would have crossed.

John pulled away, his hand sliding down along Phillip’s face to his collar, resting on the first button. “Still good?”

Phillip tried to answer, but the words “what” and “yeah” both wanted to come out of his mouth at the same time. It ended up as an unintelligible noise half-way between both words. He blinked, a little confused as to why that hadn’t made sense, and then John burst into poorly restrained but genuine, honest-to-God giggles. Phillip covered his face, a blush searing his ears and cheeks as John buried his face in his chest to laugh.

After a couple seconds, he lifted it to say, “How’re you already fucked dumb when I haven’t even touched you?” He was still smiling fit to burst.

Phillip hit his shoulder. “Oh, shut up!”

“I’m not making fun of you,” John said, leaning down and starting to press kisses across his cheeks and jaw.

Phillip let him, because it felt good. “Yeah, sure.” But it didn’t feel good enough to let it continue indefinitely. He reached up and grabbed John’s chin, forcing eye contact. “Did your mother never teach you not to play with your food?” he asked pointedly. “I thought you asked to suck my dick, and my belt buckle has yet to be undone.” He raised his eyebrows a hair and tilted his head in lieu of asking John if he could see what the problem was.

There were still traces of amusement all over John’s face, but all he did was peck him on the lips before pushing himself up a bit. “Undo your shirt,” he said. He watched as Phillip did so, waiting until he was more than halfway through the buttons before he reached to undo Phillip’s belt, the button and fly following quickly afterwards.

Phillip sighed to himself when at least some of the pressure was taken off his erection, then yelped when John dragged his jeans off with enough force to pull him to the edge of the bed. He pushed himself up on his elbows to ask what the fuck, but the words stopped short of his mouth when John’s hand slid over the tent in his underwear, squeezing him gently. Whatever he’d been about to say melted into a moan as his head lolled back. The sound was loud enough to surprise himself, and he reflexively put a hand to his mouth.

John clicked his tongue, leaning over him again to take his hand from his mouth. His other hand moved slowly, slipping under the waistband of his shorts. “None of that now,” he said in a low voice. “Told you already what pretty sounds you make.” He bent down closer. “I wanna hear ‘em, Phillip. Yes?”

Phillip nodded wordlessly, mostly too preoccupied with the trajectory of John’s other hand to really protest.

“Good man,” John told him. He ran his thumb over his bottom lip before ducking down to press his mouth to Phillip’s neck. He trailed lower, dipping his tongue into the hollow of his throat and then moving to suck another mark just below his collarbone.

Phillip watched him, feeling like someone had lit fire to a trail of gasoline in the wake of John’s mouth on his skin. Beneath the obvious buzz of desire, there was a more subtle feeling building, and it was sort of familiar. John was making him feel wanted, like Nik did any chance he got, it seemed. When John reached his stomach as he kissed his way down his body, he let out a sharp breath at the tingly, giddy feeling that washed over him. John lifted his head to look at him and smiled, which finally made Phillip realize he’d had a small smile stuck on his face for a while now.

He might actually like John. That was interesting.

John finished decorating Phillip’s front with kisses and finally slid Phillip’s underwear off, sinking to his knees as he did, and letting them fall in a pile with his jeans near the bed. The sudden freedom made Phillip groan in the back of his throat. His dick was almost painfully hard, the head a clear shade of red and beading precum already. Phillip watched, still propped up on his elbows, as John made himself comfortable between his legs. The dark, almost hungry expression was back in his eyes, and as much as it made a blush rise to his cheeks and ears to be this exposed to its intensity, he couldn’t find it in himself to look away. John wrapped his right arm under Phillip’s thigh and hoisted his leg over his shoulder, all while still focused on his main goal.

He wrapped his other hand around the base of Phillip’s dick, making him hiss at the contact. John smirked. “Could get used to a view like this if I’m not careful.”

Before Phillip could respond with some remark in return, John flattened his tongue and licked up the shaft from his hand, finally taking the tip into his mouth and running his tongue over the slit.

Phillip’s shirt slipped off one of his shoulders and he didn’t even notice. “Holy shit,” he breathed, his voice sounding higher than it usually did.

He watched John take more of him into his mouth, then slowly pull back, pressing his tongue against the underside of the shaft and squeezing his hand lightly. Phillip’s leg twitched, trying to close on his head, but the arm John had wrapped around it held it in place firmly. He let out a shaky breath, like he’d just remembered to breathe in that moment, which was fairly accurate. He watched, utterly fixated, as John’s movements got longer, taking in more of him, and occasionally felt his dick twitch against the roof of his mouth or against his tongue. God, it felt fucking incredible. John’s mouth was hot and smooth sliding over him, bobbing up and down, steadily picking up a little speed as he swallowed him inch by inch and his hand covered less and less of him.

