#(which I have done before. when I was living near the city and came down every weekend)

[ihrthoney]

no grave can hold my body down

pairings: arkham knight!jason todd x f!reader

warnings: fluff, angst, a lil bit of suicidal thoughts but nothing too major

word count: 1.8k

an: this is a more detailed version of this post! please request jason todd fic ideas pls pls pls. sorry if theres any mistakes it’s almost midnight lol

Almost two years had passed since Bruce Wayne came to your door and revealed who he was. Nearly 730 days since your boyfriend "died". Gotham was a city full of awful crimes and even worse people but you've never hated anyone like you hated Batman.

You can understand that he tried, the guilt he must feel probably consumes him and a sick part of you is glad. Not only was your boyfriend killed, with video evidence might you add, but his body was never recovered.

Jason would hate it if you saw the video of the Joker killing him but you needed to know. It was all for naught though, you never buried a body so your brain fully believes he isn't dead.

Whether or not it was the grief of having the love of your life ripped away from you or the feeling in your gut, you know Jason isn't dead. Until there is a body in front of you, you will do anything that you can to find him.

-

It started with swallowing your pride and asking the person you loathed for help.

Bruce obviously refused, he wanted to avoid another young person's death. You caught him by surprise with how you begged for his help, he fully expected you to be mad at him, to threaten him for answers. But no, instead you got on your hands and knees and begged him for help, which somehow made it worse.

For weeks you kept reaching out to him, asking him for any clues or hints, anything at all! He has all the resources a person could ever need, he's known as the greatest detective in the world but he can't find his son?

"I've told you, Jason is... Jason is dead. You saw the video. Get out of Gotham and move on, there is nothing more I can do for you." You didn’t stop there though.

You knew of Nightwing, that he was the robin before Jason. So you reached out to him when he was on patrol. Unlike Bruce, you actually felt bad for asking for help, especially since he was working and was grieving himself.

Even through the domino mask, his face scrunched in sympathy, and as gently as he could he told you he couldn't consciously help you. He couldn't let a civilian rope themself into business they wouldn't be able to walk out of.

Understanding of his reasoning, you started going against the law. You started to sneak into offices at different police stations in Gotham (they were sloppier than you could've ever thought, no wonder people love Batman).

Given Jason's at the time profession, he taught you how to defend yourself. There was never a time you didn't carry a knife on you, but you always left your gun at home. Living in Gotham, it was best to take all and every necessary safety precautions.

Using the very low-level skills you had, you searched places that were abandoned and discarded, anywhere that Joker was ever near in the past few years. A part of you knew that what you were doing was dangerous, that if Batman had found anything he would've done so already.

But you couldn't just go to work and pretend your boyfriend wasn't out there somewhere, alive or not you had to be absolutely sure. If you died trying then so be it, it's better than living in the reality of Jason not coming home.

-

A year went by, 365 days of feeling your sanity drain out of your body. You've been caught a few times by the police for trespassing and once by Batman himself who scolded and lectured you about your activities. He was livid, upset at you willingly putting yourself in danger. You were at a higher risk of dying than he was and yet you go out in nothing but black clothes and a few weapons. He's genuinely shocked you're still alive.

After Bruce catches you, he makes sure to keep tabs on you which prevents you from going out. Even if he's busy, if he sees your tag too far out he will drag you back to your place.

There's a part of you that wants to give up, to actually take his advice and move away. But you know deep down inside nothing will put out the fire of finding Jason. Even if you moved to a different country, you know you would still look for his hair, to listen for his voice in the crowd.

Months of gaslighting yourself that he'll knock on your door and say it's just one big prank, that he was on a big mission far away and couldn't tell you to keep you safe.

Millions of excuses rolled around in your head day and night, work was a blur. Bruce even tried to compensate by offering to pay for your rent, to help you seek medical help like a therapist. You know it would do you good to rest but the guilt of leaving Jason behind was too strong. He's been through so much in his life, you wouldn't dare abandon him.

You still stayed in the apartment you were looking at with Jason, "a safehouse" he called it, you weren't even 18 at the time but you both allowed yourselves to think ahead.

Every piece of furniture you bought it with him in mind, "This would be convenient for him to hide his gear," "He likes this color, plus the blanket is soft so it'll help him sleep." Jason consumed you, call it unhealthy but he was your night in this dark city.

There was a spare bedroom, you were going to originally use it as an office/workspace but instead, it's covered in all the papers you've stolen to find him. The floor, walls and even the door were covered, overlapped, and written on with any possible clue you could've stumbled upon. It's been months since you've been able to add something that wasn't already on there. So instead, you sat in the room and just stared at it, cried, ripped things down, and put them back up with tears streaming down your face. It didn’t help that you would hear Jason’s voice soothing you whenever you cried, reassuring you whenever you were down. You knew it was your subconscious trying to console you but you liked to believe he was really there.

Then there were the hallucinations, they started back when you stumbled upon a hostage situation in an old arcade at the end of Gotham, you swear it was Jason but when the guy looked up at you all you saw was a stranger. You were stuck in the police station for hours, yelled at for stupidly interfering in a dangerous situation. The cops looked at you with annoyance now, you were nothing more than a crazy love-sick girl.

-

Lately, work has been exhausting, learning there was a new robin made your stomach swirl. It was like Batman just moved on, how is that fair? How could he move on while you were stuck chasing dead ends? Why couldn't you just accept his death?

Instead of eating dinner, you let yourself boil in whatever hot water Gotham could provide and scrubbed layers of guilt off of your skin. You put on an old shirt of his, which was horribly faded by how much you wore and washed it then curled up in bed; The bed was too big but you didn't want a smaller one in case he came back.

Usually, you triple check that your windows and doors are bolted shut but for tonight you just trusted your brain. Sometimes, it felt like it would be easier if you didn't wake up anymore, at least when you closed your eyes you could see the Jason you knew and loved.

Tonight was one of those nights where sleep was in and out, so when you felt a hand push back some hair behind your ear, you grabbed the knife under your pillow and lunged forward though there were no sounds of anyone in pain, in fact you heard the knife hit the floor.

"You have to be faster than that, sweetheart."

That voice. You would know that voice anywhere.

You blink your eyes open, slowly revealing the man you love in front of you. Except, he wasn't in front of you. This wasn't the first time he's appeared in front of you, it broke your heart all the same.

The exhaustion creeped up your throat and tears started to slip down your face, "No don't cry baby, it's okay." 'Jason' attempted to reach his hand toward you but you shook your head, backing into the corner of the bed,

"This isn't real. Go away, please. Not tonight."

The ache Jason felt in his chest at the sound of your distress hurt him in a way he's never yet experienced. His poor girl crying, thinking he wasn't real.

"I'm real baby, I promise." He calmly approaches you, kneeling on the bed, a hand reaches out towards you again,

Your head was buried on your knees as you hugged yourself into a ball, "You're not! I haven't found you! This can't be real!"

"Please look at me sweetheart."

You noticed his voice sounded different, deeper, more matured. It caused you to slowly look up, "There you are."

That's when you see him. The scars, the tired look in his eyes, the rage he's hiding behind it; There’s a difference in color in his eyes but they're beautiful all the same. They still look at you with love.

None of your hallucinations were this detailed, to be honest you couldn't imagine what he would look like after the years have passed. So to see this, you knew it was real. (Or some villain was damn good at illusions.)

He was caught off guard as you hugged him tight, he had to swallow down the feeling to pull you off. You were the exception to everything, so for now he could stomach the feeling of being held in place because he (is trying to convince himself) knows it's out of love.

You sobbed in his chest, apologizing over and over and over again, "It's okay baby, take deep breaths please."

Again, you started to shake your head, "It's not okay, I should have found you. I tried to find you, I'm so sorry!"

"I saw the room baby, I know you tried but that wasn't your responsibility." He tried to reason with you, doing what he could to calm you down. It's been years since he's seen you, years since he's dealt with anything normal, his mind is all over the place.

"Don't say that, I love you Jace. I would rather die than stop looking."

Jason tensed at the phrase, after everything it's hard to believe you, to believe any of this but he wanted to see you. He had to.

A hand found its way in your hair, holding you close to his chest, "You did good honey, thank you for trying."

Lifting your head from his chest, you looked into his eyes, "I would do anything for you, I need you to know that."

He can only offer a small smile, he knows you did and there's a small piece of his heart that can rest knowing you didn't forget him, that you still loved him.

He hopes he can learn to love you again, too.

part 2? lmk down below :)

© ihrthoney. reblogs & feedback are greatly appreciated𑁤

[waugh-bao]

A Day in NYC (2023)

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Matchmaker Merle

Warnings: slight drug use, mentions of Lori, Daryl is a virgin, Shane being Shane, No use of Y/N, unprotected sex

Summary: Merle tries to get Daryl laid with an old family friend. Apparently, Merle is a master matchmaker? Buildup to smut. 

Notes: Sorry for having the buildup so slow, I'm really bad at porn without at least a LITTLE plot lmao

You were allowed a little leeway your first day at camp. Glenn had found you, confused and lost, covered in dirt and blood after the bombs had gone off and separated you from your friends and family. You were on the highway, like everyone else, but as soon as they saw the city being lit up, all hell broke loose. They started acting like animals. Running and screaming, looting. The dead coming back to life didn't help much either. 

On your second day, you were expected to start pitching in. You didn't mind helping, it was the way Shane approached you that rubbed you the wrong way. You offered to help hunt, fish, and go out looking for supplies, but he just laughed at you. He laughed like you were a child asking for a gun. He handed you a brush and sat you down beside Carol, who was washing clothes at the bottom of the quarry. 

You found comfort in familiarity. Which came in the form of something extremely unexpected, Merle Dixon. Maybe it was because you'd seen each other a few times at the corner store back near where you lived, maybe it was the fact he had respect for your folks, but when you were taken back to camp he didn't treat you the way he treated the other women. 

He wasn't respectful or chivalrous by any means, but he didn't treat you like a piece of meat. He didn't constantly try to get in your pants or speak to you in that slimy demeaning way he had with Andrea or Amy. You were grateful for it, even if you did catch him staring at your ass more than once, because he was the one thing that made you feel a little more at home with the group.

You'd never met his brother before. You'd seen him once, at the small mechanic shop near the corner store you'd occasionally see Merle in. Rednecks were anything but rare where you grew up, but something about Daryl felt different. He was quieter, more of Merle's shadow than his own person. But you knew just by looking at him that he was anything but somebody's shadow.

He saw you on your second day, after you'd done your morning “chores” and went to sit next to the campfire. He was carving something, maybe a bolt for his crossbow, and he barely looked up when you sat down across from him. 

Daryl looked up again, a spark of recognition in his eyes. His voice, strong and firm, called your name as if it was a question. 

“Yes?” You could see the exact moment the realization clicked that he did in fact remember you.

He didn't know much about you at all. He knew Merle knew your folks, and you lived pretty close, but he'd never actually spoken to you before. 

He did like to watch you, though, you'd always go into the corner store next to the mechanic shop and buy a coke and a bag of chips at lunch. He thought you were the prettiest woman he'd ever seen. Merle had a different set of words he'd prefer to use for you, but Daryl thought they felt too nasty. You weren't white trash, you were pretty, out of place, and the words ‘hot piece of ass' just didn't fit you. 

“Shit. Didn't think it was you when they said your name yesterday.” His fingers absentmindedly rubbed the length of his stick, looking over you a few times as he tongued the inside of his cheek in thought. “Huh. You seen Merle yet?” 

“Yeah, I got here yesterday morning.” You answered, the day before Daryl had been gone most of the day hunting. By the time he got back you were already in your new tent, something that Glenn had made sure to pick up when he brought you back to his group. 

“What happened? Your folks alright?” He asked, knowing it was strange for you to be here without your family and friends. 

“I have no idea. Don't remember much. We were real close to the city when the bombs went off, all I remember is fire and screaming and I woke up in the back of a gas station.” 

He nodded again, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he listened. 

Daryl wanted to stay with you, talk for a while, having a familiar face made him feel like less of an outsider. But from the corner of his eye he saw Shane with his hands on his hips in that stupid pose he liked to do when he was about to give someone  attitude. Daryl looked back to you and gathered his crossbow and bolts, muttering a quick excuse about needing to go hunt and that he'd see you around. He couldn't stand Shane, he'd only known him for a few weeks, give or take, and he was doing everything he could to avoid the wife fucker. 

Shane gave you a talking to that evening, warning you about the “backwoods rednecks”, even though you knew it wasn't out of the kindness of his heart. It was just another way to control the people in his camp, something he got off on doing. He didn't trust either of the Dixon brothers, that was for certain, but going out of his way to ‘warn’ you? It took everything in you to just nod and say okay. 

“When you gonna tap that, baby brother?” Merle's voice and the way he said it made Daryl cringe. He needed to do a better job about not staring at you so blatantly. 

“Not my type.” Daryl lied through his teeth, picking another strip of stringy squirrel meat from the stick he'd used to roast it over the fire. 

The Dixon brothers usually had a smaller, separate fire away from the main groups. It was mostly Merle's idea, he'd tell Daryl ‘they're not like us, keep your distance, we're just redneck trash to them.’. Not that Daryl gave a shit. He mostly thought the same anyways. 

You were at the group fire, sitting beside Andrea and Amy, who were busy chattering about how they wished they could catch some fish instead of surviving off tree rats and canned peas. You didn't mind it, even though you preferred larger game, meat was meat. You ate your squirrel like it was a gourmet dinner, something Daryl took note of.

“Not your type? Hah! That's bullshit and we both know it. She's everybody's type, boy, you better get on that before someone else does.”

Daryl wasn't sure who Merle was referring to. Glenn could barely speak to women, T-Dog was far too respectful, Shane was so far up Lori’s ass he had shit in his ears. (That's so gross I'm so sorry) 

The sound of harsh sniffing had Daryl looking away from you and back to his brother. He wiped the white residue from his nose and offered Daryl his large knife, containing another line. 

“Nah. I'm good.” Daryl waved him off, not feeling like being on uppers around all these people. Made his temper even shorter than it already was. “Careful with that shit, if Shane sees-”

“He ain't gonna do shit about it. I'd like to see him say somethin’.” The fact Merle was always looking for an excuse to butt heads had Daryl on edge. “Take it, and go take her off in the woods before I do.” 

It never took too much demanding from Merle before Daryl would give in. It was a fatal flaw in his character. He looked up to him and whatever he said went, even when he didn't really want to. So he took the coke and worked up the nerves to talk to you. 

You'd just finished washing everyone's stupid dirty dishes and went into the woods to piss when you saw Daryl again. You gasped as you walked around the tree you'd used for cover and saw him walking through the treeline, worried he'd seen you. But he was too focused on his steps, and that put you at ease. 

You walked up the half-assed trail to meet him, not feeling like chatting next to your pee puddle. 

“Hey, you going hunting?” You asked, slipping your hands in your shorts pockets. 

He shook his head as he reached you, snatching a stray stick out of his hair. “Goin’ down to some of the old shops down the road. Tired of all these canned peas. You comin’?”

You eagerly nodded, happy to be away from the group. They were nice enough, but since you normally hung around Merle, they treated you as someone they didn't fully trust. Especially Lori, Shane and Dale. The amount of times you caught Lori staring daggers into you every time you were within ten feet of Carl was starting to drive you insane. 

“Been wanting to get out and do something for days. Can't fucking stand Shane's micromanaging.” You said as you walked, wishing you would've known you'd be going on an impromptu supply run. You only had your knife, you'd prefer to have your Ruger your father had given you. It was in the RV, where Shane had taken it to ‘clean’. You were more than suspicious that he just didn't want you carrying a gun around camp. 

Daryl snorted. “Yeah. Can't stand that asshole. What kinda man-” He stopped himself, shaking his head. 

“What?” You looked over at him, careful not to trip on the multiple storm blown  branches from the larger trees. 

“Nothin’. Just don't like ‘em.” 

You were silent for a few minutes as you thought of something to say. You know, in apocalypse type situations, you mainly think about securing your next meal, how to not get killed in your sleep, how to protect your friends and family. But here you were, trying to think of what to say to a man you were steadily growing attracted to. You always thought he was cute before this, but seeing how capable he was, how he was so sure of himself, it was a side to him you didn't expect. It was like he was one of those people always secretly hoping for an excuse to go live in the woods and live in anarchy. 

“How attached are you to this group?” He asked, catching you off guard. 

“Not at all. Can't stand most of them. Why?” 

“Just thinkin’ about leavin’. Don't belong here with these people. Lori screamed at a damn snake the other day and got the kids all riled up.” He had a visible look of distaste on his face. Of all things to scream your head off at in an apocalypse, wildlife wasn't on your list. 

“Are you asking me to come?” You asked, unsuccessfully attempting to hide your excitement. The idea of splitting off with the Dixon brothers seemed your best bet, even if Merle was, well, Merle. You knew you were probably one of the only women on earth that didn't have to worry about him constantly trying to get in your pants. What you didn't know though, was that he was trying his damnedest to get his little brother laid, even if you were the daughter of a family friend. 

“Yeah. You don't belong here either.” You didn't know if it was true or not, but it felt true to you. 

