#Please come back ao3 i just want to read my fix it fics | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lokidjarin-7567 · 7 months ago

Text

Day 10: Mile High Club

Aaron Hotchner x you

Contents: fem!reader x Aaron Hotchner, established relationship, semi-public

W/C: 1.1k

I’m sorry I’m so late but I’m back on track ish!!! Please be patient, and thanks for the love on my last few fics. Spam posting a couple of days now to make up for it <3

Kinktober Masterlist | General Masterlist | AO3

As soon as he had mentioned it was just you and him going on the jet, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

You had been seeing each other for a few months now. Well, not seeing exactly. Fucking.

It was good. He was good. Firm but not too aggressive. Dominating but not controlling. He knew your limits, could tell from your body language and expressions what you liked, what you needed, when you were close.

It was the perfect way to destress. You knew it was impractical and short sighted. That it could get you fired. That it could get your feelings hurt. Or worst of all, that it would get in the way of your work.

But the way he was eyeing you now as he sat across from you on the jet, pretending to read the case files… every rational thought left your mind.

“What?” You muttered, after catching his eye for the fourth time.

“Nothing, it’s just a… nice shirt.” He was trying so hard to be calm, nonchalant, but you saw through him so easily.

“This one?” You feigned ignorance, fingers fiddling with the collar, and running up and down the buttons. He just nodded coldly in response. You smiled innocently, slowly and meticulously unbuttoning the top one. You were barely showing anything - a hint of collar bone at most - but his eyes were now fixed to the exposed spot. There was no other expression on his face, so you carried on, desperate to break him, fingers delicately tracing lower until you made it to the next button. You peeled shirt open slightly, finally revealing some cleavage. His restraint was evident, hands beginning to bunch the paper he was holding, eyes raking over your whole body. You blushed, suddenly shy. His lack of movement was making you doubt yourself, but you didn’t need to.

Something in him snapped. The way you were looking at him, the soft flush of pink across your cheeks, the hint of your bra showing over your shirt…

He had pulled you onto his lap in seconds, lips finding yours furiously. Fingers undoing the last of your buttons as quickly as possible. Kisses pressed frantically to your chest.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this.” He muttered in between breaths. You scoffed, rolling your hips into him as his hands drifted lower.

“It’s only been a week, Aaron…” You whispered, fingertips moving to his own shirt buttons regardless, near ripping them open with a desperation that surprised even you. He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to the base of your neck.

“Hypocrite.” He whispered into your ear, and you giggled, pulling his lips back to yours where they belonged.

It wasn’t long before you were riding him, his hard length pressed deep inside you as you rolled your hips, quiet pants of pleasure echoing around the small cabin.

“Do you like this, huh? Knowing the pilot could hear us and find my cock inside of you at any moment.” An involuntary moan escaped your lips at that, and you blushed in embarrassment. ”You want someone to find us that bad, honey? I guess I’ll just have to make it harder to stay quiet then…” The rough pads of his fingers traced down your torso, then slipped under your skirt, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves with perfect precision. You bit your lip to keep from moaning, and he grinned. “That’s it, baby… come on, I know you can do better than that…” The pace he set was perfect, not too slow, not too fast, just the right pressure and coupled with the way he was grinding up into you…

His teeth latch onto the exposed flesh of your breast, sinking in with a biting pain, and you couldn’t help yourself as a low, guttural moan escaped your lips. He smiled into your chest, lips now pressed against that spot, kissing it better.

“Good job, baby…” Your whimpers were uncontrollable now, quiet but desperate, as you got closer and closer to that pleasure you had become so accustomed to in the last few months with him.

“I’m close, Aaron…” You managed to choke out between whines, nails digging into his shoulders to anchor yourself as best as you could while your body was turning to jelly under his touch. His teeth bit into you again, and there was something about the way he was marking you, the way he wanted you to moan louder. He wanted you to remember who you belonged to. That even if the team couldn’t know, you were branded with his teeth. Nobody else could touch you. And God it was hot. You came on his cock, a symphony of pants and whines and curses of his name. He stayed inside you the whole way through it, your body slowly melting into his until you were finally finished, muscles sore and exhausted.

