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The Lost Boys Masterlist

Rules: Read Before Requesting:)

Fluff-💖 Spice/Smut- ❤️‍🔥 Angst-🖤

(Other characters I write for masterlists linked at the end)

Fics and Blurbs:

Poly:

Stargazing with the Lost Boys Poly! Lost Boys x GN reader 💖

Cuddling with the Lost Boys Poly! Lost Boys x GN reader 💖

Shared Interests Poly! Lost Boys x Lesbian reader 💖

Vampires Everywhere Poly! Lost boys x GN Vampire reader 💖

Hot Vampires in Your Area Poly! Lost Boys x GN Vampire Reader ❤️‍🔥 (follow up to Vampires Everywhere)

Hot Vampires In Your Area Poly! Lost boys x GN Vampire Reader (Part 3 to Vampires Everywhere)❤️‍🔥

The Sun Rises Poly! Lost boys x Fem! depressed reader 💖🖤

Quali-tea Time Poly! Lost boys and Laddie 💖

Rev Your Engines Poly! Lost boys x Motorcycle Expert GN Reader 💖

Let’s Motor Poly! Lost boys x Motorcycle Expert GN Reader 💖 (Part 2 to Rev Your Engines)

Cult Classic Poly! Lost boys x GN reader that’s like Pelle from midsommer 🖤 (part 2)(upcoming)

Queer Eye with the Vampire Guys Poly! Lost boys x GN reader💖

Purrfect Night Poly! Boys x Male catlike reader💖

If You Give A Vampire A Cookie Poly! Boys x GN Reader who owns a bakery💖

Birthday Request Masterlist🎂💖

Paul:

Paul and Fishy Masterlist 💖

The Big Bad Wolf ❤️‍🔥 Paul x Fem! Reader

Sharing is Caring Paul x GN reader x Dwayne💖

Spellbound Paul x Trad Goth GN Reader💖

Fallen For You Paul x Fem Angel Reader🖤

Hungry Like The Wolf Paul x Fem Reader ❤️‍🔥 (Part 2 to The Big Bad Wolf)

Starry-Eyed Lovers Paul x GN reader 🖤💖

Sticky Fingers Paul x GN Reader 💖

Passenger Princess Paul x Fem Reader x Marko❤️‍🔥

Pinned Marko x GN reader x Paul❤️‍🔥

Bad Boy Dom Dwayne x Sub Paul❤️‍🔥

Every Breath You Take Yandere Paul x fem reader 🖤💖

Signed, Sealed, Delivered…I’m Yours Paul x GN Selkie Reader 💖 follow up blurb

Dwayne:

Use Your Words Dwayne x Male Reader ❤️‍🔥

Creature Comfort David x Dwayne centric 🖤💖

Everything Now David x Dwayne ❤️‍🔥 (Part 2 to C.C.)

Supersymmetry Dwayne x GN Reader x David ❤️‍🔥 (Part 3 to C.C.)

Sharing is Caring Paul x GN reader x Dwayne 💖

Lay Like This Forever Dwayne x Fem! Reader ❤️‍🔥💖

Bad Boy Dom Dwayne x Sub Paul❤️‍🔥

Each Night Before You Go To Bed Dwayne x GN Reader💖

Man of Your Midsummer Night’s Dreams Dwayne x GN Fae Reader💖 follow up blurb

Marko:

Passenger Princess Paul x Fem Reader x Marko❤️‍🔥

Pinned Marko x GN Reader x Paul❤️‍🔥

David:

Creature Comfort David x Dwayne centric 🖤💖

Everything Now David x Dwayne ❤️‍🔥 (part 2 to C.C.)

Supersymmetry Dwayne x GN Reader x David❤️‍🔥 (Part 3 to C.C.)