Phillip’s hips gave an aborted thrust without him meaning to as a rush of arousal shot through him at the sight. John made a noise that sounded more surprised than anything else, and he didn’t take his mouth of Phillip’s dick. Still— “Fuck, sorry—” Phillip started to say, and never finished.

John looked up at him sharply, then gave a harsh suck as he drew back, effectively negating any speaking ability Phillip might have had in the moment.

His head fell back with a loud moan he didn’t have the wherewithal to even try to cover up. “Jesus Christ,” he wheezed, his heart pounding in his ears. “Point taken, holy fuck.” He let his head hang back with his eyes closed as his mind went somewhat dizzy with pleasure.

John didn’t let up, however. If anything, he got more insistent now that he knew how to get a reaction out of him. This wasn’t the first blow job he’d ever had, but it was certainly the best by leaps and bounds. Granted, that made sense, given the whole “Not Figuring Out His Sexuality Until a Month Ago” thing. Phillip’s brain was so overwhelmed, he had little idea of the specifics outside of it being John’s mouth around his dick, and it feeling fucking wonderful. Too wonderful—he could already feel his climax threatening on the edge of his senses. Although… that was sort of the whole point here, wasn’t it?

It felt like his head weighed a hundred pounds trying to pull it back to its usual position, but he finally did focus back on John’s slightly tousled brown hair. He made a low noise just taking in the sight again, struggling to keep coherency in his thoughts as he watched. “Fuck me,” he breathed, his hips once again trying to buck up deeper into John’s beautiful, talented mouth. It drew a groan from John, sending vibrations up the length of Phillip’s dick still in his mouth. One of his hands reached out in a flash, grabbing onto John’s hair. “Holy—God fucking—John!”

John’s eyes flicked up, meeting his gaze as he drew back, his cheeks hollowed as he sucked and his lips shining with spit.

Phillip loosened his hold on his hair, taking a breath shaky with the effort of not coming just yet despite John’s concerted efforts. “’M not gonna last—shit,” he started to say, but was derailed yet again by watching his dick disappear into John’s mouth. He watched, his hand never moving from John’s hair, as John’s nose came to rest in the light brown hairs surrounding the base of his dick.

He felt his dick jump in John’s throat—in his throat, holy fucking shit, first of all. It drew another low groan from him, sending more vibrations through Phillip’s body and pushing him closer and closer towards the edge. Phillip watched John’s blue eyes flutter closed briefly in utter satisfaction, and felt his fingers dig into the soft skin on his inner thigh. It was as beautiful as it was obscenely hot.

“Jesus fucking Christ, John, I’m close,” he managed, his voice tight. “Where—”

John’s eyes snapped to his, and the arm wrapped around his leg tightened its hold. He swallowed.

Phillip’s mouth dropped open silently, and he only barely resisted rolling his hips up into John’s mouth as his orgasm hit him with all the grace of a baseball bat to the head. He came down John’s throat with a punched-out gasp that faded into a low whine, one hand still buried in his hair, the other gripping the bedspread while his vision swam. He felt John swallow around him again, the muscles in his neck squeezing his cock perfectly while he enjoyed the sheer force and magnitude of pleasure currently making his toes curl and his head feel fuzzy in a way he couldn’t remember experiencing previously.

When the high eventually eased, Phillip finally untangled his fingers from John’s hair and didn’t quite collapse onto the bed, but it was a near thing. His limbs sort of felt like jello, and his brain was only a little better than that. He felt John pull off of him, then felt the edge of the bed dip when he used it to stand up. Fuck, he needed to do things. He wasn’t exactly sure which things, given this was a vastly different scenario than previous encounters. But he’d feel like an asshole later if he didn’t at least try.

He sat up in time to see John disappear into the adjoining bathroom, and he was too tired to overthink why. Instead, he reached down to grab his underwear back from the floor, only to stop when he found them on the bed within reach. That was definitely not where he’d seen John drop them. Okay. He put them on, finally just ditching his shirt, figuring he’d be getting into pajamas not too long after this anyway.

John returned, carrying the two plastic cups the hotel had supplied in the room. One was empty, the other was full, and he offered the latter to Phillip. “Drink, if you want.”

“Thanks,” he said, accepting the cup more for something to do than for a need for water. But he took a couple sips before reaching out to put on the desk near the foot of the bed.

John reached a hand out as he was settling back onto the bed, carefully combing calloused fingers through his hair. Phillip had no doubt it was sticking up at odd angles. John seemed to have fixed his hair, which was only slightly disappointing, because he’d wanted to see what he’d done to it. He leaned into the touch. John’s hand left his hair, skimming the side of his face until it was under his chin, tilting his face up towards John.

“Enjoyed that, did you?” he asked.