"Good girl," he whispered quietly against your ear. His lips found your forehead, pressing a series of soft, reverent kisses there. The gentle gesture sent a shiver down your spine. You felt a warmth spread across your cheeks, a blush rising to your face. There was a part of you that thought felt embarrassed by this display of softness, this vulnerability you were allowing yourself. It wasn't like you to be so pliant, so openly affected. And yet, in this moment, wrapped in his arms, you found you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Your body was still humming with the aftershocks of your release, muscles pleasantly sore and limbs heavy with satisfaction. You allowed yourself the luxury of simply existing in this space, taking the time to catch your breath and recover. Your head rested against his chest, and you found yourself lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was a soothing metronome to the gradual slowing of your own pulse.

As the haze of pleasure began to clear, you became aware of your surroundings once more. You shifted your hips, adjusting your position slightly, and then you noticed something… he was still hard, his arousal evident where your bodies remained joined. His hands settled on your hips once more, and he pressed his lips to yours softly, noticing your realisation hit you.

“It’s ok, don’t stress it…” he muttered, moving to lift you off him, but you grabbed back onto him, settling onto your knees and smiling widely at him before deepening the kiss.

“How long until we land?” You asked.

“About two hours…” Another grin. Another kiss.

“Then I think I can help you out…”

#kinktober 2024 #kinktober #fanfic #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds

288 notes · View notes

nyx-fey · 2 months ago

Text

Was trying to finish a TFP fic, when Keferon's apocalyptic ponyo au absolutely full-body possessed me. Ended up writing about dratchet instead lol

https://www.tumblr.com/keferon/777869602801795072/alright-hear-me-out-ratchet-as-a-steller-sea-lion?source=share

(I know Gemma Inkyboots on Ao3 already has a couple (really, really good- you should read them if you haven't already) fics on apocalyptic ponyo dratchet, so in the effort of staying unique I'm focusing on the au's pre-dratchet backstory. There's not gonna be much, if any romance, and a lot of angst.)

Also trigger warning just in case, the injuries that Ratchet sustains in this AU are really, really bad. I'm not sure if the way I described it here was enough to quantify straight up body horror, but it is a bit visceral. Probably don't read if that wigs you out.

(also this is my first time posting anything I've written here pretty please be patient if I've done some sort of faux pas, just let me know and I'll try to fix it)

In The Poachers Net

Ch.1

His body was on fire.

Patient has multiple deep lacerations, is hemorrhaging from the superficial palmer vein, tarsal plexus, and median arteries. Serious blood loss. Possible bacteria introduction from unclean blades. High risk of infection.

Salt from the sea seared against his open wounds. Every movement, every tiny flinch sent lancing pain through the fibers of his body. He couldn't stop, he couldn't get away from it, he couldn't escape-

Multiple traumatic muscle strains, ranging from grade II tears, to complete ruptures. Especially along the right and left supraspinatus tendons, and the right and left rotator cuffs. Complete ruptures of both the flexor hallucis, and flexor digitorum.

He. He was sinking. He was sinking too fast. He couldn't swim, couldn't get back up. He couldn't get away from the boats. He couldn't get away from them.

Luxation of both glenohumeral joints, and Subluxation of left pelvic girdle joint. Compound fractures on both the left and right humerus, with further greenstick and comminuted fractures on the right humerus. Possible impact fractures across multiple lumbar vertebrae, further examination required before treatment can proceed.

Away away he needs to get away. He needs to escape. HE NEEDED TO SWIM.

Amp. Amputation-

He could just make out the surface, through the shadows of the ships and the mud kicked up from the nets and anchors and hooks. The light of a distant sunset just barely breaking across the waves.

It was red with blood.

Patient is experiencing tachycardia, and oncoming hypothermia . Hemorrhagic shock highly likely, if not already ongoing.

He couldn't reach it. He hadn't taken a breath before they'd dropped him back into the ocean, too caught up in the confusion and ropes and pain, god so much pain.

