#I wish a bish would

[scarefox]

me whenever the tiktok algorithm starts to give me mainly just upsetting, discourse and opinion content because i got stuck on 1-2 for a minute too long

[almostempty]

Something in your mouth

(joel miller x f!reader)

The third installment of  Never made it as a wise man aka creed!joel

WC: 8.4k | Part 1 | Part 2 |  Other fics | Rating: 18+ 

Summary: post hand job and phone sex; it’s the leadup and part 1 of these horny bishes goin’ on a date

Note: heyyyyy it’s me and i’m back on my bs . i know i promised the fuckening, but that was summer me and now it’s winter me.. so instead of hiding and never updating, i remembered i have free will so u get the full week lead-up and the first half of the date.. and then i’ll brb with the fuckfest okay? i promise. (also it’s actually almost done this time so it won’t take months). again, i am still merely a vessel for the spirit of buttrock joel. hopefully this part 3 is girthy enough to sate your appetite a lil bit  

Tags: au no outbreak modern joel, divorced dad rock dilf joel x f!reader, picks up right where pt 2 ended, alternating pov, dirty talk, horny yearning, blowjob in the truck, still crackish, but i am still dead serious about it being hot so idc, mistakes are all mine

Thanks to Nickelback for having non stop horny bangerz to quote such as Something in your mouth

major thanks to @hoelaris for this moodboard that made me weep tears of joy bc is it so perfect

thanks to @magneticecstasy for date joel thots to be ft in this pt and the next, @auteurdelabre for telling me to let them have their happy ending so i can get back to the paris boys faster, to @syd-djarin for support, horny thots, song suggestions etc, and @itwasntimethatdidit40 for the nickelback pedro tiktok edit inspo

it really takes a village or whatever they say <3 

*if u forgot what this is bc i took so long give Part 1 and  Part 2 a read for a refresh <3 

*if i missed ur tag or u want off this ride lemme know 

okay, it's starting now:

You wake up in Joel’s shirt. It smells more like you than him already, but it still makes you grin devilishly just the same. You go about your day, a few errands and some chores, the whole time with a little more energy than usual. 

When you’re back home and settled in to have a lazy afternoon, you get a little restless. Itchy fingers. It’s hard not to pick up your phone and check your messages again and again. You’re drawn to looking at the picture he sent, the pictures you took, and you can’t help wondering…

Did he wake up thinking of you? Hard, aching, and leaking at the memory of your voice. 

Did he dream of all the nasty things he said he wanted to do to you? Waking up throbbing and frustrated, grinding his cock into the mattress as if you were beneath him. 

Did he wake up and check his phone to confirm you were real? Making it all the way to the shower before surrendering, wishing it was your soft cunt he was fucking instead of his fist. 

You know you’re fucked when just thinking about him thinking about you has you so turned on. It’s so tempting to send him something else. Another picture? An audio message? A thinking of you 😘 text? 

No. No, no, no. 

You can wait him out. Make him work for it a little. He’s a full-grown man. You’ve already given him enough to work with. Plus, you wanna know what he’s gonna come up with next. Right? 

The lazy Sunday ends all too soon and before you know it you’re back to work. Dragging ass into the office with the biggest iced coffee you could buy. You deserve a treat to get through your Monday anyway. 

A little warning bell chimes in the back of your mind as you drop your things on your desk. Ellie grumbles a good morning that matches your enthusiasm for fluorescent lights at 8 am. A little seed of guilt sprouts within you. 

Is it fucked up of you to mess around with Joel? It’s not like it’s something serious. Or, does that make it even worse? There’s no way he would say anything to her about it. 

“Heard you saw Joel again,” she says before you’ve even sat down. Great. 

“Uh, yeah,” you reply, “Still didn’t feel right that he wouldn’t accept anything for helping with my car.” You sink into your chair, hesitating to say more. It’s too early to have a good poker face. 

“So you made him a lasagna?” She questions, staring you down. 

“Men love my meat sauce,” you say with a shrug. 

“Gross,” Ellie grimaces at that, “please, don’t ever say that again.” 

You buy her off with the rest of the cookies you had baked. She’s happy to take the entire container from you and happier to enjoy them all immediately. If she’s suspicious she’s either good at hiding it or you really don’t know how to read her. 

You carry on with your morning catching up on mindless tasks, swirling your coffee around as the ice starts to melt, and trying to stay focused. Ellie turns on her music and you can’t help thinking of Joel again. It’s like he’s infected your mind and every shitty 2000s post-grunge alt-rock song conjures him up. 

You can’t help wondering what exactly he would’ve told Ellie about your surprise visit. Would he have asked about you? Implied anything? You can’t stop yourself from asking. 

“What did he say?” 

Ellie’s head swivels towards you immediately. 

“Who?” 

Instantly you know you messed up. You didn’t realize how much time had passed. You shouldn’t still be thinking of him. She prods you about what you said and what you meant. Not accepting a nothing or a never mind. An uncomfortable wave of embarrassment twists in your stomach, heat blooms in your cheeks, and your hands are fidgety. 

You shouldn’t have brought it up, you shouldn't be so defensive. Shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t.  

Ellie is sharp–cutthroat–reading your every move. You stare at the empty Tupperware on her desk, hoping it will reveal some sort of escape plan. A strategy to deflect. It’s too late. Her eyes narrow just the slightest bit and she follows your gaze. It clicks. 

“Oh, you meant Joel?” 

You’re so busted. “I..uh,” you don’t know how to finish that thought. 

“Why?” She gives you such a blank-faced look that it’s unsettling. You’re an adult. Why does this feel like you got caught sneaking out to see a boy on a school night?

You try to brush it off, but it sounds more defensive, making it worse. You focus on cracking your knuckles and trying to feign a more casual air. For some reason that means you keep talking. Broken sentences pouring out of you and trailing off into a stiff laugh. 

Mercifully, Ellie cuts you off. Tells you it was Tommy who mentioned it. 

So, he was the one who showed up while you had your legs spread open on Joel’s kitchen counter. The catalyst to your shirt heist and hasty getaway. That makes your face hot for a different reason. 

“Oh. Gross.” Ellie groans.

“What?” 

“You’ve got that look on your face.” 

You snort at that. Only slightly horrified that she’s so adept at picking up the tells on your face. “What look?” 

You suck down the last of your iced coffee, stalling, until you’re just sucking in air. You toss it in the tiny trash bin between the two of you and decide to be honest no matter what she says. You’d rather get ahead of it. 

“Was it a sex lasagna?” Her mouth is pulled into a look of disgust. 

You snort at that before shaking your head, preparing to get it all out. 

“Okay, look. It was a thank-you lasagna.” You pause, trying to figure out exactly how much to share. “I didn’t plan the rest of it. It just…happened. And, fuck, it was so hot.” 

Her face wrinkles with confusion, then disgust, then laughter. It makes your heart rate speed up. 

“I’m sorry,” your words come out like a waterfall. “I don’t want to make things weird. I want us to be friends. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sure it wasn’t serious. I’ll tell you whatever you want. It was my fault. I showed up without letting him know. I made the first move—” 

“You fold quick,” Ellie notes, interrupting you. She throws her hands up and you shut your mouth, “Look, you’re both adults, I don’t care what you do. Just, please, don’t tell me any of the sex details.” 

“Do you really not care? Or like, you say I don’t care and then treat me like Cheryl in the front office?” you ask. 

“No. I genuinely don’t give a shit. Well, I mean, if you break his heart I’ll have to kill you.”

“Naturally,” you agree with a solemn nod. 

“But,” she pauses to take a breath, tilting her head before continuing, “it would probably be good for him, don’t think he’s had a real date in a while. But don’t come back to me broken-hearted if he’s a dick—that’s just his face.”

“A date?” you echo. 

She groans and rolls her eyes at you, but it’s too late. 

Your mind starts to wander. With Ellie’s blessing, you don’t have a reason not to give it a shot.

The harps are already strumming as you float off into your cloud of dissociation. Your favorite daydream flickers into focus as your eyes glaze over and a dazed grin curls on your face. It’s always that same slo-mo Baywatch-style memory. That one where you caught Joel wiping the sweat off his forehead with the bottom of his t-shirt. The original temptation that led you back to him. 

Somehow, every time it replays, there’s a new easter egg just for you. The ghost of a knowing smirk or a sparkly-eyed wink when he catches your eye, like a wicked little tease to pull you deeper into the dream world. 

Sometimes it’s all too visceral. In the privacy of your mind, you’re free to direct the scene how you’d like. Slowly panning over the peek of soft skin and the trail of hair you can see. You can still feel the warmth on your fingertips from when you slipped your hand beneath the waistband of those navy blue boxers. 

Sometimes, you create something new. You’d like to take one of his sun-faded plastic green lawn chairs, drag it to the front porch, and sit yourself down for a show. You wanna watch him mow the grass in the evening heat. 

You can see the sweat beads dotted along his neck and the contour of his marble-sculpted arms as he serpentines along your fantasy world front lawn. 

You can smell the fresh-cut grass and the specific blend of sweaty man pheromones that Aphrodite concocted just for you. 

Your chest swells, lungs expanding, as you breathe slowly and deeply. The illusory scents fill your lungs until you release a deep, yearnful sigh. The imaginary lawn mower almost drowns out the imaginary Fred Durst bellering, It’s just one of those days, from that little stereo on the workbench. 

Before you can transition into another scenario—something bounces off your face, and you flinch with a loud yelp. 

“That was your warning,” Ellie glares at you. “Next time I’m throwing something sharp.” 

“Okay, okay, message received.” You offer a sheepish smile, and she turns around. It seems the Limp Bizkit song was very much not a figment of your imagination. Ellie mutters along to the lyrics behind you, barely audible, as you spin in your chair to get back to work. 

It’s not even five minutes later when you swivel in your chair again with another question for Ellie. 

There’s nothing like having a crush on a man you barely know to truly make you delusional. You know you’ve got it bad, but it’s unfortunately just so much fun to daydream and let your mind run wild with the very limited info you know about the man. 

You don’t want to worry about anything that could go wrong. 

Except for, well, everything. 

You still fret over texting him first or waiting. Should you send another picture with no context? Should you call? Should you wait another day? 

When you notice your chest feeling tight you give yourself a reality check. It’s Monday morning. You’re at work. He’s probably at work. You can figure it out later. A future you problem. 

Joel’s text comes through late in the evening. 

Joel: You wearing my shirt to bed again? 

You’re grinning immediately. At hearing from him first and because he fucking clocked you. You snap a quick photo. Despite being on the spot, it’s thoughtfully crafted. Just enough to show the logo and only your mouth, not your face, no extra skin, no sexy tease. Just a confirmation. You send it off, and his reply buzzes seconds later. 

Joel: More 

You try to bite back the grin still stuck on your face as your fingers dance across the screen. You want to tell him off for being so blunt, but for some reason, it feels like such a compliment. You’ve definitely got it bad if a thirsty one-word text feels like high praise. 

You aren’t going to give in this time. You’ve still got Ellie’s words echoing in your mind. A date. You type back one line. 

You: Gonna have to earn it if you want more 

Your phone rings shortly after your message is delivered. Joel’s name flashes on the screen and your stomach flips. You thought maybe he’d send another dick pic, but now he’s calling you? It does check out that he wouldn’t be the texting type, to be fair.

“Hey,” you answer, voice soft, a little tentative. 

“You’re gonna make me work for it, huh?” His drawl is low, rough around the edges and so stupidly sexy it makes your nipples hard. You can just tell he’s already on edge. Delight floods your veins at the idea of him thinking of you all day. 

“You could use a lesson in patience,” your voice is remarkably steady, despite the way your body is lit up. You chew at your lower lip. “Thought I told you that last time we were on the phone,” you chide. 

A deep chuckle rumbles through the phone. “Patience,” he repeats. There’s a pause that has you holding your breath. “I don’t think you’re playin’ fair, baby. Knowing you’re in bed with my shirt on, teasin’ me with another picture.” His voice takes on a husky, knowing tone. “Don’t think it’s patience you’re lookin’ for. Bet I know what you really want.” 

Your breath catches, loud enough he wouldn’t miss it even with his busted phone. You weren’t prepared to be so affected by just the timbre of his voice. It’s fucked up the way he’s got you breathless for no damn good reason. 

You can picture him in his bed. The trademark navy blue sheets. Is he fresh out of the shower? Damp hair and the overpowering scent of whatever 10 in 1 man soap was on sale at the grocery store— 

“Okay. Enlighten me then. What do I want?” you finally reply. 

“You want to hear it,” he continues, smooth and smug, radiating a cocky smirk right through the phone that makes your skin tingle. “You want to hear how you’ve got me hard, sittin’ here thinkin’ about you,” Joel growls, his voice thick with heat. “Thinkin’ about you wearing just my shirt.”

You bite down on your lip to stay quiet. Maybe he’s not in bed at all. Maybe he’s still out in his shop, locked in the office, a couple beers down before he dared to text you. His hair a mess from running his fingers through it, in those faded jeans that cling to him perfectly. 

Either way, it seems almost cruel to stop him with a mouth like that. 

“Thinking about what I’d do if you were here,” he carries on. “You look good in my shirt.” His voice drops even lower. “You’d let me push it up though, wouldn’t you? Just enough so I can see how wet you are for me.” 

You can’t help pressing your thighs together at that thought. If he hears how turned on you are already, you’re definitely going to end up acting out his fantasy over the phone. 

“Fuck.” he mutters, his voice breaking. “You’d let me take my time. Get my hands on those perfect tits again. Soak my fingers with that sweet pussy. Have you so worked up you’d be begging for my cock.” 

He says it like it’s a fact, as if he could come over right now and you’d drag him straight to your bed—or no, like you’d be on him before he could shut the front door. 

It’s so filthy, so confident. You’re so tempted to keep him going, but you pull yourself together. Biting back the whimper stuck in your throat.  

“Well, damn, Joel,” you swallow down the urge to ask for more details. “Guess you’ve got me all figured out then,” you tease with a heavy dash of sarcasm in your tone. 

“Not all of you,” he replies, with a suggestive edge. “Not yet.”

You let out a breath you were holding. “Look, you can’t just get your dick out on the phone, tell me how you wanna touch me, and get your way,” you manage, steady and a little sharp. “Not this time.”

“Not this time?” he echoes, half-laughing, clearly amused. “Alright. Sure. What do you want then?”

There’s a flicker of nervousness that tightens in your chest. You don’t want him to think you’re rejecting him, don’t want to risk losing the momentum of whatever this is. “I’m saying…I do want you. But, if you want more you’re going to have to do more. Show me you mean it. Like…a date.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, and your heart skips as you imagine his reaction. He’s quiet, but you can hear his breathing—measured, like he’s weighing something.

“Shit. You’re serious?” he asks, and there’s a softness now, laced with just enough curiosity to make you think he’s intrigued.

“Dead serious,” you say, adding, “But if you’re not interested in me like that—”

“Oh, I’m interested.” The words come quick, a little sharper than you expect, and they make you beam. “Fine. A date,” he says, like he’s letting the word settle on his tongue. “Friday?”

“Friday.” You confirm and stretch your neck. Your muscles are tense. Shoulders tight. All from his filthy words getting you worked up in half a second and the anxiety of your demand. “Come up with something good,” you tease, your voice slipping into something sultrier, “and maybe we’ll both get what we want.”

There’s a low growl on the other end of the line, tinged with frustration and desire. It makes your pulse throb in your clit. You almost wish you had let him talk you through it before suggesting the date. Hear how worked up he’s been over you. 

“Jesus,” he grumbles. 

Oh, you would’ve turned into a mess and completely forgotten to bring it up. Now you’ve essentially cock blocked yourself until the end of the week. Ugh. 

“You’re gonna drive me mad.” He says. But there’s no animosity in it. Instead, there’s something new in his voice that gives you butterflies. 

“Yep.” 

You’re the one who hangs up first before you can hear anything else that might tempt you to stray from your plan.

……..

It’s late morning when your phone buzzes on your desk the next day, interrupting your excellent cosplay of a ‘productive employee’. You glance at the screen and your heart trips when you see Joel’s name. 

You answer, trying to sound casual despite the fluttery feeling in your chest. “Calling me during business hours, Mr. Miller? You’re going to get me in trouble.” 

Joel snorts softly. “Think we both know you’re the one that likes causin’ trouble.” 

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” 

His voice drops lower, quieter. “You need a reminder? Cause I’ve been replaying exactly how much trouble you caused in my kitchen…”

“Don’t.” You nearly hiss into the phone, trying to cut him off before he starts with any graphic retellings. You spin in your chair, grateful when you confirm Ellie has headphones on for once. 

“Right.” His voice is back to a slightly less devastatingly erotic tone. “Wouldn’t want to get carried away while you’re at work. 

“Well,” he drawls, the grin evident in his voice now. “You said you wanted a date, so I was thinking.”

You hum, leaning into the teasing tone. “If it’s a chain restaurant I’m canceling right now.”

“Do I seem like the kind of guy who’d take you to Applebee’s?”

“Do you want me to answer that honestly?” you quip, laughing at the soft groan he makes in response. “No Applebee’s, no Chili’s, and if you’re thinking about taking me to whatever the fanciest Italian place is in this town, don’t. I’m not going on a first date where you used to take your ex-wife for anniversary dinners.” 

There’s a beat of silence, then a grumbled, “It was Valentine’s, actually.”

You cackle, delighted at your guess. He huffs. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re predictable,” you shoot back, grinning as you cross your legs under your desk. “Or maybe it’s just ‘cause nobody has been challenging you.”

“S’that what you are?” he asks, “A challenge?” 

You shift in your chair, the grin on your face is going to make your cheeks burn if he keeps this up. You soften the teasing as you admit. “Maybe a little.” 

“Mm,” he grunts, clearly not convinced.

“If you’re up for it,” you add. Nerves flutter in your stomach now. Maybe he doesn’t want a challenge at all. It’s not like you’ve been hard to get. The silence stretches just long enough to make you wonder if you’ve pushed too far. 

His exasperated sigh crackles through the phone, but it’s laced with something warmer. “Yeah.” But then he exhales, soft and almost self-conscious. “Ain’t a bad thing.”

The words are simple, but they settle somewhere deep, curling warm in your chest. For a moment, the flirty defense falls, and you catch the subtle weight in his voice.

“You’re full of surprises, Joel,” you say finally, your tone gentle.

“Guess you’ll find out,” he murmurs, the words quiet like he’s not sure he’s meant to say them.

Your stomach flutters at the unexpected softness. You knew there was more to him than his bold mouth when his dick is hard or the stoic lone wolf look he wears in his garage. You weren’t expecting him to be…whatever this is now. 

The line goes quiet again, his breathing soft on the other end. “Friday at seven,” he says after a moment, his voice steady but quieter than before. “There’s a brewery that Tommy suggested. I’ll pick you up.”

“That sounds nice,” you reply, smiling into the phone.

“Alright,” he mutters. There’s a brief pause, like he’s hesitating, before he says, “See you then.”

He hangs up before you can say anything else, and for a moment, you’re left staring at your phone like an idiot. A grin stuck on your face. Possibly permanently. 

It’s not just the idea of the date. It’s the thought of Joel making a plan, asking for recommendations, and thinking of what you might like. You figured it’d be fun to give him a hard time and all, but you didn’t have real expectations. 

The week stretches on and you’re not sure if it’s moving too fast or too slow. Having a crush is wicked enough, but having a date planned makes you feel slightly insane. It’s like you’re in a cartoon where the world is suddenly brighter and the birds sing just for you. 

You find yourself constantly daydreaming at work. Every Creed song Ellie plays somehow sends you into a fugue state. Snippets of Joel’s voice replay in your head. 

There’s something about the way he said, “Ain’t a bad thing,” that keeps sneaking up on you when you least expect it. It wasn’t even what he said—it was how he said it. Quiet, like he wasn’t used to admitting something like that out loud. It makes you smile like a fool every time you think about it.

The worst is the evenings. At home in your room. Nothing to distract you. Alone with his t-shirt. Re-reading your brief texts. Lingering wistfully over the dick pic he sent like it’s a letter from your long-distance lover. You’ve got to get it together. 

And Joel? He’s just as distracted, though he’d never admit it. At least not to anyone but you. 

At work, his usual rhythm is thrown completely out of whack. He catches himself staring at the same invoice three times before finally filing it away. Tommy catches him with his Breaking Benjamin t-shirt inside out. 

You’re in his head and it’s driving him nuts. He tried to minimize it. Deciding it was just the impulsive way you crashed into his world. You spread like a wildfire in his mind. The kindness in you to deliver a homemade meal. The audaciousness you have to go after what you want. 

He goes weak for a confident woman and you’re so sharp and quick with him. It’s a rush, but not just because of the sexual chemistry. Not just because you’re a novelty or a break in his routine. 

It’s you. It’s the way you’ve got the passion and sharpness with your words, but you’re still soft on the edges. He thinks about the way your voice had dipped when you said, “If you’re up for it,” like you weren’t just teasing but testing something, seeing if he’d push you away.