Phillip hummed. “Funny thing. Sex is a lot more fun when you’re genuinely attracted to someone.” John rolled his eyes, letting his hand drop to his side. Phillip went on. “Speaking of which, you want a hand there?” It was kind of hard to miss, considering he was roughly eye-level with the noticeable bulge at the front of John’s jeans. “Or is that something Nik gets to deal with later?”

John paused and half-sat on the edge of the desk with a small grimace of discomfort, appearing to consider his options. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table, then at the door back out to the rest of the hotel. Finally, he looked back over at Phillip for a few seconds before he shrugged and stood up, putting his empty cup down on the desk. “Fine. Get up.” Phillip stood up. John grabbed his chin carefully and kissed him firmly. “Let’s see if your handling skills are any good, for an American.”

#i write things sometimes #cod smut #pricegraves #nikgraves #nikpricegraves #phillip graves #captain john price #cod nikolai #cod mw22 #cod mwii #modern warfare ii

[deldeldel90]

traitor Blaine au where he was always worse but in a wet cat sort of way. greyden vibes, where he's just like really mentally ill and just. Going Through It.

so he runs away after the final battle, lives in destitute, doesn't take care of himself AT ALL. he's basically just stewing in his own failures, becoming unhinged and generally unwell, doesn't sleep, doing Really Bad.

and he's trying to come up with a plan. to get revenge, because like,, he's lost everything. he's lost Father, and he still hasn't uncovered how much abuse his dad put on him bc he has zero (0) emotional awareness. he's coming up with revenge because it's the only thing that's keeping him stable and keeping him from absolutely breaking into a million pieces.

so… after a few months of planning, and not taking care of himself, becoming sick every few days and forgetting to eat and not sleeping, he has the Perfect idea. he pretends to be helpless in order to sneak into their club.

(he is helpless, but not like he’ll ever admit that.)

“i don't have a curse,” he tells them, pretending to be ashen-faced. there's blood on his fist from where he had to work his ass off in order to get a meal. it was the first one he'd eaten in about three days. “but.. i heard this place can help for more than that. is it okay if I…” he feels his throat stir. “if I can-” he stumbles over his words. his face burns in very real embarrassment.

“of course you can join,” prez says immediately. she takes his hands, cold to the touch, and puts them into her warm ones. “let's get you inside. you're all damp.”

blaine doesn't own anything better than about two pairs of outfits and a raggedy cloak. he doesn't have anything. everybody hates him, after all. he doesn't want anything. he just needs revenge.

this is what he needs… to make Father proud. to be loved again.

he tries to pry into their secrets. they force him to eat a hot meal instead. he tries to get curtis to tell him where he keeps different keys. curtis insists he gets a bath first—”and wash your hair,” he says, kindly, offering to help him do it, if he's unable to do it on his own.

“i’m fine,” blaine hisses, wondering why everyone's being so… nice to him. he ends up needing the help for his hair. his body feels so weak. his sharp mind has fog all around it.

“do you have the flu or something…?” syrah demands to know, rolling her eyes as she sets up a board game in blaine’s makeshift bedroom. “c'mon. this game’s called ‘fashion roll-two’. saff and abbi are getting the snacks.”

and more instances like this. they keep taking care of him, he keeps trying to get information and sabotage them. it won't stop.

blaine does not understand what's going on.

the cpc smile at him at every breakfast and offer him more of those sugary waffles.

here's the twist: THEY KNOW BLAINE IS LYING!!!! they know he's a trickster little bunny rabbit!!! a snake. a thieving cat, if you will. they know it all. they just see him and go, “damn bitch you live like this?”

but they see him– hurting, actively in pain, destroying himself, all while trying to hide it under a mask of pure hatred. but he cares too much.

(he always has.)

he teaches abbi the way of the sword- from what little he knows. he paints makeup onto syrah's face. he paints flower pots and gardens with saffron. he reads poetry with prez on the quiet nights. he helps curtis with the cleaning whenever he can. he plays requested songs at the piano for the club during the days where it's raining too hard outside to spend it by the campfire. he remembers all the names of the girls nobody else really looks to. he gives gwen his jacket after she made a mess of herself in the kitchen and can't help but understand why she's everyone’s little sister. aurelia and him have cat fights but he looks out for the younger girl, making sure her food is always chilled.

he tries to take revenge. tries to keep a distance and make himself hateable, tries to keep others away from him. tries to self destruct.

but they don't let him.

au name: “to befriend an enemy” or something like that :3

#cursed Princess Club #cpc blaine #cpc au

[myfandomincolor]

I did it I wrote the whole fic.

In which Astarion gets his portrait painted.

Fevras, Oskar. Portrait of Astarion Ancunin. 1492 DR, Private Collection.