“Sure. As long as I'm not gonna be a burden, or anything.” You knew you'd need to rely on the two of them for protection and some food, at least until you got used to your new life. You adapted fairly quickly. 

“Wouldn't’ve asked if you were.” 

“Alright, well, if you make up your mind, let me know.”

You arrived at the first store, a small gas station much like the one the two of you used to frequent back then. It was fairly untouched, but you knew it wouldn't be that way for long. 

You broke into a bag of jerky, thankful it was Daryl with you and not anyone else. If someone gave you a speech on taking care of the group before yourself you might just take off on your own without Daryl. 

He scored a bunch of chips, some cup noodles, and a 6 pack of beer for Merle. 

Instead of going back like you'd originally planned, you talked each other into going further off down the road to an old Dollar General. You stored your stash in a hollowed out log next to the road so you wouldn't need to carry it the entire time and carried on. 

“This was a great idea.” Your tongue was stained red from sour patch kids, you went through five bags and gave Daryl the greens and yellows. 

Daryl licked the sour crystals from his fingertips and grunted in agreement, tossing the empty bag over his shoulder off the roof that the two of you had gone up to to indulge in your spoils. 

You laid on your back and sighed, surrounded by empty snack bags and wrappers. “Fuck. I needed this.” Neither of you cringed at your corny comment, because although a cliche, you really, really did need this. 

Daryl hadn't eaten much besides the gummies, thanks to being pressured into taking the coke by Merle. He cursed himself for it, wishing he had the nerve to just say no and stick with it. 

He glanced over at you, your body orange in the light of the setting sun. You still wore those cute short Bobbie Brooks shorts he'd always seen you wearing around town. His eyes drifted to your legs and he let out a soft exhale, wishing he was as silver tongued as he thought his brother was. Even if the ladies rarely appreciated Merle's filthy flirting, he had to admit his one liners were pretty impressive sometimes. 

You opened your eyes and used your hand as a shield from the sun to look at him. You'd barely caught him staring at your legs, and felt a smile tug at your lips. 

“You wanna fool around?” You half joked, prepared to laugh if he turned you down. But the look on his face told you he really, really didn't want to turn you down. 

He froze for a moment, his eyes looking anywhere but you, his heart hammering against his chest. His thoughts ran frantic, from Merle telling him to have sex with you, and to you, who he was terrified to have sex with. He was suddenly very grateful for the coke he'd taken, and it clicked in his mind why Merle had been so insistent on him taking it. He knew he wouldn't last three minutes without it. 

“You serious?” He asked, his brows knitted tightly together from the sun and in concentration as he read your face. 

“Yeah, why not?” You shrugged, sitting upright so you didn't have to keep squinting up at him. You looked cool on the outside, but on the inside you were barely holding it together. You'd never thought of Daryl this way before, given you'd only seen him once before all this, but now that you were, it felt like you were about to potentially have sex with the hottest man on earth. 

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” 

Awkward was an understatement. Daryl didn't know what to do with his hands. His dick had been hard off and on the whole trip with you, despite the coke. He didn't know what would feel good to you, something he found himself oddly concerned with. His only experience with women was watching them getting fucked in porn, so he tried it that way. 

Your eyes widened in surprise when he quickly turned and leaned over you, his hands slipping up your shirt. He choked out a gasp, looking down at the outline of his hands as he squeezed your tits. You were caught off guard by his sudden boldness, and the way he was roughly groping your chest wasn't helping. You grimaced, about to tell him to ease up, but he caught your mouth in an unexpected kiss before you could speak. 

You were way too horny to care about how messy his kissing was. Truthfully, it was pretty hot, filled with so much desire and lust that it didn't matter he was inexperienced. The fact he was this eager just because of you had you moaning into his mouth. 

He took that as a sign he was doing something right and rolled your nipples between his fingers, doing what felt right. He pinched them, making you gasp against his lips, and he couldn't hide the crooked grin from his face. He pulled back just long enough to start unbuttoning your shirt. 

You took over for him, not wanting him to get impatient and rip off one of your only good shirts. When his eyes landed on your chest he whimpered, he fucking whimpered! You groaned at the sound and pulled him back against you by his shoulders, sinking your head into the crook of his neck to kiss the skin there. 

He hadn't expected you to do anything to him. In the videos he watched, most of the time the dude just rips her clothes off and fucks her in different positions for half an hour while she screams and moans like she's hurt. He hated that sound, the over exaggerated noises, he much preferred the noises you made. 

You laid down on your back, grateful the sun had sunk below the tips of the trees so it wasn't so bright anymore. He was on you in a second, now kissing your neck, eager to give you the same pleasure you were making him feel. The moan that rumbled in your chest made his heart jump, knowing he was doing something right. 

“God, s’so good.” You exhaled lazily, your eyes closing as he used his knee to kick your thighs apart for his waist. He quickly ground against you, a stifled groan stuck in his throat at the feeling of friction. 

“Take ‘em off.” He demanded, tugging impatiently at your shorts before he went to unbuckle his belt. You happily obliged, unbuttoning your shorts and dragging them down your thighs. 

When Daryl saw your lacy red panties he shivered. At camp, most of the underwear he saw hanging up were more… practical? The women had quickly changed their lace panties and thongs for boy shorts, but here you were, the skin around your hips indented obscenely from the way they hugged you like magic. 

“Fuck.” He exhaled deeply, his forehead resting against yours as he looked down at your body under his. He was really, really glad Merle gave him coke. Just the sight of you mostly naked under him had his cock throbbing painfully.

He finished with his pants, only pulling them down enough to drag his leaking dick out, his jaw dropping when he saw you shimmying out of your panties. His head spun, his mouth watered, and before he could even think he was scooting down to plant his face between your legs. 

You gasped, your head falling back against the rough flooring of the roof. He was so eager., so heartbreakingly eager to please you, it had your pussy so wet it was almost unbearable. His hot tongue was sloppy, inaccurate, it couldn't decide where it wanted to be. He'd be licking broad stripes one second, and the next he was swirling it around your clit. You were beginning to think maybe he wasn't as inexperienced as you believed. 

Daryl learned all he knew about sex from porn. If there was one thing he was fascinated about, it was giving head. One of the first things he always wanted to do was eat out a woman. He never thought it would be someone as hot as you. 

He tried everything he knew that made the women in videos moan, and to his surprise, you moaned the most when he kept it simple and just sucked your clit. So he did that, hollowing out his cheeks and sucking it into his mouth to roll his tongue around. 

You were in shambles. You tried desperately to pull at his hair, but it was too short to grab so you settled on sinking your nails into his scalp as you rolled your hips against his face and tried not to be so loud. 

Your jaw dropped and your eyes squeezed shut when he dug his tongue into the side of your clit, dragging your orgasm out so unexpectedly that you gasped. 

“Fuck, oh, oh god!” You sputtered, your thighs squeezing his head to hold him there as you came, your back arching and your toes curling so hard your foot almost cramped up. 

Daryl slipped his hand under him and grabbed his cock, stroking it as he felt your body tremble and jerk under him. He was sure this was a dream, he'd wake up any second in his tent with Merle snoring beside him and you all the way across camp. He squeezed his dick, milking the precum from his tip as your thighs finally relaxed. 

“My god. You're really good at that.” You panted, your eyes blurry as you watched him slide up your body and take its place on top of you. 

He grinned, knowing you were unintentionally starting to give him an ego. “Yeah?” He racked his brain for dirty talk, but since it was fried from making you cum, all he could come up with was “I got somethin’ I'm even better at.” Complete lie. 

You, on the other hand, had no idea he was a virgin, and grinned widely at the implications, shifting your body up till you felt his heavy cock graze against your inner thigh. The feeling alone sent a bolt through your body, and your chest heaved with deep excited breaths. 

He leaned up and grabbed your shoulder, signaling for you to turn over. You didn't question it and rolled over, propping yourself on your hands and knees. 

The sight of you from behind had him falling apart. He let out a quiet whimper and bit his bottom lip before grabbing his cock and scooting forward to push it against you. 

“Jesus, so fuckin wet.” He breathed, his heart beating so loud he could hear the blood in his ears. He slid his dick between your folds, going through all the steps in his head that he'd seen countless times. He even slapped it against your pussy a few times, missing the amused expression on your face, and pushed himself into you. 

What Daryl  didn't learn from porn was that usually, you go in slow when someone hasn't had sex recently. So when he just pushed his dick inside you with no hesitation you cried out, the burn from the unprepared stretching making you jolt forward. He grabbed your hips to bring you back against him, his jaw going slack as he felt your hot wet walls squeezing the life out of him. 

“Fuck!” You spat, the burning and stabbing pain almost enough to turn you off completely. “You gotta be slower than that, Daryl.” 

He was too deep to process what you said. He finally let out the breath he'd been holding with a deep, guttural groan, still frozen inside you. “Sah-Sorry.” He sputtered, his hands squeezing your hips so hard you knew for a fact there'd be ten little light purple bruises there tomorrow. 

Before you could say or do anything else he started moving, setting the pace quickly, snapping his hips against your ass so roughly your hands almost slipped out from under you. The uncomfortable stretch quickly faded into a deep, primal pleasure, and soon you were letting out short moans with every thrust of his hips. 

You barely got used to the feeling before he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked it back, drawing a cry from your throat. You weren't expecting this from Daryl, he was so confident, so rough, it confused you but drove you absolutely wild at the same time. 

His other hand kept its tight grip on your hip, pulling you back to meet each of his demanding thrusts, making sure his dick went as deep as possible each time. The way you were moaning and gasping fueled him to fuck you rougher, wanting to hear every sound that you were possible of making. 

“Dirty little whore.” He grunted, his jaw aching from how hard he'd been clenching his teeth. 

His words earned a strangled whimper from you, making his lips curl up in a cocky grin. 

He fucked you for a while like that, hips pounding against your ass so hard that the noises of your skin slapping was making your cheeks burn in embarrassed arousal. So much for keeping it quiet. 

“Hey-” The words were hard to get out from his aggressive thrusts, especially now that he was hunched over your body so he could squeeze your breasts. “I- wanna turn over.” 

He raised his chest from your back and took the opportunity to catch his breath while you shifted under him to roll over on your back. The look on your face made him shudder with a quiet gasp. Your face was tinted a light red, blissed out, your pupils blown and hair all messed up around your face. He was back on you immediately, kissing you hungrily as he slipped his cock back inside you, much easier this time. 

“Y’feel so fuckin’ good.” He breathed against your lips, wet from his sloppy kisses, and he kissed down your jaw to your neck. His accent was much thicker when he was inside you, barely pronouncing any words fully anymore. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist, angling your hips up so he could drive his cock deeper into you. The new feeling made him moan pathetically into your neck, and he had to stifle the noises he didn't like with a bite to the skin where your neck met shoulder. 

The pressure of his teeth had your eyes rolling back in your head. There was so much stimulation, his dick driving relentlessly into your throbbing pussy, his fingers pinching your nipple and the other hand in your hair, pulling your head to the side to give him better access to your neck. A particularly deep thrust made you cry out, and you felt yourself nearing your second orgasm.

“Fuck!” You whined, your eyes squeezing tightly shut as you felt the tension building in your core as he fucked his dick into you. 

“That's it, y’gonna come for me?” His teeth drew away from your red neck, a string of spit connecting the two of you. 

All you could muster was an obscene “Mhmm!”, your thighs squeezing him tight around the waist. 

“C'mon girl.” His words were choppy from the force of his thrusts. He slowed for a second, readjusting himself before building back up to his former quick pace, each thrust sending your body scooting a little upwards along the floor of the roof. You were incredibly thankful it wasn't concrete. 

“Lemme hear it, c'mon.” His words alone were enough to send you falling over your edge. Your jaw dropped, your head tilting back as your back arched under his heavy body, and his arm slipped under you to hold your chest tight against his. 

The look on your face and the feeling of you cumming around his dick was all he needed. His face went slack and he let out a shameful whine, something he'd never heard himself make before, and came inside you. Neither of you noticed, too fucked out of your minds to even process it. 

You cried under him, twisting and squirming, impaled on his dick as your orgasm shook you to your core. Only when the final waves rolled off you did you relax, your eyes struggling to open as your breathing slowed.

Daryl raised his face from your chest and looked down at you, enjoying the look on your face as he regained his bearings. He ran his hands up and down your torso a few times, his eyes appreciating every little red mark on your neck and chest from his teeth.

 Only when the last jolts of pleasure left his body did he realize he came inside you. 

“Shit.” He grunted as he slowly drug his dick out of you, his breath catching in his throat when he saw the way his cum oozed out between your slick, puffy folds. 

“Hmm, ‘s fine.” You mumbled lazily, reaching up to push your hair from your face. “We're on top of a Dollar General. We'll get the morning after pill.” 

He nodded at your words, still hypnotized by the sight of his cum leaking out of you. A deep part of him wanted to stuff his dick back in you and keep it in, he didn't know why, but the idea was so hot he could've gone for a round two if you wanted. 

“We better get back.” You struggled to prop yourself up on your elbows, your weakened muscles protesting. The sun was well below the trees now, and if you got back when it was dark you knew Shane would throw a goddamn hissy fit. 

“We ain't gotta.” He half joked, a lazy grin on his face. “Can just stay here. Go back in the mornin’.”

You smiled, shaking your head, even though the idea was incredibly tempting. “Shane will kill us.”

“Fuck him.”

“I don't wanna piss him off when he's the one in possession of my gun right now.” Your words had him raising his brows and nodding in agreement. 

The two of you put your clothes back on and went through the back entrance, grabbing all your bags and making sure to pick up some morning after pills from the locked shelf behind the front desk. You caught him trying to discreetly grab some condoms, not knowing you saw, and you felt excitement bubble in your chest at the prospect of him expecting this to happen again. 

Thankfully Shane wasn't in camp when you snuck back in. He was down by the quarry, catching frogs or some shit, and you were able to share your spoils with the group before he came to ask questions. 

“Well, shit. Look at you.” Merle was smiling ear to ear, clapping Daryl on the back after he went to his brother's tent with a bag of goodies. 

It was extremely obvious what the two of you had done. Your hair was still messy despite you brushing it with your fingers on the way back, your face pink, your neck red. You were climbing into your own tent as Merle watched you from across camp. 

Daryl's neck and face were also red, and he had a few scratch marks on the back of his neck. 

And his fly was still down. 

“Shut up.” Daryl shrugged his brother's hand off him, opening a bag of Funyuns.

“My baby brothers no longer a fuckin’ loser!” He laughed, giving a wolf whistle before playfully ruffling his hair. “Atta boy. I told you.” 

“Ya’ ain't tell me shit.” Daryl grumbled, stuffing Funyuns in his mouth to hide the smile that was creeping onto his face. 

“Hey.”

“What?” Daryl groaned, exasperated already. 

“Think she’ll give me a ride?”

“Shut the hell up, man.” 

[sstargirln]

❞ ᝰ .ᐟ cowboy!art donaldson x reader

based on this request :

Anonymous asked:

art donaldson cowboy au where he works as a ranch hand for your dad.... and then he fucks u in ur daddy's grand farm mansion when he isn't home. hello im hard! ~ 🌸

TW : use of y/n ( 1 ) , smut MDNI - oral ( f receiving ) , swearing , not proofread

word count : 2264 (THIS IS SO LONG WHAT THE FUCK)

¡! ❞ a/n : uh im bricked anon! also basically dodge mason and panic reference ! and this is kinda shit im sowwy . REPOST BC LAST TIME IT FLOPPED AND IDK WHY .

choose ur own adventure type c.ai bot based on this here 

there was something about your pretty little accent that got art's damn mind spinning. clear, sort of clipped and lilting, the typa accent one could only get from living in the big old city of new york. you were his boss's daughter, which made it all the more sinful when he imagined that accent in... other (less proper) situations he shouldn't've been. unlike the other ranch-hands, he kept a polite distance. he didn't leer or ogle at you as you walked by — his momma taught him better than that — but he sure as hell wanted to as you bent down to pick up something from the front seat of your convertible. tiny little white skirt rising higher and higher and higher and higher and art was hooked. oh how he would love to ruin you, daddy's dear little girl visiting carp for the summer. oh how he would love to grab you by those meaty thighs, defile you 'till you were crying his name. oh how he would love.

he trudges through the mud up to the ranch house, all done for the day and ready to wash up in the worker's quarters in the back. his legs feel like lead after hours of wrangling the cattle and fixing fences in the blistering sun. the thin flannel he wore today clung to his skin, soaked through with sweat. before he even gets to look in mirror, he knows his face is all ruddy-like and burnt, even though his hat supposed to be protecting the damn sunburn that made his cheeks string.

he splashed cold water on his face. he grabbed an old rag to wipe his face, just about ready to head to the showers, when he heard it—that damn voice, right behind him.

he turned, and there you were. standing in the doorway, looking a little out of place in your crisp, white summer dress. your eyes scanned the tiny room like you weren’t sure if you should be there or not, and art figured you probably didn’t have much reason to be back here.

you gave a sheepish smile. "hi… i, uh, think i got a little lost. do you know where the main house is?"

he’d dreamed 'bout this moment before, though maybe not quite like this. you, standing there all pretty, looking gorgeous in your spotless attire, while he was still dripping in sweat and grime. the polite distance he’d vowed to keep suddenly felt a lot tougher to maintain now that you were looking at him, lips slightly parted as you waited for an answer.

he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, trying to focus on your face. "main house is back that way," he drawled, pointing out the direction you missed. his voice came out rougher than he meant it to. "reckon you took a wrong turn."

you smiled wider, stepping a bit closer. damn near makes him swallow his own tongue. "thanks," you reply, your tone light, conversational. "still trying to figure out my way around."

art nodded, eyes flicking up to meet yours, though his heart was beating faster than it should’ve been. he shifted on his feet, gaze shifting from your eyes down to your lips down to your chest down to your thighs down to — back to your eyes.