He’s not used to this. Not the nerves, not the anticipation, and definitely not the way he’s spending too much time wondering what to wear on Friday. Not that he’d ever admit it, but he even dug through the back of his closet, holding up a button-down shirt Ellie had bought him last Christmas like it might bite him. He ends up tossing it back in favor of flannel—it’s still a step up from a faded band t-shirt. 

By Thursday you’re nearly useless. You drive Ellie crazy all morning, spacing out and jumping when she asks you a question. To be respectful, you haven’t mentioned the date and she hasn’t asked. Would Joel have told her? Does she know you’re losing your mind over a man who probably has holes in his sweatpants? Are you equally as pathetic? 

You’re still stuck on that thought when she kicks your chair, startling you back to reality. “Come on,” she demands. “We’re outta here and you’re coming to the Main Street with me. I’ll buy.” 

Turns out you’re a cheap date. The dive bar has strong cocktails and a very limited menu of fried foods to choose from. You sit outside at a picnic table enjoying the warmth of the early summer evening. 

Ellie is easy to get along with. Talking animatedly about her friends. Sharing the hot goss about Cheryl and her divorce. Trying to recruit you to join the company rec league kickball team. It’s all a welcome distraction even though you still have Joel on the brain. 

You do your best not to bring him up but when she mentions him you know you perk up like a heart-eyed fool. Begrudgingly, but with sincerity, Ellie asks if the date is what’s got you so distracted. 

“How did you know?” 

“You’re both worse than teenagers.” She rolls her eyes. “Thought bringing you here might take your mind off it.” 

You snap to attention at her choice of words. “Both?” 

“Don’t.” 

She’s a good friend. You did need the distraction. You’re still smiling about that thought as you check yourself out in the mirror in the bathroom at the bar. There’s a poster taped to the paper towel dispenser for the cover band that plays Saturday nights that catches your eye before you slip your phone out of your pocket. 

You’d blame it on the drinks but the truth is only had one. You hover over the messages. Wondering if he’s really as nervous as you. Fuck it, you decide before sending what you’ve been wondering. 

You: You been thinking about me? 

His message comes through so fast it’s more revealing than the words he typed. 

Joel: Maybe 

Fuck, why does one word have you feeling giddy already? 

Joel: Have you? 

He asks shortly after. You wonder if he’s second guessing himself. Is Joel nervous? 

You: A little  

You figure you’ll give him the same treatment. 

Joel: Haven’t been able to stop, if I’m honest baby 

Heat floods your face as you stare at the screen, and his next message comes before you can respond. 

Joel: Friday’s been feeling real far away 

That has you shaking your head. 

You: Patience is a virtue 

He’s quick to respond again. 

Joel: Never claimed to be a saintly man 

That makes you genuinely laugh. 

You: Good 

……

By the time Friday night rolls around, you’ve fully spiraled into a mess of anxiety and excitement. You’re not really the type to overthink a date, but there’s something about the whole scenario that feels different. It’s not just because Joel’s hot—hotter than he has any right to be—but he’s trying. For you. It’s disarming in a way you weren’t expecting. 

You know that the worst-case scenario for the night isn’t bad. You know how to have a good time wherever you are and you are confident that he’s a horny bastard that will put out even if you actively try to sabotage the date. It’s that flickering sensation in your chest that hopes for more. That’s what makes you nervous. 

You’re startled when Joel knocks at your front door. You check your reflection one last time before heading to the door. You figure it’s casual enough for a first date at a brewery. 

Despite everything inside of you that screamed to put your tits on display again—you couldn’t resist wearing the Creed shirt. You tied it up in the front so it accentuates your figure and paired it with a faux leather skirt with a matching black lace set underneath. 

It’s gotta be enough to play at the alt-rock vibe he’s still living in. You look good. Really good. 

But when you open the door he isn’t the only one who’s world gets rocked. Joel stands in front of you like he was plucked from your fantasy. Freshly showered, his damp curls just starting to dry in soft waves. A plaid button-down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off those strong, tan forearms. His dark jeans are markedly not as worn down as the last pair you saw him in, yet the effect on you is just as dastardly. 

It’s unfair, really, how good he looks. You’re left blinking as your mouth goes a little dry while you drink him in. Who’s idea was it to have a date? In public? Fuck. He shifts, a sly smile growing on his face as he rests his hip against the door jam. 

“Hi,” you mumble, still ogling him. 

“You look… real nice,” he says, voice so low and velvety it should be registered as a weapon. 

You know you had a smart-ass remark about the shirt on the tip of your tongue, but it’s gone. Gone… along with your morals. All you’ve got left is the intense, primal desire to do something inappropriate with his arms? Yes! Yes! Yes! The horny gremlins like your idea despite having no logistics or master plan. 

They seem to have no coherent plan of attack at all, to be honest. Bite! Lick! Suck! All you know is that you need him in your mouth until your jaw is sore. 

Joel huffs softly. Amused that you seem speechless. “Didn’t think flannel was all that special baby, you alright?” 

“It’s not the flannel,” you mutter under your breath, but you don't let him hear the rest of that thought: Arms! Arms! Arms! 

You grab your bag and follow him out to the truck, stealing glances at him as he walks ahead of you. You can’t help it. He’s so…solid. Sturdy. Sure of himself. Even when he’s out of his comfort zone. It’s doing something sinful to you. 

The inside of the truck smells faintly like a Black Ice air freshener, a Home Depot on a Sunday morning, and Armor All. The distinctly Joel aesthetic lives up to your imagination. It’s lived in. Comfortable. 

There’s the catchall cupholder of change, receipts, and literal nuts and bolts. The caseless CDs in the storage divider strapped to the sun visor—you recognize a couple like Seether and Three Days Grace. 

Before you can take in every detail though, you’re distracted by just the sight of him driving. It’s absurd, but why does he look this good just driving? Most people can manage to operate a vehicle, but most people don’t look as fuckable as Joel does, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. Hand! Thigh! Neck! Fingers! 

You’re reduced to only being able to name anatomical features when you’re this close to him, apparently. Like an alien learning about a man for the first time. An extraterrestrial explorer propelled by the most curious desire to taste and touch every part of Joel—for research. 

You’re so caught up that it takes a while to register the song that’s playing. Of course, it’s more Nickelback. 

You're so much cooler

When you never pull it out

Cause you look so much cuter

With something in your mouth

It breaks the spell he has on you and you laugh, really laugh. Joel looks slightly horrified, having no idea what led to your outburst. When you’ve recovered enough, you let him in on it. 

“Nice first date song. You really know how to set the mood.” 

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t change the song, and you let yourself glance at him again as he drives. His profile glows in the evening sun, and you can’t help thinking how easy it would be to reach over and drag your hand down his chest, and make him pull over so you could climb into his lap. The thought has you pressing your thighs together, your pulse thrumming in your ears. At this rate you’re not going to make it through the night. 

…..

The brewery is trendy. Joel hopes it’s something you like. He tries to focus on the menu, but feels like his brain is short-circuiting. It’s not the overpriced burgers or the craft beers with descriptors that don’t sound like flavors. It’s the way you're leaning forward on your elbows, chin resting in your hand, smile tugging at your lips. 

The shirt is unfair. The way you’ve got it tied, hugging your body in ways that make his palms itch. Knowing you were touching yourself in the same shirt to the sound of his voice. He’s trying not to stare, trying to be polite, but it’s damn near impossible with you sitting across from him like that. 

“How about this one?” you say, pointing to an option on the menu. “Probably the closest thing to what you’ve got stocked in the shop fridge.” He’d wonder how you knew what he had in the fridge, but his eyes are glued to your finger pointing at the menu and it’s consuming all of his thoughts. 

You ramble on about a few other choices but he doesn’t hear the words. He’s still stuck on your hand. He swears he can still feel the ghost of your touch from the kitchen last week. Shit. His jeans are already feeling tighter than they should. 

He clears his throat, trying to pull it together. “I’ll trust you.”  

You smile wide at that. He’s so fucked. “You know a lot about fancy beer.” Yikes. “You got a favorite on here?” Get it together, he begs himself. 

“Nah, I don’t really like beer,” you say casually. You give him a shrug and point out a cider you’re thinking about trying. His stomach twists. 

“You don’t like beer,” he repeats. “But, you let me take you to a brewery?” His chest feels tight, and he shifts uncomfortably. 

“They have food, too.” you counter. 

“Right.” Why does he feel like he’s so out of his element? He’s been second-guessing everything about this date. He feels his gaze drifting as his eyes shift out of focus, his fingers toy with his bottom lip as he gets lost in his head. 

He knows he can get you worked up just as bad as him over the phone, knows he can make you sing for him with just his fingers, but this? He doesn’t know what you want from him now. Is the date some kind of test? He knows he’s overthinking all of it. 

“Hey.” Your voice brings him back, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I like that you planned something.” 

It seems genuine. The way you look at him with bright eyes and a smirk like you’ve got something to tease him about on the tip of your tongue. “Now ask me a boring first date question,” you instruct with a nod like you’re giving him some kind of permission. 

“What’s your favorite color?” 

You snort laughing at him. If you’re half as nervous as him you don’t show it. 

….

It works. Mostly. Your drinks arrive. The conversation flows more easily. He still gets tripped up here and there but doesn’t disappear on you again. He asks about your job, your family, about where you moved from, and you give him enough to keep things light but still playfully dodge some of his questions. 

Every time he gets flustered, you catch yourself smiling, a little surprised at how much you’re enjoying this. It’s the way he watches you like he’s trying to figure you out. The way he tries. He seems to relax a little and for a moment, you think he might settle into the evening. 

Then he reaches for his water, and it all goes sideways. The dangerously full glass wobbles, tilting just enough to spill halfway across the table. Joel jerks back, cursing dejectedly under his breath as he grabs a napkin to clean it up. 

You can’t help it. The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Just loud enough for him to hear. “Trying to get me wet already?” 

His eyes snap to yours. You grin, adding, “Don’t worry, been dripping for you since you showed up at my front door.” 

He makes a sound between a cough and a choke. Stunned. The faintest blush creeps up his neck, reaching all the way to his ears. For a second, he looks like he might say something, but all he manages to get out is a gruff, “Jesus.” 

You lean back in your chair, grinning triumphantly. You didn’t expect him to get so rattled by your comment. Not with how vulgar he’s been on the phone or when he had his hand between your legs. It’s an ego boost to know you’ve got the upper hand at first. 

“Relax,” you purr. 

Then you catch the way he discreetly tries to adjust himself under the table. Clearly unable to relieve the pressure. Knowing the effect you have on him is more intoxicating than the alcohol. An idea strikes you. You know exactly how to get him to relax. 

“Do you have cash?” you ask. 

“What? Yeah.” He looks at you confused. 

You nod like he proved a point by saying yes. That confuses him further, a deep line forming between his brows. 

“‘Course you do. That’s like, Dad 101 ‘carry cash in case of emergency’. 

You stand and grab your bag. “We’re not staying,” you say simply.

“What?” He frowns, sitting up straighter. 

You flash him a smile. “I’ve got a better idea. Come on. You said you trust me.”

“To choose a beer,” he grumbles, dropping enough cash for a generous tip on the table before letting you lead. He doesn’t argue as you walk back to the truck, just trying to catch up with your words. He opens the passenger door for you, his hand brushing yours briefly as you climb into the truck. It’s a small thing, but the innocence makes your pulse skip all the same. 

Once he’s in the driver’s seat, the tension between you shifts. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s charged. You glance at him, taking in the way his hands grip the steering wheel so tightly, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he shifts. 

The truck rumbles to life and another one of the horniest Nickelback songs plays—barely loud enough to recognize. 

I’m loving what you wanna wear

I wonder what’s up under there 

Wonder if I’ll ever have it under my tongue 

You bite back another laugh as the vocals float through the cab, perfectly at odds with the vibe of the place you just left. Joel shifts, mouth twitching like he knows how ridiculous it is. “You wanna tell me where we’re headed?” he asks, voice cutting through your thoughts. 

You tell him where to drive and settle back in your seat. Again your thoughts drift. Infatuated with his fingers curling and uncurling like he’s trying to distract himself. He hasn’t said much since you’ve left, but you can feel the tension radiating off him. Heavy and thick. 

You catch his gaze flicker to you for the third time in as many minutes. His eyes trail over the curve of your thighs where your skirt has ridden up. It’s subtle, but enough to make you feel bold. 

You smirk, pulling the visor down to check your reflection in the mirror. Fishing a lip gloss out from your bag, you swipe it over your lips, smoothing the edges with your fingertip. Joel doesn’t say anything, but you don’t miss the deep steadying breath that fills his lungs or the crack of his knuckles. 

Satisfied with your lips, you tug lightly at the t-shirt, adjusting the knot, shifting the fabric to lay how you like and slipping a hand beneath it to adjust your tits in your lacy bra. You hear Joel exhale sharply, a low, throaty sound that makes heat curl low in your stomach. 

“You okay?” you ask, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. Your voice is softer now, more knowing, and when he doesn’t answer right away, you grin. “You seem tense.”

Joel mutters something under his breath. His jaw tightens. Finally, he glances at you, his eyes dark. “You keep doin’ that, and we’re gonna have a problem, baby.”

“Doing what?” you ask, your voice all innocence, though his threat gives you a prickly rush. 

Joel huffs a laugh, low and rough. “You know damn well.” His voice dips, a rasp of heat that whips down your spine. “The lips and the shirt, just messin’ with me like you want me to lose my fuckin’ mind.” 

Your grin widens as you meet his gaze. “And what if I do?”

“Jesus,” he mutters, his voice strained, his hand flexing against the wheel. “Trying to get me to crash into a ditch or something?” 

The tension between you is unbearable now, the air thick and buzzing. Joel’s jaw is clenched tightly. You unabashedly linger on the way his hips press forward slightly like he’s trying to relieve the ache between his legs. It shouldn’t drive you fucking wild with need, but you’re gripped mind, pussy, and soul. 

“Pull over,” you say suddenly, your tone steady.

Joel’s head snaps toward you, incredulous. 

“Pull over,” you repeat, your voice softer now, more insistent. “Please.”

He hesitates for only a second before caving, steering the truck onto the shoulder. The tires crunch against the gravel as he shifts into park, the engine idling low as he turns to look at you. His eyes are dark, his breathing uneven, and the sight of him—wrecked and barely holding it together—makes you rabid. 

“You’re gonna kill me,” his voice is rough and quiet. Infused with lust and awe. 

“Maybe,” you murmur, leaning closer. “But you’ll enjoy it.”

Joel groans softly, his hand flying to your thigh, the heat of his palm searing against your skin. “Torturing me,” he mutters, his voice a low growl. “Sitting there lookin’ like that, knowing damn well what you’re doin’ to me.”

“Yeah?” you ask, your breath hitching as his fingers slide higher. “What am I doing to you, Joel?”

He exhales sharply, his grip on your thigh tightening. Why are his hands that big? Like, how are you supposed to know what they feel like and ever leave his grasp? 

Your heart is pounding now, the heat in your veins making it hard to think straight. Joel’s voice drops lower, his hand sliding further up your thigh as he leans closer.

“Can’t stop thinkin’ about it,” he mutters, his lips ghosting over your jaw. “The way you’d taste, the way you’d sound, begging me to fuck you harder, deeper—”

“Joel,” you whisper, cutting him off. Your voice is shaky, your hands gripping his arm as you try to ground yourself. “Please.”

He groans again, the sound rough and desperate, and his hand moves higher, his fingers brushing the edge of your underwear. “Yeah, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. “That’s what I wanna hear.”

It makes you shudder. You feel him smile at your body's obvious responses, as his nose grazes your skin just below your ear. 

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he murmurs into your neck. “Been thinkin’ about you all damn week. Every time I close my eyes, it’s you.”

His words hit like a match to dry kindling, and your breath stutters as his fingers trace the seam of your panties. 

“You know how hard it was to sit there at that table?” he mutters, his voice turning darker. “With you looking like this, wearing my clothes, teasin’ me.” 

“We didn’t even make it to the actual dinner part,” you giggle as you trail off. 

His fingers press more firmly, dragging slowly over the thin fabric, and you can’t stop the gasp that escapes your lips. Joel groans at the sound, his free hand gripping your thigh to hold you steady.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, his voice thick with heat. “You’re already soaked. Bet I could make you come like this, right here, without even tryin’.”

Your hips shift instinctively, grinding against his hand as he works you with deliberate precision. The friction is maddening, just enough to keep you on edge, but not enough to send you over. Every filthy word he says in your ear has you burning up. 

“Jesus, you’re gonna sound so fuckin’ sweet for me,” he says, more to himself. “Can’t wait to bury my face between your legs, make you scream my name until your throat’s raw.”

“Joel,” you whisper, your voice shaky, your hand flying to his wrist as his fingers dip lower, brushing just beneath the edge of your panties. “Wait.”

He freezes instantly, his brow furrowing as he looks at you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, your cheeks flushed, your body still trembling under his touch. “Not now,” you assert, your voice soft but steady. “Let me take care of you.”

Joel blinks, his pupils blown wide as your words sink in. His mouth parts to say something but the words disappear. You don’t let him argue. 

Sliding your hand down to his belt, you undo it hastily, fingers working open the button of his jeans before he can protest. It’s for him. You want to do this for him. Help him relax so you can enjoy the rest of your date. 

But, fuck, it’s also for you. You’ve been riding a high just from a shoddy dick pic and your muscle memory, but you’ve been patient long enough. You’ve got to see it in person and you need it in your mouth, asap. You deserve that much, right? 

You slide down the zipper and fuss with the waistband until you get what you wanted. His breath catches as you free his cock. It’s heavy and hard against your palm. Radiating heat and weeping for you. 

“Oh, fuck,” he starts, his voice breaking. 

You hum softly, pleased, leaning in to kiss him as your hand strokes him slowly, deliberately. Joel groans against your mouth, his hips jerking slightly into your hand. 

“You’ve been thinking about this,” you murmur against his lips. “All week.” 

“Yeah,” he rasps, voice raw with want. “Can’t stop thinking about you. How you’d feel, how you’d look, how you’d sound.” 

“Show me,” you whisper, lowering your head to taste for yourself. You like a hot stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, swirling your tongue around the head. 

Joel’s breath stutters, his hand flying to the back of your head as he watches you. “You’re so fucking good, baby. Like a fucking dream.” 

You hollow your cheeks, tongue gliding along his length as you take him into the heat of your mouth. You have to use your hands to work the rest of him, still slowly and deliberately. Every sound he makes, every twitch against your tongue, every flex of his core, and tightening of his fingers, it all drives you wild. 

It has you moaning with need around him. Your cunt soaked and pulsing, begging for attention between your legs as you focus all on him. It’s just as much for you as it is for him. 

His head tips back against the seat, a rumbling grown spilling from his lips as his hips shift beneath you. 

“Shit.” he pants, voice cracking. “You’re gonna make come so fuckin’ hard. Bet you’d look so pretty with my come on your tongue.” 

The sheer filth of his words spurs you on, your movements quickening as you savor every groan, curse, and sharp inhale from him. “Fuck—just like that.” He encourages you, adding firm pressure to the back of your head as his hips jerk and he loses control. 

“You want it?” he asks desperately as you moan in affirmation. You’re voice is still vibrating through him as he starts to come, hot and heavy on your tongue. You don’t stop until his body goes slack beneath you, his chest heaving as you finally pull back. 

He looks wrecked, mouth hanging open, sweat on his brow. You give him a devilish smile before opening your mouth to show him. He stares at you, eyes dark and hazy, before cupping your jaw in his palm as you swallow. 

“Told you,” he huffs, “so fucking pretty with my come on your tongue.” A bright, satisfied smile spreads on your face at his praise. He pulls you in closer for a kiss. When you pull back a frown pulls at your mouth. 

“What’s wrong?” Joel asks hurriedly. 

“I didn’t get to see,” you muse. “Will you take a picture next time?” 

“Fuck,” he looks at you with awe and pride. “Yeah, baby, of course.” 

“Good,” you nod, readjusting and settling back into your seat. “You think you can relax a little now?” you ask, tone teasing.

Joel lets out a breathless laugh. He drags his hand down his face. “You’re unreal,” he mutters, voice still hoarse. The phrase makes you beam with pride. It’s the same remark he made over the phone last week…right before he said ‘got me shooting loads like a fucking teenager’.” 

The gratification just from seeing him this wrecked is like a drug. He’s every bit as enticing and addicting as you hoped and feared. You squeeze your thighs together once more and take a deep breath. Committed to the rest of your idea for saving your first date with the divorced DILF of your dreams. 

“Back on the road. We’ve got places to be.”

Joel blinks at you, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re serious?”

“Yep,” you smile lazily, tugging gently at his arm. “Drive.”

He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath about you being the death of him, but he shifts the truck into gear, his hand lingering on your thigh as he pulls back onto the road.

THANK YOU FOR READING PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU ENJOYED OR HATED ANY OF IT <3

dividers by @/cyberangel-graphics

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[unicyclehippo]

For bishova: regret

it would be stupid to think she knew anything about yelena from one—a mostly masked fight on a rooftop, and two—a conversation slash interrogation (?) in her burned-up apartment but when the widow took the seat next to her in the booth where she had been drowning her sorrows, a bottle of top shelf vodka in her hand, kate couldn’t help thinking maybe the other girl was being nice.

but what the fuck did she know? she hadn’t even know her mom was a mob boss or whatever.