Rated teen bc there's suggestive dialogue

Nothing smutty though

Super-soft and fluffy Astarion/fem Tav

Act 3 minor spoilers

The first fic I've written in over 10 years.

Full text under the cut

AO3 link

The original post I made that wouldn't leave me alone

"This is great, I'm so happy for you both, but my companions and I did save you. Twice. And I'd love to be compensated for the work we've done." Tav stood before Oskar Fevras, painter of some renown, and his fiancée, Lady Jannath. The warlock was genuinely happy for the pair, of course, but she'd been looking forward to a more...material reward for all the literal blood and sweat that had gone into first liberating the artist from the Zhentarim, then rescuing him from a vengeful spirit. Nevermind the entire debacle of getting rid of a mummy lord.

"Of course!" the painter assured her, "Come upstairs to my atelier. I promise you'll leave with something priceless: immortality."

Tav very much doubted that Oskar's offer of "immortality" would be as satisfying as a nice pouch of gold, but she rolled her eyes and gestured for him to lead the way. "Yes, alright, we'll join you in a moment."

Oskar disappeared up the stairs, and Tav exchanged an exasperated look with Astarion, whose expression was equally unamused.

"We'll have a private word with Lady Jannath later," he murmured, and Tav nodded in agreement. The woman had a whole floor of valuables stored in safes and display cases, for gods' sakes! Surely she could bear to part with a few pieces of jewelry as payment for the safety of her dear Oskar.

Nevertheless, Tav climbed the flights of stairs to the artist's atelier, with Astarion, Shadowheart, and Wyll in tow. When they reached the top floor, Oskar greeted them with open arms and a wide smile.

"Here she is, the hero of the hour! Brushes are oiled, canvas is prepped, and you, my savior, will make a striking subject."

"You're going to...paint me?" Tav asked, realizing suddenly what Oskar had meant by "something priceless" as payment. She'd assumed he'd intended to let her pick a piece from the countless canvases stacked around his studio, but he meant to capture her likeness in a new painting altogether. The idea was honestly very appealing, considering she'd never in her life sat for more than a sketched portrait miniature. She smirked in self-satisfaction, and turned to gauge her friends' reactions, maybe crack a joke about how the whole of Feyrûn should be so lucky to see her face in salons and galleries, when a thought suddenly occurred to her:

He should paint Astarion.

The grin slowly faded from her face, settling into a thoughtful quirk of her lips as the idea took hold, and she looked steadily into the eyes of the man she loved.

Astarion shifted uncomfortably under her unbroken gaze. "What, why are you looking at me? Do you need someone to make sure your hair looks alright before your portrait? Because, darling, a few unkempt strands are the least of your worries, considering the impressive amount of blood and dust you've mopped up today."

"What if he paints you, instead?" she asked.

The vampire spawn scoffed, caught off-guard, "Why would he paint me? You're the hero being commemorated," he waved off her suggestion with one hand, the other reflexively propping itself on his hip.

Tav looked back at Oskar. "Would you paint him instead of me?"

"If that is your wish, I'd be more than happy to accommodate. Any of you would be muse enough to inspire exhibition-worthy work," the painter answered, sweeping one hand in a gesture that encompassed their whole group.

"It's not a bad idea," Wyll offered from a short distance away, where he'd been studying a painting of a patriar. He turned his head and looked at the couple over his shoulder, one hand rubbing his stubble thoughtfully. "You'd cut a very fine figure on canvas, I'd wager. And there's the matter of, well - it might be nice to..." he trailed off, unsure of how sensitively he should phrase the end of his sentence.

"My love, you haven't seen your face in 200 years," Tav whispered, drawing close to Astarion, careful of hinting too loudly at anything that might betray his vampiric condition. She cupped his jaw in her hands, as much to keep him looking at her as to convey the tenderness of her feelings. "Would you like to?"

"Hah," was his response, more of a breathy sob than a laugh. His brows knitted together despite the smile he demanded remain in place. "Always full of surprises, aren't you?" He covered the back of one of her hands with his, turning his face to press a kiss to her palm. "Alright then," he mumbled against her skin.

"Might I suggest a change of wardrobe before you commit to the session?" Wyll chuckled.

"I don't know, the bloodstains feel right, somehow. More honest," Shadowheart added with a smirk.

"As long as you're, erm, comfortable," Oskar chimed in, "Though if you do want to freshen up first, I'm more than happy to wait. After all, it will be seen by generations to come."

"Then we'll be back first thing in the morning," Tav promised, turning to shake Oskar's hand.

"Excellent, I shall await your return," the painter beamed, and went back to his easel.

---

The upper rooms of the Elfsong were bustling the next morning. Astarion normally relished being the center of attention among his friends, but as they fussed over everything from clothes to makeup, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret at having ever agreed to sit for a portrait.