"i can walk you back if you want," he offered, tipping his hat back slightly, trying to stay cool about it, but hell, you already had him wrapped around your finger and didn’t even know it.

you gave him a slow nod, tongue flitting out to lick at your lips. "i'd appreciate that, thank you."

as the two of you made your way back to the main house, art tried his best not to tip over sideways at the sheer thought of you being this close to him. he feels like a pathetic little dog, all worked up over you just walking in line with him, brushing your arm against his every once in awhile. he's so focused on keeping his cheeks from flushing that he doesn't hear you the first time.

"hello?"

art blinked, shaking himself out of his daze. "huh? oh, sorry, darlin' —didn’t catch that."

you tilted your head slightly, a playful smile on your lips as you repeated your question. "what's your name? i'm y/n."

"art," he cursed himself for his curt response, but you didn't seem to notice, bright smile still holding as you nodded.

"nice to meet you, art." your gaze held his with a sort of lingering intensity that unfortunately made art's pants tighten even further than before. "so, what do else do you do here in carp when you're not showing lost city people around?"

art shrugs, hands stuffed in his pockets. "dunno. i work, i guess."

you roll your eyes slightly and nudge at him with your elbow. "okay. what about for fun?"

art shifted awkwardly, feeling your elbow nudge him gently, sending a spark down his spine. he cleared his throat, "fun?" he repeated, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "ain’t much time for that out here, if I’m bein’ honest. mostly work, and maybe a beer with the boys now and then."

you let out a soft laugh, the sound teasing him in all the right ways. "that’s all? no girls? no beautiful maiden waiting around for you to finish all this hard work?"

art swallowed hard. he glanced down at his boots for a second, trying to collect himself, then back at you. "no, ma’am. no one special like that," he muttered. "guess I ain’t much for courtin’ these days."

your lips curved into a lazy smirk. "hmm. that’s a shame. a guy like you? figured the girls would be lined up." your eyes glint with a darkness that art knew all too well. it was the same hungry look he felt in his own gaze, pupils dilated and eyes half-lidded with desire.

art rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to flush under the heat of your stare. he bit at the inside of his cheek, his self-restraint fraying as he fought the urge to just jump at you right then and there.

as you neared the main house, art's mind shifted to your father. the last thing he wanted was for the boss to catch wind of any unprofessional behavior. with a deep breath, art managed a strained smile, trying to redirect the rising heat in his chest. "well, here we are. better get you inside before your dad starts wonderin' where you’ve been."

you glanced at him with a smirk, seemingly unfazed as you adjusted your skirt. "funny thing, art," you said, your voice low and sultry, "i think daddy's still out of town. he won't be back 'till tomorrow." you took a step closer, hands reaching out to dust off art's collar.

he swallows hard at the feeling of your finger brushing against his neck. "we got the place to ourselves then, huh?" art drawls, voice rough and husky with barely contained desire.

"looks like it." your arms wrapped around his neck, finger curling around a stray blond locked as you watched art's face contort. deciding, deciding, decided. his hands found your hips, and with a light tap to your thigh, you jumped into his arms, kissing him hard.

your lips were warm and soft, and they parted slightly as art slipped his tongue inside, his one hand scrabbling for the front door handle. it clicked open and he stumbled inside, heading straight for the living room. your fingertips brush softly against his back as he sits down on a couch, letting you straddle him at the hips. he's still sweaty, but you seem to like it, burrowing your head in his neck as he nips at yours, breathing in the sharp, musky smell of him.

the both of you pant heavily as you scrambled to take of his shirt, and then him your dress. art presses slobbery kisses down your chest and torso, salivating at the sight of your little blue panties, pressed down against his crotch. little sighs and moans left your lips as he trailed his fingers along with his mouth, to the very top of your underwear, kissing along the seam. before you can object, he's shifted you over and laid down. "hop on, darlin'," he mumbles, referring to his mouth as you pull off your panties. hesitantly, you crawl up his chest. apparently not quick enough for art, he hooks an arm around your waist and places you on his face himself, moaning at the pure scent of you.

he starts by kissing the inside of your right thigh, then suckling the inside of your left. he revels in your scent for a few more seconds before burying his face inside you, lapping you up with long, thick licks against your folds. you squeal when you first feel his (clearly) expert tongue against you, flexing and swirling as he find your sweet spots immediately. it hasn't even been 5 seconds when he stops with a pop! - peeking out from under your thighs with a wild expression on his face. his hat is tipped over under him, the rim sticking out from behind his unruly blond locks. "you're hoverin'. " he was right, you were, too scared to put your full weight on this poor man you had met not half an hour ago. "sit on my face, baby, please," he practically whimpers.

and how could you say no? eyes wide, face slick with your juices, looking so goddamn angelic — you couldn't. and even though you were scared to crush him, craving the feeling of his tongue inside you again, you sit — nice and proper this time.

he starts up again with a kind of feverish intensity you could only expect from a starved man. you moan and whimper on his face, scratching against his scalp as you looked for something to grip onto. art groans in pleasure against your folds when you tug at his hair, his grip that of iron as he holds you down by the hips hard enough to bruise. his other hand is groping at your tits, pinching and swirling at the nipples as he watches you shake on his tongue.

his own dick is being completely ignored, even though it's brick-hard and leaking enough pre-cum you can see it through his pants. the only pleasure he needs is your sweet little whines and needy moans as he laps up your juices like your pussy is the holy grail. before you even know it, he's driven you through orgasm after orgasm, happily sucking away at your cunt as you squirm and scream on top of him. "ohmygod, art. oh my fucking god!" your yells are loud enough that your little boyfriends from new york could probably hear you.

and after he's been there for so long your head's rolling, and your clit is swollen and overstimulated, he's finally done, pulling back to rest his face on your thighs. his cheeks leave your own slick against your legs, nose shiny at the tip but with a big old stupid grin on his face. you're panting, pussy throbbing and puffy as you rake your fingers though his hair, looking down at him with your mouth agape. "holy shit, art."

his grin grows even wider as he watches you, fingers rubbing lazy circles on your hips as you struggle to compose yourself. "am i good?" he asks, already certain of the answer, but eager to boost his ego even more.

you nod, eyes dazed and glossy as you ran your hands over his cheeks. "so good, art. holy fucking hell." you could already hear him boasting to all the other ranch hands in his stupidly attractive little southern accent — i made that city girl cum 5 times on my tongue!

he nods slowly in response, pretty eyes looking up at you all proud. "that's what i like to hear, darlin'."

the next thing he heard made his heart sink all the way from where it was, up in the clouds all dazed, to his stomach. the front door click open, and the booming voice of your father, "baby, i'm home!"

you'd heard it before him, and you jumped off of his chest and pulled your dress back on before poor art even had time to register what was happening. you sat straight up next to him, looking perfect — albeit a little red, as your terrifyingly massive father stomped into the room. his expression changed from exhaustion to pure anger as he took in art, sprawled half-way up on the couch, shirt off and hair a mess. "what the hell do you think you're doing?" he roared from across the room.

"get out of my damn house!" your father bellowed. art scrambled off of the couch, grabbing his hat from under his head. clumsy and hurried as he fumbled with his shirt. you were too stunned to move, thighs still throbbing, as he sprinted out of the back door before your father could make it to him. the barrel of a man slammed the door behind him, making you wince.

as art scurried down the backyard and past the worker's quarters, shirt still off and hat placed haphazardly on his head, the first thoughts in his head was — 'i am so fucking sacked.' the next ones placed a lazy smile on his face. 'goddamn, that was worth it.'

¡! ❞ © sstargirln 2024

[urfavslytherclawgirl]

Unusual Visit

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 900+

Warning: Swearing, only one POV, bruises, blood, needle (closing a deep cut).

Summary: Bruce breaks into your house wanting you to heal his bruises and because he wants cuddles.

You woke up with a weird noise coming from your living room and glass breaking, you got up and got a baseball hidden in your closet, mostly because Gotham isn't the safest city of all and because your boyfriend, Bruce, suggested you did it in case someone tried to break into your house.

"I have a bat and some internal rage I can use!" You announced slowly walking into your living room with your bat raised into the air.

"Calm down--shit--it's just me." A shaky but familiar voice said near a shadow, the further you walked the more you noticed Bruce wearing his suit and using the wall as support.

"Bruce! What happened to you?" You asked throwing the bat on the couch and walking towards your boyfriend, Bruce was hurt with blood going down his face under the mask and his suit almost ripped in a few spots.

"You should've seen the other guy." He laughed as you helped him lay down on the couch and take his suit off so you could see what was bruised, the longer you saw the more you got worried. He had a nearly broken rib, two purple bruises on his chest, and a deep cut on his stomach, his arm had a few purple spots and his nose was bleeding.

"I'll go get my first-aid kit." You announced walking away quickly and going into your bathroom, after getting it you kneeled down on the floor next to the couch Bruce layed on and opened the kit.

"I have a needle to close the cut and arnica ointment for the purple bruises, which one do you want first?" You asked as Bruce looked at the needle then at you.

"Do you know how to use that thing?" Bruce asked in true concern as you rolled your eyes, getting up and walking towards your kitchen to get a bottle of whiskey.

"Drink it, it's good for pain. And yes, I do know how to use it, Bruce." You answered handing him the bottle and getting the needle and nylon thread.

"I'll start in 3, 2--" you said before starting to close the wound on his stomach, Bruce whispered swears as you were to focused on the deep cut to care.

"Fuck, you forgot the 1." He pointed out making a face of discomfort looking at the cut.

"I know, it's a tactic I learned it with my doctor when I was a child. Every time I'd get a shot she'd do this, it helped a lot." He nodded and closed his eyes.

"All done." You said, making a knot with thread and cutting it with a pair of little scissors that came with the kit. You got up and went to your kitchen to get a pack of ice and a wet cloth.

You kneeled again and started to clean his mouth and nose full of blood then lightly pressed the ice pack on his nose. You got the palm of his hand and pressed it on the ice pack, meaning you wanted him to hold it so you could apply ointment on his other bruises.

After putting back the first-aid kid where it belonged you helped Bruce walk towards your bedroom and lay down on your bed.

"Get some rest, Bruce." You said sitting on the edge of the bed, he put his hand on your cheek, moving his thimb left and right.

"Stay with me, please." You nodded and got up from the edge of the bed walking towards the other side, you lay down next to him and pressed your chest on his back, wrapping your arms on his chest under his arm.

"Take more care of yourself, Bruce. I need you alive for us to be together." You whispered, making Bruce laugh then hiss in pain, you smiled and kissed his back, his scars.

[lynnlovesthestars]

Could you do a Astarion x Tiefling Reader were they are sitting alone underneath there tents canopy in and they are sewing to pass the time humming and doesn't notice Astarion walk up after he was looking for them . ( they could be making something for him maybe for his 'birthday' after learning that it was that day ) .

omg sorry i took so long but my creativity juices flow in funny ways ahah.. to make it a little easier for me, since my tiny brain has been having a hard time in putting words down, i thought it would have been nice to tie this up with a oneshot i wrote a few weeks ago.. i wish i followed better your prompt- though i hope you'll like it.

Ofc reading the part before this won't change the experience, but it was nice to tie them together cause it gave a little continuity and idk anyways i hope you'll like it though it's mostly introspective and a lil angsty when astarion shows up..

----

Masterlist.

Part 1. (the one shot i tied this to)

My prompt list for requests.

Taglist: @sessils @spacebarbarianweird (i forgot to add it yesterday cause im an idiot, but better late than never ahah)

----

Golden.

Pairing: astarion x GN!tiefling!reader

Summary: the huge tear in his shirt caught your eye again, and you decided to give him a reminder that someone cared about him.

Genre: angsty?, lots of thinking, self-doubt, avoidance✨

You never noticed the tears carefully patched up on Astarion’s shirt until you were retrieving your dried clothes from the fire.

His button up sat up ripped on the stone like you left it on the night before, yet you still couldn’t help but focus on the smaller sewn tears already covering the fabric. It was such a precise job, that you wouldn’t have been able to tell that the fabric was ever broken until you looked closely and the places where the thread was tightly pulled became clearer.

You made a mental note of it as you walked back to your tent, holding up the bundle of yours and Astarion’s clothes.

The camp was lively that morning: yelling, singing, clattering of bottles and pans, along with rustling of the leaves had saturated the air, charging it with an electrifying energy.

In the middle of the chaos, your brain still stirred towards Astarion and the way you woke up curled up in his side, while he was meditating.

The tension that filled the tent the night before was gone. The only thing left from the night before was the ghost of his bite on your neck, and his body holding you to him.

When he broke his trance, he acted like nothing ever happened. Like you didn’t sleep twisted with him, or the way he drove you insane the night before.

You could still feel his lips on your neck as you collected your sewing kit from the tent, which still smelled like him, blood and bergamot.

As you spread the shirt on your lap, you could relive the events of the night before like a bard stuck on encore after encore.

You could feel the warmth of your bodies pressed to each other still spreading over your skin as you carefully prepared the essential to fix the tear.

You studied the tear that spread over the back, you knew it was going to be hard to make it seem flawless like the rest of them, but you wanted to attempt for him.

Worst case scenario, it was gonna stay broken anyways.

As you started to work on the tear, and you noticed how the uneven edges were not coming out nicely, an idea spurred in your mind.

At worst you were already planning on buying him a new one when you reached Baldur’s Gate. You had connections in the lower city, and you knew you could get a tailor to make the same button up if you brought a reference.

You worked on the shirt for what felt like hours, while everyone was enjoying their day, whether they took care of chores around camp or disappeared for walks, but as everyone came and left, the only one you had not seen was Astarion.

It was only when the sun was starting to set that you finally spotted him near his tent as he was looking for something in his bag.

You were just done with the shirt, and you couldn't help but hope he liked it.

You folded the shirt carefully along with the rest of his clothes, and as you were ready to head towards Astarion, he already stood in front of you.

His face was unreadable like he wanted to convey a specific emotion, but couldn't figure out how to. He was tense, his arms were frozen at his sides, so you decided to break the ice.

“I did this for you” You carefully showed him the pile of his neatly folded clothes, and his shirt on top.

“I wanted to fix your shirt, but the tear was too-” You started but before you could explain, Astarion had stopped you almost harshly.

“You didn't have to”He said briefly, it sounded mostly like an admonishment, yet you could have sworn there was some sort of softness to it. 

“I know, but I wanted to” 

“Why?” His furrowed brows were inquisitive, trying to gauge your intentions as he wetted his lips. 

“Cause I care about you, I literally told you yesterday” The words slipped out of your lips just as quickly as your tail was swishing nervously.

He scoffed, folding his arms and turning his eyes away from you. “No one does things for free” You could tell there was something odd from him, as if he was trying to bury something under this indifference he was trying to put up now.

“Count this as a gift then” You jutted your chin towards him and invited him to take the clothes still in your arms.

He was taken aback by the simplicity with which you said those words, almost carelessly, and most of all to the person that deserved them the least, especially how hard he was being with you.

He wanted to quip back but you resumed your explanation before he could even think of a response and he wanted to hate it so much. 

“As I was saying, I tried to fix the tear, but it didn't want to look nice, so I embroidered the shirt with a gold pattern” You explained as you pointed at the button up. Astarion was so focused on shielding himself that he didn’t even look at his clothes, she could have gave him one of her shirts for what he knew and he would have not realized it until he would be in his tent. 

His eyes finally fell on the piece of clothing his mouth fell slightly open. He traced the golden thread carefully, as if it was a creation of his sick mind. “I hope it’s not too much.”You trailed off, your words were warm, almost sticking to his skin like glue. He wanted to shake them off himself, he wanted to yell that he didn’t deserve such attentions, that you were an idiot to do all of this for someone that had planned to use you, but it was like something in his body stopped him from screaming and lashing out at you, the only thing he could manage to do was the simple task he gave himself in the morning.

“I came here to thank you for last night, and for your kindness” He started with a honeyed voice. “But I suppose I have one more thing to add to the list” He clutched the bundle of clothes to his chest, tipping his head forward in thank you.