Male Manipulator 🖤 Modern Toxic David x GN reader

Love Marks Jealous! Toxic! David x GN Reader❤️‍🔥🖤

Style Icon David x Male Reader 🖤💖

Hand in Unloveable Hand Poly! Lost boy x Male Reader (David centric) 🖤

His Favorite Boy David x Transmasc reader💖

A Dragon’s Tail David x Male Dragon Reader💖

Michael:

Deep in the Heart of Texas Southern Michael x GN Reader fic ❤️‍🔥

Sunkissed Poolboy Michael x Fem Rich Reader ❤️‍🔥 (collab)

Star:

You Mystify Me Star x Banshee Fem Reader💖

Multi-Chapter Fics:

Fate Yields For No One Masterlist Poly! Lost boys x Max’s daughter reader

Headcanons:

TLB Headcanons Masterlist

Non-Lost Boys Fics:

Buffy The Vampire Slayer Masterlist

Stranger Things Masterlist

Tyler Masterlist (Thrashin)

Anakin Skywalker Masterlist (Star Wars)

And more to come!

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if youre cold, theyre cold. Let Them In.

[bubblegumfrosting]

i think sitting on an old, government tested, grumpy and or metal (infused) mans lap, would indeed fix me.

MEN ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ logan howlett, erik lehnsherr, bucky barnes <3

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Made by me 🎀

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NAVIGATION !

⋆˚࿔ angie 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 21, bi, mexican🇲🇽, she/they ✶⋆.˚

✧₊⁺⋆☾⋆.˚₊✩ Rules : Kinktober : Masterlist ✩��˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Recently added !

kate bishop miguel o'hara qimir

dp&w logan howlett wade wilson

Requests: open !

Inbox: open !

MINORS FUCK OFF PLS AND TY

© fairlyang 2024 — don’t copy, translate, or steal my work in any way or feed it to AI

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scribble - qimir

- i think qimir would be amazing at aftercare. i mean, the way he healed unconscious osha and caressed her thigh while looking down at her. when she attacked him, and his first instinct was to gently hold her hand. when he put the blanet over her. and don't think about how he probably carried her bridestyle into the cave, laid her on the bed, and made sure she was warm and comfortable.

don't think about how he'd probably be very skilful with his fingers and hands more than his dick. don't think about how's he's make you a warm bath in the middle of the cave after a rough round. don't imagine his hands running up and down your body, washing you gently. don't imagine him moving your hair so he could get your neck where he left his red markings when you were digging your nails into his back. don't imagine him being gentle for the first time while maintaining crazy eyecontact.

the foreplay would be even more insane. the teasing, the edging. imagine his stupid grin on his face, doing exactly what drives you crazy. the way he'd check you out from the other side of the cave when you'd walk in after a little swim. the way he'd accidentally brushed himself against you in a small tight place. the way he'd taste the soup on his fingers while maintaining eyecontact and teaching you about the dark side.

the way he'd let you push him against the wall or the ground just for you to feel the hotness radiating of of him. undressing on the shore knowing you're watching. lifting up his shirt to wipe the sweat on his forehead in front of you. lifting up his sleeves to show off his large forearms covered in scars.

don't think about the intense, panty dropping lustful eye contact. you'd be on your side of the cave, sharpening your knife, he on his. he'd stare into your soul, his eyes slowly dropping from your face to your collarbones to your waist, to your legs. you'd hiss at him, arguing with his opinions while he only focused on the way your body is turned towards him.

the way he'd tower over you when handing you something. the way he'd use his strength to pull you close, not breaking eye contact. or when you'd one day decide to join him in the water, undressing while he stares into your eyes, fighting the urge to look down. he's evil, but at least he's respectful. he's not.

in conclusion, he's a whore.

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"You know I can take whatever I want."

. . ༊*· . ✶ QIMIR

˙ᵕ˙ᰔᩚ series

☆ he turns me scarlet, part 1 - qimir decides to test your loyalty, playing with your mind, testing it, see how long it would take for you to break.

☆ paint me a heaven of love with your bloodied mouth - You were never confident about the retreat mission on Khofar, always fearing for your safety and that of your friends. Your worst nightmare comes true when a mysterious masked man kills your brother. Driven by grief and rage, you launch a desperate attack, which leaves you unconscious. You wake up, surprisingly unharmed, on the stranger's home island. Consumed by anger and a thirst for revenge, you set out to avenge your brother, only to uncover secrets you never imagined.