"Gale, would you please just settle on something? I'm freezing over here," he groaned through clenched teeth, narrowing his eyes at the wizard in question. Astarion was clad in nothing more than his dressing gown, the relatively thin fabric doing little in the way of insulation against the cool morning temperatures.

"Now now, my friend, a good color story is crucial to the success of an ensemble, and your complexion does pose a bit of an unfamiliar challenge for me," Gale explained, not looking away from the selection of shirts he'd laid out across Astarion's bed, but waving a finger in the air anyway as he made his point.

"Oh gods, just put me in red or something and call it done," Astarion griped, plopping down onto a stool.

Gale finally looked over, regarding him for a beat before replying. "Seems a bit on the nose, doesn't it? Red? For a vampire?"

"Why mess with the classics?" he replied wryly.

"Fair point, but I was thinking something more along the lines of - " he plucked a shirt from the pile, stepping over to Astarion so he could hold it next to the elf's pale skin. "Hmm, yes, I think jade complements you quite nicely."

Astarion fought back a blush. "I'd look good in anything, no need for you to have wracked your brain over it so hard. Now shoo, give me some privacy so I can dress." He flicked his hands at Gale, who threw his hands up with a chuckle and strode out of the room.

---

A gentle knock rapped on the door as Astarion shrugged a jacket on, rich charcoal-colored jacquard fabric accented with silver thread and blue-green gemstone buttons.

"Come in," he called, starting to fasten the front. Tav cracked the door and scooted in, dressed in clean attire suitable for a social call. "Oh good, I half expected you to accompany me dressed either in your leathers or practically nothing at all, but you look surprisingly presentable," he snarked, arching an eyebrow at her as he fumbled with his cuffs.

Tav feigned a look of annoyance. "I could always change, it's not too late to pick something inappropriate for polite society." She stepped across the room to stand toe-to-toe with him, taking over the task of fastening his jacket cuffs. Astarion relaxed at the feel of the warmth radiating off her body. She lifted his hand to her lips when she finished, kissing his knuckles. "You look absolutely dashing," she remarked, lifting their clasped hands overhead and coaxing him into doing a little turn.

"I do, don't I? Someone should paint a picture," he joked, making sure to take his time showing off every angle as he turned, noting Tav's very evident appreciation with satisfaction. "My dear, if you keep looking at me like that, we'll never make it out of this room, much less back to the Jannath Estate," he purred with a smirk, pulling her into a close embrace, free hand finding its way to the small of her back as if he was about to waltz her around the room.

Tav laughed, blushing, "Don't tempt me! We can be on our way whenever you're ready."

"Oh, you're no fun. We'll put a pin in that."

---

The couple arrived at the Estate, welcomed by the steadfast Dragonborn doorman, and then by Lady Jannath herself. After some routine pleasantries, Tav and Astarion ascended once again to the atelier, where Oskar was busy preparing the surface of a canvas. The room smelled of linseed and turpentine.

"Ah, you've returned! And looking splendid, if you don't mind me saying so. Are you ready?" he asked, setting aside a long-handled paintbrush.

"Quite ready, thank you," Astarion assured him, while Tav nodded her greeting.

"I'm just here for moral support," she explained, earning a soft smile from the vampire. "Do you mind if I just do some reading, and perhaps watch you work?"

"I would be honored to have you as an audience. Now, my good sir, if you please," Oskar gestured toward a large backdrop occupying one wall of the small room, its surface softly painted to look like a sunrise. A low platform extended in front of it, and Astarion stepped up, shuffling a bit until he felt like he was squarely in the center. "Yes, stand yourself just there - perfect," Oskar coached from behind his easel, "Now, keep still, this won't take long, but do let me know if you need a break."

Astarion threw a glance over to Tav, who was settling into a high-backed chair in the corner, positioned so she would be able to see him but not so close that she'd be a distraction. She noticed his attention, and gave him an "OK" gesture, accompanied by a small shrug and a tilt of her head. He caught her meaning and nodded, closing his eyes and exhaling a deep breath before settling into a pose, willing the butterflies in his stomach to settle down.

---

A few hours into the session, Astarion realized that he and Oskar Fevras had very different definitions of "this won't take long." His feet ached, his neck was sore, and he longed to stretch out his limbs to relieve the tension that had built in them as he concentrated on remaining still. The only sounds in the atelier were the soft strokes of brush bristles on canvas, accompanied intermittently by the swiff of Tav turning a page in her book. He could only see her from the corner of his eye, but it was enough for him to have noticed that she'd been looking up every so often, gazing silently at his profile for a few minutes before ducking back into whatever she was reading. Just as he was about to relent and call for a break, Oskar spoke up.

"Aaaand - voila!" the painter exclaimed, causing both Astarion and Tav to jump in surprise.