[httpiastri]

PERFECTLY FINE – CHAPTER FIVE

genre: angst, fluff, comfort, the usual

word count: 5.0k

warnings: hmmmmm don't think so!!

author's note: hello hello !! finally done with this!!!! took me ages 😵 anywayssss i was supposed to include like italian cities and everything but i have 0 knowledge of italy i've realized, it's been ages since i went there... so pls forgive me for that, hope this makes sense anyway :) hope you enjoy!!

series masterlist

"we came home from a run in the mountains about… ten minutes ago?" you start, checking your watch. "the view was actually mental, i will send you some pictures."

your mother hums on the other side of the line. "that sounds lovely, darling." she pauses for a moment and you sit down on the edge of your hotel room bed. "where is ollie now? is he around? can i talk to him?"

"he's in the shower," you tell her, ears instinctively listening for that familiar sound of the shower running and the soft humming by your boyfriend. "but i can put him on when he's done, if you'd like."

the same night of the monaco grand prix, ollie managed to find a way for you to fly out to italy with him the following morning. you were into the idea when he proposed it, but right before you were traveling to the airport, you started to doubt if it was actually that good of an idea. you basically only had racing gear in your suitcase; no swimsuits or clothes to work-out in, and the only outfit even near fancy enough to wear to a real restaurant was the one you had worn to the ferrari celebratory dinner the night before.

but ollie insisted. i'll buy you everything you need, he told you, which you, of course, instantly refused. i want you with me, so if that's the price i need to pay, then it will be worth it.

ollie took a day in modena to re-pack his bags, to visit both prema and ferrari, and to just take some time to recharge with you after the race weekend. the following day, you started your trip down the country. but first, you needed to stop in another few cities for some shopping. after a lot of complaining, you agreed to let him pay for the clothes, but only if you got to pay for the coffee and gelato. pretty fair, if you may say so yourself.

you booked your hotel in a cozy little city neither of you had ever heard of before, somewhere close to the west coast, but you have been around in most neighboring cities by now. romantic dinners in charming restaurants, sunbathing by cozy little lakes, and a lot of hiking and running through scenic trails to keep up your physique during the break.

and, as you hoped beforehand, you've started to see ollie in a new, more romantic and more exciting light. the quiet evenings spent together, far away from the hustle and bustle of your regular lives, have been like a breath of fresh air; it's all so easy, so comfortable, so heartwarming. and after your talk with paul in monaco, there isn't even a dark, rainy paul-shaped cloud hanging over your head like there usually is.

you find yourself enjoying the different layers of him and every detail that make ollie that sweet guy you first went out with, and those initial butterflies from your first few months together have finally made their comeback. it's not a huge change, but definitely enough to make you feel like you're moving in the right direction.

"are you two having fun?" your mother asks, the tone of her voice a tad too innocent for you to ignore. "your father mentioned something about a fight, or…"

you can't help but scoff at her words – you know she means no harm, unlike your other parent, but even just the mention of your father irritates you these days. "we're not fighting, mum. everything is fine."

"i'm glad." another moment of silence, just as suspicious as the whole aura of this conversation. then, she lets out a laugh, her voice growing much more lighthearted. "do you two ever fight at all?"

you aren't having it, however. "not really," you say, continuing instantly. "i think it's silly to assume that it's a bad thing that we're never upset with each other. i don't understand it."

your mom clears her throat. "you've got it all wrong. all we want is for you to be happy," her voice booms out from the phone, a little louder now than before. "but fighting a little is healthy. dealing with your problems is important in a stable relationship."

you obviously understand her side of it, and you know she's right. but how could you ever bring yourself to fighting with ollie and causing him any extra pain when he deserves nothing but happiness? how could you ever put more pressure on him when he's already got the expectations and weight of the entire world resting on his shoulders?

besides, what would you even fight over? the fact that you aren't as passionate about him as you were about paul? or the fact that you don't feel the same way you used to with your ex?

this vacation was supposed to make you feel more, to make you fall deeper. sure, you still have a few days left, but will any amount of time ever be enough to get over paul?

"we have no issues," you say. "it's alright, we've got it under control."

you can hear your mom let out a little breath before she speaks up again. "if you say so, then i trust you." there's the faintest hint of sincerity in her words, enough to almost make you believe her. "he must've been very proud to see you on the podium."

a faint smile appears on your lips at the mention of monaco, nodding to yourself as you think back to the race. "he was. jealous, but proud."

"i think they were all jealous. maybe even paul." a confused frown takes over your face as you lie back over the sheets, staring up at the ceiling. "how was it to share the podium with him again? you two looked quite happy with each other."

"i guess."

"you guess? you two were hugging like…" she chuckles. "well, like it was a year ago."

you take a deep breath. "your point?"

"i was just thinking about how…." her words fall out of focus when your ears catch the sound of the shower being turned off and feet tapping against the tiled floor.

ollie then appears in the doorway to the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist and an intrigued look in his eyes. who are you talking to? he mouths.

"ollie just came out of the shower," you tell your mother as you push yourself up to a sitting position again, dropping your phone onto the bed and clicking a button. "you're on speaker, mum."

she calls out for him, and he smiles as he sits down next to you on the bed. "hello, mrs. harper," he says. "how are you doing?"

"lovely now that i get to hear your voice, sweetheart," she coos. "how are your parents doing?"

yet again, everything quiets down; ollie's mouth moves, and you see him politely laugh at something your mother says, but everything you can hear are your mother's words from before.

dealing with your problems is important in a stable relationship.

you reach forward to brush a wet strand of hair out of ollie's face, letting your hand fall down to his cheek. he looks down at you with gentle eyes and raised eyebrows, making you want to open up and tell him everything. about how badly you want to change to be the perfect partner for him, about everything you're feeling and about everything that makes you so terrified that your voice gives up on you. about how scared you are of even giving him a real chance, of actually falling for him, because what if he isn't enough?

but what if he is?

what if you allow yourself to fall and he's there to catch you every time?

today during dinner, ollie got an idea.

he loves the way that you can come up with conversation topics out of nowhere. he loves how you can rant the entire way to the restaurant about a karting race you drove in ten years ago, and he loves your little game of "is the couple at the table next to us siblings, happily married, or is one of them secretly only in it for the money?" during dinner dates.

but it doesn't help him get to know you any better, especially not on the deeper level he wishes to reach you on. it doesn't allow him to come closer, nor does it help you get closer to him, either.

but tonight, he hopes everything is about to change. if he just introduces the idea of talking to you, actually talking, then maybe it will come more naturally in the future, too.

ollie is sitting up in bed when you turn off the lights in the bathroom and enter the bedroom. his back is propped up against the headboard, phone in hands turning black the second he sees you appear. he plugs the phone in to charge, clearing his throat before speaking up. "can i ask you something?"

you nod as you walk over to your side of the bed. "of course."

"i'm pretty sure i wasn't the only one who thought it was strange that you stayed in red bull after your dad started working with the ferrari driver academy," he says, watching you sit down on the edge of the bed. "how come you didn't switch academies?"

you let out a sound, something between a sigh and a chuckle, looking over at him as you hold up the duvet. "do you want the short version or the long version?"

"the honest version."

"well," you start, slipping in under the covers. "there's a lot that went into it. ferrari is a cool brand and everything, and it would be an honor to represent them. but…" you shrug – or as much of a shrug as you can pull off while lying down. "i went to red bull because of my dad in the first place so…"

ollie doesn't say anything when you pause, his expression reflecting genuine interest. he's always been a great listener, and today is no different.

"plus, it's been pretty good not having my dad breathe down my neck every second. i would've gone absolutely crazy by now if he had been my boss."

ollie snorts, a grin appearing on his lips. "your dad is a good boss, though."

"if you say so," you respond with a roll of your eyes, one he can't quite decipher.

ollie takes a deep breath, seemingly preparing for his next words. "you didn't even want to join ferrari just to be with me more?"

you bite back the smile that wants to spread across your lips. "didn't wanna get too distracted from my goals."

"is that so?"

you nod, and ollie just looks down at you for a few moments, that grin still prominent on his lips, before shifting to turn off the lamp on his bedside table. he then lies down, joining you beneath the covers.

"genuinely, though," he begins. "when did you first realize you liked me?"

only the gentle, white light from the moon sneaking past the blinds keeps the bedroom somewhat lit now, but it's enough for you to catch the way the pillow has messed up his hair already. you turn your head, eyes following the beams in the ceiling and the chandelier dangling from it. you think it through for a few moments. "i think… something inside of me always liked you." you pause to find the correct words, but none of them seem to describe what you're really feeling. especially not in a way that will sound good to his ears. "like, something just clicked when we went out on our first date. it was like the puzzle pieces fell into place. like i suddenly realized my feelings."

when you look back at him, his eyes glimmer in the moonlight – or is it because of your answer? – and he doesn't move for a good few moments, just taking you in.

"your turn," you prod, supposing he'll need to think through his answer, too.

however, he answers within just a second. "in 2021," he says, completely serious, "when i saw you for the scouting finals."

you groan. "oh, shut up."

"it's true!" he exclaims, propping his head up on his arm. "of course, i knew of you before that day. but actually seeing you in real life, seeing your smile and hearing your laugh..."

"but you never said anything?" you ask, eyes flickering over his features, mentally drawing lines between his freckles and birthmarks. "or did i miss any signs?"

ollie shakes his head. "even when you weren't actually taken, i knew you were mentally with..." he doesn't say the name; he doesn't need to. instead, he starts talking again instantly. "but when i heard that you two had broken up, i knew i had to shoot my shot. i knew i wouldn't get another chance like that."

his words should fill you with joy. they should make you swoon, make you fall even more for him, make you feel like the luckiest person in the world. you have this perfect man lying right next to you, telling you about how he was waiting for years for his chance to be with you – what could be better?

but instead, there's a sharp pain in your chest.

what if you will never love ollie the way he loves you? in the way he deserves?

the sound of ollie pulling the keys out of the ignition finally draws you out of your thoughts, eyes flickering over to him. you've been mostly quiet for this entire forty-five-minute ride to your destination, your mind still stuck on your conversation from yesterday, but you think you can blame it on just wanting to hear ollie hum along to the italian songs on the radio.

you decided to travel to this cute little coastal town to go for a little swim after your morning run, and the name of the place ollie had suggested seemed familiar enough. you just weren't able to figure out why – until you finally arrived.

"i've been here before," you say as you jump out of the car, closing the door behind you. "me and dino were here two years ago, for our summer break."

ollie raises his eyebrows, pulling open the trunk lid. "just the two of you?" he asks and you shake your head.

"some other friends, too."

and paul. but the words die on your tongue. it's an unnecessary detail, anyway, you think.

in this context, sure. but the truth is that the trip was pretty much divided into two trips; your trip with paul, and dino's trip with your other friends. it was just months after you and paul had first gotten together, and this was your first trip together as more than friends. you were still in that initial honeymoon phase, able to spend hours and hours together without ever getting tired of each other, stuck in a haze of obsession and love and everything in between.

but you're not here with paul now. you can't be thinking about your former boyfriend when you're here with your current boyfriend, at a stunning beach in this beautiful weather.

ollie slings your beach bag over his shoulder, closing the trunk before making his way over to your side. "any good memories?" he asks, taking hold of your hand and beginning to drag you out of the parking lot. "or is there a reason you never came back?"

you hum. "we went here to the beach, and… we went to a nice restaurant in town," you say, gazing over the beach to see if you can find any empty sunbeds. "it had a funny name, but i... i don't remember what it was."

"was it any good?" he asks as he lets you pull him towards two sunbeds near the shore.

you nod, snatching two towels out of the bag before ollie even has a chance to put it down, draping them over the chairs. "they had this lovely pasta," you tug your sundress over your head, folding it up on one chair. "homemade tortellini, with this sauce made of-"

"what are you doing?" ollie cuts you off when he sees you sit down, his frown prominent. "i thought we were going swimming."

he's already dressed down solely in his swimming trunks, but not even the sight of his toned upper body is enough to make you waver now. "i just need a few minutes to tan so i..." you trail off as his frown melts into a pout. now, that is something you have a much harder time saying no to. "do i have to?"

"you do."

once you've stood up again, ollie moves in behind you and practically pushes you toward the water, explaining how good it will feel, post-morning run and everything. but the second your toes make contact with the water, you can't help but squeal, instantly shaking your head and backing away again. "i can't," you tell him. his hand wraps around your wrist as you try to move away, and now it's your time to pull your best puppy eyes. "let me warm up a bit first so that i can actually enjoy it."

"that's what you said yesterday," he counters, his other hand reaching to grab your other wrist. "but you stayed far away from the water all afternoon."

"you're right, but i promise that today-" you let out another screech when he tugs you closer to him before picking your body up in one swift motion. you press a warning finger to his chest as he takes a few slow steps out in the water. "oliver james bearman, you will put me down right this second, understood?"

he doesn't answer anything, because he seemingly doesn't understand. or maybe he just thought 'put me down' meant 'throw me into the icy water'.

he doesn't even look guilty over it; in fact, when you resurface and look over at him, he's grinning like the damn idiot he is. "oh, you will pay for this."

if by 'pay' you meant that he would get to pay for dinner that evening, then you were right.

sadly, not at that restaurant from the last time you were in town, but at a cute little trattoria near the city center. you stayed quite late because ollie got recognized as 'the guy who drove for ferrari in f1!' by the owner of the building, who then treated all customers to free drinks, and you obviously had to stay and celebrate with everyone. after the long ride back to your hotel, ollie was out like a light the moment his head hit the pillow.

however, you can't get your mind to rest.

yet again, you find yourself dwelling on yesterday's conversation, and this entire trip in general. no matter what you do, no matter what you try – counting sheep, recalling old racing memories, thinking about the rest of the season – your mind always falls back to the same thoughts.

it's as if your brain works on autopilot when you slowly get out of bed, pull open the door to the balcony, and step outside. the cold air should help bring you to your senses, you assume, but it doesn't really do anything other than make your brain spin even more. the city lights in the dark night seem miles and miles away, yet so close, and you have to sit down on the little chair by the corner of the balcony to steady yourself. what's going on? you didn't even have a lot to drink, and yet you feel more dizzy than your worst nights out. what's real and what isn't?

one of the few things you know for a fact is real is the series of low beeps from the phone in your hand, but it takes a couple of moments for you to realize that they're signals – meaning that you're calling someone.

you blink at your phone a few times as you try to figure out what number you've dialed and how to turn off the call because it's nearing three in the morning, but you don't make it in time. there's a clicking sound from the speakers, followed by a low grunt. "hello?"

suddenly, you're wide awake and clear-minded again.

as you're trying your best to figure out how the actual fuck you managed to call him at this hour – was it a pocket dial? or did he call you? – the person on the other side of the line grows impatient. "is this a prank call or are you going to say anything?"

"i'm so sorry, paul," you manage to get out, your voice getting caught in your throat for another few moments. thankfully, he allows you some time to regroup. "i have no idea why i called you, it- it was a mistake."

paul stays silent for a little longer before the clicking sound of a lamp being turned on plays from your phone. "you must've had something to say, no?" he asks, and your heart clenches slightly at the sound of his sleepy voice.

you take a deep breath. "well... i actually do have a question for you." you shoot a precautionary glance over to the balcony door, checking that you indeed remembered to close it properly. "you know when you, me, and dino went to italy in 2022? during the summer break?" he merely hums as an answer. "do you remember what that restaurant we went to like five times was called? the one with the delicious pasta? it had a funny name, but..."

he lets out a confused sound, and you imagine his eyebrows furrowing together like they always did when you used to ask him stupid questions back in the days. "um... not right now..." he sighs. "you mean the one in the corner of the town square?"

"yeah, that one."

"can't remember. sorry." you both go back to that silence from earlier, and you begin to ask yourself if it's less embarrassing to say goodbye or just hang up right now and pretend this never happened. "a bit of a random question, no?"

you chuckle, nodding to yourself. "well, i've been craving pasta... so i just thought about it..."

"can i also say something i've been thinking about?" he interjects suddenly.

"of course."

"well, i... i'd really like to apologize. for all of the things i said about you in the start of the season." the words hit you like a truck. you had assumed you would be somewhat friendly after monaco, but you never would've thought he would actually apologize to you. "it all got much worse than i had anticipated. i didn't mean it like that, i was just..." he sighs again. "i was worried about you."

in some sick and twisted way, his words actually do feel comforting. you understand where he's coming from, despite how little he's said; maybe it's the fact that you know each other so well by now that makes you understand how sorry he actually is. "i get it, paul. thank you for your concern-"

"like, i genuinely really never meant for that to happen," he says, not able to hold back from cutting you off. "i didn't think it could snowball that big and get so taken out of context. i should've known and been smarter."

"i appreciate that, actually," you say, voice softer now. "it means a lot."

the sincerity of his voice lingers, chipping away at the anger you've been holding onto. there's a strange mix of relief and hurt still swirling inside you, though, and you look around the balcony to try to find something to anchor your thoughts. you accidentally glance back into the hotel room, your eyes landing on ollie, peacefully asleep and so oblivious to the emotional storm you're navigating. the sight of the gentle rise and fall of his chest blends with the memory of paul's tired voice, and your mind gets going again. surely, you woke him up – but what if he was lying in bed with someone just like you were moments ago? what if you not only interrupted his sleep but also someone else's?

the words leave your lips before you can stop them. "how is your girl doing?" you bite down on your lip, shaking your head at yourself as an awkward silence fills the air.