‘what do you want?’

‘to drink,’ yelena said calmly.

kate kept her head low. no one in a bar like this cared who she was—hopefully, though maybe she was risking it by patronising a dive bar, maybe her mom had double-crossed or pressured or stole from or threatened everyone in here.

kate didn’t tell yelena to leave but she didn’t say anything more. just sat and rolled a quarter over her knuckles again and again and again and again and—

‘you are not being a very welcoming friend, kate bish—‘

‘don’t,’ kate growled. out of the corner of her eye, she saw the assassin smirk. she probably sounded like a toothless puppy to her. she was a fucking joke. ‘just don’t. okay? sit and drink or go away.’

yelena sat. she poured a measure into one shot glass and pushed it in front of kate, who blinked down at it.

‘what—did you bring your own novelty shot glasses to a bar?’ she couldn’t think of another reason she’d have an Alice In Wonderland themed glass.

kate let the quarter clatter to the tabletop and traded it for the little glass, lifted it up to make sure.

DRINK ME, it said, with a cheshire grin.

yelena didn’t smile like that but when kate finally looked at her, properly, she was pretty sure the glint in her eyes was the assassin’s version of it.

‘yes. mine is even better. see?’

kate didn’t look down.

‘does it say hot sauce?’

‘it says hot sauce.’ yelena smiled toothily. ‘a funny thing to put on a shot glass, yes?’

‘yeah.’ kate mustered a dry sigh. ‘yeah, it’s - that’s funny.’

‘you are not amused. you are either not a funny person, kate—which i know is not true—or you are not paying attention to my very funny glass.’

yelena threw her shot back.

kate should look away. kate should not find it very attractive, the way yelena shook her hair back and swallowed the shot, licked a drop from the corner of her mouth. the line of her throat. kate should not have got her mom arrested. kate should not be upset about getting her mom arrested. kate should be stalwart and true and brave and—

yelena tapped the table. ‘drink.’

‘don’t tell me what to do,’ kate snapped, overly harsh.

the only sign that yelena noticed was her slow blink. then the assassin scoffed.

‘so rude, kate! here i am, bringing the “good stuff”, and you won’t drink? this is very hurtful. i am hurt!’ yelena insisted, hand to heart.

she was lying, of course. she had some spin, some angle, something she was trying to get out of her or do and kate didn’t have to play along this time! it wasn’t any of her business! except that yelena was here, of course, but what did that mean?

kate scowled down at her drink. she hadn’t even finished the mostly-foam beer the bartender had shoved into her hand, pint sticky with the drink that slopped over the edge. or from the drink before. which was gross but. whatever. she wished she’d drunk more. wished yelena hadn’t shown up yet but when she was a more respectable nine drinks in, which would be a real excuse for not knowing what angle yelena was working this time, for how muddled kate’s thoughts were.

an ache punched up into the soft of her brain, the headache (concussion?) kate had been ignoring for the last hour. she let out an unsteady breath and picked up the quarter again. squeezed it until that hurt more than her head.

‘did you poison it?’

yelena turned so she could lean an elbow on the table, prop her head against her hand. kate watched out of the corner of her eye as the other girl smiled very sweetly.

‘no.’

‘drug it?’

‘no.’

‘steal it?’

‘no.’

kate sighed.

‘fuck it. thanks.’

she drank.

the vodka hit the back of her throat first. then she tasted it; it tasted like the time she swore her head off and her mom told her to wash her mouth out with soap and she’d done it because—

‘another,’ kate rasped, and coughed.

yelena poured her another. when kate drank that one too, she said,

‘you did not strike me as this kind of girl.’

heat poured through kate, stomach out. it was nice. it was always so cold in new york. not the real kind of cold kept at bay with a good coat, and kate always had a good coat and boots she never slipped because her mom always got her the best stuff and scolded her when she tried to slide across a big patch of ice. new york was cold because there were so many people here but none of them were hers. and yet. here was yelena. and vodka. and kate was warm.

her tongue felt warm too, which was weird. maybe the drink was drugged. she didn’t think she cared at this point.

‘what kinda girl?’

‘the kind to sit in dirty bars and drink alone.’

kate considered that seriously. yelena’s words felt as smoky as her voice and the meanings kept slipping through her fingers. how strong was that vodka?

‘me neither,’ she confessed. ‘but before today did you think i was the kinda girl to get my mom arrested?’ it struck her as funny. it was funny! because, guess what, she is!

‘i was not sure,’ yelena said. ‘but i am not that surprised. it was fifty-fifty, yes?’

fifty-fifty chance she’s a bad daughter or a bad hero. great odds. fucking fantastic.

‘you are having regret.’

kate eyed her empty shot glass.

‘i will give you another when you answer my question.’

kate grinned. leaned closer to her drinking buddy. ‘so this—‘ she patted yelena’s shoulder—and was sober enough to see the frown that earned her to remember not to do that again—‘this is an interrogation, huh? okay.’ she leaned closer. ‘i wish you hadn’t told me.’

yelena narrowed her eyes. read kate like an open book. easier—like words on a clear shot glass.

‘you do not mean that.’

kate shrugged. she wasn’t so sure. she nudged her shot glass closer to yelena. ‘any more questions or will you be a good drinking buddy and top me up, romanoff?’

she thought yelena wanted to say something for a second, as she sat back in the seat and tilted her head. but then yelena only poured her another drink and kate thought better of it. what the fuck did she know? not her mom. and certainly not yelena.

[thegamingcatmom]

The Miranda brainrot is real so have some random thoughts that haunt me may or may not make it to ao3 at some point:

AU where MC and Miranda are married and long for children of their own, but neither is able to. Enter Miri the Madwoman stealing a child (Rose) and proudly presenting it to MC à la "Merry Christmas" or some shit. MC is horrified, ofc she´s always known her wife is a bit...different bish is crazy af, but that just takes the fucking cake like WTF MIRI. But MC can´t help but notice how Rose is the spitting image of her wife, she´s just perfect, so beautiful...NO, get your shit together MC what are you doing ffs. YOUR WIFE´S KIDNAPPED A KID, KEEP THAT DANGER TO SOCIETY ON A LEASH PLS AND TY.

MC is the 5th Lord but instead of ending up as yet another (unwanted) "child" of Miranda, Crazy Birb Momma takes her as wife cause even Crazy Birb Mommas get lonely at some point. MC is present at meetings ofc, acting as Miranda´s little shadow while also keeping their "kids" somewhat in check. (Something Miranda finds strangely...stimulating.) Ever since MC has joined their fucked up family, Karl actually enjoys those meetings because he gets to witness Alci turn green with envy whenever Miranda´s attention is on MC. Which happens a lot because MC knows what she´s doing. MC and Karl are partners in crime, so ofc she´s got Karl´s back here. She´s got a much better pokerface though, so nobody ever assumes she´s doing all that stuff just to rile Lady Super-Sized Bish up. Oh and she´s secretly plotting her wife´s demise btw. With her best friend Karl, ofc. (This is very much MC x Miranda, but yall know my girl MC loves playing hard to get.)

MC is on vacation, touring through Europe. At some point, she finds herself in Romania (duh). Only problem: her car´s nav system is a useless mf, leading her right into the middle of fucking nowhe-oh wait, nvm. There´s tire prints, so that means there´s civilization. Thank fuck. Or not. This village is...strange. The people are strange. Dressed as if they stepped straight outta some black-and-white film. The...accommodations (if one can even call them that) match the overall feel of being plunged back into the 1900s. Srsly, what´s up with tha-AH! Fucking shit. Where tf did that Lady come from?? And why is she dressed like some saint?...And why´s she still staring? Honestly - her eyes are up here, not on her ti...belly? (For once, she wishes someone would stare at her tits cause this shit´s getting creepier by the second.) There´s also some crazy old lady who keeps inviting her for tea. Or soup. Or cake. Or to chant in unholy unison as we make our sacrifice and await the light at the end because there´s glory in life and in death. Wait what.

Yes, the last one is Miri the Tired Studhorse. :3

(Might also use it for smt else though. Cause I´m kinda digging that vacation storyline.)

[phantom-playdough]

Macaque x GN!Reader: Studies Over Me

Of course, I’d do a studying/overworked reader with Macaque after doing one with Wukong. It seemed only fair since I have been gone for so long. Hope you guys enjoy~~~

Warnings: Angst with fluffy ending!!! Also literally one line referencing potential Shadowpeach, but it could be read as platonic or romantic, if you so choose. Just generally Macaque being a petty bish because he’s a sad monkey baby.

College was a handful, no matter how many classes you take. It’s everything hard about regular school, but now you’re paying money to go, and professors sneer at you if you have even one C level grade on your transcript. The pressure was hard for Y/n. This was the semester they took English Composition, which basically was code for: Essay Class.

Macaque knew that Y/n was stressed with school, as he had known them since they took their first semester before this one. But even if he knew the that they were struggling, he didn’t really understand how the struggles felt. What made it tricker for him was the fact that this was the first semester Y/n had started since they and Macaque had begun dating. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Macaque felt sad bitter that he wasn’t getting as much attention from Y/n because they were so focused on their class.

When they weren’t in class, Y/n seemed to only be able to talk about school. Did they hear about that new movie coming out? They won’t be able to go see it since they have class and homework. Read any new books? Only their textbooks. Write anything fun? Only essays. Talk to anyone interesting? Their group dropped the ball on a project together. Seriously, Macaque loved cared about Y/n so much. But jeez, he wished he could get them to maybe talk about his shadow plays. Or maybe the crazy shenanigans MK’s crew had going on with their last adventure. Perhaps talk about having another date night movie night and cuddle.

One thing that anyone could guess is that Macaque is new to dating, let alone dating someone as amazing as Y/n. How had he gotten lucky enough to be with them when he had all these issues? How had he been so lucky to be with someone so smart, kind, and affirming of him and his traumas. Even though Macaque would always worry deep down that he would scare them them away, Y/n stuck around and reassured him that they always would stay. They promised that they would always stand by him. That they would never leave him.

But why did it feel like that was exactly what they were doing now that they were back in school again? Macaque got so used to having Y/n with him almost always when they were off for a semester. Now though, he would be lucky to get to hang out with them for a few hours once a week!! Macaque tried desperately to keep the tightness in his heart at bay when he thought of these facts. He missed Y/n. He missed them so much. He really did. He didn’t want to admit it, and would probably deny it to his next death, but it just made him think of…him…But as he stared at his phone, laying on his couch, looking at the message he typed out a minute or two before, he felt conflicted.

‘Hey, u wanna come over? Wanna talk.’

As much as he wanted to send the message, Macaque was nervous about doing so. But he felt the tightness in his chest turn almost into a festering ball of emotion in his stomach, so he was between a rock and crazy place. He sighed and pressed send, missing the button once or thrice from his thumb shaking. He held his phone close as he waited for his loving partner read the message and hopefully respond quickly. After about ten seconds, he saw that Y/n read the message. But what rose a tiny bit annoyance in Macaque’s stomach, further growing the ball of emotion settling there, was that Y/n just sent a thumbs up emoji. Nothing else. He sighed and sat up on his couch, slamming his phone face down onto the table harder than he meant to, which made him flinch slightly at the loud noise made. Macaque decided to just get a glass of mango juice and try to wait for Y/n as patiently as he could.

When Y/n made it to Macaque’s tiny hut, they immediately noticed his salty expression on his face. To be fair, he had that expression often, but not around them. “Hey, Macaque.” They said, closing the door behind them and looking around. Something was different. “Did you clean the hut before I came here?”

Macaque huffed, a smirk on his face, but it was clear he was annoyed by something. “Yeah, maybe I did. I can be busy, sometimes!”

The way he said that rubbed Y/n the wrong way, but they tried to not pry. Not right away, at least. “Have you been busy with your shadow plays or something?” Y/n asked as they kicked their shoes off and put them to the side.

Macaque’s eyebrow twitched. “Oh, you wanna know?” His tone was unconvinced.

“Okay, what’s wrong, Macaque?” Y/n was getting fed up with this fast and this was barely five minutes into the conversation.

“Nothing!”

“Don’t lie to me. You look like you’re trying to be passive aggressive and I want to know why.”

“Do you care?”

Y/n scoffed. “What do you mean ‘do I care’? Of course I care. You’re my partner and something I did is clearly making you upset but you’re not telling me what.”

“Well, I don’t know. You seem very interested in talking about school stuff lately and not much else! I’d hate to have ya talk about something else.” Macaque gave a fake smile, his body language and voice pulling out all of the fake innocence and theatrics.

“I-what? Is that what this is about?” Y/n was flabbergasted at this point, but Macaque clearly was just getting the argument started.

“Come on, Y/n. You may not have all my ears, but I know you heard me!”

“No, I heard you. But…you didn’t think to just say that this was bothering you?” Y/n asked, incredulously.

That made Macaque pause. He didn’t have a good rebuttal to that, given the shocked look on his face.

“Macaque, you could’ve just said that you wanted to talk about something else besides me in school, or you could’ve said that you wanted to spend more time with me, and I would’ve—”

Macaque covered Y/n’s mouth, effectively making them stop talking, his face beet red enough to blend in with the red markings on his face. He kept his hand there for a second, before he pulled Y/n into his chest with his tail, summoning a shadow portal underneath the pair to end up on the couch. Macaque pulled Y/n in close to him, laying the both of them back on the couch.

“You’re right…I’m sorry…” He said softly, his eyes downcast to the floor. “I-I’m not used to…this…” Macaque gestured between the two of them. “Not like I really ever had the chance to try this kind of thing much before.” He sighed. “I-I…I’m sorry.” He finally said, an embarrassed look on Macaque’s face.

Y/n smiled lovingly. “Macaque, I know you’ve been through a lot. I know you haven’t dated much.” Macaque blushed at that word, making Y/n laugh a bit. “And I know that you needed to spend time with me, too. Just next time, you can ask me. I promise you, I will never leave you just because you ask me to spend some more time with you.” Y/n sealed the promise with a kiss on his cheek.

Macaque flushed a bit more, a small smile on his face. Carefully, almost as if he was nervous, Macaque placed a hand on the side of Y/n’s face. He was a little surprised when Y/n snuggled into his hand, but his growing smile showed that he wasn’t one to complain. “What did I do to deserve someone as amazing as you?” He asked more to himself, then to Y/n. They laughed, kissing his nose, before whispering very softly in three of his ears.

“You were yourself.”

[sleepysnoots]

Stone x reader who brings him food?

No Idea what gender u wanted reader so I’ll go with gender neutral! Also thanks for requesting

Not proofread :P

————————————————————————

You were walking to their usual alleyway a basket of various treats and snacks being carried in your hands. Stepping over the discarded bags of rubbish and litter scattered all over the floor, you looked up to see stone sat on a crate by himself, he was leaning against the wall a cigarette in his hand as he exhaled the smoke seeming unaware of your presence .

You smiled upon seeing him sat there before calling out to get his attention

“Hey stone!”

Stones head perked up from his slouched position looking over to your direction smiling softly as he saw u wave at him as you made your way over to where he was sat, dodging the muck and trash on the floor . He chuckled at ur antics before flicking the cigarette butt squashing it with his foot.

“ hey”

He hummed shifting over a bit on the crate making room for you as you came to sit next to him placing the basket on your lap

You looked around noticing how it was only the two of you

“Where are the others?”

You asked as stone turned his head to look at you

“Oh, they went out.”

He hummed turning his head back to look at… the wall. You raised a brow with a slight smirk,

“Did they say why?”

You chuckled as you watched him shrug

“Yeah probably but i wasn’t really listening”

You rolled your eyes at him. Unsurprisingly stone wasn’t paying attention to anything vinnie and skipp said. You guess you could just wait for them with stone till they got back. But in the meantime, you could give stone some food now he’d probably save some for the others anyway.

And with that you shifted the basket off your lap and into the space between you and stone. His face still faced the wall but his eyes glanced at the basket then you. You smiled nodding at the basket, signaling that he can have some now.

Almost immediately after you nodded he went straight to the basket pulling out a piece of bread. You both sat there silently as he ate.

After a few minutes he spoke up already have eaten half of the small baguette.

“Why do u even give us food? I mean i ain’t complaining, but its just weird to think that anyone would be this kind to well yknow scraps”

You smile softly before also turning to face the wall as you give him a reason

“Well to be honest”

You chuckle

“I guess I just like helping people yknow no matter what or who they are”

Stones looking up at you as you talk his back hunched as he munches on the bread

“I really wish i could give a huge interesting answer but thats just my main reason”

You sit there for a moment before shrugging

“And i just really like you guys”

Stone smiles softly

“Well thanks we really appreciate”

He say’s sitting up before continuing

“And if it wasnt for you we’d probably have died from starvation”

Stone mutters before making eye contact with you

The sound of the busy city outside the alleyway hides the silence between the two as you both sit there looking at each other with soft smiles

You break the silence as you look away

“Its no problem, really.”

You chuckle as his eyes widen at you he feels his heart flutter from your kindness and how your doing this not for recognition or pride but just out of your own time. He feels his face heat up as he turns to look at the wall aswell

“Yeah.”

He mutters as you turn your head at him realizing he’s blushing

“OH MY GOD ARE U BLUSHING?!”

You say shocked before grinning trying to hold back your laughter

“WHAT! NO!”

he says defensively his face turning even more red

————————————————————————

Yeah don’t know where i was headed at the end but bish bash bosh another request done!

[naturallyadventured]

cacatua_93

The final sunrise on the best month of my life ☀️

May 2023- very few words except holy fuck.

I started the month atop Knocknarea naked under the Scorpio Full Moon- a full moon linked to rebirth and sacral energy! Queen Maeve has definitely walked beside me throughout May. It’s been the wildest, most sexual month of my 30 years and I’ve never felt more alive 🔥 it’s a testament to the power of a pilgrimage up a mountain with an intention set, the way our ancestors would have climbed these sacred places.

Then climbing Mama Errigal, such a healing feminine place. If you look at the side of the mountain there is a very distinctive vulva down the side of her. And surrounded by the Seven Sisters- it’s my favourite area in Ireland.

2023 was the first year I have ever intentionally followed the Celtic Wheel, and bejaysus when you go inward in the winter months, you come out at Beltane with an energy that seems almost supernatural.

From the fires and Aries of the Uisneach flames, to bring Bish Boshed with tribe around Bellurgan Park, to the most spectacular weekend celebrating love in its purest form at Kilronan Castle- I am ready for a quiet June. Wishful thinking eh?

📸 photo credit from the Pisces supremo himself Mr Kevin Penrose @wildirishwanderer

We climbed this mountain twice in the space of 10 hours to get to see the sunrise and the sunset (when Pisces get together it’s like a big vortex where time ceases to exist)

Its so amazing to witness Kevin in action creating content- I can confirm he is very fond of clouds 🤣☁️🌥️🌥️🌩️🌨️

I’m hoping KP will start a side hustle called Wild Irish Woman and photograph naked woman in various locations across Ireland!

He has an eye not only for mountains 🍑

[heeversee]

THE POLL GODD I NEVER THOUGHT SO MANY PEOPLE WOULD VOTE.

Am I being too dramatic? Bish who cares.

So basically "MAFIA HEESEUNG" won the votes. So here it is besties.

Your wish is my command.

Heeversee Present ✨

A Mafia Heesung au

Chapter 01

You were one of the kind who was used as a personal coffee maker in your office. Even tho you were like every other employee.

So you decide to leave your office and search for another.

Since you didn't get any job after a long 3 months of being job less. You had to do something to feed your poor soul. you were all alone without any family or friends.

You luckily got a job in a nearby High-class cafe and bakery. Well baking was your talent and who didn't want a job in a High-class cafe? so you decide to take up the job.

There were various types of people who would come. grumpy rich office workers, rich giggling High schoolers, big body builders and rich but bubbly and kind grannies, business men's and women's.

In short this cafe was only for rich ass people.

Today you happen to arrive late, which didn't actually cause any problem because your manager was a very kind woman, she knew that you never skipped work for fun and were punctual.

Heeseung, the mafia boss, walks into this high class cafe.

His dark aura quickly hushing the place is bustling with people.

The smell of fresh coffee lingers in the air.

He sees an empty table and makes his way to it, hoping to get a cup of coffee.

He sits down and sets his suit jacket on the chair next to him as he pulls out his phone, ready to work.

That's when he notices you at the counter, your back turned to him. Heeseung sees you and is surprised, because at first glance, you looked so incredibly innocent and pure.

He smirks wickedly enough to make almost all the customers run out of the cafe for their life. The only ones there were his own men.

He watches as you put on your coffee shop attire; apron and your uniform shirt. As your uniform shirt goes over your head.

He peeks to see your face. Your hair is tied up neatly in a ponytail and your face is clean with no makeup. However, your dark, sparkling eyes are the first thing Heeseung notices; they draw his attention in like a magnet.

He can't look away. Your beauty is something he's never seen before, it truly is a once in a lifetime sight.