. . ༊*· . ✶

˙ᵕ˙ᰔᩚ one shots

smut

☆ lethal lust - porn without a plot

☆ here i blur into you - you've been stranded on an unknown island with your nemesis for weeks now, the air getting filled with unpalatable tension as you try to find a way to get away from him. one afternoon, the tension breaks as he offers his knowledge to help you train. ☆ programmed for pleasure - Your best friend Qimir always had your back, and that didn't change when the Jedi accused you of treachery. Without hesitation, Qimir helps you hide. After days of close quarters and constant danger, things get heated (5k+ wordcount)

smutty

☆ self destructive tendencies - A week has passed since the battle on Khofar and the startling reveal of your former friend. Qimir, the man behind the mask and the murderer of your comrades, took you to a remote island, far away from the Republic's surveillance, after you sustained severe injuries. You've been keeping your distance from him, trying to ignore your hidden feelings. Yet, when his thoughts merge with yours, the vow you made to yourself becomes almost impossible to keep.

comfort

☆ erotic melancholia - healing your wounds and sore muscles took longer than expected, so qimir decided to offer you his bathtub in the middle of his cave. along with some side offerings.

. . ༊*· . ✶

˙ᵕ˙ᰔᩚ scribbles/thoughts

☆ qimir thoughts

☆ qimir nswf hc

☆ cave fucking

. . ༊*· . ✶

˙ᵕ˙ᰔᩚ OSHMIR

☆ the intimacy of being understood

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cave fucking

SOFTQIMIR! who would prepare you a hot bath in the middle of his cave, surrounded with candles and dim light

SOFTQIMIR! who would press his chest against your back as his hands made their way below to water right between your legs, cirling and rubbing their way around. He'd tease you, edge you, just to hear you beg and whisper his name, your moans echoing throughout the cave.

SOFTQIMIR! his fingers scissoring inside of your cunt, spreading you and slowly preparing you for his cock. He'd rub your tits, your shoulders, and leave wet kisses on your neck down to your collarbones. He'd made sure you're perfectly comfortable before turning you around and slamming himself inside of you. And it didn't matter how many times he took you, it still left you gasping for air, as his cock stretched you out.

SOFTQIMIR! if you'd let him, he'd take you on the cold surface of the cave, his lips merging with yours as his hips thrusted into you. His fingers tangling on your hair, his sloppy kisses on your face, and the insane amount of eyecontact. He wouldn't let you look away, holding your head in place, forcing you to stare at him as he fucks you deeper and harder.

SOFTQIMIR! who'd braid your hair before placing your head between his thighs. He'd sweep away any hair strands that would only distract you from your mouth wrapped around his cock. Usually, he's the one giving, but after days of hearing you beg and moan for him to use your mouth as a cumsock he gave into the idea. He was gentle and tender, guiding your head, pushing it deeper with each movement. He'd finish hard around your tongue, his cum dripping down your chin.

SOFTQIMIR! who'd go down on you and devour you like you were his last meal every night. You're on your period? He's a Sith. He doesn't mind getting dirty. He'd hold your hands while his tongue would circle your clit, making you see the Force itself. The groaning and whimpering he'd moan into your cunt as you grab onto his hair.

SOFTQIMIR! who guides your hips as you ride him, his eyes never leaving you. He'd admire your face, overstimulated with ecstasy. His stare would drop on your tits, bouncing as you ride him hard, your cheeks slapping against his thighs.

SOFTQIMIR! who would take care of you and wash you thoroughly after having his way with you. He'd wash your hair and your skin with lavender soup. Caressing your arms as he hugs you from behind, watching you fall asleep in his arms.

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focus on me

✩‌ qimir x acolyte!reader | smut | fluff | 2.5k

SUMMARY | in which the tension finally breaks between you and your master when you train together one afternoon.