"who?"

don't act stupid, paul, you think to yourself. "the girl you were with in imola." who else?

"oh, her," he says, voice suddenly much quieter than before. "i don't know her. haven't seen her since."

"oh." you can't tell if that makes you feel better or worse; was he willing to just go kiss any random girl?

"how is milton keynes treating you?" he asks, interrupting your thoughts before they can trail off. "pepe bothering you anything? no murders in the stairwell?"

"i'm... actually not there right now."

paul lets out a surprised sound. "where are you then?"

you don't say anything; you don't need to. the silence is enough of an answer for him.

"italy, of course. i get it." he takes a deep breath, which turns into a loud yawn before he speaks again. "well, i really should get back to sleeping..."

"i really am sorry for bothering you this late," you say, the guilt clear in your voice. "i shouldn't have called."

"you can always call me, you know. no matter the time."

this is far from the first time you've been on a call with him like this, late at night and thousands of kilometers away. but the words you're so used to telling him, the ones you almost let fall from your tongue, are the ones you aren't allowed to say – or even think of.

i miss you.

"ollie!"

his name sounds like a curse when it leaves your lips, a mixture of a groan and a whine following it. you can hear the laugh he tries to stifle despite him being many meters ahead of you. "what is it?"

"i'm too tired," you complain, stopping in your tracks. "my body is about five steps from giving up."

for the last day of your trip, ollie wanted to take you to one of his favorite spots in italy. did he admit that it required a bit of a hike? yes. but did he remember to mention exactly how awful of a hike it was, that it would take almost three hours and that it would be worse than any workout you've ever gone through? definitely not.

"we're almost there," he counters, turning around to wait for you to catch up with him. when you do, he wraps an arm around your waist, practically pulling you with him up the last hill. you can see the viewpoint already, but you can't squeeze one last drop of energy out of your legs.

"you've been saying that for the last two hours."

ollie laughs again, a sound that usually wakes the butterflies in your stomach but right now just annoys you. how is it fair that he has all this energy left? "you're going to love the view, come on."

he wasn't lying; the view truly is breathtaking. the valley beneath you seems to go on forever, a patchwork of forests and rivers filling the land. the mountain peaks jut up sharply against the sky as the clouds drift lazily overhead, their shadows dancing on the ground below. and the feeling of your boyfriend's arm around you just accentuates the feeling, making it all seem a little brighter and more colorful.

"worth it?" he asks after a few moments of silence.

"let me breathe for a minute, and then i can decide."

he lets you admire the scenery for a bit – but he's already memorized every tree and every mountaintop far too many times, so his eyes stay glued to your expression instead. he soon snaps out of his thoughts, shrugging his backpack off his shoulders. "i almost forgot," he starts as he crouches down a little, opening the zipper of the bag and starting to search through it. "i have something for you."

your eyes flicker down to him, interest in your gaze. "i hope you brought more of those chocolates-"

when you see what he pulls out of the bag, you instantly freeze. it's not the bag of sweets you had expected; it's a small velvet-lined box.

a ring box.

"don't freak out," he says when he takes note of your expression, and he stands up properly again. "it's not an engagement ring."

"ollie-"

"just open it."

when you remain still, he grabs one of your hands from your side, places the box in your hand, and prods you to lift the lid. the hesitance bubbling in your stomach makes your fingers tremble, but you finally open the lid, revealing a thin golden ring with a tiny heart-shaped gemstone.

"it's a promise ring," he explains. "it doesn't have to be a promise that we'll get married one day, or anything like that. but, just... to show that i'm serious about us."

you finally tear your gaze from the ring, wide eyes blinking up at him. "i..." you start, but no words feel right for this moment.

"i know it's sudden, but you can also think of it as an early birthday present," he tells you. "you don't have to accept it, of course. but it would mean a lot to me if you did."

but do you really have a choice?

can you actually promise to be serious about him, in the way he's serious about you?

yourusername just posted!

yourusername recharging the batteries 💗

show all 61 comments

user thank you both for letting me take a pic with you 😭 made my week

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user gorggg!! hope you've had a good break <3

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

redbulljuniorteam can't wait to see you back on track 💪

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user gonna have to steal you from ollie actually!! you're mine now 🫵

→ user i'll take ollie then 🤭

→ user deal

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

olliebearman ❤️

[bellaxgiornata]

Borrowed Time |1: Savior|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Nurse!Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.8k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; heavy angst, hopeful but no happy ending, canon-typical violence, death

Summary: While walking home after your night shift at Metro-General Hospital, you meet the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen by chance when he saves you. Your brush with death leaves you contemplating the concept of fate and predetermined events, but Matt insists God wanted him to save you that night. Though you can't help but wonder if you really were just living on borrowed time...

a/n: So this mini series is what happens when I'm asked if I can write angst that doesn't have a happy ending (which I am admittedly struggling to stick to myself). The idea has been rolling around in my head for a couple of months and I'm now finally throwing it out there. Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag List: @1988-fiend @danzer8705

Resting your aching body against the wall, you stayed clear of the doors leading into Metro-General Hospital's emergency waiting area. The room was at its usual capacity for this time of night, most of the plastic chairs already filled with people who looked miserable for one reason or another. Over at the check-in counter you could hear the agitated voice of someone arguing with one of your coworkers, though you were far too tired to focus on what was being said.

From your place inside the hospital, you could already hear the approaching wail of another ambulance's siren, no doubt on its way to deliver someone else to the emergency room from yet another incident this evening. But at least for tonight, you were done worrying about what else was happening in Hell’s Kitchen.

Eyes heavy from the long and understaffed shift you'd just finished, your fingers sluggishly placed a single ear bud into your left ear–the same thing you did every night before you walked back to your apartment building. The unforgiving fluorescent lights above only continued to grow the pounding headache you'd had for over an hour now as your fingers put the small device in place, your other hand already searching inside of your bag for your phone. 

Despite working second shift and finishing up late at night, you always walked home from the hospital. Your apartment was only two blocks away, so paying for transportation seemed like a waste of your hard earned money, and waiting outside for a bus near midnight seemed like an unnecessary danger and a waste of time. 

Truthfully you hated the walk home at the end of every shift. The streets of Hell’s Kitchen were dangerous, there was no doubt about that. Working as an ER nurse certainly gave you enough insight into what things happened in the city once the sun went down. The pepper spray you carried on your keychain was only a mild comfort during your walks, because usually you were still always on edge. So generally, every night on your walk home, you preferred to pop a single ear bud into your ear and listen to some upbeat pop music in an attempt to distract yourself from your own rising levels of fear. You could still hear your surroundings, but listening to cheerful music certainly helped ease your anxiety, making every passing figure appear less like they were about to stab you and run off with your bag.

Pushing off the wall with a tired sigh, you made your way towards the exit. You searched your phone for your usual playlist as you approached the door, pushing it open with your shoulder as you focused on your phone screen. Stepping out onto the sidewalk and into the somewhat humid summer night, you were already hit with that usual sense of unease. The ambulance you’d been hearing finally came into view farther down the street just as you pressed play on your phone. The sound of a familiar song started in your ear, helping to drown out the shrill sound of the sirens.

Turning in the direction of your apartment building, you began your walk back home. As you went, you slipped a hand into your bag, feeling around the bottom of it for a minute. Eventually your fingers landed on your keyring and you pulled it out. Hand curling around the can of pepper spray attached to it, you clutched it close to the front of you, ready to use it if necessary.

Your sore, tired feet protested each step you took along the pavement as you made your way back home. The shoes you always wore to work were in serious need of replacement, the soles of them no longer padded and comfortable anymore, worn down from constant use shift after shift. There was already a blister forming on your little toe from today and you knew it was going to make your shift tomorrow incredibly uncomfortable.

A few minutes into your walk you eventually approached the corner of the block where you needed to turn. You spotted a man appearing around it, headed straight towards you. He was dressed in a dark sweatshirt with his hood pulled up over his head, something that seemed out of place in the heat of the summer night. The man's upturned hood also made it impossible to see his face and whether or not he was paying any attention to you in return. It didn't help that his hands were stuffed into the front pocket of his sweatshirt, making it difficult to tell if something else was stuffed inside of it or not. 

Fear shot through you the closer he neared, his face still obscured. Your fingers curled further around the pepper spray in your hand and you wondered if you'd need to use it. When he came within a few feet of you a moment later, you forced your eyes to stay focused ahead of you, though in your peripheral you kept an eye on him. You held your breath when you finally passed him, continuing to hold it a few seconds longer until you'd made your way around the corner. Glancing back over your shoulder, you were grateful to see the man hadn't turned back around to follow after you. Releasing the breath you'd still been holding, the tension eased from your body just a little. At least whatever he might've been up to tonight, he wasn't interested in you.

Attention returning ahead of yourself, you continued down the street all the way to the crosswalk at the opposite end. Fortunately the light was in your favor and you didn't have to wait on the sidewalk when you reached it, but just as you stepped out into the street to cross it, your can of pepper spray slipped out of your sweat-dampened hands and clattered down onto the street. With a groan you hurried forward into the road after it, wincing as your feet ached at your hurried steps. You'd barely managed to bend down and pluck the keyring from off the pavement before you noticed a bright light out of the corner of your eye. Turning your gaze towards it while still bent in half, it took your brain a few seconds to process that the bright light was a car's headlights–a car that was barreling straight towards you far too fast for the red light it was approaching.

Panic hit you fast and hard, the upbeat song playing in your ear seeming like it had abruptly faded into the background as adrenaline shot through your veins. Feeling as if time had suddenly slowed down, you began to stand upright, prepared to run out of the way of the oncoming car headed straight for you. Though by the time you'd righted yourself, you knew you'd never be able to move entirely out of the way in time. The car was far too close and moving incredibly fast.

You swallowed hard, bracing yourself for the inevitable impact as you attempted to lunge forward in what seemed a useless attempt to dart out of the car’s way. Heart slamming heavily into your ribcage, you found yourself yanked surprisingly and quite sharply backwards. A shriek flew out of your mouth as you stumbled back unexpectedly. In the street before you, the red car zoomed past where you'd been standing just a fraction of a second ago, a harsh wind brushing past you with it.

Breathing hard, you stood there frozen and wide-eyed staring at the space you'd just been standing in moments ago. That car had almost hit you. With how fast it was going, it'd have most likely killed you on impact. Yet somehow here you were still alive and breathing, feeling the buzz of adrenaline in your veins as your heart jack-hammered away in your chest.

It was a few seconds before you registered a pair of arms wrapped around your waist and something solid pressed to the back of you. Glancing down, you saw all black. Black gloves and black long sleeves covering thick forearms. Confused, your head darted up and over your shoulder only to come face to face with a black mask and a deep frown mere inches away from you. Your eyes widened even further the second you registered who it was that had clearly just saved your life. 

The masked man's face shifted down towards your own, his head tilting to the side. His lips twitched at the corners for a moment before he spoke. 

“Are you alright?” he asked.

His voice was lower than you expected it to be, the sound of it causing the hair on the back of your neck to prickle. His arms were still around your waist and it took you a moment to realize it was because he was practically holding you up. Your legs felt weak and useless beneath you as you slowly became aware of them once more.

“I–yeah,” you breathed out. 

Gradually the sensation in your legs came back to you and you carefully tried to shift your weight forward back onto your feet. The masked man loosened his hold around you, though he still kept his hands lightly resting on your waist as if he was ready to catch you if you fell. 

“Should be more careful,” he told you. “And you shouldn't be walking around alone this late at night in Hell’s Kitchen.”

Blinking hard a few times, you ran a hand across your forehead. Your mind was still reeling at almost having been hit by a car and miraculously being saved at the last second, yet here your savior was chastising you. 

“It's not exactly like I make a fortune at Metro-General,” you muttered, voice coming out with less bite than you'd intended. “Can't exactly afford transportation and I can't exactly control being placed on second shift.”

The man's head tilted curiously to the side again, almost as if he was analyzing you. Meanwhile you took the moment to try to calm your still racing heart as you took a shaky step back up onto the sidewalk, his hands leaving your waist as you moved.

“You're a…?”

“Nurse, yes,” you answered stiffly. “Believe me, I don't choose to walk around this late at night for the thrill of it. And it seems counterintuitive to walk a block in the opposite direction of my apartment building just to wait for a bus at a poorly lit bus stop for the length of time it would take me to walk home instead.”

The masked man's lips curled into something like an amused grin as he stepped up onto the sidewalk beside you. Your eyes narrowed back at him suspiciously, one hand resting on your chest over your still rapidly pounding heart.

“For someone clutching a can of pepper spray in a death grip, you sure have a lot of fire,” he mused. “Generally people are more grateful when I save their life.”

“Yeah, well, generally when I'm helping to save someone's life, I'm significantly less rude about it,” you retorted. 

His grin shifted into a full-on smile, one that was oddly disarming considering he'd just been scolding you. Feeling a little awkward for snapping at him, especially because he had just pulled you out of the way of certain death, you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“But thank you,” you continued. “You uh, you saved me. That car certainly would have hit me if you hadn't pulled me out of the way. I just…wasn't expecting the lecture that came with the rescue.”

He laughed lightly, nodding his head. Once more you eyed him suspiciously, not having expected his sudden shift in demeanor to something more friendly so quickly.

“Usually the people I'm rescuing aren't already walking around in a state of panic,” he said, gesturing a gloved hand towards your pepper spray. “Figured maybe you didn't fully understand the dangers of this city after dark. Besides the cars, I mean.”

“Believe me,” you assured him, “I'm well aware of the dangers. Working in the ER has shown me far more of this part of the city than I care to see sometimes.”

“Then how about I walk you back to your building?” he asked. “Just to make sure you get home safe?”

Your hands fidgeted with your keyring, nervously toying with a key as you contemplated his offer. Was it safe enough to trust him? Especially to lead him back to your building where you lived? 

Of course you'd read about the masked man in the paper a few times by now–The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen they'd taken to calling him lately. You'd also seen a few of his victims firsthand enter your hospital in quite poor shape on more than one occasion. But he always seemed to help those in need, never brutally beating an innocent person. And never killing anyone, either. 

Plus, he had just saved your life.

As he shifted on the sidewalk during your contemplative silence, the streetlight above caught his dark pants at a different angle. Your eyes dropped down, noticing the cut along the outside of his thigh. There was a slash a few inches deep down the side of his leg that had torn through his pants. You winced at the sight, raising a hand and pointing a finger at the injury.

“Maybe I should walk you back to the hospital,” you offered. “That gash looks like it could use stitches.”

The vigilante shook his head, waving a gloved hand at you. You immediately frowned at the gesture as you glanced back up at his masked face. 

“Nah,” he replied. “I don't do hospitals. I'll just clean it and stitch it myself later. I’ll be fine.”

Your mouth fell open instantly as you stared at him in utter disbelief. Was he serious?

“So what, you're just going to continue walking around like that the rest of the night?” you asked him. “Aggravating the injury and risking infection?”

“I'll be fine,” he repeated. “Now, would you like me to escort you back home, or would you prefer to continue clutching that little can of pepper spray for protection instead?”

Standing there for a moment, you stared at him in bewilderment. Who the hell was this guy? Avoiding medical attention and pulling strangers out of the way of speeding cars just in the nick of time? How had he even been close enough to stop that car from hitting you? And then here he was having the audacity to joke with you after the fact?

Eventually your eyes dropped back down to the gash in his leg, bright red blood glistening along his dark pants in the streetlight. Maybe it was the nurse in you or maybe it was because he had just saved your life, but you found yourself speaking before you could think through what you were saying. 

“You can walk me back to my place and let me tend to that gash,” you told him. “Because you'd be an absolute idiot to keep walking around with an open, bleeding wound.”

The Devil smiled wide beneath his black mask at your response. You couldn't deny that he had a nice smile, whoever the hell he was.

“Bossy,” he teased. “That was certainly unexpected. I suppose that'll just make for an interesting walk to your place then.”

You rolled your eyes at him before gesturing him to follow after you with a hand. “Come on, Spirit Halloween,” you ordered. “My place is just a block further this way. And you better not pass out from blood loss on the way,” you warned him, beginning to cross the street and continuing to make your way back towards your building. “Because I can guarantee I am too damn tired to carry your ass anywhere.”

Behind you, the Devil rumbled out a laugh. Biting your lip, you tried to fight back a smile at the pleasant sound. He certainly didn't seem like much of a threat to you at least.

“Spirit Halloween?” he asked, amused.

“Yeah,” you replied off-handedly as you double-checked for speeding cars while you made your way across the street. “Because you look like a knock-off version of a child’s Halloween ninja costume dressed like that.”

Slipping your pepper spray back into your bag, you heard the masked man let out another surprised, warm laugh. The smile slipped onto your face at the sound this time and you were glad he couldn’t see it. Though you knew if it wasn’t for this curious stranger now following you home, you'd surely have been dead minutes ago. It was almost as if you'd been given a second chance because of him, and you figured the least you could do now was repay his kindness with some of your own.