You turn around with the apron on, ready to start work. But once you look up at the man who is absolutely handsome yet had cold, blank expression has been staring at you,

You drop what you were holding. It falls onto the ground with a loud bang but Heeseung doesn't notice; he's stuck staring into these eyes. He doesn't understand why he feels this way. This isn't something he would normally do, but there was just something about this girl... something that just drew him in.

They stare at each other for moments in silence. Heeseung feels this weird sensation that he's never felt before. What is this? Happiness? Love? Fear? He just... doesn't know. He can see you trembling.

You were scared. He walks over to you and kneels down. Something compelled him to do it. Heesung reaches out to you, gently picking up the items you had dropped. He's surprised to see that you dropped your uniform badge.

"y/n" your name rolling off his tongue like butter. You like the sound of it. You were forced to snap into reality when you saw the cafe half empty, the rest of the men dressed in black suits staring at you and watching the unknown man in front of you in fear.

"I'm so sorry sir" you were the first to get up and smooth down your shirt.

"w-what may I get you?" You stutter making it more embarrassing for yourself.

"A black coffee with 20% sugar" he says as he held his card in front of you.

Your shivering hands slightly graze his knuckles as you take the card.

You saw the name on his black card "Lee Heeseung".

When you were busy preparing the order for heesung, he sat manspreading watching you work through his eyes filled with lust and an unknown feeling.

Recalling the touch of your fingers even tho it was for a second, and the moment feels like an eternity.

He could feel your heat, he could feel your emotions as you just looking into his eyes, terrified.

But oddly, Heeseung wants to keep you to himself, keep you all to himself. It's like he knows, he knows that this girl is gonna be the one. Heeseung is gonna make you his.

Chapter 02 soon. Now I can't add smut when they just met can't I?

Edited.

I can't believe all this time I wrote heeseung's spelling wrong and you all didn't tell me 😭

[rainydaymiscellaneous]

“Little Light” (Astarion x Fem reader)

Note: sorry for me being gone, I now have two jobs and I also kind of fell down the BG3 rabbit hole. So. Yeaaahhh. Don’t worry you guys, I am still writing for Into the Fire I just am trying to work on the other chapters so it’s actually complete and I don’t have to worry about it being incomplete.

But in the mean time if you have any astarion related requests feel free to send them bishes in.

It was a dark night when Tav came into camp. A night no one expected to remember but gods, it would forever be seared into Astarion’s mind. It was different from the average night of his work. You see, he brought back a girl. Not unusual for the hero after saving the grove but it was unusual this night.

Bloodshed seemed to naturally follow the ragtag group of chaotic heroes. It was something they all got used to after a while, typically resulting in them washing their armor in a river trying to get the crimson stains out and the metallic smell to leave.

Tav said he was going to a tavern, which no one batted an eye at. Hells, Karlach joined him so he’d have a drinking buddy. But now they had come back with an unconscious woman in Karlach’s arms.

She was bleeding, that alone alerted Astarion to her presence from the mouth watering smell. He could control the urges, he never let them go out of control since he escaped the clutches of Cazador. Around blood, though, Astarion would become aware of his teeth. Like his senses would overwhelm him. Typically this would result in his little looks to Tav to quietly let him go off and find a willing victim, which he’d give a nod to so he could subtly slip away.

This night was different. Tav seemed more panicked than usual. He was asking Karlach to be careful. He kept trying to keep the girl’s eyes open. Karlach kept shooting Astarion a panicked “help” look. He walked over confused as Karlach laid her down.

And there was you. A girl who had been stabbed that he had never seen before. But why did Tav care? There was a difference between him worrying for random strangers versus this girl. There was a clear familiarity between the two but considering the tense situation, Astarion wasn’t asking right now.

“Y/n, keep your eyes open.” Tav demanded.

“I-I’m trying..” he heard you say quietly. Your eyelids felt like lead.

“Is magic not working?” Astarion asked.

“His powers are shot from the battle earlier!” Karlach says. You lazily looked at the unfamiliar voice.

“Red… eyes…” You muttered.

“Halsin! Make yourself useful!” Astarion yelled. You saw the fangs when he yelled. Most people when bleeding out would be freaked the fuck out by a vampire lingering so close. But you felt weirdly safer with him being the one to help.

Halsin rushed over, muttering incantations. A blue glow engulfed your vision and you finally succumbed to the urge to sleep. Halsin let out a small breath of relief.

“The girl will be fine. She needs to rest, regain her energy.” He says. Tav looked relieved by this.

Finally, Astarion felt it appropriate for some questions.

“Tav, who is this?” He asked. Tav sighed, looking down at your resting face.

“My sister. Y/n. She wanted to travel with us, which I said yes to. But then we were ambushed and Y/n took a stab meant for me.” He said. He sounded guilt ridden. Like he wished it was himself lying there instead of you.

Tav rarely mentioned his family. When he did, the only positive light seemed to be about you, his sister. Though in his tales of his childhood, he never mentioned a name. It was always “my little sister” or “my sister” instead of “Y/n”.

Astarion saw the emergency end, him standing up fully. “I need to feed.” He said before dismissing himself.

Hours passed, he finally returned to camp and you were fully awake. You were sipping on tea, Karlach wrapping a blanket around your body. “Thank you, Karlach.” You said softly. Your voice was light. Like a breeze on a summers day in a meadow.

“So you’re the sister?” Astarion asked, sauntering over in his usual manner. You gave a warm smile to him, something he hadn’t seen from anyone.

“I suppose that is me.” You nodded. Something was different about you.

“And you’re fine? Traveling with a vampire?” Astarion asked.

“Should I not be?” You asked.

“Most would be off put by it.” Astarion said. You simply shrugged, sipping your tea before saying

“I’m not most, I suppose.”

He rose a brow at this. He noticed the new staff, off to the side. “You’re a wizard?” He asked.

“Cleric.” You said. He chuckled.

“Tav’s sister is a cleric?” He asked.

“Indeed.” You nodded.

“I suppose that must mean you’re devoted to a deity.” Astarion said.

“Eilistraee.” You answered.

“Oh gods, you’re not like Halsin are you? Constantly speaking about the ‘joys of nature’s gifts’” he asks. You let out a snort at his tone before laughing.

“No! No. Though I understand him, I don’t believe us to be the same. I don’t operate on the Oakfather, that would be Silvanus. I have less strict rules on good and evil compared to followers of the oak father.” You shrugged.

“Ah. So if I pickpocketed an evil man, you’d allow it?” He asked.

“Of course, if he was truly evil. Think of it as balancing the scales. With unconventional revenge.” You shrugged making him chuckle.

“I think I’ll enjoy having you around.” He said with a smile. You smiled back.

“You are different.” A voice said. Astarion jolted, looking behind him to see Withers, the confusing undead creature that hung around camp.

“You must be Withers.” You said not turning around.

“Indeed. You see things others cannot.” He said. You nodded. “Pasts. Present. Futures. All you can peer into. Yet you do not bear the tadpole as your brother does.” Astarion looked over at you.

“I’ve always been able to. Hear things others can’t. See things, others can’t.” You said.

“You’re a seer?” Astarion asked. You nodded.

“Unfortunately.” You said.

“Oh? What do you see in our futures? Do we get this wretched thing away from us?” He asked, pointing to his head. You chuckled.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. I must touch the person to see.” You said.

“Ah. Well consider me an experiment.” He said. You paused, setting down your cup.

“Are you comfortable with this? I must see everything before being able to see the future. You’d be sharing your past.” You warned. He hesitated but found himself nodded. Everyone in camp already knew the extent of Cazador. One more person didn’t make a difference, right?

You held out your hands, him slowly putting his over yours. You closed your eyes inhaling. As if nature itself was speaking, there was a breeze, petals of pear blossoms flowing in it. The sweet smell filled his nose as he slowly relaxed.

“You suffered. Made a choice that landed an attack from angry people. You made a deal with a vampire… you were his… Six others fell victim as well. His reign was a terror. You would feed from whatever you could. You were frightened. Scared that that was what your immorality would amount to.” You muttered. Your grip on his hands grew stronger as Astarion noticed your expression with your closed eyes.

Empathy. Sadness. Sadness for his experiences.

“You were captured while looking for prey by mindflayers. You don’t remember much from it but you were almost… grateful. Something would finally drag you out from his clutches. The tadpole, it did something. Severed that urge to follow his command. To obey his will. To your surprise you find a friend in my brother.” You spoke softly.

Your fingers slid into his, him seeing a light yellow glow from your hands. “Your future is…” you jolted opening your eyes, the light of your abilities dying. Your face flooded with a blush staring at the vampire shocked.

“Are you alright?” He asked, concerned by the almost alarmed look in your eyes.

“Y-yes I… Erm. Aha. Took a lot out of me. Never did a reading on a 200 year old vampire.” You chuckled nervously. “I should go! Tav wanted me to help him with something!” You said getting up and almost sprinting away.

Withers cocked his head looking over. “She has seen something in you.” He says. Astarion seemed confused by the statement. Why lie to him about what you saw..?

This was a question that Astarion wanted to ask, but held off on it. But you seemed to wiggle your way into his heart over the course of a few weeks of traveling. He loved how chaotic you were, cracking jokes about imminent death and “if Tav dies, I call dibs on his sword.”

Shadowheart of course was disturbed by your odd nature but put up with it, due to your relation with Tav. You had made Astarion smile, laugh a few times as well. All in all, you seemed to be a light in darkness. Which was quickly turning his perspective ironic once they had all made their way into the shadowy parts of the forest, touched by a curse.

You seemed deeply drained as you walked, despite holding a torch. Everyone else seemed fine but you seemed so tired. You were walking when you stumbled, Astarion catching you. He passed his torch off to Karlach.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” Astarion asked.

“The nature here. It-It hurts. Like a f-fever that won’t die out.” You winced.

“Gods… Y/n, the harper is taking us somewhere safe, do you think you’re able to make it?” Tav asked clearly concerned.

“It’s- It’s getting harder to walk.” You said, panting from trying to fight off the dark energies of the forest. Astarion lifted you onto his back.

“I’ve got you, little light. Don’t worry.” He assured. That little nickname. That sweet tone. You knew when the cocky bastard was joking. But that tone had been more sincere than anything anyone in the group had heard.

They followed the Harper into the darkness, torches in hand as they eventually reached the last light inn. You held onto Astarion, feeling the cold skin of the undead man. You put your forehead on his back, him feeling the warmth of your body. It was too warm for this to be normal. Whatever plagued the forest was making you sick.

“Stop! Who are you?” A woman halted as they crossed the bridge.

“My name is Tav- look, my sister is sick, something is-is wrong she needs help!” Tav said stepping forward. The woman drew her sword.

“Jaheira! They saved my life, they’re not the enemy.” The harper guide said. She hesitated.

“Is this true?” She asked. She heard the coughing of you, walking closer and seeing your newly feverish state. She noticed the symbol on your arm.

“Cleric…? Your sister is a Cleric?” She asked.

“Yes! Please, we don’t mean harm, we need help!” Tav practically begged.

“…Speak to Isobel upstairs in the Inn. She can help you.” She said. Tav nodded, motioning for Astarion to go. Astarion practically sprinted up the stairs to the room, finding the woman.

Isobel turned around. “who is this?” She asked.

“She’s my friend, please- something is wrong.” He said. She paused noticing the vampiric appearance. Why did a presumably blood thirsty monster care?

“Lay her down, I will see what I can do.” She said motioning to a bed. Astarion obeyed, watching as Isobel hovered her hands over your body as you writhed in your feverish state.

He felt nervous, watching you slowly relax. “She will be fine. As long as she stays here.” Isobel said. “She will be protected by the magic in the field but if she leaves it while the curse still stands, it will prove lethal within days.” She said.

Tav had found his way into the room, looking at you. “…We could use Shadowheart until we fix this.” He said, watching you slowly fall asleep.

“I want to stay.” Astarion said. Karlach looked over.

“Are you sure?” She asked.

“You can use whoever, hell use Withers but I am not moving.” Astarion said.

“Alright. Alright I hear you. I feel safer with someone staying with her anyway.” Tav said.

So there he sat by you for days. The goal was for you to fight off the fever so your body could adjust to the corruption. They moved you downstairs next to a man who was constantly singing in his unconscious state. Honestly made Astarion debate on shoving a blade through the man’s neck but thankfully he shut up after Halsin managed wake the bastard up with a lute.

Tav was preparing for a battle on the moonrise towers, finally gaining a lantern (that swore vengeance on him for not releasing the pixie stuck inside it)

You slept soundly in bed. Astarion would rarely move. All came to ahead when he heard a very loud thud and screaming “TO ARMS” from Jaheira.

Astarion stood up, unsure on if he should see what the hell was going on but there stood a winged creature in the doorway. It seemed set on killing anything in its path. Astarion drew his blades, staring at the thing before him.

It pounced like a cat to a mouse, Astarion stabbing it repeatedly. He kept trying to get it to possibly run off at least but it kept scratching, screaming that awful screeching noise. He struck again, when the creature managed to knock him down pouncing on him and drawing its claws out ready to tear out his heart.

That’s when a blade stabbed through its head, killing it instantly. He looked up, seeing you with his dagger that was knocked out of his hand when it pounced. You stood there, shaking as you shoved the creature’s corpse off of Astarion and he took your hand, standing up.

“When did you wake up?” He asked.

“When you started fighting that thing.” You said panting. “Are you okay-“ he gently wiped the blood off of your cheek, ignoring your concerned tone “I-I saw the thing on top of you and I-I thought you were-“

He cupped your cheeks. “I am fine, Little Light.” He said softly. You looked in his eyes, dropping the blade. “You’re shaking.” He noticed.

“My legs haven’t left the bed in days…” you said softly.

“Mm.” He nodded. You couldn’t move. You found yourself enraptured in those crimson eyes. He kissed your forehead and hugged you. “I’m alright. I promise.” He assured. You slowly hugged him back, surprised by the man’s manner. He hadn’t been affectionate before. What changed?

You let out a relieved breath, feeling his hand travel into your hair, gently moving his fingers as if to soothe you. He kept whispering reassurances. “I’m alright, I promise” or “We’re safe. It’s okay.”

You had never felt this amount of safety, especially since the entire separation from your brother and the dark forest. But here you were. Safe in the arms of the one you knew you’d come to love.

You loved him. You knew this would come to happen. When you saw his future, you saw yourself with him. Loving him, with yourself on his arm with a smile that was almost glowing. You pulled back because when you saw his future and he asked for his reading, it was technically the first time you had spoken. You didn’t want to come across as flirting, you didn’t want it to seem like you were almost manifesting that you two would come to love one another. You kept this secret to yourself. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

Sometimes when you gave readings, people would become cross, claiming you took the autonomy of their choices away because you knew the outcomes. They didn’t understand that you had no ability to control what you saw. That that wasn’t your intention. But to many it came across as rude, especially when the readings were negative.

You knew after seeing the visions of Cazador’s evil acts upon him, that he must’ve struggled with feeling like he was never in control. To say that you saw him with you, you felt as though it’d almost seem like you’re forcing yourself onto him. You could never do that to him. Never.

You pulled away looking into his eyes. You also felt that by keeping this to yourself, you were robbing him of his right to know what he asked. “Astarion I-“

The door flew open, Tav standing there panting. His armor was covered in blood, though it was clear it wasn’t his own. “Some flaming fist bastard tried to kidnap Isobel!” He said.

“Did they succeed?” Astarion asked.

“We’d all be dead if they did.” Tav said sheathing his sword. He looked down, seeing the dead creature.

“We saw one of them go down stairs. We thought for sure that you were-“

“Y/n had it handled.” Astarion assured. Tav nods, noticing Astarion’s hands on your waist. He rose a brow, looking at the hand on his chest.

“…Did I interrupt something?” He asked.

“Aha! Uh- n-no—“

“Oh yes you did. I was just about to ask your sister for some blood but noooo! Someone had to enter without knocking!” Astarion joked. Even with the with the obvious sexual tension, you started laughing, rolling your eyes.

Gods he loved that sound. It was like music every time he heard your laugh. He smiled, not removing his hands from your waist as he looked down at you. Tav was increasingly suspicious.

“Right. Well. Uhm. We’re going to head off.” Tav said.

“Stay safe.” You said. He nodded before leaving, closing the door behind him. He paused, seeing Karlach.

“Wow, damn. That was crazy.” She breathed, clearly still dealing with the aftermath of the battle.

“Have you noticed anything with Y/n and Astarion?” Tav asked. Karlach looked confused.

“No? Why? Walk in on something?” Karlach asked.

“I don’t know.” Tav muttered.

“Were they like… doing it?” Karlach asked and Tav grimaced with a snort.

“What!? No! No it’s… Astarion had his hands on her waist. And her hands were on his chest.” He explained.

“Well how close were they?” Karlach asked. Tav sighed, pulling Karlach over. Ever since they made the temporary fix with the infernal engine, he had touched her hands quite a bit. This was going to be quite the difference…

He pulled her close, pulling her hand to his chest and put his hands on her waist. “Like this. This close.” He said looking up at the tall tiefling. She paused and once he realized how close they were he made the same expression.

“Well. You definitely must’ve walked in on something!” She said with a nervous laugh. Due to her red tone, it was hard to tell if the woman was blushing. But he did take notice in the glowing pattering of her engine speeding up.

He chuckled nervously back in response nodding. “I figured.” He said.

“Well would it be so bad? Ari is a good man. Wouldn’t hurt her.” Karlach shrugged.

“I just… She’s never showed an interest in men before. Honest. Never any childhood crushes, no secret boyfriends as a teenager. She said romance was dull and didn’t interest her.” He said.

“Maybe something changed.” Karlach said.

“I don’t know… Maybe.” He said. She nodded mindlessly.

“We should go to camp. She can’t leave the inn until the curse is lifted and I have a feeling that even though she’s awake, Ari’s not leaving her side.” Karlach said.

“Good point. Maybe it’s time to put Wyll back out there.” He said walking with Karlach.

You finally separated from Astarion after Tav left, getting back into bed as Harpers carried the creature’s body back.

“Do you want food? You’ve been out for days, maybe it’ll do you some good.” Astarion said.

“Soup..” you muttered. He rose a brow.

“Soup? You want soup?” He asked. You nodded sheepishly, feeling as though it was a dumb request.

“I will get you soup then,” he said softly. You watched him get up, leaving and returning with soup in hand. “It was too warm but I cooled it. And I brought bread, you need something else on your stomach.” He said.

You nodded, slowly eating the foods he got for you. You seemed to relax when you finished your food, laying in the bed.

“Why do you call me ‘Little Light’?” You asked after a moment.

“Ah. Right.” Astarion nodded mindlessly. “There’s a bit of hopelessness going around. Like the world itself is being consumed by darkness. But you, my dear, are a little light in the darkest parts of it. Normally I’d roll my eyes at your heroic nature. But the way you handle yourself compared to Tav? It’s entertaining. It’s nice. You don’t just see black and white, you can see the grays in it too. You know when a situation is tricky and you don’t try to avoid it. You make light where there is one. Hence ‘Little Light’.” He shrugged.

“Well now after hearing all of that it’s only fair that I give you a nickname too.” You said. He chuckled, shrugging. “Hmm. I’m thinking on this.” You pondered. He chuckled, watching you. “I could call you chompers,” you said. He blinked. “cause of the teeth.” You said before biting down loudly making him shake his head with a laugh.

“Call me that and I might be forced to bite you.” He teased. You chuckled thinking.

“Oldie?” You suggested. He rose a brow with an amused look on his face.

“Are you trying to make me suffocate you with your pillow?” He asked making you laugh.

“Middlemist.” You said. He looked confused. “It’s a rare flower. It can withstand many things, some have even seen battles. And they’re red. Like… Like your eyes.” You said. He smiled nodding.

“Much better.” He said.

“And they need a little light to grow.” You added. That made him pause. “Not that you need me or anything-“

“I do.” He said. You stopped, swallowing hard. “I have changed since I have met you. Into what I think is a better man. I’ve grown. I didn’t think I could do that again. But I did.” He said softly. You looked in his eyes. “Can I ask you something?” He asked. You nodded.

“What did I look like in my past? I can’t remember how I looked before I was turned.” He asked. You smiled, looking at him. “You had brown hair that was almost black. Your eyes were a deep green. Just like your mother’s.” You said softly. His mother. Oh how he forgotten that sweet woman. She died when he was young but he could remember her kindness. How far from it he must’ve strayed.

He seemed almost sad by your words. He must’ve been such a disappointment for his mother. For him to become a conniving little bat that really didn’t care about other people as long as he gained something in return.

“She would be proud.” You said. He paused hearing this. “You overcame everything that monster put you through. For that she would be proud of you.” You said. His gaze softened, looking at you.

“I’ve hurt so many people-“

“You did what you had to, to survive.” You said. “You are not a monster.”

He had never heard someone say that. In all of his 200 years of life. Someone gave him the reassurance that he wasn’t a monster.

His lips connected with yours in an instant. You were shocked of course. You froze in place but once you registered what was happening, you relaxed, your hands cupping his cheeks. He pulled away after a moment, it dawning on him who he was kissing.