"Ah," Astarion croaked, voice cracking from the long silence, "Ahem, I take it you've finished?"

"Indeed I have, come around for a look."

Astarion hesitated for a moment before stepping off the platform. The time had finally arrived, he'd be able to see his portrait. His own face. He swept his gaze around the room at the other works, unable to deny how detailed and lifelike they all were. Would his picture convey the same sense of realism? Would it reflect how he truly looked? He was excited, anxious, and unsure as he approached the easel.

"I hope you captured my best side. You better have made me look good- " his breath caught in his throat as he came around the other side of the canvas.

Gods, there he was.

He'd almost forgotten, but there he was.

"Oh," he breathed, reaching a hand out to the painting at first, but catching himself before he could mar the wet surface. Instead, his hand found its way slowly to his face, fingertips lightly tracing his cheekbones and jawline as his eyes followed the same contours so beautifully captured in rich, expressive oils before him. The artist had truly outdone himself, soft brushstrokes composing every detail, from the angle of his eyebrows, to his coiffed hair, even the tinge of pink on the edges of his ears, all perfectly and faithfully rendered.

By this point, Tav had crept over from her seat to join the two men, her eyes locked onto Astarion's face, watching him carefully as he took in the sight of the painting. She noticed his eyebrows draw together, his mouth slightly open as he regarded his portrait. She rounded the easel, eager to see the finished piece, and she understood why he'd fallen so silent. It looked exactly like him, down to the last freckle.

Priceless.

Her heart clenched for him, a person who had not seen his own face in two centuries, who didn't remember enough about his appearance to know who others saw when they looked at him. She'd tried many times to imagine how difficult it must be to lose something so taken for granted, and the look in Astarion's eyes spoke volumes. She moved closer to him, shoulders almost touching, and he unconsciously took her hand in his as if he needed to be grounded by the contact.

"My love?" she whispered, squeezing his hand gently.

"Tav, do I...is this me?"

"Of course it's you, my friend!" Oskar broke in, completely unaware of the solemnity of the moment. "And I never embellish, striving to capture the most lifelike visage of my subject. I can't imagine this is any different than what you see in the mirror."

"Oh, believe me," Astarion managed to choke out with a sardonic laugh, "I haven't seen myself like this in ages."

Oskar sighed, nodding sagely, "Yes, well, sometimes it does take an artist's eye to highlight a subject's true beauty, sometimes beauty they themselves cannot see!"

"It's wonderful, Oskar," Tav said, trying to cut his speech short. "Will we be able to take it home today?"

"Well, no - it will need to dry, and then there's varnishing. But what you can do today is give it a name. Something to capture the spirit in which it was created." He looked expectantly at the pair, who in turn looked at each other.

After a pause, Astarion turned to Oskar. "You know, I think a straightforward title is best: Portrait of Astarion Ancunin."

---

He was standing in the foyer again, studying the painting in the glow of candlelight. Tav had spotted him there several times over the past few days, as the others undoubtedly also had, but no one bothered him apart from a few initial comments.

"Truly masterful, it looks exactly like you," Gale had remarked in awe, inspecting the work closely.

"Aw, pal, now you can see how handsome you are, just like the rest of us see you!" Karlach had beamed through her tears of joy.

"Minsc does not know much of art, but Minsc does know a good picture when he sees it. And this, my friend, is a very good picture. It is like there are two Astarions. Hm, but Boo makes a good point that Baldur's Gate probably cannot handle two Astarions," came the glowing review from their Rashemaar friend.

But now he stood in front of it alone, gazing at it with a contented expression. Tav made her way over to stand with the elf, linking her arm in his.

"I think I prefer the real thing," she quipped.

"Oh, shut up, can't you see I'm having a moment?" he countered playfully, but quickly sobered again. "Tav, is this really what I look like? It's the person you see?"

She scanned carefully over the portrait, looking for any flaw or embellishment that didn't match the face she knew so well by now. "It's...you, I don't know that you could get a more realistic representation than this. Although, he always looks quite well-kempt, even when you don't," she teased.

"Rude, I always look this handsome, how dare you imply otherwise?" he pouted, nudging her shoulder.

Tav laughed, "Sorry, sorry, you know I can't help myself. Seriously though, it's you, down to the creases where you smile and the way your hair curls around your ears."

"Yes, you've mentioned those before."

"They're some of the features I find most attractive about you. Well, physically, at least," she mused, laying her head on his shoulder.

"All of this," he gestured to himself with one hand, "and that's what you choose to admire?" his tone was incredulous, but lighthearted.

"They're what make you you, Astarion. I'm so glad Oskar painted you so well."

"Why don't we head to bed, and you can tell me everything else you find attractive, darling. I'm dying to know." He turned them both around and began leading Tav toward their room at a leisurely pace.