[rxmqnova]

Lonely souls

Y/N: 12 years old Story: After a failed attempt of getting her family back, Wanda meets a young girl that needs help … ——————————————————

Y/N'S POV I've been walking around for the past few hours. I have no idea where I am. Actually… I've never been outside of the base I've spent my entire life in. I have no idea what happened, but I managed to sneak out when the hydra agents were busy fighting a bunch of guys named the Avengers.

Suddenly I see a young woman cutting branches of the trees that are surrounding this place. I take a deep breath and walk towards her. Maybe she could help me, right?

"I. Hm. Excuse me? Could I ask if there's some village, city or just something near this place?" I ask the woman nervously, playing with my fingers. I've never actually talked to normal people.

"How did you get here?" She asks, looking at me confused.

"I. Hm. I-I got lost" I lie. I can't tell her about the base…

"Well, there's nothing around in here" She says. "Only my house. Come on, I'll make you some tea" She gives me a smile.

"Thank you" I smile back, a sigh of relief leaving my lips.

"What's your name?" She asks as we step into her house. She leads me into the kitchen and gets into making the tea. The house looks nice, she must be kinda lonely here though if she lives here alone. I don't even see any pictures here.

"Y/N" I simply answer.

"That's a pretty name" She smiles. "I'm Wanda… How old are you?"

"Twelve" I respond. "… You live here all alone?" I ask which was probably a mistake, cause she only sadly nods. She places the tea on the table, telling me to sit down, so I do as said.

"Your parents must be looking for you. Where do you live?" She asks with a soft smile. I just blankly stare at her, not knowing what to say. She keeps looking at me, waiting for an answer, but suddenly I hear her voice in my head while her eyes are glowing red. "You were at hydra?" She asks, her eyes turning back to normal.

"How… how do you know?" I ask, standing up and backing off, slowly walking backwards to the front door. My heart racing as I'm praying she's not one of them.

"No, no. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you" She stands up, slowly walking towards me, hurt visible in her eyes. "I have powers, I'm an Avenger… or was. I don't want to hurt you… Let me help you… please" She says, her gaze softening which makes me relax a little bit.

"Mhm" I slowly nod. I have no place to go anyway, so hopefully she's really one of the good guys.

"Good. You must be hungry. Let's sit back down and I'll give you something to eat, okay?" She smiles softly.

"Okay" I just simply nod. I'm really hungry and don't want to get killed by her.

She gives me some food that I've never heard of before. It smells nice though, I hope she won't poison me or anything. I get into eating and let me tell you… I've never eaten anything better before.

"Do you like it?" She asks with a warm smile.

"It's really good, thank you" I say politely with a smile.

"I'm sorry again… about scarying you. I really don't want to hurt you. You can stay the night and we'll think of something tomorrow. Would that be okay?" She asks, waiting for me to say something while she's playing with the rings on her fingers.

"I.. Yeah. Thank you" I smile.

When I'm done eating, Wanda shows me her bedroom, telling me I can sleep there and insisting she's gonna take the couch. She borrows me some clothes to sleep in and I take a hot shower before bed.

Once I'm all finally ready to actually go to sleep. I lay down on the bed, feeling better than ever. A knock interrupts my thinking. Wanda walks in with a smile on her face, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"I just came to say goodnight. You can come to me if anything" She smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. She presses a kiss to my forehead, stroking my cheek with her thumb, making me feel something I've never felt before. It's a nice feeling though. "Sweet dreams" She smiles at me again before standing up and walking towards the door.

"Goodnight" I smile at her before she closes the door, closing my eyes right after that.

———————————

Tears are streaming down my face as I'm sitting in the middle of the bed, hugging my knees tightly. I've just had the worst nightmare. My hands are shaking like crazy and I just can't stop the tears.

I manage to crawl out of the bed and walk downstairs with hope to find Wanda. She said I could come to her, so hopefully she won't be mad.

I walk to the living room, finding Wanda sitting on the couch and watching TV. I let out a shaky breath before calling her name.

"Wanda?" I quietly call, not wanting to scare her. She turns around to look at me, her smile fading when she sees the state I'm in.

"Sweetheart, what happened?" She asks, already walking to me. She cups my cheeks with her hands, wiping my tears away with her thumbs.

"Nightmare" I manage to say, trying not to cry again which is not really successful.

"Oh honey. It's okay. I'm here" She smiles, pulling me into a hug. "Do you want to talk about it?" She asks, rubbing my back as she's still hugging me. I nod in response, hoping she'll somehow help me to get it out of my head.

She leads me to the couch and we both sit down. She wraps an arm around me which makes me to lean into her and wrap my arms around her.

"What was your nightmare about?" She asks, playing with my hair.

"… That I was back at hydra" I manage to get out after taking a deep shaky breath.

"I'm so sorry, honey" Wanda says, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "I promise you'll never go back to that place. I'll make sure of that"

"How can you be sure of that? What if they'll find me?" I ask, looking up at her.

"… They won't… You have me now and I'll always protect you.. no matter what… I know I said we'd talk about it tomorrow, but… Y/N, I think we both need a new beginning" Wanda starts, still playing with my hair. "We can stay here or go anywhere we'd want. I promise I'll take a good care of you and always protect you" Wanda says, tears in her eyes by now.

"You want me to stay with you?" I ask, tears also filling my eyes. She's been really nice to me and I really don't want to stay alone.

"Yeah… If you want to stay with me" She says, wiping away the tears that escaped my eyes.

"Mhm" I nod, practically jumping into her arms, holding her tightly and receiving a kiss to my forehead. I really need a new beginning…

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

I kind of rushed this…

PS: Currently working on the werewolf story someone requested :))

Wanda Maximoff masterlist

Masterlist

[thewritetofreespeech]

hello! i was wondering if since we didn't get the actual confession for DinoxReader 'Queen of Posions' thing if you would be willing to add that? if you're done with that story that's fine too.

part i

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

“The doctor said you need to rest.”

“Doctors are idiots.” [Y/N] replied when they arrived back at their townhouse in the city after being cleared by the Blood. Dino had insisted on escorting them home.

After the events of their attack, [Y/N] had been taken for medical treatment to make sure there was no effects lingering in their system. Her hypothesis had been correct in that without the original, there was no way to influence will on the subject. The medical team also tried to do some tests on [Y/N]’s unique compounds found in her blood, but the fools were nowhere near the genius of its host, so they released her swiftly with directions to rest and recover.

“You should still rest.” Dino insisted again. Following her through the house and into her office. A familiar place for them as she was often working in her home lab or office on some manner of research. “You may not be enthralled, but you were attacked.”

“Yes, Dino, I was there.” Her hand came up to rub at her neck that had been bitten. No lingering effects of influence but still no less sore probably. “Your concern is touching but unnecessary. Isn’t there someone else you should be fussing over?”

“No one else is worth the fuss.”

[Y/N] stopped shuffling her papers and looked up at Dino. His tone was naturally very serious. He had always had a deeper timber than most, which led to his dry wit. But the tone he had taken now was much more serious. Dino realizes he would have to be if he wanted [Y/N] to listen to him. Though brilliant, she often mistook social cues or just simply wouldn’t listen to people. She would listen to him this time though.

“When you were attacked it felt like my world had shattered. To think that you would be controlled by someone else. That I may have to kill you like Dali did to his wife. It was too much to even consider, much less live though.”

“Dino, what are you saying?”

“I am saying that I love you.” The direct approach was the only way usually to get her to listen. “What more is there to say than that?”

[Y/N] seemed surprised by his confession, then blushed. Though a brilliant alchemist and steward of science, she was still a woman who could clearly be swayed by soft words deep down.  “Are you sure? You didn’t just get hit on the head or something? Eaten bad cheese?”

Dino scoffed. “I am not the one who was attacked, remember. And you know I can’t stand dairy.”

[Y/N] appeared to rack her brain for another logical explanation for his confession, but of course there was none. Dino might be just as cynical as she was, but he could admit that somethings were not just explained away by logic or reason. Love was one of them. “If you do not feel the same that’s fine. You wouldn’t be the first woman not to love me back. But I just thought I would let you know.”

“Save the self-pity Classico,” [Y/N] clipped at him, “I never said I didn’t love you this is just….a lot.” She said, rubbing her neck once more. “My life was just in peril you know....” She looked nervous. Dino had never seen her be nervous before. Always confident, precise, logical. This change was something new and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited by it. He was probably the only person in years to see her like this. Would she look this way during other things, if she accepted him?

The noble stepped forward. Using his full height for a change to crowd her. “I love you.” It seemed to bare repeating. “I have known this about myself for a very long time, though I know this is new for you. If you need time, I will accept it. Just so long as you accept me.”

[Y/N] looked up into his eyes. An expression of calculating honesty but also wonder. “Yes, Dino,” she told him, “I will accept you.” Dino was pleased. Not realizing he had been holding his breath while waiting for her response to then just let it out in a heavy sigh on the air.

It might have been premature & improper, but Dino couldn’t help himself. He leaned down to give [Y/N] a kiss. Yet, just before their lips touched, she cried out, “Wait! Wait! Wait!”

Dino was alarmed. He stopped immediately, thinking that was indeed premature & improper, but then cried out on his own when he was stabbed by a small hairpin in the neck. “Nine hells! What was that for?!”

“The antidote.”

He stopped wincing in pain, realizing what she meant. Her sign of acceptance. That he could touch her. Again, probably one of the first people in years she could get close to.

Dino grabbed [Y/N] hard and kissed her fiercely. No longer afraid of impropriety or decorum, or even her poisons. She would make a fine match for him. His only match, as far as Dino was concerned. Once this case was over, and vampire kind was saved, he would give the Queen of Poisons a new title. For now, he would just be happy she was safe and accepted him. That was all he could ask for right now. That and more kisses.

[trueshellz]

A/N: This is based on something I did today, thankfully my mum had my spare keys to the back patio door so I could climb over.

"Nooooooooooooo."

Leaning your head against the door with a sound of frustration as your front door slammed behind you. The mocking sound of keys jangling inside still in the lock where you left them, somehow you had forgotten that your door can't open without the stupid keys. And now you were stood on your doorstep in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt with your hair in a messy bun.

Another groan of frustration when you tried to stick your hand through the letterbox, if you could just... nope. Your hand did not fit and now you had a ring of red from the action. Stomping your feet you glanced around quickly and smiled awkwardly at a passerby who was walking with her son. She had a look of confusion on her face which quickly turned into shock as she saw your lack of clothing.

Oh great.

Sighing, you pulled your phone out of your bra where you had shoved it earlier and dialled a locksmith... who unhelpfully told you that they would be there in an hour as they were short-staffed. Next was your landlord, who was also unable to come out as he was out the city visiting family. And of course, since lady luck was not shining down on you at all, your mother and sister were both unable to come out for at least 2 hours since they were getting their nails done.

Which left you with one option... something you really didn't want to do, but honestly, sitting outside in your loungewear was really not it. Dialling the number for the police, you quickly explained the situation and apologised for the silly reason for calling.

"We actually have some pro-heroes patrolling the area near you so we'll ask them to stop and help you out. Just sit tight for now."

Murmured thanks as you planted your butt on the ground next to the door, keeping an eye and ear out for the pro-hero in question when suddenly a bunch of cursing and loud words caught your attention.

"-is that? I mean, who manages to lock themselves out nowadays? And why call the police? A locksmith would have been better. Do we look like Inspector Gadget?"

Oh great.

Dynamight.

A thud of boots as he neared you, suddenly you could hear Red Riot reprimanding him and a slap followed by a loud 'ow' from him. And them two pairs of boots in front of you where your chin was rested on your arms over your knees. Looking up, you could see Dynamight's frowning face and Red Riot's friendly smile and wave.

Katsuki was pissed.

Not only had he been called away from patrol to sort out whatever the hell this was, but to make it worse his dick suddenly perked up with interest at the most annoying time. Seeing you say on the floor, the way your shorts rode up your thick thighs, the poor excuse for a shirt stretched across your heavy tits almost made his jaw drop to the floor.

"The hell happened?" Instead came out of his mouth.

Fucking perfect.

"Got locked out."

"No shit?"

"No shit."

Reaching over and trying the door once, he heard your snort before turning around to glare at you but somehow seeing your arms crossed over your chest made him stumble. Closing his mouth quickly, he tried again but this time barged his shoulder into it until it popped open with a loud 'thunk' onto the wall.

Smiling politely, you quickly ran in and pulled in your hoodie, suddenly very aware of the size of the two of them and how very underdressed you were as they stood in your doorway.

"-ID?

"Huh?"

"Have you got ID showing you live here, sweetheart?" Red Riot's face was friendly, Dynamight was outside on his device mumbling to himself.

Nodding quickly you grabbed your drivers license and a bill that had come recently before handing them over to him to check. A look up and down, between you and the papers as he grinned again and handed them back.

"I'm sorry about him. He's been on patrol for almost the whole day and he's a little hangry. Have a good evening

Nodding again, you watched as they both left after handing their business cards to you. Just in case they said, flipping them over in your fingers you frowned when you saw dark writing on the back of Dynamight's, his number and a short message in neat handwriting.

Next time you're stuck, call me.

[myunconquerablesoul]

HI I've been thinking...ex- knight toji now currently fled away from the kingdom or city ..and lives alone in a forest peacefully cutting woods hunting by himself and all...and the reader who's a princess will try to find him for a quest...which she desperately fails and try to convince toji to come with her and others can go as you wish 👁️🫦👁️

THANK YOU!

I like your WORK SM.

too good to be wrong. (nsfw!)

I'M SERIOUS! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | 18+ only!

t.fushiguro x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of attempted murder, unprotected sex (be safe, folks! wrap it before you tap it!!!), blindfolding (kinda?), virgin!reader, loss of virginity, oral (fem! receiving), vaginal penetration, choking? (Like just briefly), I think that's it.

Authors note: Thank you for your Request, my lovely. I would have never thought that I would write for Toji, hahaha. But here we are! I loved your idea, but I changed a few things about the story because it felt right with the flow I was going. I hope you don't mind. As always, please let me know if you like it. My first attempt at smut!!! Feedback on what I could have done better is always welcomed. Love you all! Enjoy

Wordcount: 2.826

Being the crown princess, you had, like every accessor to the throne before you, solve a quest to prove your worth of the Thorne.

It was a long-lived tradition in your beloved Kingdom.

Like everyone who had to do this, you were given two months to complete your task. If you couldn't do so, the throne would fall onto the next in line.

Your quest was an easy one, or so you thought. It was winter at that time. Commonly, these quests were held in spring, but your father, the King, wanted you to do it at that time of the year.

And who were you to refuse the King? The man who was personally approved ruler of the land by God himself.

To be a woman of the upper society was terrible enough, but then to be the next to ascend the throne-

A woman as an accessor to the throne- you were his biggest regret. 

Your father also had a son, an illegitimate child, who was given birth by one of his mistresses.

Nicolas was two years younger than you. And unlike with you, one could tell that the King always preferred him. He hated that his firstborn was a girl. 

You knew that; Everyone knew that. 

This is why you always worked harder than anyone. And soon, you became known as the most perfect princess in the Kingdom.

Not only a genius strategist but also an adept diplomat.

No one doubted that you would lead this Kingdom into glory. Some even whispered that you would do a far better job than your father ever could.

So when did it all go south?

He doesn't know what came over him- What he was thinking, but it was too late anyway.

Toji has been in hiding for several years now. 

He had dared to disobey his general's orders, causing a riot that almost ended in a mutiny. After, he was sentenced to death and was supposed to be hanged, but he managed to escape. 

Since then, he has lived alone in a forest near the mountains in case he is tracked down.

This winter has been a tough one. The wind whipped on the skin, and he could hardly see anything through all the snow falling.

But he saw a lump on the ground, and as he came closer, he saw that the snow had turned reddish under the person, which could only indicate a life-threatening wound- if it wasn't already too late.

And then again, Toji wondered why he did it. 

He could have let you die- let nature play its game- but no, he had to take you with him and save you.

But the second after he laid you down on his bed to treat you, he was able to take a good look at your face.

"Fuck."

That was all almost a year ago. During this time, you've learned that the reason why the quest was postponed was all just a cruel plot against you. To Kill You. For your half-brother to take the throne.

Because Nicolas was an illegitimate child, he had no claim to the throne. But things are different if he is the king's only child. Then, he automatically becomes the heir to the kingdom.

I didn't know if it was your father's doing or your brother's, but you do know that you couldn't go back.

So ever since then, you have lived with Toji, hidden from the world.

Sometimes, he made trips to the neighborhood kingdom. Chances that they wouldn't recognize him were lower there. Since you would indeed be identified, you mostly stayed in the hut and prepared meals or would hunt alone.

After Toji returned, he proudly showed you the bottle of wine traded at one of the markets for the fur of one of the foxes you caught the other day.

"You traded fur for wine?!" with your hand on your hip, you showed annoyance clearly as day.

"Aww, come on, princess. It's not like we don't have anything we need by now to survive the winter anyways."

He was right. You filled your supplies weeks ago. Fur enough for the two of you and the wood was well sheltered from the rain.

"Still, you could have brought something better than this."