WARNINGS | smut, s*xual force choking, knee foreplay, finger sucking, f*ngering, dirty talk, piv s*x, unprotected s*x, violence (fighting and choking)

RATING | explicit

NOTES | i'm simply a girl who's fallen to the dark side for qimir!!! qimir's lowkey a softie in this, which might not be canon, but idc!!!

You stumble back with your palm soiled wet. 

Thankfully, you grounded the rest of your weight with your makeshift wooden staff. Panting, you drag yourself upward, readying yourself for what’s to come next. 

Sweat drips down your forehead as the sun begins to dip into the horizon beyond the abundance of trees and overgrowth, the heat felt by your exposed arms and through your thin sleeveless wrap top.

It's been more than two hours of training, but your master knows your limit. Pushes you until you break–and he knows you’re far from your breaking point. 

Perspiration also stains his forehead. Master Qimir wipes it away with the back of his hand, moving his hair aside too. 

Moments like these, you pride yourself in knowing his identity after years of him preserving his anonymity behind that intimidating, powerful mask. He’s gained followers over time since you've known him, but you’re his one and only acolyte. 

Your mind wanders further. Why does he choose to wear his mask in public when he can make nations fall to their knees just with a flash of his smirk? 

Said smirk is plastered on his face as he twirls his two batons between his fingers with ease. Beyond his smirk, there was also the ordeal of seeing his glistening, gorgeous arms every day and– 

Your master calls out your name playfully, “I hope you’re focusing on me.”

“You know I am, Master.” You’re not exactly lying. You inch closer, holding your staff firmly with both hands and pointing one end of it in his direction. 

He tsks and lets out of a deep chuckle. It always bothers you how his chuckles make your heart skip a beat, among the other things it does to the rest of your body.  

“You're focusing on things about me, Acolyte. Not on me directly, nor on my presence,”—he paces in a circle around you, with you tracking his every step—“If this was a real fight, you’d be dead.”

“Well, I can’t help it that my master can be so distracting!” you grit out, taking the opportunity to lunge towards him. 

Weapons clash. Loud echoes continually reverberate throughout the forest, along with your occasional grunts. 

Master Qimir’s style is aggressive and swift, always on the offense, so you’ve become accustomed to defend his moves well. He comes in with one baton towards your side, and the other towards your head. You deflect both smoothly, and without much thought, you decide to attack him. 

However, your confidence blinds you.

Too close. 

He elbows your arm and slams into your side, causing your staff to drop.  

Then, Qimir shoves you far with the Force, distancing you from your weapon, and gets close again to hook his foot around yours. Your back stings as you fall down. 

In the blink of an eye, he pins you down with both batons tightly pressed against your throat, cutting off your air supply. You struggle under him, trying your best to smack him away with your diminishing strength. 

“Breathe, think, and focus,” he calmly orders, despite the agonizing scene in front of him. 

You take a second to compose yourself, inhaling as much as you can for a second.

Suddenly, you feel his knee move up between your legs, spreading them.

And you feel him moving upwards again, but this time brushing against your core. 

Your sparring composure absolutely shatters–a gasp and small moan release, and you’re back to struggling once more. 

You assume it was a mistake, but you’re relishing in the pleasure nevertheless, even in your current state of distress. 

“Focus, my acolyte,” Master Qimir barks, and he presses the batons harder into you. “Focus!” 

Your vision begins to blur alongside the increasing pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. Gathering all your might and wanting to avoid disappointing Qimir, you breathe as much as you can and drown out everything to focus on how to get out of the situation. 

With a sliver of consciousness left, you will yourself to use the Force and seize your staff. Your fingers clutch around it and you thwack Qimir hard on the head, disorienting him for a moment. Without hesitation, throughout your excessive gasping, you skillfully maneuver yourself to switch positions. 

Now, your staff is pressed against his throat. 

“Is this better, Master?” you pant and cough with a grin, basking in your success. “Am I focused now?” 

He grants a brief nod, but you notice an unusual look in his eyes. 

It reads as a rare time he’s overly impressed, but there’s something else. 