"Oh, my love, it's a very long list, it will take all night."

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #fanfiction #astarion x tav #i can't believe this game got me to write fanfic again #it's been 84 years #i love soft headcanons it's truly my calling #larian gave me crumbs and I made a meal #astarion

[jays-bookmarks]

Falling Leaves (Kazuha x gn!reader)

I woke up today and chose violence >:3c

This was inspired by some hcs I saw that said Kazuha would be too passive and conflict-averse to ever sit down and address the problems in your relationship so the tension would just build until it all falls apart and boy I was thinking about that all night,, so I had to write something about it lol

I might write a part 2 where you guys make up if people want to see it bc goodness knows I can't handle pure angst like this lmao

Summary: You love maple leaves, yet so many goodbyes seem to happen when they turn red. They say if you love someone, set them free... but why does it hurt so much? Words: 927 Warnings: angst w no comfort, Kazuha has attachment issues :(

Autumn was always your favorite season in Inazuma. With it came a break from summer's constant balmy air that always stuck your clothes to your skin, and the farmers' harvest that meant a huge variety of dishes for you to sample. Yet the most important change in autumn was the leaves of the maple trees that dotted the Inazuman landscape. There was something about this last burst of color before the trees shed their leaves for the winter that always left you in awe, and on more than one occasion you had to quickly apologize to someone you bumped into because you were too busy watching the trees.

In recent times, though, the autumn leaves reminded you of something else. Someone else, to be specific.

That someone was sitting next to you, his back leaning against the trunk of the maple tree the two of you were relaxing under. Every once in a while, a breeze rustled through the branches, blowing a few crimson leaves to the ground.

The two of you had spent many afternoons like this, simply enjoying each other's presence. Yet today, as with many days previously, you felt something had changed.

You shot a glance at your beloved. He was silent, a contemplative frown on his face. You had caught him wearing a similar expression on many occasions when he thought you weren't looking, and, after weeks of gentle prodding that got you nowhere, you were determined to get an answer out of him today.

You sighed, prompting Kazuha to look at you with a questioning hum.

"Kazuha, are you… okay?" You asked.

Kazuha smiled, leaning over to press a kiss to your forehead. "Of course. I'm with you, aren't I?"

You bit your lip. This was the same evasive answer he'd been giving you every other time you brought this up to him.

"That's sweet, Kazuha, but…" you paused. "You've been sort of… distant… lately, even when we're together."

"…I'm sorry, my love. It seems I've neglected you yet again."

"No, this isn't about— this is about you. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, love."

You sighed as silence fell over you both. You knew he was avoiding the question, but you decided that the issue had gone on unresolved for long enough, so you kept pressing.

"Is it because I asked you to spend more time with me?"

You hated considering the possibility, but you had to be sure either way. Kazuha stiffened beside you. Though it was only a brief pause before he spoke, it told you everything. After all, he wasn't very good at lying, especially not to you.

"Of course not, love. The time I spend with you is the most precious of them all."

Your chest tightened as you took a shaky breath. It's not like this was unexpected. You had felt the distance between you two growing by the day, but you deluded yourself into thinking that you could still bridge the gap. Maybe if you had said something earlier… reached a little harder… but... no, he was too far gone. You should've known better than to cling so tightly to such a free spirit. You were someone who craved stability and reliability, and this was something Kazuha simply couldn't grant you.

With that realization, you asked your final question.

"Am I… tying you down?"

Another pause. Kazuha let out a long sigh. "In truth…"

You drew in a breath, your hands clenching at the fabric of your shirt as you prepared to receive the blow of his words.

"No."

You looked up in shock, the tension deflating from your body as you met Kazuha's gentle gaze. He smiled, but the twinkle in his eyes you had grown to love was nowhere to be found.

You shook your head, pinching your eyes shut so you didn't have to see the pity in his gaze.

"Don't lie to make me feel better, Kazuha," you said. "If I'm really holding you back from being happy, then—"

You cut yourself off, unable to voice the thought that had surfaced in your mind. Tears began to roll down your cheeks, but no hand came to wipe them away.

"Then… is this goodbye?" Kazuha said, his voice soft but steady, just like it always was, betraying no hint of emotion.

"…it doesn't have to be."

You wanted to grab him by the hand and beg him to stay; you wanted to pull him into an embrace and hold him until he promised to be by your side forever; but most of all, you wanted him to smile again, properly, without that distant look in his eyes. So you kept your arms wrapped tight around yourself. They say if you love someone, set them free… but why did it hurt so much?

Kazuha pushed himself from the ground, the soft swish of fabric the only other sound besides your trembling breaths. Even the breeze had died down, as if the world itself was holding its breath to see what would happen next. Kazuha stood before you for a moment. You wished you could see what expression he wore, but you couldn't bring yourself to look up at him.