"Hey, it tastes good, and besides-" he came a little closer to you. "it helps keep us warm, hmm."

In all this time you've known him, you realized he was quite the teaser. "Is that so?" you asked, amused. "Oh yeah. Definitely."

"Well then, I guess it was a good investment then." Giggling, you returned to the hot pot of stew you were making.

"See. Now we start to speak the same language." Toji made his way to you. Standing right behind you and looking over your shoulder at what you were making.

"Hmmm, that smells so good." Toji must admit. At first, he didn't like the idea of you staying, but on the other hand, he enjoyed your company, and your cooking skills were a good bonus.

Maybe it helped that you weren't so bad to look at.

The two of you played this push-and-pull game for over half a year. This tension that has been building up-

It's just a matter of time until one of you does something about it. If Toji was honest with himself, he wouldn't mind if-

"Dinner is ready!"

How you managed to get yourself in this position is still a blur to you.

One minute, you were happily chatting and drinking, and the next- 

His kiss overwhelms your senses, and you sink deeper into it, drowning in his essence.

His hand reaches the back of your neck, and his other slides down your side. Your mouth opens wider as you let his tongue sink inside, and arousal curls around your body. 

He groans when you start sucking on his bottom lip. His hips drive into the space between your legs until you feel his clothed member pressing against your center. 

Your back arches, fingers tearing at his strands as you mold yourself to his body, needing to get closer. To feel deeper. 

His palm cups your breast, his fingers teasing the nipple through the thin fabric. He breaks his lips away from yours, moving to skim the corner of your jaw and then farther down, latching on to your neck. 

His teeth nip the skin until it stings, making goose bumps sprout along every inch of your body. Picking you up, you wrap your legs around Toji's middle as he takes you to his bed.

You moan, wetness dripping from your core and sticking to the inside of your legs, wishing he would touch you where you needed him the most.

You should feel ashamed of yourself. You were always thought to never long for this touch other than from your husband. You know this was bad, but this feels too good to be wrong.

He hesitates then, pulling back and gazing into your eyes, and for a slight moment, you worry that he'll change his mind. But with Toji, you should know better. 

He grips your hand tighter and then moves to grab the other, placing them above your head and tangling your fingers as he lays you into his bed. 

He leans in, his lips moving from the base of your neck to your mouth.

"Y/N," he murmurs. Your lips meet again, and your desire rises with each moment, heat throbbing your insides. 

You press your hips into him, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him in deeper. 

He groans. Seeing someone like him get lost in passion and knowing you are the reason is intoxicating. His fingers tighten around yours, and he presses your hands deeper into the pillows as he pulls back to gaze into your eyes. 

"You're mine." It isn't a question. You nod anyway. Speaking against his lips. "Yours." You're desperate for him to fill you until you scream.

There is nothing Toji wouldn't do to keep you by his side. 

"Toji," you moan, fingers tugging at the strands of his hair until the root stings. 

You look so beautiful beneath him. All he wants to do is fuck you until you break, breed you until his cum leaks from your pores. 

Toji reaches for your ankle and drags you down to the edge of the bed. You yelp at the sudden movement. All he could do was moan at the sight reviled through the movement. His grasp tightens on you. 

"Fuck! No underwear?! Fucking brat! Are you trying to fucking kill me?" fingers dancing along the front of your leg, sliding to the inside of your thighs. And then he pinches. Your eyes flutter, and you part your mouth. 

"You like the pain, don't you, Princess?" Toji tilts his head, trying to keep himself from pouncing on you and burying his face in your pussy. "I- I don't know what I like," He laughed softly, hand smoothing over the reddened area from where he pinched you. Of course, you never let anyone touch you before. At least, he hoped so.

It wasn't uncommon for princesses to fuck around, but you were the perfect one. 

"We both know you'll take whatever I give you, nevertheless." Grabbing the hem of his shirt, Toji lifts it over his head. "And when you're on the edge of oblivion…" your eyes close when he lays the fabric on them, fingers slipping behind her head to wrap it around your skull until you are blind. 

"It's my name that will be screaming from those pretty little lips." He was almost entirely gone by now. The thought of you giving yourself to him, to belong to him, was overwhelming. 

You should feel embarrassed, needing a man to claim you. But when he lets go of your hand and for a second, you don't know what's happening until you hear and feel something rip. "Oh!" 

The cold air made your nipples harden the second they were exposed, but without warning, you felt Toji's mouth on them- "Toji- ah."

"Do you like how it feels?" he asks, letting go of your Brest with a pop. "I know you do. I bet your pussy is fucking wet for me, begging for something to fill it. Isn't it, my filthy girl?" 

"Do you know how badly I've ached to touch you?" he leans down, unable to resist the urge to taste you, leaving kisses along the middle of your belly. 

You moan, back arching off the bed as your legs clench together. 

Toji forces them back apart within seconds, fingers gripping your inner thigh. 

"Keep them open. I want to see your pretty cunt as it swells and begs me to let it come." 

You gasp, feeling his lips press a firm kiss against your clit. Toji groans at your taste, ragged and hungry. You feel like your hips quake when he curls his tongue at the entrance of your pussy, dragging it along your folds to collect the slick gathered there before his lips mold around your clit, and he sucks.

"Fuck, Princess." his words are muffled by your pussy as he repeats his earlier motions, and your hips almost vibrate beneath him when he slurps at you shamelessly, tasting everything you give to him.

Your hips are rocking against his warm mouth, legs trembling as he pushes them tighter against your chest, and your hands can only twist in his black roots to try and keep yourself grounded.

"Oh- oh, fuck." you whimper, toes curling and thighs flexing from beneath his palms, but Toji doesn't let you go as he continues to suck at your clit. Your hips tremble with the overwhelming pleasure of him sucking and swirling his tongue along your clit.

You hear him groan as you rock your hips back and forth into his eager mouth, suckling hard at your clit until you're quaking beneath him.

Seeing your pussy practically glistening for him makes his balls tighten and heat coil around his spine. His hand slips from your thigh to your throat, squeezing until he feels your heartbeat. 

"Such a good girl." he licks his lips, and his hand on your neck tightens as he lifts you by the throat until our lips are against one another. 

"So quiet, princess. What happened to your smart mouth?" your tongue peeks out to swipe across your lips, and he takes the opportunity, sucking it into your mouth and groaning at your taste. He pushes the blindfold from your face, desperate to have your eyes on him, to know he is affecting you the same way you are him. 

Because you wreck him. Destroy him from the inside out. He undoes his slacks and steps out of them, cock springing free, hard and angry, drops of cum creating a string of wetness that drips from the tip. You watch him stroke himself, and he loves the sight. 

"Do you see what you've done?" He rasps, stepping closer to the end of the bed. "You've made me insane." he moves onto the bed, spreading your legs wider as he crawls into the space between them.

Leaning down until your chests graze, he slaps his cock against your swollen cunt, heat spiking through both of you when he feels your nerves tense and pulse beneath his length. 

Thrusting his hips so his cock slides along your folds. 

You moan, breasts pressing into him as you arch your back.

Tongue traces along the seam of your lips, and he glances down, watching himself slip in and out over your pretty little pussy, his member's head engorged and purple as the skin pulls back with every thrust. 

"I could tease you all night like this." Toji's hands grip your thighs, spreading them wider. "Toji. Please-" 

"Are you a virgin, Y/N?" He had a hunch, but he needed to be sure. 

"Yes," you whispered. One word and Toji snaps. Packed with the need to be the one who claims you. His hand squeezes his member as he slides it down to your wet slit until it's pressing against your tight little hole. 

"And if I were to take you?" Your legs wrap around his hips again, pressing him farther into you. "Then I'm yours to take." 

"Fuck!"

Heat shoots through up his core. He presses in, the tip spreading your lips apart until they stretch around him. Toji was going crazy. Losing his mind with the need to thrust. To pump. To fuck. 

He slides inside of you, all the way up, eyes rolling back as your tight cunt swallows him whole. 

You cry out, legs tightening around his waist. He runs a hand along the top of your hair and over your cheek, cupping your face. 

"So fucking perfect." His cock pulses against your walls, your tight hole squeezing him so deliciously. 

He leans down to kiss you because he wants to feel your breath against his mouth as he makes you come apart. 

"Are you okay?" he whispers against your mouth. 

"Yes!" You sinks your teeth into his lip, biting until his skin breaks, his balls draw up so tight a little cum leaks. "Just like that. Ah-" He groans, throwing his head back. 

"Harder," you demand. Toji pulls out to the tip again, glancing down to see your wetness coating him, and then he slams right back in. You cry out, fingernails digging into his back as he hisses at the sting. 

Your eyes flare, mouth parting on a silent scream. "Does it hurt?" "No," you whisper. "Good." He rose, gripping your legs and lifting them to spread them apart to watch your abused center take his cock. 

The sight is incredibly addictive; nothing has ever felt like this. Toji's fingers slip to where you need him most, rubbing until your head thrashes back and forth. You're close. He can feel it in the way your walls tighten around him. Arousal flowing like water.

"Such a filthy girl, drenching my dick like you're my whore." And you explode, arms and legs wrapping around him, chest pressing against him. His hands move to your hips, holding them to him as Toji thrusts into you, chasing his own high as you shatter around him. 

"Toji!" you cry again and again. Whimpering as you hold on. He considers coming inside you for just a moment. Everything in him screams to do it.

But, at the last second, he pushes you back onto the bed, slipping out of you. Groaning, he throws his head back, muscles seizing tight. "Tell me you want it." he's desperate to come.

"I want it." There's no hesitation in your tone. "Please." his muscles tense, shaft jerking in his hand. "Paint it on my skin so everyone knows who I belong to." And that's all it takes for him to explode right then and there.

It's decided... Toji will never let you go.

[theantonian]

The Death of Mark Antony, August 1st, 30 BC

At sunrise, Antony led his men out to do battle with the enemy and standing on the high ground outside the city, he watched his fleet move out from the harbour to attack Octavian's ships and to disembark the forces which were to menace the enemy's rear. But as he watched, he saw the sailors of each fleet salute those of the other and come to rest side by side, evidently by a secret arrangement made between them.

While he was still staring in dismay at this spectacle, his cavalry suddenly galloped forward before his eyes and were received into Octavian's lines. The enemy then advanced upon him, whereat his remaining troops fled back into the city. He had no other option but to retreat or risk being taken alive. He followed the confused retreat, cursing them, as he went, for their refusal to obey his orders, and shouting at them his accusations of treachery.

It was clear that the collapse was the result of a prearrangement with the enemy, and Antony made his way back to the palace after an honourable death was denied to him in the battlefield, crying out that Cleopatra had betrayed him, and calling her every foul name he could lay his tongue to.

It’s said that, as he stormed into the building, she ran for her life to her unfinished mausoleum which stood on the far side of a courtyard, overlooking the sea. It was a stone structure of two storeys. Her two ladies, Iras and Charmion, and one eunuch, accompanied her; and dashing into the mausoleum, they closed and bolted the great doors and thereafter mounting the stairs to the upper floor, from the windows of which they could observe something of what was going on in the courtyard and palace. It seems probable that the Queen was not responsible for the desertions. The generally held belief is: she knew quite well that Antony would hardly be persuaded to think her innocent, and her flight was from his wrath. A better probability is that she was preparing to burn up the mausoleum along with herself and the great treasures which she had accumulated as Antony gave his life on the battlefield.

Looking out of the window, one of her ladies called hysterically down to some servant or soldier below, telling him to go to Antony and to say that the Queen was about to kill herself; but the man in his excitement misunderstood the message, for the news that she was dead was presently brought to Antony as with two or three faithful officers, he paced about, sword in hand, waiting distractedly for events to shape themselves. At this He cried out: "Well, then, why wait longer? Fate has taken away the only thing for which I could say I still wanted to live."; and with these words he rushed to his own room, tearing off his armour as he went, and calling to his personal servant, Eros, to come to him.

He was heard then to speak aloud to Cleopatra, whose spirit he thought to be hovering near to him. "I am not unhappy to have lost you for a moment, Cleopatra my beloved", he said, "for I shall soon be with you; but what so shames me is that a famous soldier should be found to have had slower courage than a woman."

He then turned to Eros and, handing him his sword, encouraged him to keep his promise of being his executioner when the time came; but the man snatched the weapon and stabbed himself to the heart with it, falling dead at Antony’s feet. '"Well done, Eros!" Antony exclaimed, looking down at him in admiration, and picking up the dripping sword. "You have shown your master how to do what you had not the heart to do yourself." Thereupon he plunged the blade into his own body, and fell back upon his bed, where he fainted away.

The wound was not immediately mortal, and he presently coming to his senses, entreated those who had gathered around him to put him out of his pain; but at this they all fled from the room, leaving him groaning and struggling. Some of them ran to the mausoleum and called up to Cleopatra that Antony had stabbed himself but was still alive and thereat flinging up her arms and tearing her hair she screamed to them to bring him to her. They hastened back therefore and told him that the Queen was not dead but that she was calling for him; whereupon he immediately struggled to his feet but falling back, gave orders to them to carry him to her, although every movement was agony to him.

In their arms they brought him in the great heat of this summer's morning to the door of the mausoleum, but this could not be opened, for the bolts had been shot too deep to be moved; and he was therefore laid upon the ground beneath the window of the upper room so that Cleopatra might speak to him. The mausoleum, however, as has been said, was still unfinished and as some ropes were hanging down from the roof where the builders had been working. Then he was to be placed upon a stretcher and hauled up to the window. A few minutes later the Queen and her three attendants were frantically tugging and pulling at these ropes while the dying man lying half-conscious upon the lurching and bumping stretcher scorched by the sun, tormented by the flies, and agonized by every jolt ascended inch by inch towards them.

As he came near to the window, he regained full consciousness, holding out his blood-stained hands towards his wife, tried to raise himself up. Somehow, at last, they managed to drag him through the window and to lay him upon a couch, all covered with blood and dripping with sweat, and writhing in death agony. Cleopatra then flung her arms about him in a frenzy of grief, calling him her beloved husband, her lord, her emperor and her God. She mercilessly beat her breasts and tore her hair, wiped off some of his blood and smeared her face with it. She was shaken by the convulsions of her weeping but Antony stopped her lamentations and asked for a cup of wine so that he could speak to her. It is said that in that last frightful re-union all their misfortunes, all their bitter misunderstandings, were forgotten: for these short minutes of life which remained to him only their deathless love remained, and he was at last in the knowledge that they two, in spite of their many quarrels, were indeed one flesh. She brought a cup of wine, for him to drink; and when he had drunk, he gasped out some words of advice to her, telling her not to trust Octavian, but that she should look to her own safety if she could do to without disgrace.

"You must not pity me in this last turn of Fate", he whispered, "You should rather be happy in the remembrance of our love, the many good things that were mine and in the recollection that of all men I was once the most famous and the most powerful, and now, at the end, have fallen not dishonourably, a Roman by a Roman valiantly vanquished." A moment later the great Marcus Antonius breathed his last.

Image: ‘Cleopatra Captured by Roman Soldiers after the Death of Mark Antony’ Bernard Duvivier (1789)

Sources: Plutarch's Life of Mark Antony

Paricia Southern, Mark Antony A Life

Eleanor Goltz Huzar, Mark Antony: A Biography

Arthur Weigall, The Life and Times of Marc Antony

[bitchofdarkness]

A little something for the Halloween event @neohumanmonster is throwing. A Ghost AU, tiny fic under the cut or if you prefer AO3, you can read it here.

Having a dead boyfriend meant he couldn't just call or text him whenever he wanted, but there were other options, Yeong-hu soon realized. A Ouija board came in handy, when he couldn't make it to the graveyard— which sadly was the only place Seok-chan could materialize into a solid form. Who would've thought a simple spell done as teenagers would actually work to bind them forever. Yeong-hu surely hadn't.

And whenever they weren't talking, Yeong-hu had no idea what his boyfriend was doing exactly and where he'd gone. One time Seok-chan had told him something about a parallel world, like a mirrored version to the one Yeong-hu was living in.

As he hurried to their date, he was almost hit by a car— luckily he dodged it. The further away from the city and closer to the graveyard he got, the quieter it was. Less people around, but Yeong-hu preferred it that way. It made him look less like a crazy person.

He knew Seok-chan had lost his sense of time after he died, but Yeong-hu still apologized when he got there. "Had a near death experience," he huffed a laugh, accepting the scolding he got from his boyfriend. "I'm fine, don't worry."

"Are you sure?" Seok-chan asked, looking around the graveyard in confusion. "You're here and I haven't entered the world of the living yet."

Yeong-hu allowed himself to take a closer look around, noticing the dark red tint to the sky, the lack of birds flying around. "Oh," he brought out as the realization hit him. "Did I really take long to get here?"

"I mean," Seok-chan started to say, scratching his neck, "You did take longer than usually."

The weight of it pulled him down to his knees and Seok-chan sank slowly down with him. "I'm dead." Yeong-hu stated calmly.

Seok-chan reached out to hold his hand, squeezing his lovingly, "That's not a bad thing, you know," he said, trying to make eyes contact with him as Yeong-hu looked down at their hands, "The good news is that I can show you around the city now and we can both live in your apartment again. It'll be fine."