“Shit. Shit shit shit-“

“Are you alright?” You asked.

“You’re Tav’s sister! I-I shouldn’t have—“

Then it sunk in. Astarion was your brother’s closest friend. Oh gods. Oh Gods.

“Shit.” you muttered. “We shouldn’t do this- We should act like this didn’t happen, right?” You asked.

“…If that is what you want.” He muttered. You saw that expression. Almost hurt. Like what just happened didn’t mean anything. But it did. Gods it did. It meant the world. The stars themselves.

“It isn’t but… I don’t want to hurt Tav when he helped me.” You said. Astarion rose a brow. What did you mean “helped you”? He knew there must’ve been a reason you had been with Karlach and Tav. Maybe you meant the medical attention you received but… Something in your eyes seemed to say otherwise. Whatever your brother did, made you feel as though you owed him. Something less trivial than Tav’s typical heroics.

“What did he do?” Astarion asked. You seemed to halt, closing your mouth. You felt as though if he knew your truth, he might see you as less than. Course that was ridiculous, you two suffered in similar ways. But you didn’t know how to even begin to talk about what was done to you in the “Name of the Absolute”.

You looked down, away from his gaze. What happened before you ended up with them? What exactly went on that made you so tight lipped that you wouldn’t even talk to him?

You hesitated but kept closing your mouth. “Those monsters didn’t just want Isobel.” You muttered. Astarion looked even more confused. What the hell did they want with you.

“The Absolute has been tracking me. Trying to find me, they want me to ensure their victory. The natural abilities I have can be weaponized. But Halsin… I know him, he was my teacher. And he told me that if I used them at full power it’d kill me. Destroy my body. I wouldn’t be able to withstand that much power.” You muttered. Astarion blinked.

“Tav had heard my name mentioned by one of the goblins apparently. They had plans to kidnap me and drag me to the towers. By the time he had found me, so did the Absolute’s lackeys. They tried to maim me just enough so that I could be dragged unconscious.” You said. He couldn’t believe this. Tav didn’t go out to drink that night. He went to actively find you.

“He saved me from that group. I was surprised Tav even wanted me here in the first place all things considered but I think he feels that the safest option is to have me nearby. Astarion you mean so much to me but I can’t betray my brother’s trust. Not like this.” You muttered. Astarion felt so many things at once. Sadness. Anger for the fact that they hurt you so badly you nearly died at camp. But understanding to your emotions.

So you ignored them. The feelings that were bubbling like water in a hot pot they were just there. You two tried to ignore it. Over the next two days, Tav returned with a lantern, clipping it to your side.

“LET ME OUUUUTT!”

“Tav why is your lantern screaming at me?” You asked.

“It’s a pissed off pixie.” He said.

“I WILL END YOU ASSHOLE!”

“She sounds beyond pissed.” You said staring at the pixie inside. She was clearly fuming. “It’s like a pissed off pet.” You snorted. Astarion chuckled, finding it funny.

“PET!? I AM NOT A PET! FUCK YOU!”

“I wonder if I can give it something to make it chill out.” You said looking into the lantern.

“Dunno. She’s mad though.” Tav shrugged.

“Thanks but why this?” You asked.

“Isobel said that the reason you’re unable to handle the lands was because mere torchlight wasn’t enough. This should be the best thing.” He said.

“Tav, we both know I can’t go into those towers.” You warned.

“I know. But at least this way, you can travel around without fear of death.” He said. You nodded.

“Thanks.” You said.

“Of course.” He nodded.

So you started joining everyone back at camp. Tav noticed a newfound sadness in Astarion. Staring of longing for you. But he wouldn’t go near you. Tav finally decided to start asking questions.

“Hey, Ari. Can I ask you something?” Tav asked.

“What’s on your mind?” Astarion asked, clearing his throat.

“I’ve noticed something. Between you and Y/n.” He said. Astarion tensed up.

“Wh..what do you mean?” He asked.

“I mean you seem to really like her.” He said.

“Well… Uh… I-I… I don’t want to disrespect you Tav.” He coughed out.

“Do you intend on hurting her?” Tav asked.

“No! Never.” Astarion said quickly.

“Do you intend on drinking her blood and leaving her to die?” He asked.

“No- Gods no Tav!” Astarion said.

“Do you love her?” Tav asked. Astarion paused. He froze. He watched you laughing with Karlach, smiling as you sat next to her.

“…How could I not.” He said.

“Then how is you falling in love disrespectful?” Tav asked. Astarion looked at Tav surprised. He approved? He wanted this?

“You wouldn’t hate me?” Astarion asked.

“No- Gods no. Astarion, Y/n doesn’t like people easily. I’ve never seen her take interest in someone. Ever. But she likes you. And if you like her too, you need to say something. Especially if this whole battle plan Jaheira has goes south.” He said.

Astarion’s gaze went back to you. “Talk to her. Tell her it’s okay with me.” He said. Astarion nodded getting up.

You stood up, walking over to your tent when you noticed Astarion behind you. You jumped. “Gods! You scared me.” You gasped.

“Oh! Sorry I-“

“No-no it’s okay!” You said.

“I wanted to talk to you.” He said.

“Oh… erm… About what?” You asked.

“Tav spoke to me.” He said. You blinked.

“About what?” You asked.

“You. And me. Us.” He said.

“…Oh.” You breathed. He felt already that he might’ve misread everything. Maybe the kiss was something that you didn’t like and you were using Tav as an excuse as to not hurt his feelings. Maybe you didn’t like him at all, maybe he read too much into this. “what did he say?” You asked.

“That… He doesn’t want to be what sets us back. That if we feel… strongly for one another we should pursue it.” He said.

You looked relieved. You didn’t hesitate, you just hugged him. “Thank the gods.” You muttered into his chest. Relief hit him instantly as he hugged you back. You felt safe again in those arms.

He kissed your head and you looked in his eyes as you pulled away slightly. “Stay with me tonight? Please?” You asked quietly. He smiled gently.

“Of course my dear.” He said, kissing your nose.

That night, he stepped into your tent, pausing as he saw your back. It was like his almost. Not infernal writings but something different. Writings of preachings of Shar. Which was odd. Because he knew you didn’t hold high opinions of Shar. You turned, jumping.

“Gods! I need to put a bell on you or something, you scared me!” You said. He shook himself out of the focus of the preachings on your back. You turned back, your shirt clutched in your fingers. “I suppose you’re wondering why Shar’s preaches are on my back?” You asked.

“…You don’t have to indulge my curiosity.” He said gently.

“I was kidnapped years ago when I was a child. Tav and I were playing in our village, I lost my ball and I went to grab it. I was known as the druid magic girl. So one of Shar’s followers grabbed me. Branded me with Shar’s words against my will to remind me that Shar would be superior.” You said.

He stopped, staring with wide eyes. He couldn’t believe that someone would brand someone like that because of their beliefs, much less a child. “It’s why I bathe alone. Last time I was with the girls, Shadowheart kept making remarks about it.” You muttered. He frowned.

“Shadowheart will have my fangs in her neck if she opens her mouth about it again.” He said. You sighed.

“You shouldn’t turn against her just because I have a problem with it.” You said.

“I would do it anyways. The girl is far too chatty.” He shrugged making you chuckle.

“I feel… hideous sometimes. With these scars. I hate them. It’s like I become painfully aware of my skin.” You muttered. Gods they really were two sides of the same coin.

He walked over, gently wrapping his arms around you from behind. He kissed the back of your neck. “I know how you feel.” He said softly. You dropped your shirt after a couple of seconds slowly turned in his arms.

“Cazador branded me. Though I don’t have a mirror. Don’t know what exactly is written.” He said. You looked at him sympathetically. You never wanted anyone to know that kind of pain. But there was someone who did. You rested your forehead on his.

“We truly are fucked up individuals, aren’t we?” You muttered.

“Indeed my dear. Pained by others.” He muttered.

You held his cheek, kissing him. “No harm will come to you as long as I am near.” You assured. He chuckled.

“I should be saying this to you.” He said. You felt a familiar tinge of pain, wincing and gripping your head.

A vision. Something in the strings of fate was near. You gripped Astarion’s arm, closing your eyes. What was fate telling you?

You saw yourself, in Astarion’s arms. Dead. With vines everywhere. The shadow curse lifted. You pulled away, panting.

“What happened? Are you alright?” He asked. You frowned looking down. This didn’t make any sense. You were perfectly alive in your first vision with Astarion. Something was going to happen, something so large it changed the strings of fate themselves. You panted, trying to catch your breath.

“Love, are you alright?” He asked again.

“I’m okay. I’m okay. Just a vision.” You breathed. He looked at you concerned. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay,” you said looking in his eyes. He looked confused.

The next morning you woke up in Astarion’s arms. Completely naked of course. Your legs felt… well they felt sore. Like your core muscles had been pushed past your typical limit. You were the first to wake up and you took your time to yourself thinking on what the vision meant.

Was it meant to happen? Was it a warning? No, anytime a vision like that occurred spontaneously, it meant it was fate. So what was Astarion’s future if you were dead? How were you going to live out your days if you were destined to die?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the red eyes looking into yours. “Morning, my love.” He said softly.

“Morning my darling.” You said back, kissing his forehead.

“You’re thinking. I can tell.” He said.

“I am.” You nodded mindlessly.

“About? Do indulge me.”

“… How much longer do you think we have before Tav attacks the towers?” You asked.

“I’m uncertain. He hasn’t had me with him that much, he wants me to look after you.” He said.

You nodded again. “I have questions for him… I’ll be right back.” You said getting up. Astarion seemed confused. Last night you seemed like this too. I mean, not entirely, eventually your focus went to him. A lot. Which surprised him. He had no idea a tongue could even do that but that was beside the point. Something had claimed your attention this morning, judging by the look in your eyes it was serious.

You got dressed, walking out of your tent. “Tav, I need to talk to you.” You said.

“Well you sound serious- wow you’re shaking.” He noticed your legs wobbling a bit. Damn it Astarion. Damn it.

“Aha. Well…. that’s not… important.” You coughed out.

“Uh huh. Sure. What’s going on?” He asked.

You looked back at your tent. You looked around the camp. “Not… not here.” You said. You grabbed your lantern next to the back. “Come.”

Tav followed you away from the camp, wondering what had you so serious. “When do you think you’re attacking Moonrise?” You asked. He paused.

“What?” He asked.

“Moonrise. When do you plan on attacking?” You asked.

“…I just got the Nightsong. So probably soon.” He said.

“I need to be there.” You said. He rose a brow.

“You want to be there or you had a vision where you are there and I need to take you before I piss off a nature god?” He asked.

“The second one.” You said.

“You had a vision,” he said.

“Yeah.” You nodded.

“Gonna tell me what it was?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I do, you will try to stop me.” You said. He frowned.

“Y/n, what did you see?” He asked.

“I will not tell you.”

“What did you see?” He asked again.

“Tav-”

“Y/n. What. Did. You. See?” he asked.

“I died. I was dead. But you succeeded. The only way this succeeds is if I-”

“No.”

“Tav. We both know what happens when you try to change fate.” You said. He sighed running a hand over his face.

“…Okay. Okay. You seem serious about this. I’ll respect it. Does Astarion know?” He asked.

“No.” You said.

“You haven’t told him?” He asked.

“No. Please don’t say anything. I… I don’t want him to try to stop it,” you said. Tav sighed. But he nodded.

You didn’t realize Tav planned on leaving for the towers soon. Or that he’d do it without you. He couldn’t lose you. Not like that. Not in a place like the dark forest. He already almost lost you twice. Three times if you include the massive event that happened when you were kids that got his clan killed because he tried to change fate. He did. But at the cost of everyone else. The two of you promised to never try that again. But Tav was too stubborn for his own good.

The next week, it was decided. Gale, Astarion and Karlach would go with him. You, Lae’zel, Shadowheart and Halsin would stay behind. You were gathering water into a bucket when you realized they left.

“Where’d Tav go?” You asked Shadowheart.

“Dunno. Said he had things to handle before the towers.” She shrugged reading a book.

You shrugged it off but then realized Astarion was gone. Whatever your brother was doing wasn’t small. He took Astarion with him when he had to hide. You noticed the heavier armor Tav wore before handling large fights was gone. Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

“Tav, I thought you told Y/n that she’d be here for this.” Karlach said walking next to Tav.

“I lied. I can’t…” even if he did go back on one promise, he couldn’t let the other one go. That’d be hurting you twice over. “The lands make her weaker. I just felt like she’d be better off at camp.” Tav shrugged.

Astarion knew when Tav was lying. There was another reason you weren’t here. But for whatever reason, he wasn’t saying it.

“Gale, do your powers feel okay?” He asked.

“Yes, I’m alright for now,” Gale shrugged.

“Good. Want you feeling alright for this.” Tav nodded. Astarion sighed. This was going to be a long fight, he could feel it.

Sure enough it was. He fought through hoards of angry and pissed off creatures. He pushed through though, thanks to Tav’s insistence that Gale learn a healing spell or two a while back. Then came Ketheric. Who was pissed by Tav’s interference with the Nightsong.

He stood face to face with Tav, glaring at the man with contempt. Tav hoped that if he died instead of you, the fates would be satisfied. They wouldn’t need your life any longer. But that isn’t the way fate works.

Long were the waves of battle that Ketheric threw at them. Each one knocked everyone down. The first wave, took out Gale. The second was Karlach. Astarion was knocked to his knees as Tav bared his teeth at the bastard with his sword in hand with enemy blood on his face.

“You will die, little boy. You will die a heretic. A non believer in the Absolute.” Ketheric said.

“I will die knowing you died with me.” Tav growled back.

Astarion gripped his dagger, coughing from being winded.

Then he noticed. The moss slowly growing up from the stones. The small little blooms that were rising from the cracks of the ground.

He heard something. Your voice. And suddenly it was like he breathed in fresh air. Everyone felt better within an instant. Karlach slowly got up, gripping her war hammer as Gale used his staff to rise.

“Lay a hand on my brother and I cut you where you stand, Ketheric.” Your voice said. Everyone turned to you standing behind them all. You looked different. Your eyes were glowing green, your bird tattoos on your cheek were glowing white. You looked as though a celestial being had touched you.

You stepped forward Tav showing a new kind of fear in his eyes. Astarion had never seen Tav this scared. Not even as he was facing Ketheric did he seem scared. But right now, this man seemed terrified.

“No! Y/n-“ you flicked your wrist, ensnaring Tav. You couldn’t let him stop you. Tav struggled in your vines as you stepped forward with an incredibly calm look.

“You have turned this land. Corrupted it. Eilistraee is unhappy with you. I am unhappy with you.” You said walking. Karlach looked at Astarion with a surprised look, almost questioning if they were seeing the same thing.

Y/n, their sweet chaotic little cleric was walking towards a man that nearly killed them mere seconds ago as if he was a child about to be scolded. But something was different.

“Do you know what happens when the balance of nature is disturbed?” You asked, picking up a dead foot soldier’s sword from the ground. “it does anything it wants” You walked, dragging the sword across the stone of the tower. “For as long as it takes” your eyes glowed brighter. “To set the scales back.”

“Was this supposed to scare me, child?” Ketheric spat. You gave the most unsettling smile anyone in the group had ever seen.

“Oh no, Ketheric.” You said.

“And you expect to just stab me?” He scoffed.

“Oh you’re once again wrong, Ketheric. This is your grave marker.” You said, slamming the sword into the ground. “My words aren’t meant to scare you.” You said.

“Mine are.” It was if you were speaking. But it wasn’t your voice. This was different entirely. Tav struggled harder.

“You wanted her powers? Fine. Here they are.”

Within an instant vines erupted through the ground, the glow of your eyes becoming brighter as you began floating.

“Y/N NO!” Tav screamed. This was what Ketheric wanted you for. This is what he wanted to use. Astarion’s eyes widened as it seemed like wings made of pure light formed behind you. With a flick of your wrist, Ketheric was obliterated. But that didn’t end there.

You let out a loud scream, light erupting from your chest blinding everyone for seconds before finally they all heard a thud. Astarion blinked a few times to regain sight. He thought whatever had been going on was still happening until he realized… that was the sun.

He gaped turning to look at you before he realized you were the thud. You had served Eilistraee‘s purpose. Now, you were dead. Astarion dropped his daggers sprinting over as Tav, Gale and Karlach all did the same.

“No no no no, Y/n- darling don’t do this to me don’t you fucking do this to me!” Astarion said frantically shaking you.

Nothing. Not a stir.

Tears flooded his eyes, him holding your body close. “Y/n wake up. Please fucking wake up.” He begged. Cold. You were so cold.

Tav looked at Gale “Isn’t there something you can do!?” He asked.

“I-I can’t— when someone takes this much power from a god it-it destroys the vessel— I’ve never even witnessed a god possess a human like this!” Gale said.

“Withers c-can bring her back right!?” Tav asked.

“Her soul had to be what costed all of this…” Gale said.

“Damn it Gale! Can’t you do anything useful!?” Tav snapped.

“Tav I don’t think there’s anything we can do-“

“Unless you have something useful to say, shut up!” Tav snapped.

“Stop snapping at him like he’s nothing!” Karlach defended

“I don’t see you trying to help—“

“EVERYONE SHUT UP!” Astarion yelled. Everyone turned. “Would one of you assholes just fucking help me bury her so she can rest, or do you all plan on being heartless fucks just screaming at each other when you know damn well that she wouldn’t want this!?” Astarion asked. Silence. Haunting silence.

Tav looked down at his baby sister in Astarion’s arms, cold and lifeless. She truly was gone. He collapsed to his knees in front of Astarion in tears, gripping the moss that was now growing. Karlach slowly kneeled, holding Tav as he cried. Gale bowed his head as Astarion pressed a kiss to your cold forehead, gently laying you on the ground.

Then Gale noticed it. The moss was still growing. At rapid speed. Like nature was claiming it fast. Only druid magic could do that. He didn’t want to build hope but Halsin was at camp. And the only other Druid was you.

He felt it. A surge of life.

Astarion wiped his eyes, when he heard metal clinking of armor. He looked up to see your body levitating slowly.

“Balance is restored through my vessel, her heart pure. May it be a use in destroying the Absolute.” A voice said. Everyone was confused as a pink speck of light hit your body. Then a blue one. Then a green one. Then yellow. Honestly it was beginning to look like a glitter bomb exploded onto your body before it glowed brightly

Your body dropped, Astarion catching you. Your eyes were still closed. You still seemed very dead. So what the fuck was that?

Then you gasped for air, coughing. Tav let out a relieved breath as you looked around.

“Did it work!? Is Ketheric dead!?” You asked. Astarion wasted no second in kissing you the moment you spoke.

“Okay that’s nice and all but is he dead!?” Yeah. You were definitely back.

“He’s gone.” Astarion said. Tav hugged you as he set you down.

“You fucking idiot! You died!” He said hugging you tightly.

“Well with the grip you have right now I might die again.” You wheezed. Tav let go wiping his eyes.

“Gave us quite the scare there, fire cracker.” Karlach chuckled.

“I still have no idea how you’re alive. I mean Eilistraee herself was in your body using the entirety of your magic, that should’ve killed you.” Gale gaped.

“I suppose she saw more use for me.” You said.

“I’m not complaining.” Astarion said, gently caressing your hair.

“Neither am I.” Tav said relieved.

“Remind me never to piss you off.” Karlach said making you laugh.

“No, you were pretty terrifying out there actually. I’ve never seen anyone just waltz up to anyone and fucking use a celestial blast like it was a normal Tuesday before.” Gale said.

“Well, Eilistraee doesn’t take kindly to people interfering with nature.” You shrugged.

“That’s an understatement of the century.” Karlach chuckled.

You slowly stood up, Astarion gently helping you rise as you leaned on him.

“Let’s go back to camp.” You said. Everyone nodded.

“Let’s have a fucking celebration. You deserve it.” Tav nods. You smiled slightly was Astarion pulled your arm over his neck to help you walk. You all towards the stairs but you stopped, Astarion looked over with a confused glance. He followed your eyes to the remains of Ketheric with the embedded sword at his feet. Astarion looked down at you as your gaze changed to the sunset.

“We wouldn’t have won without you, you know.” He said gently. You said nothing, looking into his eyes. “But if you scare me like that again, I might actually die.” He said making you chuckle before kissing him.

“I’m being serious, don’t do that again.” He said. You slipped your arm off of him.

“No promises.” You shrugged walking.

“Wha- no that’s not a good enough answer little light- get back here!” He groaned. You kept walking and he grinned, scooping you into his arms.

“Oh get a fucking room!” Tav groaned.

“Yeah? Maybe you and Karlach can finally get a room too!” You teased.

“Hey!”

“I mean it’s not a bad idea Tav.” Karlach said.

“See even she’s- wait what?!” Tav said making everyone laugh.

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Ep3 Musings - Armand & Lesmand & Nickistat (Spoilers)

We got the Armand backstory! 😭 The first half of this ep had me screaming at my screen, cuz Armand's a effing LIAR; I was rolling! 🤣

We were already told 1000 times by Assad & Sam that Armand's trying to make himself seem as sympathetic as possible. That is SUPER important, cuz although he's my favorite book character, Armand is a effing MENACE in IWTV, TVL, QotD, and TVA.