"I'm sorry I couldn't make you happy," he said. "Goodbye."

He turned and started down the path back to Ritou, his footsteps fading with your final shred of hope. You buried your head in the cocoon of your body and sobbed. So this was it. All the time you spent together, over with a single word.

Goodbye, Kazuha. I'm sorry I couldn't make you happy.

#kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha x gn reader #kazuha angst #genshin angst #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin x reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin scenarios #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x you #kazuha x you #genshin impact writing #genshin writing #genshin impact angst #kaedehara kazuha x you #my writing

[transfemzedaph]

82 + beef?

okay so this was supposed to be a small fight & kiss based around ough matilda was stolen etc etc (bc of this line I laughed when your dog died, It is cruel, but it's true, Take me back, kiss my soft side, Does he love me most now that his dog is toast, ooh? ) but it got out of hand so.

---

Keralis was, well he was infuriating, at least thats what Beef would say if you asked. Although, that wouldn't be the whole truth. The whole truth is that Beef had enjoyed Keralis as his neighbour! They'd know each other a long while, having similar friend groups, and they got along well, of course with some friendly teasing.

Then Keralis took his llama.

Yeah sure it was technically a legitimate purchase but its the principle of the thing more than anything. It became a friendly rivalry, a little bit of fun between the two of them! Until Keralis started encroaching on his land. Beef had worked hard! He'd made a wonderful holiday village for all his villagers to enjoy. And now there was a tank, on his beach.

"Keralis I swear if you try and tell me again that Carlos hasn't moved I'm ignoring you because he obviously has."

"My wonderful neighbor! What a pleasure to see you here!"

"Keralis."

"Okay! Okay! I get it! You're mad about this."

Beef scoffs slightly.

"Maybe a little more than just mad, thats fine, as I have the best solution!"

Keralis produces a handful of diamond blocks with a flourish, holding them out towards Beef.

Beef just stares, "Seriously? You think a few diamonds will solve this? Not a chance guy!"

Keralis pouts slightly but Beef just narrows his eyes at him.

"Ugh!" He pockets the diamonds before throwing his hands up into the air, "You are so dramatic mister, you should just let me have all this space hm, I'll use it better than you have."

Theres a smirk on his face as he speaks, nose upturned as he looks over the village and the lighthouse in the distance.

The punch to his face wipes the smirk off. The next punch splits his lip, before Beef yanks him close to his face, hissing out a, "Fuck you." followed by a headbutt which sends Keralis reeling backwards, his wrists hurt from the impact as he catches himself. Hes pretty sure his nose is bleeding now.

He looks up at Beef, now towering over him and thinks that honestly, hes never looked more attractive. The anger in his eyes contrasting with the way the sun behind him framing his head like a halo. Keralis thinks he would think of him as an angel either way. His own personal angel of death. He chuckles at that, and Keralis hadn't thought Beef could look any more angry but oh he truly could.

Keralis stares into the mans eyes and feels like a wounded cornered wild animal. The Butcher leering above him, ready to end his pitiful exsistance at any point. He thinks he would go willingly, if only to feel his hands on him again.

#original post tag #ask tag #writing tag #im. tempted to continue this. #beef/keralis

[narrativelysignificantturtleduck]

With all the talk recently about hakoda getting kind of sad about his kids growing up, how do you think he reacts when he finds out his kids are dating? I think he'd have mixed feelings about sokka dating zuko (not just for reasons he's dating up, that is the Fire Lord), and maybe even katara. Those are still his little kids in his head and now they're all grown up in committed relationships

the thing is i think hakoda acts like he's fine with it. because he is, generally. like his kids are teenagers and eventually adults, it's totally normal to date. he likes suki (and is vaguely positive on zuko) after the whole boiling rock escapade and i've said before i think he and aang are going to hit it off the moment they meet without a war on. the other guy i can see katara dating is haru (she's everything. he's just haru) and i'm sure they had a positive interaction when hakoda got sent to recruit them. tyro and hakoda are probably friends, or at least would be if they got more time to hang out. sacrificing yourself to protect your kid who's at risk bc of their bending? that sacrifice meaning that you've been away from them for a while? hakoda can relate.

so hakoda says all the right things and is super supportive and he is. but sometimes he'll see them get on a boat or a bison and kiss their partner and sail or fly off into the distance and he'll get that sinking feeling in his stomach, that they grew up without him and he missed everything and now they're adults who don't need him. and bato finds him staring at the horizon and puts his arm around him. "they'll come back," he says, and it means "they still love you, you're gonna be a part of their lives, just bc you missed a few years doesn't mean you've missed out on everything." and hakoda understands.

#ask #nina's personal log #hakoda