Qimir raises his hand and gently curls it around yours, wordlessly asking you to lower your weapon. You ruffle your eyebrows, unsure why he’s letting down his guard against you during training.

“Master Qimir,” you whisper, still holding your staff to the side with a relaxed but guarded grip, “is this another test of yours?”  

He shakes his head, his touch now carefully grazing your forehead and cheeks. Your staff rolls away as your eyes flutter, savoring this foreign feeling from him–tenderness, affection, warmth. A hand softly cups your face. 

“Training’s over for today.” 

The warmth fades into familiar roughness with a sharp pull by the back of your neck downwards. 

His mouth drives into yours, each kiss igniting fire within you, sparking every inch of your body. Desire is bursting at the seams. He kneads your neck and body intently, mirroring you as you clutch onto his face and sturdy frame. 

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you had never fantasized kissing Qimir before, but this is everything you dreamed of and better.  

“Master–” you gasp sharply at the sensation of him pressing his knee up against you again. Reflexively, you writhe as your body screams for more. 

“You like this a lot…” His tone drips of arrogance. Further pressure is added and he happily inhales your moans between his teasing chuckles.   

You manage to muster the following amidst the rising pleasure, “So it was intentional before.”

“Of course.” His words are muffled as he leaves open-mouthed kisses upon the side of your neck. Your fingers dig further into his shoulder and scalp as he cups your breast. “You need to learn to push aside your desires when training.” 

“Should we stop then?” The neck kissing sears you, especially when he tugs skin between his teeth to bite and suck. “To teach me a lesson?” 

He shakes his head and removes himself from your neck, coming back up to drag your lower lip between his teeth. 

“It doesn’t mean I want to push aside my desires.” 

You catch a fleeting glimpse of his signature smirk before his lips are on yours again. Kisses become more electric as he dips his tongue into your mouth.

Hands fly erratically and grasp everywhere. His arms. Your ass. Fingers running beneath his top, feeling up his abs. His harsh grips of your thighs. 

Unexpectedly, he holds you close and flips you over; you’re back on top of him again and you can surely feel his prominent desire against yours. 

In a rush, you bunch up his thin shirt and attempt to pull it off him. He sits up with you in his lap and, with a fluid flick of his wrist, he rids you of your clothes and they are tossed to one side; his follow suit. Qimir promptly draws his nearby robes closer to be placed underneath you both, covering yourselves from the soiled forest. 

The look in his eyes is unmistakably lust-filled, completely insatiable. He wastes no time in taking your tit into his mouth, tongue flicking and lips puckering, while one hand holds you by your back and the other dips two fingers into your desire, wet and ready for him. 

You arch into him, leaning your head back and letting yourself go. Wanting to reciprocate, you reach out to stroke his cock. Relishing in the pleasure, he draws back his head, eyes closed, and leans his forehead against your chest.

The forest may be filled with the rustling of the wind against the trees and the odd bird cawing, but all you can focus on is Qimir’s throaty groans and every obscene squelch when he slides his fingers in and out of you. 

He glances up and attempts to open his eyes as much as he can to give you his full attention, despite the heavenly strokes you’re giving him. 

Eyes shine back at you with the utmost vulnerability–a sight you never see. A sight that you want to etch into your memory forever, knowing you, his Acolyte, could make your Master weak and let his guard down with just your touch. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve held myself back…”

The vulnerability dissipates as he darts his tongue against your untouched nipple. 

“...wanting to see you like this for me.” 

You two become one for a while as he plays with you like a toy he just received as a gift. He tries you out, sees what you like and what you can handle. How sensitive you are with your breasts. How many fingers you can take. How much noise you make when he thumbs your clit. 

At one point, he eventually removes his fingers from you, evidently drenched from your bliss. He holds out his fingers in front of you, and you realize what he’s suggesting.   

Obediently, like you always are with him, you open your mouth and let his fingers lay on your tongue. You wrap your mouth around them, and finally let yourself suck on them a bit, tasting yourself and treating his fingers as if it were his cock. 