Ok, they've clarified my confusion about the weird 1556 date, cuz it implied that Armand MET Lestat in 1556, which is entirely wrong.

So I'm glad my suspicion/hope was correct, that the date was out of context. 1556+239=1795, which tracks with what Les said in S1.

So Lestat met Armand ONE year after becoming a vampire. (No wonder AMC!Armand dish-ragged him, LOL!)

No duh, if you've only been a vamp for a EFFING YEAR. (I looooove the Time-stopping Gift! So happy to see it used again--the horses are especially impressive.)

This seems like Armand's taking Marius' place as Lestat's mentor (Armand WISHES, lol). And it's kinda smacking of narcissist!Lestat using him then dumping him once he'd learned what he wanted, like Daniel & Louis implied later in the ep. (He even grabs Armand's hand & drinks w/out asking; mighty bold! Ok sure, he kissed it first, but still!?) But their dynamic is SO different in the books.

I have a looooot of issues with AMC!Magnus.

Excuse you!? Language! 😤

Armand wanna be called "Daddy" so bad. 😂

BULL.

EFFING.

CRAP.

AMC/Armand officially butchered how awesome Magnus was--he was never a Child of Satan/Darkness, or in a coven--he was a human alchemist who STOLE the Dark Gift from Rhosh's fledgling Benedict!

That means nothing, if you don't explain that Lestat is Rhoshamandes' great-grandson, and that Magnus was a WIZARD. 😒 And Armand said Les' turning was "MAYBE" a horror show? 🤨 How does he not know, if they were so close? 🙄 And how would he have even known Magnus was his Maker?

Oh no. "Come to me" was ARMAND'S theme the whole time!? 😱 Thanks, I hate it. 😭😂

LESTAT SAID KISS MY ARSE!!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

I mean, I would, too-the CoD/S lived like bums! The reason Magnus was so friggin rich and had all that money he gave to Lestat was strictly cuz he WASN'T a penniless bum like the other coven vampires--he hid himself away in his TOWER. (If we don't get the Lesmand tower scene Imma be so mad.) He had no Maitre/Master.

NGL, I expected the Children of Darkness/Satan to be WAY filthier. :P

So Armand really IS Indian then? As in Roma/Ukranian/Russian?

Sadly, they didn't speak on Lestat's Harlequin mask being Blackface. But woah. "Dervish" as in Muslim ascetics & mystic dancers? So was 1700s!Armand Catholic or Muslim? Is that what he thought of Lestat back then? Or what 2022!Armand thinks of him now? If the latter, Armand converted to Islam....WHEN???

Armand glossed over EVERYTHING that went down with Nicki. He seems to imply that Les got with Nicki AFTER they met, which is beyond untrue. (And not a word about Gabrielle being there for all of this mess--MIGHTY SUS.)

We know Lestat loves his gay panicking needy alcoholic bottoms.

THE FRENCH GIRLS ARE FIGHTING.

Oh lovely. More racists--I'm not even surprised; I never liked Nicki in the book anyway; bye Felicia. 🙄

Iiiinteresting way AMC/Armand gave Nicki's abduction. (Again, no Gabrielle--MIGHTY SUS!)

And LAWWWWD, lemme find out Armand was telling the truth abt him & Les knocking boots in their theatre box on some exhibitionist kink while vamp!Nicki mean-mugged from the orchestra. 😭

So Armand's still to blame for Nicki's death, but not cuz of the darkness of "self-loathing," but jealousy cuz Lesmand were an item? BISH PLEASE! 🤣

(TBF, Loumand still blames Lestat, saying he "abandoned" Armand & Nicki & the coven. Which...is not entirely true. Lestat gave Nicki the Theatre, but didn't want to be part of it or Armand's coven, so he left with Gabrielle, but still kept tabs on everyone via Eleni. So whatchu mean??????)

LOUIS SUICIDE WATCH, stop playing with me, AMC! I want to see these vamps greet the sun and "taste the fire"! (And they had the NERVE to put the commercial break there; I see you, AMC.)

They were SHOWING OFF Armand's Fire Gift in this episode--oh yeah, Louis DEFINITELY got it from him; I'm convinced now. (I'm still waiting to see if Santiago has it, too; I hope to god not though.)

Lestat was a MENACE! XD "It's a fallen tree." What a brat!

The Lesmand eye-f**kery was INTENSE--Samothy was serving~!

Don't you DARE tease me like that, AMC! YES! I want 2022!Lestat in that Dubai penthouse by the end of this season, PLEASE. 🙏🙏🙏

What does all that say? Looks Latin or French? And WTF is Armand doing biting himself? (Reminds me of Louis with Jonah.)

This is why I'm convinced that the whole "Rashid" ruse in S1 was strictly for Armand & Dan's benefit, cuz in QotD Armand specifically said Daniel was the only mortal who knew his name & lived.

Chile, this episode was A LOT, and that was just the first 20 frikkin minutes, wtf.

[masonmyluv]

Cutest way to say I love you

Pedri Gonzalez x vlogger!reader

Blurb/ One shot

Fluff

"Hello guys and welcome back to my channel! Today we have a very special guest...Pedri!!"

He clapped his hands and waved to the camera.

"Today we are going to do a very interesting challenge" you said. "Oh no" Pedri sighed. "The whisper challenge! So, we'll take turns in wearing headphones and the other person will say a sentence and we have to guess what they said! Easy peasy right?"

"Yeah" Pedri said. "Don't be grumpy" you said, poking his stomach. "Who guesses more words is the winner. Who should start?"

"Ladies first" Pedri grinned.

"What a gentleman" you rolled your eyes, putting the headphones on his head. "Hey!" "Sorry not sorry Pedrito. Now let me see what music to choose... Rosalia. Perfect" you said.

Y/N: I eat a burrito

Pedri: I go in rito? What the heck is that?!

Y/N: I eat a burrito

Pedri: I'm in a mojito???

"Okay okay... you suck at this" you laughed.

"WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?"

Y/N: I play for Barcelona

Pedri: you gay at zona??

Y/N: I play for Barcelona

Pedri: I playa for Bazona??

"Close..." you said after he took off the headphones. "0 points for me?" He asked with puppy eyes. "I'm sorry baby. You'll do better at other challenges" you pat his head. "I'm not doing any challenges with you anymore" he mumbled. "I heard that. Not so nice" you pouted, putting the headphones on.

"Let's see how's she's doing" Pedri grinned.

Pedri: I am your boyfriend

Y/N: Aim out boyfriend??

Pedri: I AM YOUR BOYFRIEND

Y/N showed him her middle finger.

"You're so cute" Pedri uttered, brushing your cheek.

"Let's move on" you said. "As you wish princessa".

You didn't know why he seemed nervous about this second try. Did you overstep by wanting to do this challenge with him? Obviously the fans knew about you two, but you never said those three words.

Pedri: I love you

Y/N: WHAT DID YOU SAY?

Pedri: I love you

Y/N: HUH???

Pedri: I LOVE YOU

Y/N: WHAAAAAT?????

Pedri: I L-O-V-E Y-O-U

Y/N: I love you? (you take your headphones off shocked)

"I love you too" Pedri smiled sheepishly. "You little bish" you said, punching his arm playfully. He leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a sweet kiss.

"This was all for today guys! Hope you liked it, don't forget to leave a like and subscribe to her YouTube channel. And write in the comments if you want me to do challenges with my girlfriend. See ya" Pedri said the outro while you stood there shocked and red as a tomato.

"That was real? Like it wasn't for the sake of the video?" You asked. "No, baby. I really love you" he said. "Yeah— but— why—" you tried to say. "Why I did it now and not other time? Well, I thought it would be cute" he said blushing. "So romantic" you battled your eyelashes to him. "Now come here and cuddle me! I lost" he said, dragging you in his lap. "Okay sore loser, I'm here" you said, pecking his lips.

Hope you like it 💙💙💙

Any feedback is appreciated 🫶🏻

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Four Roads to Heavenly Hell - An EZ Reyes/Reader, Angel Reyes/Reader, Bishop Losa/Reader & Gilly Lopez/Reader One Shot Story.

So yes, this is a beast of a one shot and I am absolutely knackered after writing it, lmfao! I’m posting and going to SLEEP! My brain aches! Enjoy, besties!

Words - 4,216

Warnings - FILTHY smut below the cut, four dudes running train on reader, minors DNI!

You told him to be careful.

You begged him not to get out of the car and give them attitude.  

He didn’t listen, which is what led to this, sitting around a large table within the clubhouse of the Mayans MC, four stern looking members glowering right at your boyfriend, the president sitting at the head of the table, his eyes combing over your boyfriend, his VP standing behind him, a large gun jammed against the side of his neck.  

“All of this could have been avoided,” the handsome man begins, picking up his shot of tequila and sinking it, continuing to stare dangerously. “I think you know that now, don’t you?”  

Your boyfriend is silent, the VP pushing his gun harder against his neck. “Answer him.”

“Yes, yes I do.”  

“Not only do you cut us off, then fuck with us, trying to knock two of my guys off their bikes, but then, you don’t even have the sense to apologise and drive off. Nope, you had to try and act like the tough guy, likely showing off in front of your girlfriend. At least she had the sense to tell you to leave it alone and just apologise. It’s a shame you didn’t listen to anything other than your ego. For that, we’re gonna punish you.”

Hearing that causes a chill of frost to surge through your veins, the president noticing your body stiffen, his eyes moving from your boyfriend as he looks at you, smiling widely suddenly, his tongue wetting his top lip as his eyes sweep over you. The action makes you settle a little, but still, your brain is speeding through all of the scenarios likely to befall your boyfriend as punishment. None of them are good, because nothing good comes from fucking with a bunch of outlaws.  

“No, no, please, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” your boyfriend begins, the president laughing darkly, his perfect, white teeth gleaming in the low light of the room.

“Oh, now you’re sorry, huh?”

The tallest of them, a gorgeous man with raven black hair snorts softly, pouring himself a shot of tequila and sinking it. “They always are, a half hour too late.”

“Any thoughts, EZ?” the VP asks, shifting his weight to the other foot, the gun still pressed firmly.  

The handsome man leans back in his chair, running two fingers over the corners of his moustache and down over his chin, his nails scratching at the short, nearly trimmed hair there as his eyes once again flit to you. “I do, Bish.” He rises from his seat, slowly walking around the table until he reaches you, extending his hand. “Come on.”

“No,” you immediately sob, beginning to quiver with fear.  

“Please, please!” your boyfriend pleads. “Don’t hurt her, she didn’t do anything!”

The president turns to him. “I know she didn’t do anything, and I’m not going to hurt her.” Glancing back at you, he jerks his head back softly. “C’mon, baby. Nothing bad will happen. I swear to you.”  

You still don’t believe him despite his reassurance, being led around to the head of the table, his big hands bracketing your waist and lifting you up, seating you atop the shiny wood. You’re still shaking, wondering what is about to happen, your fate now tied in with your boyfriend’s punishment, it would seem. Your eyes dart over to him, but this time, you’re angry. Angry that because of his actions, you are the one who’ll be paying the price. All because he had to be an asshole. 

“Hey.” A gentle hand touches to your cheek, turning your head. “Look at me, there you go. I meant it, nothing bad is gonna happen to you, I swear it. Your boyfriend, though? He’ll wish he never fucked with us, after he’s watched me lay you back on this table and fuck you right in front of him.”  

“No! Please don’t do that, don’t rape my girlfriend!” he squeals, getting up, the VP’s hand cuffing his shoulder and pushing him back down into his seat. EZ turns to him, beginning to grin.  

“I’m not gonna rape her, bro. I ain’t that kind of man. Believe me, your girl will consent.” You get the distinct impression that something worse will befall your boyfriend if you don’t, but yet when he focuses on you once more, the way he looks at you evokes a pleasant bloom in your tummy. “You hear that, beautiful? Told you, nothing bad will happen, I want you to know that, alright?”  

You nod, yet you’re still terrified.  

“My name’s EZ, and you?”

“(Y/N)”

He grins, reaching to stroke your neck, his mouth nearing your ear. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.” His lips land in a soft kiss against the side of your neck, his tongue touching in a featherlight lick, another kiss following. “Relax, querida. I promise, I’ll make sure you love every last second of this.” His hands touch to your legs, the action making you jump. “Shhh, don’t be nervous.” Another kiss presses your throat, the hands resting on your thighs coaxing them to part gradually, yours grasped on the edge of the table in a white-knuckle grip.

You glance at your boyfriend, his face a picture of horror and disbelief, EZ turning your head back to him. “Just look at me, baby girl. Yeah, that’s it.” His mouth then meets yours softly, the kiss chaste to begin with, his body moving between your thighs, the action which prompts it to deepen, your lips parting, allowing the intrusion of his tongue into your mouth to press and roll against yours.

Warming to it, your hands slacken their grip, enjoying the way he kisses you, although it throws up conflict, feeling your boyfriend’s stare boring into the side of your head, not wanting to let yourself get carried away, not wishing to hurt his feelings any more than they already will be at being forced to watch another man have sex with you. However, a little voice in a far-flung corner of your mind whispers to you, telling you that if he got you into this mess, in a situation that truly could have resulted in you being hurt, then why not enjoy yourself a little?  

Letting go of the table, you rest your hands to his chest, stroking, the feeling of hard muscles beneath causing heat to mist at your apex, your legs wrapping around him, his hands clutching at the soft of your thighs as he moans faintly against your tongue.  

“Yeah, you want me, don’t you?” he whispers quietly, his hands coming to stroke your face as you bite your lip, your eyes giving him all the permission he seeks as he reaches beneath your dress, grasping your undies and pulling them off.  

“She didn’t say yes! She didn’t!” your boyfriend protests, EZ rapidly drawing his gun as he lunges forward.  

“Yeah, she did. Now, you sit down and watch me take care of her. You never know, you might learn something.” His words are cocky, and a little part of you wants to laugh, EZ seeing it in you as he grins, putting his gun away and kissing you wantonly, grasping your dress and pulling it over your head, your bra cast off with equal swift deftness. You’re shy of being nude in front of four men you’ve never met before, until their words make you settle instantly.

“Damn, that’s a beautiful body,” the tall guy with the black hair praises, his eyes raking over you, the big, bald man he’s talking and drinking with giving you an equally approving look.  

“Beautiful tits, querida.” He winks, throwing back a shot, he and the black-haired guy continuing to converse quietly as your focus returns to EZ, who kisses your neck, murmuring in your ear, exalting your beauty before he sits down, shuffling the chair closer to table, pulling your body near to the edge. He spreads your thighs, taking a look at you closely, the hunger in his eyes burning before he dips his head, kissing your pubic mound a few times, his tongue rolling through your folds.  

A soft exclamation flutters from your throat, the warmth of his tongue instantly searing, your pulse quickening when you hear him rumble a quiet moan. Each lick parts the petals of your cunt, and when his tongue seeks your clit, you whimper, wet warmth circling slowly, his lips gently closing to suck, alternating until the noises he draws from you louden, your cadence sweet as he laps at the nectar of you.

You can feel the horrified stare of your boyfriend as he watches you enjoying it, but you don’t dare turn your head to view it, or let him see the desire in your eyes, stirred by the man who currently has a mouthful of your pussy, his tongue laying long, slow licks against you, driving cool fire over your very bones.  

“Mmm, right there?” he asks, a flat lick making your clit bounce.

“Ahh, yes!” you cry, panting, your hands reaching to grasp his head, your hips rising off the table, EZ continuing delighting you with those firm licks, the sizzle of sensation sharp rooted and twisting a coil within you, your bud swelling against the unrelenting heat of his mouth.  

He pauses for a second, kissing your inner thigh before turning his head. “Does she moan this pretty for you, bro?” Every man in the room who isn’t your boyfriend laughs, EZ looking up at you with a wink before continuing to lick you like you are ripe, summer fruit, his talented mouth working the bliss potently as your back arches, your nails dragging his scalp, unsure whether it’s too much or not enough.  

He conjures little bursts of magic to snap down your spine, grinning against your soaking folds as his tongue becomes rapid at your bud, forcing a wail from you, glimmers rolling through your walls, walls that beg to feel his cock parting, such is the absolute splendour of his mouth upon you.  

“Oh god, that feels so fucking good!” you can’t help but grit, EZ emerging from between your legs, licking the gloss of your arousal from his lips, grinning as he unbuckles his jeans.

“I’d have eaten you all night long, querida, but fuck. I gotta be inside that pretty little pussy right now.” He pulls a condom from his kutte, slipping his jeans and boxers to his thighs, a long, thick cock springing free. Your eyes light up as you watch him roll the condom on, excited at the fact this is the first big dick you’ve gotten to enjoy in a while, EZ moving between your legs and kissing you with smouldering heat.

The bulbous head of him snags at your opening before gliding in, a gasp fluttering over your lips as your tongue battles with his, drawing a sumptuous groan from him as you yield to his length, sheathing him well, his strokes slow and contained, pushing you back against the table, his hands holding your legs spread as he watches your wet little hole swallowing his cock whole.  

Your nerves sing in symphony as he spreads you, dragging your walls with biting pleasure, the pressure of him within you perfect, your mouth falling open. Little cries leave your throat, EZ’s hands sliding down over your nakedness to grasp your thighs, holding you as he begins to rail you against the table, a few more inches of him slipping in as your cunt becomes wetter and more supple against the deep punch of him.  

You tremble as lightning crackles beneath your skin, the pleasure searing right to your marrow, his dark eyes fixed on you as he smiles, watching you falling apart for him. “Yeah, look at you, enjoying the fuck out of my dick.” His turns to look at your boyfriend, smirking widely. “And all you had to do was admit you’re a dickless jackass and apologise, and you’d have saved yourself all this. Although, I’m pretty sure your lady is glad you didn’t right now.”  

And as you feel him speed up, his hands clutched tight upon your thighs, you are glad, because god, the way he fucks you. He leaves you wanting more as your bodies race to culmination, his thrusts becoming staccato as he grits curses, his eyes closing tightly as he pounds into you, a torrid chill of heat flooding your veins as you wail, coming hard around the rapidity of his cock as it jerks and spills, leaving you breathless.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” he pants, pulling you up to kiss you, gently sliding from within the trembling clasp of your cunt, pulling the condom off and rearranging himself back into his jeans and boxers, noting the hunger in your kisses.

“Uh huh,” you gasp, giggling softly.

“Didn’t quite dampen your fire though, did it?” You shake your head, kissing him again. “Anyone else want a crack at this insatiable little thing?”  

“Oh yeah,” the man to your left immediately speaks, EZ giving you one last kiss before trading places with him.  

“Have at it, Bish.” He then sits down to the side of the table, not obscuring your boyfriend’s view. “Damn, your girl has a fuckin’ sweet pussy. I’d apologise if me and my guys are gonna wreck sex with you for her one by one, but nah. You deserve it.” While EZ laughs at the look he’s given in return, your attentions are captured by the gorgeous guy before you, his smirk entertained.  

“Well, ain’t you gorgeous, sweetheart,” he rumbles, pulling his cock out, whistling to EZ sharply and holding out his hand. The president roots around in his kutte and passes him a condom, Bish nodding in thanks, pulling it on and parting your thighs wider before he sinks himself into you with a grunt, his head dipping to lay kisses over your chest as you sigh with gratification. He isn’t as big as EZ, but god, what a beautiful cock. “Mmm, I’m gonna enjoy this.”  

Your body moulds to his, the leather of his kutte offering delicious friction as your pebbled nipples rub against it, one hand clutching the table, the other wrapping around his neck as you meet his thrusts, bouncing against him, the roll of your hips taking him all the way up into you. Each thick vein gives the most incredible stimulation as your walls clench around him, your tongues entwined as you pant against one another, your nails raking at the nape of his neck.  

“Yeah, fuck me.” You purr, and oh, how he does. You’re two amazing cocks past even noticing that your boyfriend is still in the room, continuing to look on in disbelief, seeing you getting so into it. Your eyes couldn’t be torn away from the lustful intensity that Bish stares at you with, though, not for anything, his teeth biting your lower lip between magmatic kisses, his big, rough hands kneading your tits as his hips rock into you, fucking into the sodden clasp of your cunt with hard snaps.

He has you cresting with a scream, your nails ripping at the back of his neck as he lines you up only to topple you completely, his cock twitching through each raspy grunt, resting his forehead to yours as he grins.  

“Damn, that girl can take a fuckin’ pounding, shit!” the guy with the black hair remarks, raising an eyebrow, winking at you. “Oh, honey, you gon’ get it hard when you get to me.”  

The huge bald guy snorts. “Yeah, you goin’ last, homie. You ain’t ruining her with the widower maker you got in your pants.”  

He smirks, sinking a shot. “Don’t be jealous, Gilly.”

Your eyebrows flutter. “Widower maker? Should I be scared?”

“Yes,” comes the joint reply of EZ, Bish and Gilly.  Immediately, you look back at him, watching him grin as he scratches his beard.  