"What about my parents?" Yeong-hu responded, his eyes burning with tears, "They must be so devastated."

A cool but soft hand wiped his tears away. "Death is part of life," Seok-chan told him, holding his face now before kissing his forehead, "I felt the same way when I died, but you were there— a steady rock to hold onto," Seok-chan admitted, "Let me be your rock from now on."

Yeong-hu was held in an embrace of pure warmth and slowly, he allowed himself to sink into Seok-chan as he cried for his lost life and the family he left behind. Thankfully, Seok-chan was at his side, just like he'd promised him to be.

Not even death could keep them apart.

[cha-melodius]

Firstprince, and look don’t ask me why this is what my brain came up with but: meetcute at the STI clinic

(OMG, I love your brain so much. This made me cackle and immediately start writing it. Thanks so much, hope you enjoy!)

chamel's fandom fest info | read all the fics

Getting Clinical

(firstprince, 2k, T; read it below or on AO3)

Alex has to admit that the very last thing that he expected to get upon coming out to his mother was an appointment made in his name at an LGBTQ+ focused sexual health clinic near his apartment. Really, he should have known better, given the PowerPoints that resulted from said coming out, but still. He’s a grown-ass man with a career. He lives on his own in a city in which she does not live. He can take care of himself.

He still goes to the appointment when he gets back to New York. It’s already made, after all, and it’s been a while since he was tested. Since he’s had any sexual partners, in point of fact; he’s been more or less a hermit for the past couple of years, throwing himself into his work and only letting Nora and June drag him out on rare occasion. The whole bisexual revelation had been a slow thing, born of the unexpected feelings evoked in him when one of the senior partners at his law firm came out as gay, in combination with finding himself staring a little too long at the shirtless male leads when he’d put on The Mummy or Indiana Jones on in the background while working late nights at home. He hasn’t actually acted on any of this newfound knowledge save for flirting a bit with the barista at the coffee shop in his building.

He’s gonna, though. He’s determined to get out there and meet someone. A number of someones, maybe—why not have some fun while he’s discovering a bit more about himself? Explore what’s out there. So it makes sense to just go when he gets the email from his mom with a screenshot of the appointment confirmation.

“I wonder if anyone’s done a comparative study of these lubes,” Nora says, too loudly, from where she sits beside him inspecting a selection of samples that she’s collected from a display in the waiting room. More than one person waiting nearby looks over at them, and Alex sinks a little deeper into his chair.

“Ugh, why are you here again?”

“For the moral support,” she chirps with too much glee. “Not like I have any need to be tested right now. Although, June and I did meet this very intriguing guy—”

“All right, enough of that,” he interrupts sharply before she can say any more about her and his sister’s sex life. He already knows far too much about it as it is. “No one asked you to come.”

Nora tips her head at him. “Not in so many words, no. But if I had to listen to one more minute of you hemming and hawing about whether you could make the appointment or whether this was the ‘right place for you’”—she adds the air quotes, annoyingly—“I was gonna start breaking things.” Something softens in her expression, then. “You do belong in these spaces, you know.”

“I know,” he mutters, staring down into his lap. He’s even getting better at believing it.

At that, Nora returns to her lube investigation, and Alex rage-reads some twitter threads until someone steps up to the empty chair next to him and says in a mellifluous British accent, “Pardon me, is this seat taken?”

The waiting room is not that crowded, so Alex doesn’t know why this guy needs to sit directly next to him. He’s in the middle of trying to figure out a polite way to convey this when he finally looks up and right into what he’s pretty sure are the bluest pair of eyes on the planet. Jesus fuck, this man might be the most attractive person he’s ever laid eyes on in person. He doesn’t actually seem like he could be real, but he’s here, looking hopefully at Alex like he wants to be next to him, which is, let’s just say, intriguing—

“It’s only— there’s an outlet on the wall here, and my phone is dying,” Blue Eyes says with an apologetic smile.

Right. So, not particularly interested in sitting next to Alex, then. And that’s definitely not a hollow feeling of disappointment settling into his stomach.

“Yeah, no problem, man,” Alex says, trying to school his expression into something appropriate for conversing with strangers. “It’s all yours.”

Blue Eyes thanks him and takes the seat as he reaches into his bag to pull out a phone cord. The thing is, the outlet is kind of under the chairs and between the two of them, which necessitates some twisting and bending as he tries to blindly reach for it. That definitely doesn’t seem to be working, though, so Alex ends up twisting in his chair too to try to see if he can help.

“A little lower, I think—”

“Oh, thank you, I just can’t quite feel—”

“Fuck, you’re too far now— look, you need to shift to the right, yeah, there—”

“Ah, there it goes,” Blue Eyes murmurs with a pleased hum that brings to mind a very different setting than the one they’re currently in.

This seems to occur to Blue Eyes at the same time as it does Alex, which is approximately when they both look up and realize that their faces have ended up quite close together. Blue Eyes’ cheeks are rapidly turning a lurid pink; Alex quickly replays their previous exchange in his head and yeah, fuck. Suggestive doesn’t seem to begin to cover it. Slowly, Blue Eyes straightens, his posture stiff and eyes fixed on the floor in front of him.

“Er, thank you,” he coughs.

“Don’t mention it,” Alex mumbles in response.

A strained silence settles over them that’s somehow heavier than your usual odd-encounter-with-a-stranger awkwardness. At some point during this encounter, Nora had disappeared to god knows where, so Alex doesn’t even have her company to fall back on. He scrolls on his phone without actually reading anything on it, half hoping one of them will be called into the doctor and half dreading it. Next to him, Blue Eyes is typing furiously with his thumbs.

Alex shouldn’t interrupt him. Just… mind his own business. That would be the reasonable thing to do.

Oh well.

“So, come here often?” he tries to joke, only to realize too late the implications behind asking such a question in a sexual health clinic. He grimaces, hard. “Fuck, I didn’t mean— you don’t have to answer that. I was just— trying to make it not awkward.”

To his relief, Blue Eyes just looks amused. “And made it exceedingly awkward instead?” he replies with a tiny smirk tilting his perfect mouth. There’s a mole right next to the corner of it that Alex would very much like to bite. “I do visit regularly, in fact,” he continues after a moment. “I consider my and my partners’ sexual health to be very important.”

Fuck, that just makes him hotter, which shouldn’t be physically possible. “Lucky person,” Alex hears himself say. “Your partner.”

“Oh, I, uh,” Blue Eyes stammers slightly. “I’m not dating anyone. Currently, that is. I’m just getting out of a relationship, actually.”

“Sorry,” Alex winces.

“Don’t be,” he replies lightly, a flickering smile on his lips. “I’m well shot of him. Anyway, it’s been long enough. Thought I should get back out there.”

“Oh,” Alex says. That’s a good sign, right? Alex could just ask him out. They could have fun if nothing else. That’s all he’s looking for right now. And he’s good at picking people—women, anyway—up. Or was, historically. He just needs to… say something charming. “Well, good luck, then.”

Not that.

He’s really, really hoping he’s not misreading the look of resignation that flickers across Blue Eyes’ face. Before Alex can figure out how to make his big mouth say something useful, though, Blue Eyes’ gaze flickers up behind him. “Ah, your partner’s returned.”

Alex glances back long enough to see Nora flopping down into the chair next to him with more lube samples. “Oh, she’s not my—”

“Alex?” a nurse calls from the other side of the waiting room, leaving him little other choice but to get up and follow her. Blue Eyes shoots him a tight smile and a tiny nod of acknowledgement that they’re probably never going to see each other again before Alex turns and starts walking away.

He’s halfway through the door to the exam rooms when he glances back to see Blue Eyes still watching him, which is frankly more than he can take.

“Sorry, just— forgot something,” he says to the nurse before all but sprinting back to his chair. He plucks Blue Eyes’ phone right out of his slack grip, opens a new contact page, and types in his number. Then, as if he’s in some kind of fever dream, he actually says, “Let me know when you get your results,” and winks.

Alex hurries off again before the nurse can call after him, leaving one extremely stunned Brit in his wake.

~~~~

A week later, Alex’s test results from the clinic show up in his inbox. He’s clean, of course, no surprises there, but the visit itself had been worthwhile—he’d found himself talking to the doctor about aspects related to his health and wellness that went beyond what he might encounter now that he’d be branching out, so to speak—so all in all, not a waste of time.

His phone stays silent, though.

Of course it was always a long shot. That doesn’t change the bitter taste of disappointment on his tongue that not even his endless cups of coffee can cover up. He gets the results on a Friday and lets himself be dragged out to a club on Saturday night to ‘celebrate’, though he ends up politely rebuffing the advances of everyone who hits on him. Nora gives him a look after the third one—a tall, gorgeous brunet with a jaw chiseled out of marble and blue eyes that do give him a half a second of pause—but he shrugs her off.

On Monday morning, he’s in the middle of a conference with a partner and a client when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He assumes it’s Nora or June, so he nearly drops the damned thing on the floor when he finally gets out and swipes open to see a screenshot of an email that looks suspiciously familiar. There’s one key difference, though: under ‘name’ at the top, the text says Henry Fox-Mountchristen.

The screenshot has been sent without comment or followup, just a dry, clinical report, and somehow it’s still one of the sexiest texts he’s ever gotten. Fuck, he’s at work.

Which is exactly what he sends back to Henry. (Henry, he thinks, mulling over the name. It suits him. Alex would very much like to taste it, pressed into his skin.)

Apologies, but you did ask to be informed.

Am I to assume this was an academic interest, or…?

nothing academic about what i want to do to you, sweetheart

Right, then. Jolly good. Are you free this weekend?

Alex wants to say he’s free tonight, actually, so they can put those results to good use, but halfway through writing his reply, he stops. Yes, he wants Henry in his bed, but he also doesn’t want Henry to think he’s only interested in sex. Which is exactly the opposite of what he told himself he was going to do when he started exploring his bisexuality. He shouldn’t be looking for a relationship, and there’s no guarantee Henry is interested in one either. Maybe he’s just busy until then.

Alex thinks another moment, then sends back: what did you have in mind?

~~~~~

(Henry takes him on a date date, all romantic candlelit dinner with a single red rose and a walk in Central Park afterward with their fingers tangled together. And when he finally leans in to kiss Alex, it’s soft and sweet and Alex feels it down to his fucking toes. So, like. That’s a whole thing.

Turns out that they do make good use of their test results that night, thoroughly. And again, the next morning in the shower. And again and again, until they each get a reminder email from the clinic that it’s time for a regular screening.

Which they each promptly delete.)

[hauntedestheart]

Ever Since The Accident (Male Possession)

Something's been... off, about my roommate Dermont lately.

I met Dermont on a housing search Facebook group (this city is expensive) and we've been living together for three years now; I wouldn't exactly call him a friend but we get along well and I like to think I know him well enough. So I think I'm qualified to say that something is definitely up.

Everything started after his near-death experience– the smoothie place he went to after work mixed up his drink with someone else's and he had an allergic reaction to strawberries that made his throat swell up and... well, I guess "near death" isn't really the right word to use considering he did technically die for a minute, but the doctors were able to resuscitate him before any permanent brain damage was done. A miracle, they called it. Welcome back to the land of the living.

They took him for examination: he'd banged his head on the way down and was suffering from some minor memory loss (apparently when he woke up he wasn't even able to remember his own name) but other than that he was in perfect health, and was free to go. I'm his emergency contact so when I picked him up from the hospital I spoke to the doctors and they asked me to keep an eye on him to make sure that his condition didn't worsen. Then I took him home.

The first day was the weirdest.

I could already tell something was off during the car ride back because he seemed... jittery? Nervous, almost, but in an excited way. He was doing this weird thing with hands where he kept staring at them and flexing his fingers, then he started patting himself all over. He was so distracted he didn't even realize it when the car pulled into the complex– I had to call his name like five times before he realized I was talking to him.

Apparently one of the things Dermont had forgotten was the layout of the house so I had to give him a tour– I'd never thought of our place as particularly fancy but he seemed amazed by it. I left him in the bathroom to take a shower and went to my room; thirty minutes later the shower was still running.

At first I was like, okay, the guy probably just wants to get clean after the hospital, I get it, but after forty five minutes I started to get concerned (he had just suffered a head injury after all) and I needed to use the bathroom too, so I went to check on him. As soon as I approached the door I heard the grunting- these were deep, aggressive groans, it sounded like he was struggling with something.

I panicked. The locks on in our apartment are shit so I jimmied the door open and immediately got an eyeful of him standing in front of the mirror, completely naked, pumping his cock like a horny virgin. If the mess already coating the sink was any indication, he hadn't exactly been struggling in there.

Needless to say this was MASSIVELY embarrassing for both of us. He apologized later, saying he "couldn't help himself" because it had been "so long" and I was like dude you were in the hospital for like a day, stop being so dramatic.

And since then things have just been getting weirder and weirder.

For one thing, he's been a lot more positive. He wasn't exactly gloomy before but he was kinda gruff and kept to himself; now he's all smiles. It's almost sweet in a way how excited he gets about the smallest things: he savors every meal, he loves to run, he laughs louder than ever. And he's more helpful too– any time he sees someone with something heavy he offers to lift it for them. I think he's proud of how strong he is.

I asked him about it once and he told me he's just happy to be alive, which I guess makes sense considering the situation, but doesn't explain the other stuff.

He dresses like an old man now, not sure where that came from because that had never been his style before. He's stopped playing video games but has started watching boring sitcoms from the '80s. I know he never learned how to drive but he's asked to borrow my car a few times. I had to remind him how to use an iPhone. Stuff like that.

I asked the doctors and they said that some changes in behavior are normal after a head injury, but some of this cannot be normal!

He spends a lot of time looking into mirrors now– basically any time he spots himself in a reflective surface he has to take a second to stare at himself. You'd think the guy had never seen his own face before!

I've noticed a pattern with his reaction: first he'll do a double take, then he'll touch his face, then he'll smile. And then he'll get distracted preening, turning his face left to right to study it from all angles, and he'll run his hands through his hair. He really loves to fluff his hair.

I know he's handsome but it just seems a little vain to me– and this obsession with his looks doesn't stop with his face.

Look, I won't beat around the bush, Dermont is ripped. He works out. BUT was always casual about it, and now suddenly he's obsessed with his muscles! I've literally seen him get distracted by them– he'll move his arm a certain way and then suddenly he'll stop, stare at his arm, and then start flexing. Sometimes he just randomly lifts his shirt up so he can look at his abs, and he's practically drooling while he does it.

There have even been a few times where I've had to kick him out of the bathroom because he was too absorbed in examining himself in the mirror, poking and prodding at all of his muscles. Groping himself really. I mean, maybe I'd do the same if I had a body like that, but surely he should be used to it by now?

In general he's been showing off a lot more. He struts around the apartment without a shirt, something he never used to do, and he doesn't even close the curtains! In fact, he'll actually walk right up to them and stare out at the city– I think he wants to be seen. We're on the third floor so anyone looking up will spot him in his underwear... or less, as has happened on a few occasions.

I actually had to put my foot down on this one because I didn't want to get kicked out for public indecency– I called a roommate meeting told him if he wanted to show off that badly he could make an OnlyFans. He somehow didn't know what that was so I (for some reason) tried to explain it to him and long story short, now he makes an extra $800 a month. But he pays the utilities, so I'm certainly not complaining!

But– and it's a big but –as you've probably noticed, he's most obsessed with his ass. Always with the ass with this guy now, it's absurd. I've never seen a guy play with his own ass this much, if you leave him alone for even a second his hands find their way to his butt and suddenly he's squeezing it. Even in public!

He's always arching his back and peeking at it over his shoulder, wiggling it around, smacking it... and there's always this dreamy look on his face, like he can't quite believe this thing is really attached to him. I just roll my eyes– we get it dude, it's nice.

And sometimes I'll catch him with his hands down the front of his pants too, smiling like he won the lottery. That's weird, right?

It seems like, well... it seems like he's kinda into himself? Like he'd absolutely fuck himself, which doesn't make any sense but that's the only way I can describe what I've been seeing.

But the most weirdest thing? He's gay now.

Dermont had a girlfriend when he moved in but they broke up a year ago and based off of a few drunken late night sob sessions I don't think he ever really got over her. Well he's definitely over her now because ever since the accident he's been bringing a parade of guys to the apartment and screwing their brains out. Every morning there's a different dude stumbling out of his bedroom– he must have fucked half the guys on our block, and he's showing no signs of stopping.

I'm happy for him, love who you love, but it did kinda come out of nowhere. He'd never mentioned that he was into guys before but maybe after the breakup he wanted to experiment with new things... such as being the village bike.

Maybe he's on to something– after all, he's had way more luck with guys than he ever did with girls. All he has to do is shake that magic ass of his and they come running.

I did get tired of the noise after a while so I tried to casually work it into the conversation that maybe he should slow down his apparent quest for a thousand dicks, but he just laughed and said he "didn't want to waste any time this time around." Whatever that means.

I know a brush with death is supposed to make you reconsider your mortality but it seems like he's a completely different person now.

But at least he's happy.

Gif sources: (1) (2)