When you finish, to your surprise, he sticks his fingers into his own mouth, sucking off the remnants of you. He then kisses you deeply. Tasting yourself in his mouth excites you, riles you up again and back to wanting the next step with Qimir. 

As if reading your mind, he adjusts himself to lay back down vertically, and takes you by your wrist to lead you to sit onto him. 

You hold his possession against you between your legs, teasing his tip by not quite sitting onto him fully, indulging in your control over him. However, at this point, Qimir lacks patience, so he grasps you by your waist and forces you to ease onto his length.  

The guttural moan you release could easily be heard at all ends of the forest. 

He fills you deliciously, stretches you in the sweetest way possible. Using the strength of your thighs and your hands to keep you steady, you bounce at a comfortable pace, not wanting this to end just yet.

When you find a good position to balance your weight, you allow yourself to stroke his perfect body. His chiseled abs. The solid planes of his chest. His strong forearms. The sharp jawline that you dream of kissing almost every night.

“You take my cock so well.” 

A more familiar look flashes through his eyes, one that you normally see him flash prior to slaying Jedi or when he's in a bad mood. It’s drenched with darkness and dominance, almost bordering on fury.   

You freeze, and then you feel it.

The constriction around your throat, created by the Force. He can easily kill you within seconds. He's done this only once to you, and that was when he was testing your loyalty to him years ago.

But this is different. Different than that time, and most definitely different than before with his batons. This is more controlled; the hold is mostly against the sides of your windpipe and it isn't overtly harsh. 

On top of that, your entire body is on fire, becoming wound up by this act.  

“Do you enjoy this?” he asks, tone teetering between curiosity and being threatening.

“Yes,” you mentally scream.

“I want to hear you say it.” 

“Yes,” you manage to croak. 

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Master.” 

“Nu-uh,” he says. “Say my name, my beautiful acolyte.”

You're too distracted to be caught up in the fact that he called you beautiful. Instinctively, you want to ride this new sensation to lead you to another high. But you know that if you don’t reply, he might not let you get there. 

“Yes, Qimir.”

His signature smirk takes up his whole face and your pussy clenches tighter at the sight of it. He may have the upper hand with his strength around your neck, but so do you when you notice the flickering of his eyes.

“And how does my cock feel?” He tightens a little more around your throat, and you're affected further. Qimir's collectedness can only take much longer too.

“Feels good, feels so fucking good…” 

Intoxication rises from your abdomen and to all ends of your body. Your eyes begin to roll, and you're so close— 

And it's gone. The tightness on your throat stops, and so is your near-high.

You're about to complain, but Qimir quickly hauls you in close to his body. Face to face, forehead to forehead, your breaths fan one another.

“Before I let either of us finish, I want to hear you say my name as you come on my cock.”

That smirk will be the absolute death of you, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

“Can you do that for me?” 

You nod breathlessly.

Your master holds you by your waist and immediately thrusts over and over, deep and fast into you. Desperate to reach his climax, and to ensure you get to yours too.

“QimirQimirQimir–” 

And so you unravel, voice rising with every iteration. Saying his name like you’re praying for forgiveness from all ends of the universe. 

Qimir then brings his mouth to yours once more, swallowing all your pretty whimpers and allowing himself to chase his own release moments later. 

Laying on his bare chest, you glance up at him and wonder how the relationship between you will be from now on.

You couldn’t just go back to what you were before; you would now be a master and acolyte intertwined sexually at least, romantically at most. Would it not be complicated? 

But of course, Master Qimir can hear what’s going on in your mind, and he doesn’t even need the Force to do so. Being his enigmatic self, he merely answers your thoughts by speaking the Sith Code: 

“‘Peace is a lie. There is only passion…’” 

He meets your eyes, strokes your face with a small smile. Affection blooms in your chest.

“‘Through passion, I gain strength.’” 

Holds your hand against his beating chest. 

“‘Through strength, I gain power.’” 

His grip tightens. 

“‘Through power, I gain victory. And through victory, my chains are broken.’” 

Qimir leans in and kisses you deeply as the darkness of the night sky engulfs you, the sun saying its goodbye for the night.