“Yeah... you won’t be able to stand up after I’m done.” The wink he follows it with has your stomach rolling over pleasantly, but you’re too preoccupied by Gilly moving to you to give it much more thought, being handed a shot before he lowers his head to suck your nipples with a hungry groan, his mouth finding yours, kissing you with the kind of skill that makes your pulse throb, his hand sliding down your body, thumb pressing against your clit and beginning to circle.  

Sparks crackle through you as you suck his tongue, your arousal gleaming once more at the fresh contact against your aching bundle, while you look over at EZ and raise your eyebrows.  

“Jesus fucking Christ, what am I, a goddamned vending machine?” His mutter has you giggling, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a handful of condoms, scattering them on the table. “Something tells me you’re gonna use all of them with us, am I right?”  

Picking one up, you rip it open with your teeth. “Oh yeah. Unless big guy over there ruins me, but even then, we got all night.”  

You boyfriend sits up, a spluttered exclamation of ‘What?’ leaving his mouth, EZ pressing his boot to his chest and shoving him back in his chair. “Yeah, I doubt she’s still your girl, mano. Still don’t mean you get to leave, though.” The guys laugh as you pull the condom from the packet, Gilly letting his jeans fall as you eye his cock, placing the little roll of latex against your lips, and then hopping off the table to roll it down over him with your mouth.  

“How’d you want me, big fella?” you purr, kissing the side of his tattooed throat once you’ve straightened again.  

“Turn over, ass up.” You oblige, his big hand striking your cheeks in turn before he pulls you back, pressing your entrance and shunting forward, filling you instantly. There’s no slow build with him, he’s ravenous from the get-go, pounding into you as he spanks your ass, the wide drag of his cock sending pulses through your walls, the coil within you beginning to wind on itself like an angry serpent as you cry out.  

His hands grip your hips hard, his fingertips pressing into your bones as a slight tilt of his hips sends him a fraction deeper, hitting something within you that has you pulsing around him as your thighs quiver, sweat slick over your spine as you begin to pant hard, looking over at the gorgeous guy who is set to finish you, making a motion with your finger.  

“C’mere,” you pant, watching him sink a mouthful of tequila from the bottle before he saunters over, seating himself on the table and lying back, his head beneath yours. “Couldn’t wait.” Leaning to him, you begin to kiss, those kisses like honey dripping over a blade, sweet and sharp, full of longing. He’s the one you’ve had your eye on from the beginning, hoping that somehow, once your nerves had calmed, things would end up how they have and eventually, you’d get to enjoy him as well.  

Your body is sore and tired, but you’re far from done being passed around like some kind of outlaw fuck toy, Gilly spanking your ass hard as he moves into you like a piston, your kisses with the man below you gaining heat as you stroke his neck, one of his hands moving to fist in your hair as he moans into your mouth.  

“Don’t you fuckin’ be distracting her up there, Angel,” Gilly pants, a particularly hard shunt into you making you whine helplessly, lightning flickering your spine.  

“Nah, bro. Just being soft with her before I fucking break her goddamned back.” And his name is Angel? Seems much more demonic than his name would suggest, his mouth returning to yours, his other hand playing with your tits as your inner walls begin to clamp onto the cock splitting you wide, milking Gilly of his release as yours floods through you, the tingles lapping in waves right to your fingers and toes.  

As soon as he’s slid from within you, Angel hauls himself onto the table properly, his big body covering yours, your hands savage at him, yanking in his hair, nails clawing at his neck, unfastening the buttons of his shirt rapidly, needing to feel male flesh against yours, since the other three remained almost fully clothed. His chest is a feast of well-defined muscles and smooth skin, his weight crushing your body to the hard wood beneath you, his kisses predatory, your hands slipping between you to unfasten his belt.  

“Yeah, want me to ruin you, beautiful?”

Your head dips, your teeth biting his neck where the short hair of his beard trails to. “Yes. Right now.”

Your demand is met by another blazing kiss, his hand reaching out and snatching a condom from the table, tongue licking between your tits as he moves back to his feet. You move after him with hunger, unzipping his jeans, your hand delving within to grasp what you can see bulging through the black denim, your mouth falling open. Your fingers don’t even close around it, and when you run your hand up to the head...

“Holy shit, where does it end?!”  

Your exclamation has the guy's guffawing.

“Told you,” Gilly nods. “Widower maker.”

“I think we’ve proved our point, so we’ll get rid of the distraction for you, sweetheart,” Bishop then speaks, hauling your boyfriend out of the chair he’s been held at gunpoint in, snorting with laughter. “Not that he’s been much of one with us here to take care of you, pretty girl.”  

You don’t even turn around, Angel shedding the rest of his clothes before pulling the condom on, a shiver running through him as he watches you stroking your clit, bringing your wet fingers to his mouth and sliding them over his beautiful lips. He sucks them, biting down hard before picking you up, and then literally dropping you down on what can only be described as a third leg. Wow.  

You stretch around him, your mouth falling open as he secures a strong arm around your waist, his other free to lay hard, repetitive spanks against your ass as he begins to bounce you on the hugest cock you’ve ever had inside of you, hanging onto him as you wail, muted only by his mouth returning to yours, kissing you with unbridled want.  

Each spank of his hand hurts, your body tender already from the three men who came before him, but your nerves sparking like he’s the first, glimmers shocking you, dancing upon your bones, mingling with your very marrow, Angel moving rapidly to cage you against the nearest wall, his hands slipping down to grip your thighs as he ploughs into you savagely. Oh god. He’s a beast, his groans all grit and sin as he lays bites along your jaw, his cock so heavy in you, you feel as if you’re taking an entire storm within, thunder rolling through your groin as he pounds you until you scream.

He slows a little then, letting you enjoy the humongous length of him dragging your walls, lighting you up, your soaking cunt fluttering on him as he rolls his hips up into you in slow, delicious rhythm, tongue circling with yours.  

“Fuck, you take a dick so goddamned well, querida.”  

Why yes, even you yourself are impressed at how well you’ve managed so far that evening, definitely glad that he was the last in line, because boy, you know you’ll be ruined after him. His groans are long and heated as a bonfire of pleasure crackles up your spine, Angel beginning to arrow into you faster once more. You can feel his abs tensing against you, his pubic bone grinding against your clit, sending a hail of pleasure pelting beneath your skin, your kisses messy and filthily indulgent as smoky groans temper the air.  

Your veins are warmed by the unrelenting, sharp waves of pleasure as you both chase the swell of release, your body sweat slick and heaving into his, until you feel it winding like a summer tempest, and when it hits, cracking through you like ice over a frozen lake, Angel railing into you with a string of expletives as he follows you into tumbling, surging bliss.  

“Yeah, yeah you were right,” you pant, your head thudding back against the wall. “You ruined me. I need a drink, a shower and a nap.”

He carries you back over to the table, gently lifting you from his cock and seating you upon the cum stained wood, pulling the condom off as he catches your eyes in a gaze. “I can make all three of those things happen for you.”  

You started out the night being scared of where you’d end up because of the Mayans. By 2am, you’re shower fresh and in bed curled around the one who wrecked you in the sweetest way possible. The other three, they were amazing, wonderful, hot as hell encounters, but never to be enjoyed again. Why? Because Angel doesn’t actually let you leave his house until you tell him you’re his girl.  

It’s perhaps not a story you plan on telling your grandchildren, but definitely one you’ll never forget.

[ronearoundblindly]

Hello darling! No pressure (I fukin tried to write this anon and YOU WOULD HAVE KNOWN), but I keep thinking about a workaholic reader who needs cared for! It’s the beginning of a new year but she’s already worn out from last year.

You write such a real Steve, can he be stern about it? Tough, rewarding love? And you can request (that I stfu) anything from me, I wish you the whole world 💚💚💚💚

Drag me kicking and screaming :P

Dear bestie,

You bish. Fine. I see what you did there. Be warned, I'mma tap you back for this. Oh, it'll happen...

Not Today

Warnings for...Steve is a bit of a hypocrite? and that might be it? Oh, and Steve uses completely canonical profanity. It's literally the exact same line. You're welcome. WC 3.1k

The tech support department is a team. There are about a dozen people who are tasked with directly answering any Avenger's call at any time, day or night or holiday. You know your own team but not socially since you all rotate and shift hours. It's a fairly lonely job, and that's fine.

The world's superheroes don't know your names, can't distinguish your voices, and don't really care which of you picks up as long as they get the information they need. Steve Rogers is guilty of this, too. It's not on purpose, but he still struggles to remember more than just a 2-D connection can come from technology. Old habits are hard to break.

Then came Thanksgiving, and Steve took several for the team by coordinating casual progress on a few upcoming missions while the rest of the Avengers scattered to celebrate with family. He still saw people; he still enjoyed the festivities. He just also worked.

That's when Steve noticed.

He called your department at 1900h after the big dinner because a document scan was cut off oddly and he needed to see the original. You answered. 

He called again after the house was quiet and everyone slept. At 2300h, you answered. 

With barely-bridled irritation, Steve called instead of a morning run because he needed clarification on a recon analysis. You answered at the ripe 0500h, but he was too distracted to notice it was the same voice until that afternoon.

When it occurred to him that the same person answered four calls in a row, Steve asks for your name, but you politely remind him you aren’t supposed to say it over the line.

“Plus, it’s not important, Captain Rogers. Answering your questions is.”

He doesn’t like that one bit.

After the holiday though, it’s you picking up less often. The others are back in rotation more, and perhaps it was just a fluke, he thinks. If you can’t say your name, you certainly can’t tell him that you filled in for coworkers hoping to spend just a few extra hours with their families.

Your team works out of one central computer lab which Steve knows, but since it’s all by phone and online, remote shifts are common. Steve wouldn’t have time to stalk around the facility anyway.

He lets it go.

On his way out to the landing pad one night, Sam Wilson joins him in the elevator, suited up, ready, and on the phone.

“Thanks, Genie, I’ll call if there’s anything else,” Sam says before hanging up and nodding at Steve. “Ready?”

“Always,” he grunts back. “Who’s Jeannie?”

“One of the techs.”

“She told you her name?” Steve looks stunned. One of your coworkers doesn’t seem to follow the rules.

“Didn’t. She’s just particularly magical…and effectively trapped in a bottle since she’s always on the phone, I guess.”

Oh—Steve gets it now—Genie is like a nickname. That doesn’t explain why it is still you (because he just knows it’s you) answering calls so frequently.

“Are they short-staffed or something? People out on leave?”

Sam shrugs. “I don’t know, Cap. She just tells me what I need to know.”

They head off on their mission.

Steve Rogers doesn’t have much of a social life. Ok, fine, he doesn’t have any social life, but he’s a curious sort of man. It bugs him to not understand what’s going on around him, and in theory, this isn’t a huge mystery. He pulls up the time logs for the on-call analysis team and glances over it.

Whether he expected a simple coincidence or a mostly-female staff now that could sound similar, Steve’s not sure, but what he finds infuriates him by proxy. He stops himself from looking up the personnel file for your employee number though. He’s not so mad as to break that protocol.

For another week or so, he fights the urge to hang up on you and call again since he knows there are likely at least three other people available. It probably wouldn’t make his point clear because Steve doesn’t know what his point is yet. Instead, he grits his teeth and does his work, oblivious to his annoyance growing.

Until Christmas Eve when he walks by the lobby coffee bar just as he’s dialing your team’s hotline.

He doesn’t notice at first but the woman next in a long line to order scurries out to hold the phone to her ear, pinning it to her shoulder and opening her laptop right there as she stands. He hears your response echo in both his ears and looks up.

“You gotta be shitting me,” he huffs, stomping over.

It’s only when he snatches your phone away that you realize he’s there. “Oh, gosh, sir—I mean, hello, Captain.”

“What are you doing?!”

He’s downright terrifying when angry, and his fury coupled with your alarm makes you shrink in your own skin.

“I—I just—“

“What is this? Day nine? In a row?!” His voice cracks slightly as he barks out questions he already knows the answer to. He sees people staring around you, so he points down the far hall. “Conference room, now.”

He keeps your phone in hand and ignores it ringing three times before you even make it to the giant table. You look tired. He complains it’s unhealthy but when you try to say something he cuts you off and asks when you last ate. That’s simple, right? You have to feed yourself.

“I was in line, sir. That’s what I was doing.”

“Then you shouldn’t have answered the phone. Sit there, no, right there.” He points and presses one finger against the wood for emphasis. “You don’t move. You don’t leave this room. I’m taking this—“ he pockets your phone “—and you sit there.”

As he’s about to let the door close behind him, he turns. “And if you so much as touch that laptop…”

It’s explicitly clear that you are still terrified, but you nod.

He comes back with food from their private lounge, a variety since he doesn’t know if you have restrictions or allergies. There’s water and coffee already in the room. He sits and eats something with you, staring until you munch on a few things.

When he’s satisfied, he stands and hands back your silenced phone. “I don’t want to catch you overworking like this again, you hear?”

Your very wide eyes blink twice.

He takes that as yes, wraps his knuckles on the table, and goes back to his own work.

Steve gets exactly what he wants. You log long—but no extra—shifts all the way through to New Year. He never hears your voice when he’s not supposed to.

Except…he celebrated the clock striking midnight with Wilson, Torres, and some other employees on the roof, and after the crowd dissipated, Steve couldn’t get to sleep. He walks (wanders) the halls when this happens. The building is empty.

Of course, the building is not empty, so Steve smacks the glass door open in frustration.

“Nobody works in this lab for third shift.”

You’re startled, ripping your headset off and half-rising from a rolling chair. “This is my shift, and…I’m not nobody.”

“Agreed,” he spits before realizing how that sounds. “Gah—“ he runs his hand through his hair, pulling harder than necessary “—this is insufferable.”

“Agreed,” you mumble, sitting back down with a questioning gaze.

Thinking of nothing else to say, Steve then bursts, “have you at least eaten?”

“Uh…it’s two in the morning. It’s not a meal time.” You flinch at his powerful huff. “Have you? Do you need to eat, Captain Rogers?”

You point him toward a tiny table.

Of course, the phone rings, but he stares you down. “Are there other people working remotely?”

“Yeah but—“

“But what,” he says in a very specific way to indicate there is no correct response except—

“Nothing. I am actually supposed to work though.”

“Seventy-plus hours this week and you still think it’s required?” Steve kicks himself internally. He just showed his hand.

“No…?”

“Just stop—“ He doesn’t get to finish.

His phone rings, and he suddenly can’t say squat. Steve simply answers it, wearing the most sternly disappointed face he can muster, and leaves.

He gets bold. Something about the anger boiling up inside him at the whole situation makes him far more aggressive at trying to change your habits, more so now that he’s seen your face. You’re not a 2-D sound anymore. You’re real, and you really work too much.

He keeps a closer track of the time logs and sees you’ve, in fact, reduced your hours. Then he hears Torres say something about ‘you rock, Genie’ on the phone…nine hours after he spoke to you that morning. So he checks and you’re not on-call. That’s when he realizes you’ve been working after and before clocking in so it looks like you have no overtime.

That’s nonsensical to Steve. He’s livid.

He picks out one of the burner phones constantly available to his Team and does something he’s not super proud of but feels justified in: he looks up your address in your file. It ends up not being a huge deal because you live in an apartment complex almost entirely rented out by compound employees. Still. Steve folds in his own self-condemnation with his fury at your deceit.

And you lied. You lied to him.

He drives over and stands by the door, flips open the phone, and calls the hotline.

“Ready,” a female voice chirps. It’s customary. No chit-chat just immediately prepared to listen to and research the caller’s question, but he can’t be sure it’s you from one word. Then Steve realizes he can’t say anything because he’ll give away that he also knows you have screened his calls from his normal number during times you are supposed to be off.

“Unclear. Weak audio connection. Boosting in three, two—“

Steve pounds on your door because goddamnit, stop working, woman. There’s a very sharp squeak from the phone (and through the entry) before the line cuts out. His heart rate and breathing spike in anger when he hears a muffled, “what do you want?”

It’s sad, not quizzical or alarmed. You’ve looked through the peephole at him.

“Open the door,” Steve says in his Captain voice, and you do, right away, unable to not comply. He wiggles the phone. “I know for a fact three other people are on-call. Explain yourself.”

You’ve also straightened in anger, but the posture is defensive and fragile. “It’s not like my work suffers, and I can keep going—“

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should,” he barks back, stepping over the threshold and blocking the entire doorway. “And you suffer even if the work doesn’t.”

You have no rebuttal for a long moment, frowning at his intrusion until you try again.

“Well, you…you’ve been up since at least five—“

“I have a physical advantage to handle more than you on less sleep.”

Your face sours further. “And that makes you better than me?!”

He’s defeated by that, having first scared the daylights out of you by yelling in the atrium, then interrupting you at the lab, and now showing up at your home to yell some more. Steve isn’t at all sure what’s gotten into him.

His shoulders sink. He finally takes a second to look around.

“You’re done. You are off work for the night. Do not pick up that phone.” He snatches it away again. “Just do something else.”

Without moving your feet, your whole body swivels to look around your apartment. You fill the silence with a short sniffle before confessing, “I…I don’t have anything else to do.”

Neither does he. Steve has not a single clue what he’d do if he were told the exact same thing.

“It won’t fit,” you gasp in frustration.

Steve sighs. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.” He continues to watch you struggle, leaning forward just enough so his breath fans over your face. “Go on. You can do it. It’s meant to be.”

“Shut up,” you whimper before dropping the slippery piece in defeat.

“You know in real life—“ he clucks his tongue “—they make cars big enough for your brood there.”

“Steve, this is the game of LIFE. I don’t know that anyone is supposed to end up with five children and a spouse. I’ll just have to strap him to the top of the van.”

As you delicately lay the little man to the side, Steve frowns.

“That’s no way to treat your beloved second son!”

“Who said it was my son I kicked outta the car?”

He barely stifles a laugh and goes to spin for his turn, but not Steve’s turn.

In order to make the game last longer, and because you both have somewhat alter egos, you are playing with Steve, Captain America, Genie, and yourself.

Genie has apparently been super busy having five children. It’s ridiculous.

So Captain America scores one for his perfect little life: a mansion.

“Look at you, Mister Two-Kids-and-A-White-Picket-Fence,” you chide.

One boy and one girl, of course. It’s now the running joke of the game that everyone’s life is terrible compared to Cap’s, even Steve’s.

Steve has three sons, and he keeps grumbling that he wants a daughter. You have offered him one of yours. He feigned offense. He openly hopes to avoid ending up like Genie though.

“I guess I’m just very dedicated to servicing my customers,” you joke in your best phone voice.

Steve sputters and blushes, putting down his to-go container in favor of sipping more water.

He withheld your phone to order, too, and insisted on paying for the obscene amount of food (because he eats like a horse, it seems). In addition, you are required to have half a glass of water every time your phone goes off. Self-care, he says. Hydration is good.

His phone has vibrated a few times as well, and because he’s him, Steve always answers to make absolutely sure it’s not urgent. He talks in his Captain voice, which gave you the idea to make him play the board game like that. He’s actually quite funny trying to get it together and ‘act the part’ while he spins a tiny rainbow dial that he’s already broken twice.

The air of irritation he arrived with has dissipated, and he smiles more. It makes you smile to see him relax. He’s more animated than you would have guessed. He holds himself very straight and still as Cap; Steve is a lot more approachable and a lot easier to make fun of.

He almost left in a completely flabbergasted huff when his original suggestion was for you to have a hot bath or something. Your quick “what are you gonna do? Watch me?” made Steve nearly crawl out of his skin in apology, but you decided to put him out of his misery and suggested eating instead.

“Right. Food,” he muttered under his breath, “that’s a good, basic life requirement…”

And that’s when you also had the idea for this game.

Best decision ever.

He’s never played, so you only made it through a few turns before the delivery arrived. Steve is practically a natural…a natural loser, that is, and it somehow makes him even more perfect. As Cap, he fights for justice, but he doesn’t fight over game rules or what’s fair about random cards and moving in an arbitrary pattern on the board. He doesn’t care if he wins, and oddly, you feel like the gleam in his eyes says “I’m winning by just being here.”

You feel the same. This is the most fun you’ve had in a long time, and it’s just a stupid foldout piece of cardboard. He’s just that magical.

So you both hide away in your own little bottle all night.

More jabs, more setbacks, more triumphant returns from behind later, and you barely care who wins. You chat absently between every spin. You have too much fun going wild with your alter ego’s stories. Then it’s past the three-hour mark of no-calls and quite late.

The food isn’t all gone, so you hop up to make Steve a doggy bag to take home. He shifts from relaxed to wildly awkward in the space of your walk back over.

“So,” he drawls, staring at your two phones on the coffee table, side by side and silent.

“So,” you mimic with a smirk, “I promise to not work until tomorrow, logged in or not. You have my word. Scouts’ honor.”

“I’d say I trust you—“ he bobs his head around, thinking “—but I don’t, so I might have to check up on you.”

“Oh dear,” you gasp. “A home visit? Expected or unexpected?”

He clearly feels bad about how he ended up here for the night, but Steve steps forward to take the wrapped offering of leftovers.

“Maybe expected. Next week? Same time?”

“Sure. I can survive on eating once a week.” It’s cheeky and a little forward of you, implying you might only eat with him and so he should see you that much more, but Steve beams.

He squints a little. “Or maybe sooner?”

“I’d like that. This…this was fun.” You step closer to gently kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Captai—Steve. Thanks.”

“Next time, I want a daughter,” he laughs, tilting to kiss your cheek, too, and then he jumps back and slaps his forehead. “No. Not like. I’m so sorry. That came out all wrong.”

You cackle while he still tries to correct himself.

“We can play the game. And in the game, it would be nice if—would you stop? I didn’t mean it like that.”

A few big breaths has you settling but just barely.

“I know, but hey, maybe next time you’ll be the one tied up?”

Steve swallows hard with huge eyes.

“To the top of the van, that is, because you would give up your seat for the children, right?”

Yeah, he would, he agrees and sees himself out, adding one more good night as he plucks his phone back, pushing it into his pocket next to the burner.

On his ride home, he already has the urge to check.

“Hey,” you answer immediately. “What’s up?”

“You aren’t supposed to pick up. You promised,” he snorts, smiling.

“But I knew it was you.”

He’ll be mad at that eventually. He should be mad at that. He could give another Captain speech about overworking and caring for yourself and yadda yadda, but not today.

No. Not today.

Today, you cared for each other, even though you didn’t know how, even though you didn’t want to, even though it was hard. Tomorrow, you can both care even more.

Immediately started bawling. Whoops.

Reminder to self: it isn't even the big things that make you feel cared for. Sometimes it's just a very simple joy.

[Main Masterlist]

[thegamingcatmom]

how do you think the denalis would react if the reader sneakily got a tattoo? If it was of their initials or their symbol would the reader get out of trouble?

Do you think MC has a death wish?

...

Jk. 🤓

(Bish will do as she damn well pleases, tyvm.)

(...And pray to God her wives are in a forgiving mood.)

(Better to ask for forgiveness than permission anyway, right?)

(...Right?)

(👀)

.

.

.

Tanya Denali:

*affectionate* excuse?

her darling did what?

don't get her wrong

ofc her mate is allowed to, yknow, be her own person and stuff

she'd never forbid her precious girl anything

unless it's dangerous ofc

or foolish

or reckless

(or doesn't 100% match up with what she has envisioned)

(jk jk)

(or not)

(she can be a bit...overbearing, at times)

so, yknow

all things that she associates with getting a tattoo

how foolish

how reckless

how dangerous

she just doesn't understand why her darling would want to tarnish that perfect skin of hers

and risk it getting infected

or worse

why must this world be so cruel?

why is-

...wait

*stops her ranting because that eyesore starts to look familiar*

is that-

*recognizes the eyesore as their family crest with the first letters of their names (T, K, I) wound around it most artistically*

...

that's-

...acceptable

(she´s already obsessed)

just this once

(also because her letter comes first, as it should)

don't get used to it though

(how about "Tanya" for a next tattoo? quite a nice ring to it, if you ask her)

...

excuse her-

*proceeds to drag MC away to a place where she can thoroughly inspect the eyesore*

yknow, just to make sure it looks...as it should

no infections or anything

that´s her job, after all

ensuring the safety and well-being of her coven members

especially her mate

she´s just the best leader, is she not?

and the best mate

so very...thorough

Kate Denali:

unlike Tanya, recognizes what the tattoo is meant to represent immediately

...

are you kidding her?

...

how fucking awesome is that??

she loves it

especially the way the "K" wraps around the other two letters, partly covering them

(besting her sisters in everything, it seems)

(who´s the top dog now? 😏)

she can´t get enough of it

(she just wants to lick-)

also because she kinda thinks of it as war paint

MC strutting about, showing off her clan as well as her wives like a true Warlord

her little warrior

(so hot)

also because MC´s now literally saying "I belong to Kate Denali"

(so.fucking.hot)

...fine

and to her sisters

but still

(the "K" covering the other letters is all she needs to see)

she fucking loves it

in fact

she already has an idea for the next tattoo

"If lost return to Kate the Great"

don´t that sound nice?

...

...fine

"Kate the Great" will do too

...

...fine

she´ll also make do with "Kate"

...

oh CMON!

(this world is cruel)

Irina Denali:

...

oh...honey

what is she to say to that?

has her sweet baby become a punk now??

did Kate encourage her??

(she wouldn´t put it past her rowdy sister)

they´re going to have a serious conversation about this

what´s next??

a piercing??

one of those dreadful tunnels??

green hair???

not on her watch-

*sees MC blinking at her with those big innocent eyes*

...

*sees MC pouting at her with those lush lips*

...

*sees MC looking all hopeful, most proud of her newest...addition*

...

sighs

she just can´t deny her Angel anyth-

...hold on

*squints*

...is that-

her name??

well, the first letter of it, but STILL-

that´s-

oh...darling

what an honor

her sweet girl putting herself through agony, just for her??

...well, and her sisters

BUT STILL-

she´s a (huge) sucker for symbolism

to see her name, even if it´s just a part of it, forever engraved into the skin of her darling mate?

she´s always known their love for each other is as timeless as their existence

but now it has been visualized

not that she needed any kind of "proof"

she gets to look at her darling mate every day, after all

that is all the proof she needs

but this? it´s just...different

also because others will know as well now...

(not that anyone with eyes would ever doubt it...or dare question their love)

she´s speechless

truly

.

.

.

Thanks a lot for your ask! 💋

.

.

.

EDIT:

The sisters would be most accepting, btw. (Not that they have a choice, lol.) In case anyone has doubts about that.

They might feel a bit smad about it first because MC got a tattoo in secret though. Like, MC should know (and she does) that she can talk to them about anything without fear of getting judged.

Ultimately though, they´ll accept her choice. ✌️

...After some sighing, crossing their arms, muttering under their breaths probs, lol.

[justice4billiam]

Math Class

So there was this one moment in time in high school where I actually liked a guy (I know, weird concept, just go with it) who sat in front of me in my math class.

Something you should know about me, I fucking suck at math.

Another thing you should know about me, I was kind of a dick in high school.

Okay, I’m still kind of a dick, but a nice one.

However in high school, I was extra dick-ish (I’m sure it had to do with all raging teenage hormones and a shit childhood)

Anyway.

I fucking sucked at math.

And what happens when you suck at math?

Your teacher assigns you a tutor to help “guide you to the path of success” or whatever she said.

Cool.

No big deal, right?

Wrong.

She assigned me to the nearest person to me.

The fucking guy I had a crush on.

Who thought I was the fucking worst.

Now you’re probably thinking nooo, he couldn’t possibly think that way about you. I’m sure it was all in your head

Well, you’re wrong. The guy hated me.

BUT for good reason.

He just so happened to be the brother of the girl I beat up half a week earlier in gym class.

NOW.

I didn't beat her up just because…no. She was an absolute terror to this disabled girl in said gym class.

She would verbally bully her to the point of tears.

But that one particular day she physically shoved her to the ground while we were all running the mile.

Remember how I said I was a dick?

Well, I used my powers for good. (mostly)

I watched that shit happen.

Then came strolling up to her while she was shooting the shit with her friends and shoved that bish so hard.

Her stupid unblended orange face (this was the early 2010s guys, no one wore the right makeup shade or blended their foundation into their damn necks) bounced off the concrete floor.

Let me just tell you…it was satisfying as hell.

It started a full on fight of which resulted in her getting her ass handed to her.

So you see, her brother hated me

And I didn't blame him

A sister is a sister.

You stand by your siblings, I get it.

BUT.

I had a big fat crush on him and now he was to tutor me.

Let me tell you, he was NOT happy about it.

I distinctly remember the look on his face the second the teacher called his name out to work with me.

It was the kind of face you make when you smell roadkill wafting through your car vents because you have outside air circulating while you're going 65mph(that's 96.56kmph) on a back road.

The look fueled the need to make him like me.

Those who know me now, know I'm a cheeky, flirty little shit.

So not to toot my own horn but it's hard NOT to like me.

(Is that my god-complex talking? Probably)

I can get along with just about anyone.

Not so surprisingly after about 30 minutes of flirting my way into his heart, I had him FLUSTERED.

I'm talking man giggling.

Blushed cheeks.

Couldn't even make eye contact with me.

FLUSTERED.

Don't like who?

Not me.

I'm sure you're probably wondering where I'm going with this.

Well, after class ended he invited me over to his house after school.

A normal person probably wouldn't go to the house of the girl you beat up and meet her parents while on her brother's arm.

I did.

I went.

I wish I had taken a picture of her face when I walked into her house. (she had stayed home the rest of that week because I beat her ass)

Honestly, it was a core memory.

The best part was her parents didn't know it was me who did it.

It was such an eventful week for me.

Monday: bully the bully

Tuesday: ice my hand from bullying the bully

Wednesday: suck at math

Thursday: rizz the bully's brother and come home with him to have dinner with bully and her family.

Friday: DATE THE BULLYS BROTHER.

Yep. You heard me.

That dinner went so well that the guy asked me out.

And I said yes.

I then proceeded to date him the whole year and become best friends with her mom.

Oh yeah, and I still failed math.

I'm gonna make this a series 🤭

@voyeurmunson im sure you'd get a giggle out of this. 😅🤭

[narcolini]

making exceptions

obispo ‘bishop’ losa x gn!reader, hurt/comfort, 2532 words

warnings for descriptions of kidnap, reader in shock

for day 22 of whumpril: sponge bath & ‘lets get you cleaned up’

tagging: @cositapreciosa @drabbles-mc @hausofmamadas​

You wouldn’t call it a relationship, by any means. What you and Bish have is temporary, occasional and conditional, something you give and take as you both please—which isn’t actually that often. A few dates, a few weeks in between. A few nights in his bed. It isn’t anything serious enough to deserve a label, and that suits you, it suits him. You like being single, he likes being unchained. Free to do what he wants. A relationship would come with duties that you both weren’t ready for, so you avoid it all together.

You were naïve to think that by doing that, you’d also avoid all the dangers that came with being connected to a man like him. But the time you’d spent together was already enough to put a target on your head. To make you viable as blackmail material, under the assumption that he cared enough about you for it to work. That they could throw you in the back of livestock trailer and make him do exactly as they said.

They weren’t wrong about the first part, at least, about how much he cared about you. He’d found you before they’d even really begun. Stolen you back, before they could lay a finger on you.

‘Here.’ He takes the keys from you now, because he’s seen you drop them twice already. Hands shaking too much still to get the right one in the lock. ‘I got it.’

You nod, stepping back to let him do it.

He’d brought half the club with him, you think, though you can’t remember who for certain. And you don’t know where you’d even been yourself. They’d put a bag over your head, a gag in your mouth, let you slide around in the straw and dirt of the trailer as they drove. You don’t know how long it was, how far they took you. By the time you were in the truck with Bishop, it all felt like it had happened in minutes.

One moment you were by your car, outside Starbucks, and the next you were bound and blind, wondering if your luck had run out. Praying you’d at least die quickly, if that’s what they were planning to do. The next thing you remember, is Bishop saying your name, his hands on your wrists. A knife through the tape. His voice in the driver’s seat beside you. No idea of the words, you couldn’t focus on that, but just the deep of his voice. The abstract feeling of safety.

It still hasn’t settled into reality. He’s brought you back home, is letting you in to your own place, palm flat on the front door.

‘Come on,’ he prompts, hovering his other hand behind your back. You’ve flinched from him enough times on the ride here that he knows to avoid it now. ‘You’re good.’

You’re home. You’re safe. Grabbing onto the idea feels like trying to catch fish bare-handed, fingers slipping and frantic.

When you’re inside, he shuts the door behind you and twists the lock—you make sure of that, you watch him do it—before hanging your keys onto the usual hook. He looks more at home than you feel right now, dawdling across the room. You’re standing like this is your first time here. Arms slack, gaze on the corner of the couch nearest to you.

You had thought you were going to die. Had assumed they would torture you until they got what they wanted from the club, from Bish, had expected you would pass out before the worst of it could happen. Had wished it, even. Too afraid to endure it. Too familiar with yourself to know that you couldn’t survive any sort of violence like that. But they’d never even got you out of the trailer, when the door opened again it was Bishop. Gilly. EZ, too. The voices are easier to pick out now, than they were at the time.

‘You…’ He clears his throat behind. ‘You sure you’re not hurt?’

He’d asked you already, but that was when you were still too shaken up to answer him. Too filled with fear and adrenaline to even know for sure yourself. You look down at your hands, flexing your fingers like you’ve just discovered that they work. There’s no blood that you know of. No restriction of movement to anything.

‘No,’ you tell him, voice quiet, ‘just sore.’ The ride has left you bruised, no doubt, banged up from each turn they’d taken, metal to soft flesh. ‘I’m okay.’

It does’t feel like the truth, but it’s not a lie either. You’re in the middle of it somewhere.

Bishop steps around you, putting himself in front because you haven’t turned back to look at him, you haven’t really acknowledged him at all. He ducks his head, interrupting the gaze you’ve still got set on your hands.

‘You gonna be alright here?’ he asks. ‘On your own?’

You nod, looking past him still.

He says your name once.

‘I’ll be fine,’ you force yourself to make eye contact, ‘thank-you.’

It doesn’t convince him, but he’s already done so much. You’d heard the gunshots from inside the trailer, could see the stress lines in his forehead still, the scratch up his arm that he’d got during the rescue. How could you ask more of him now? You’re safe, you’re at home. He’d killed whoever it was that had taken you in the first place.

He nods, his hands on his hips. Then you watch him switch to put a palm over his beard, smoothing the hairs as he waits.

What he’s waiting for, you don’t know. You’re just standing, looking at him, looking at you, and doing nothing at all. Existing, really. Making peace with the idea of it again.

After what feels like ten minutes, but could never have been, he sighs, looking resigned. ‘Let’s get you cleaned up,’ he says, flicking his chin toward you.

You haven’t really considered yourself until now. There’s straw in the tread of your shoes still, mud and dirt up the length of your jeans, along your bare arms. Sticky residue on your wrists, in your hair. As you swallow, you can taste the dust still, the grime, the dried paint from the rag they’d shoved into your mouth. It must look like you’ve been crawling through rabbit burrows, tousling with bulls and broncos.

‘What?’ You’re only just realising what he’s said.

He’s shrugging out of his kutte, and putting it over the back of the couch afterwards. ‘You’re in shock.’ He rolls his sleeves, glancing at you. ‘I’m not leaving you here like that.’

You can tell he’s trying to be kind, gentle, but the thought hasn’t quite reached his voice yet. He’s snippy still, short like he’s giving club orders, and not trying to look after you. It works, though. If he was talking to you like you might break, then, well, you would. It’s only staying in place right now because you are. Cracked pottery, perfectly balanced.

‘You don’t have to,’ you start, but he’s already gone, disappearing into the hallway behind. You hear him reach the bathroom, hear the tap crank, the water hitting the tub. He’s running you a bath. Bishop is running you a bath, unprompted. ‘Bish?’

You follow the path he took, minutes too late to really be able to stop him, and slow like you’re unfamiliar here, in your own home. Fingers bracing the walls as you pass them. When you get there, he’s sitting on the edge of the bath, forearm submerged in the water. He’s added soap, stirred it up into bubbles, and is testing the temperature while it fills still.

‘I don’t want you to…’ You fade off.

You don’t want him to what? It’s not the actions you have an issue with. You know you wouldn’t do it yourself. If someone wasn’t here to push you, you’d sit and rot in the dirt you’re wearing, let this day end and the next begin without moving at all. You can barely think from one action to the next, let alone put yourself back together.

But you don’t want him to feel like he has to be the one to do it. You aren’t his responsibility, he doesn’t owe you the care that a boyfriend might. He hadn’t known this would happen any more than you did.

‘Couldn’t find any, y’know, real bath shit,’ he says, flicking his hand dry. ‘Did my best with what you’ve got.’

You nod. You should smile, but you can’t. ‘I’m not a bath person.’

‘Yeah, well,’ he sighs, ‘you are tonight. Arms up.’

Your brows lift instead, surprise occupying your features. It’s the first emotion you’ve actually shown since you shut down to it all.

He stands, settling in front of you, boots to the bath matt. His lips stretch into a short smile that doesn’t convince either of you. ‘Come on, baby,’ he reasons. ‘You gotta let me look after you.’

He’s tired from the day, the stress, the fear, you know that. He’s unequipped to handle whatever it is you’re going through too, whatever has made you stand like a stranger in front of him. Whatever’s frozen you from doing anything at all. But he’s trying, that matters.

‘Okay.’ You say it aloud so it’s binding. He can help. If he wants to, you’ll let him.

You put your arms up and he pulls the hem of your top to get it off, gentle at first, then quick like he’s peeling a bandaid. In any other situation, any other time, it would excite you. Send a thrill from your heart, into your bare stomach. Make you rush to do the same in return. Now, though, the undress does nothing but brush a chill across your skin.

He bends, grunting as he lowers to the floor, one knee to the ground, one bent. He taps it, inviting you to put your foot there. Which you do, silent and obedient, glad to be anything but motionless. He unknots your laces, unfazed by the muck you’re leaving on his jeans, then tugs the boot from your foot. You do the same again with the other one, leaning on his shoulder to keep your balance.  

‘You want me to…?’ He’s looking up at you now, on one knee still. His hands are set either side of your thighs, waiting, ready to do what you need him to.

‘No.’ You shake your head. ‘I can do it.’

He’s started the process, led you half way, and that’s the hard part. You can manage the rest. Jeans and underwear. It isn’t much. It’s not much, and you can do it. The more you think it, the more plausible it seems.

‘Alright.’ He stands, with another grunt, before moving to twist the taps off now the bath’s full. ‘I’ll get you something to drink.’

You nod, watching him leave before you can stop him again. It’s uniform, the way he’s caring for you. One task and then the next, like he’s flicking through a user guide, checking all the boxes. But then, so is your response to it. Function over anything else. It isn’t making you feel better yet but it’s getting you further than you were. You’ll be clean soon, ready for the next step.

You shove the jeans off, socks too, leave them and your underwear in a pile on the floor, before stepping into the tub. It’s warm, just right, and you sink into it gladly. Let it cover you, head to toe. Wash the dirt and the day away from your skin. You put your head under for minute, welcoming the wet to your hair, the dull to your senses. It helps. It strips you back of the tension you’d been carrying, smothers the noise between your ears.

When you surface again, sighing, it feels like waking up—just a bit, stirring the daydream. You can breathe a little easier now. Can appreciate the soap swimming around you and the sound of the microwave in the other room. If this were any other time, you’d think you were being spoiled, treated to a DIY spar day. It would feel like Bishop and you had finally decided to settle into something serious.

The door isn’t shut, not fully, but he knocks when he comes back, waiting behind the wood of it. You can just about see his shoulder through the gap, his head facing the other direction.

‘Can I come in?’ he asks.

‘Yeah.’ You’re long past being shy of his gaze, especially in the current context. Naked as you are, it’s hardly compromising, or appealing. ‘Please.’

He does so, pulling the door back in place behind him and wafting the smell of coffee across to where you’re soaking. ‘Couldn’t find any cocoa.’ He sets the mug on the edge of the bath, close enough to reach. ‘Thought you should have something warm at least.’

‘Thank-you.’ When you try to smile this time, you manage it. Wooden, faint, but there. ‘You can sit, if you want.’

He’s hovering, and doing his best not to look any lower than your face. When you offer, he nods, taking a place on the closed lid of the toilet and leaning his forearms on his knees. Not a comfortable position, or one he can hold for long, surely, but it’s reassuring still. Like setting a guard by the door. You aren’t fully convinced you won’t fall asleep here, under the blanket of warm water. At least now, if that happens, he’ll be there to keep your head above the surface.

‘Look,’ he says, interlinking his fingers and staring at them afterwards, ‘this shit should’ve never happened to you.’

You close your eyes. Force a breath through your nose.

‘I wish I could—’

‘Please,’ you cut him off, ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ The water sloshes as you move, sinking further in. ‘Only just starting to feel human again,’ you tell him, hoping to land it as a joke, but not quite getting there.

‘Sorry.’

‘It’s fine.’ Apologies don’t suit him anyway.

‘You’re gonna have to at some point,’ he says. ‘To someone.’

‘I know.’ But not yet, not to him. You open your eyes to find him across the room. He’s already watching you with a tired expression, concern printed somewhere beneath it. ‘Will you stay?’ you ask, which isn’t something you ever ask of him, really. It’s always, yeah, good to see you, til next time, baby. Never stay, never with a plea in your tone.

‘Tonight?’ He nods. ‘Yeah.’

You hesitate. ‘And after that?’

He frowns slightly, sparing a hand to scrub it across his chin as he searches for an answer. How to put it nicely, you assume, how to tell you he can’t babysit you until you’re brave again.

‘I don’t mean,’ you correct, ‘I know you can’t watch me forever, but…’

‘I can stay,’ he decides. ‘Until this shit dies down.’

You let out a breath, chest sinking, back curving with the base of the tub. It won’t do forever, but it’ll do for now. Temporary and conditional.