And with that, you realize that no matter what will happen from here on out, he’ll always care for you. 

That despite all the blood, sweat, and tears shed through training, stealing, and all the killing, he’s just as loyal and devoted to you as you are to him.

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(via Pinterest)

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Bubblegumfrosting’s Masterlist:

(some of these are from awhile ago and will be marked as “old writing”)

Imagines:

Stranger Things:

“Complete Opposites” Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (fluff) (old writing)

Oneshots:

Stranger Things:

“Cherries and Vanilla” Chrissy Cunningham x Fem!Reader (fluff) (slight tw) (old writing)

“Trouble At The Gun Store” Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (hurt/comfort) (tw) (old writing)

“Not Alone” Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader (hurt/comfort) (tw) (old writing)

Supernatural

“Like A Sister” Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader (hurt/comfort) (old writing)

Series:

Supernatural

“Hunted” Dean Winchester x Fem!Vampire!Reader 4 Chapters (hurt/comfort) (tw) (old writing)

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Ledger!Joker/Jack Napier Masterlist

Main Masterlist

• Unless specified, all writings are character x gn!reader (gender-neutral).

• NSFW/Smut writings will be tagged (18+). Minors, please DNI.

• Have an idea for a fic you’d like me to write? Send me a request here. But first, make sure to read my Request Info!

• If you’d like to join the tag list for L!Joker/Jack Napier, or be tagged in all of my future writings, let me know by sending me an ask/message!

*Masterlist Created: 8/8/23

*Last Updated: 8/8/23

◇●○◆○●◇●○◆○●◇●○◆○●◇●○◆○●◇●○◆○●◇●○◆○●◇●○◆○●◇●◇

Ledger!Joker/Jack Napier

F=fluff, A=angst, (18+)=smut/nsfw

One Shots:

Broken Pieces (F, A)

‣Summary: You’re burnt-out and overwhelmed and you’ve finally hit a wall. Now, all you can seem to do is fall apart. Good thing you have a special clown who knows just how to put you back together!

Try (A)

‣Summary: J finally comes face-to-face with the pain you’ve been carrying alone all this time and tries to help you bear the weight of it. (TW: SH)

Series:

Prompts:

Headcanons:

Getting Ready With J (F)

Drabbles:

J Needs You to Need Him (F)

[bubblegumfrosting]

oh season 3 bell...

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In the Mountains Shadow

summary: in which he comforts you.

tags: panic attacks. ptsd. hurt/comfort.

w/c: 1.1k.

a/n: no one will ever convince me that the 100 delinquents that were sent the earth, and the subsequent 48 of them that survived mount weather don't have serious ptsd. none of them are okay.

In the late afternoon hours, there was no peace to be found—not for her.

The feeling had come from nowhere, starting so small that she hadn't even noticed it before it crashed against the shore of her emotions, where it shattered into a thousand pieces, and infected her blood. If she could, she'd pull the blood from her veins to stop the feeling.

She was breathing in shallow gasps as she stared at that mountain of death—its shadow looming over her, blocking out the sun until she felt swallowed by darkness. She clutched the handle of the rover to ground herself; her fingers wound so tightly around it that they ached; and her legs wobbled and threatened to give out.

It was getting harder to breathe. It felt like someone had punched her in the chest, grabbed her heart, and squeezed the air from her lungs. Why had she agreed to come back? She never wanted to see this place again, not after...

She gasped loudly and suddenly.

The memories assaulted her all at once, without warning or mercy. The humming of the drill replayed in her ears, a haunting melody that accompanied her torment. Pain scored through her limbs, radiating from the scars on her thighs. Screams echoed around her—Raven's, Abby's, and her own. She could hear Marcus begging and pleading with Cage to stop, insisting that they would donate their bone marrow.

Her stomach twisted into knots, threatening to bring her breakfast up and dump it on the ground right there beside the rover. Waterfall tears fell from her eyes, streaking down her cheeks, leaving her vision blurred. Her body shuddered as a sob welled up in her chest.

"Bellamy..."

Her voice was impossibly soft, so full of fear as the memories of her time inside the mountain continued their relentless assault. She reached out blindly for him, needing something real and warm to hold onto—someone to ground her in the storm that was threatening to undo her. "I don't think I can do this."

She hated this place; no, that was too kind of a word. She loathed this place with every fibre of her being and with every beat of her broken heart.

The mountain was filled with so much needless death—not only the mountain men and grounders but their own as well. Another sob spewed from her trembling lips—the sound gut-wrenching, cutting the dark-haired man to the core—as she remembered being trapped on level five while guards took her friends one by one. They had fought. They had screamed. They had run. None of it mattered in the end.

She remembered Fox's face when they'd found her after everything had been said and done. The blank look in her eyes, the blood dripping from her mouth, the expression etched upon her features, forever frozen in time.

"Oh god."

And then he was there.

Strong hands grabbed her shoulders and dragged her into the shelter of his body, where she buried her face against his chest, hiding from the world just as she'd done when he found her wandering the halls of the mountain. He felt her ball his shirt in her trembling hands, the material being pulled taunt across his back as her tears soaked the front. Bellamy held her tightly as the tears shuddered through her body. He wanted to cry with her, to break down and be weak, but he couldn't.

They had all been broken by the mountain, left tired and scared, but he couldn't break down. He had to be strong when the delinquents couldn't be; he'd bear it so that they didn't have to.

PTSD ran wild through the survivors of the one hundred, all forty-eight of them, and no amount of talking or time would help. Sure, their wounds would heal and scar, but the psychological trauma—the torment—would remain with them every day until they died. None of them would be okay again.

"She doesn't have to go," Bellamy said, his voice gentle as he patted her head, running his fingers through her hair in a soothing gesture. She didn't have to do this, and he wouldn't make her; he wouldn't let anyone make her.

There was a very strong loyalty that Bellamy felt for the delinquents in particular. He had a great deal to make up for, and going into Mount Weather to save them barely covered it. He would go in again, alone; he could find the things that would make their lives on post-apocalyptic-and-current-apocalyptic earth more comfortable.

Her breath was wild and erratic, impossible to catch. Inside, her lungs were burning, desperate for air, as she sobbed and hyperventilated against his chest. She clung to him without shame, her arms wrapped around his torso. He was the only thing that kept her grounded when the trauma threatened to consume her. "I can't, Bell, I can't." She repeated the words, babbling mindlessly.

She remembered how peaceful the mountain had seemed and how utterly perfect it was—a paradise found in a world trying to destroy them. She had loved being inside Mount Weather. All the history at her fingertips, real food, a soft bed, and books!

There had been so many books.

It was home.

Until Clarke pointed out the flaws and inconsistencies, and then the bubble burst. The mountain men's secrecy had come to light, and the superficial charm of Cage Wallace had peeled away like a snake's skin. She remembered Clarke escaping and how hopeless she'd felt while still trapped inside. But most of all, she remembered the feeling of the cuffs around her wrists and ankles—how her skin had been rubbed raw, cut open, and her bones drilled into.

She had been left devastated. Even the whirring of a power tool at Camp Jaha would send her into a panic. There was no concern that she was appearing weak in front of Bellamy. There was only a fear that she might not escape the mountain alive this time.

Bellamy waved for the others to go on ahead, ignoring their concerned stares. When one of them took a tentative step forward, his arms tightened around her, iron bands of muscle pressing her into his body. Above her, he shook his head, silently telling them not to look or touch.

He knew her; he saw her.

And he knew that comfort from anyone else, especially one of the adults that had been responsible for sending one hundred children to earth, would only break the little resolve she was holding onto. So Bellamy held her as she cried; he let her bury her face against his chest and hide from the world. And when her legs gave out, he went to the ground with her, and he held her still.

"I promise you're not alone," he whispered, his lips pressed against the crown of her head, his own heart breaking. He pulled her closer, held her tighter. "You'll never be alone again."

[bubblegumfrosting]

they are best friends your honor