It is impossible to know at this time if the patient's confusion and dizziness is caused by shock, panic, or hypoxemia.

He needed to breathe, he needed air. His lungs already hurt from screaming, and he'd probably swallowed some sea water in his panicked drop. But the light from the surface was so far away, and it was only getting farther. His arms weren't strong enough on their own to lift him to the surface, not over the weight of his tail-

His tail-

He wasn't. He wasn't going to make it. Every desperate push was only working to burn through what little oxygen he had left. He couldn't call for help. Not anymore, not with no air, and a ragged voice. He wouldn't want it to come anyway, if someone else got caught up in this blood bath because they were trying to save him-

Please someone, anyone save him-

Patient has begun experiencing symptoms of hypercapnia, exacerbated by an acute stress response and physical exertion. Submersion injuries expected.

He could hear his heartbeat, ringing deep within his ears, but he couldn't tell if it was too slow or too fast anymore; His count kept getting lost in that distant red, and faint thumping of the waves. The shadows from the boats overhead were blurring together, growing into a large inescapable mass that blocked out the sun.

The pain was starting to fade, everything was getting colder.

His lungs burned.

You are going to die.

Ratchet tried desperately to steer his thoughts towards home. He wanted, more than anything, for his last moments to be spent remembering family and laughter and safety and warmth.

But all he could think about as his vision clouded over was the cold creeping dread of feeling another poachers' net wrap around his form, dragging his dead weight right back into hell.

The last thing Ratchet saw before everything went dark was a blinding light, and the color gold.

#wow i actually wrote something #apocalyptic ponyo #apocalyptic ponyo au #pre dratchet #ratchet #drift #dratchet #transformers #google searches that would get me banned from multiple aquariums #this is in no way the Wheeljack fic ive been fighting to finish for the past week #but apocalyptic ponyo is so good. its so good guys #should i put a link to kefron and Gemma Inkbots in here? would that be normal? not only are they big interpretations but also #i could not recommend them enough #ive never posted a fic before so i dont really know #inspirations* i meant to say inspirations not interpretations.#decided to link kefron because it is their au

57 notes · View notes

streamafterlaughter · 2 months ago

Text

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter XII: Too Far to Touch

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | prev. | read bee's diary

songs: i forgive no one by citizen, dark blue by one step closer, this is why by paramore, blackout by turnstile

chapter tags: awkward situations, weirdo behavior from bee and Eddie, per usual. swearing, adult language, etc | fic tags: angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | This fic is rated 18+ MDNI each chapter will have its own content/trigger warnings

summary: really kind of a nothing burger chapter but only bc I plan to inflict pain shortly :p

a/n: lots of dialogue please lmk if u notice any mistakes bc sometimes my brain just GOES. also... I am so sorry for the long wait, i rly hope it was worth it!

disclaimer: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. THIS WORK IS BEING REPOSTED TO MY NEW AO3! Feel free to check it out! Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. I am satiated by reblogs and comments, so please! Interact with my work! It motivates me to write more, and it helps to know someone out there is reading.

taglist (open!): @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj @losingmygrasponreality @munsonburn3r

Even for a Monday, Benny’s is packed to the brim with hungry customers. The diner is decorated for Halloween, black and orange streamers lining the grimy windows, plastic jack o’lanterns flickering on the sills. Steve and Robin have already claimed their usual booth in the far corner, crammed into one side next to each other to leave you the space across from them.

“Alright, spill!” Robin demands before your butt even sinks into the vinyl of the seat. She slides your iced coffee toward you, already fixed the way you like it.

“Eager, are we? Relax, Rob, we’ll get to it.” You sip your drink as you skim over the menu, a pointless task when you order the same thing every time.

“Oh, come on, Bee! You have to understand why this is such a big deal!” You glance from her to Steve, who’s been awfully quiet as he sips his steaming cup of coffee next to her.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, huge deal.” He nods, tone unconvincing. Robin rolls her eyes and turns her attention back to you, her face betraying her excitement.

“Can I at least get some sustenance first?” You bite back a laugh as Dory approaches to take your order. Dory’s an older woman, and she’s been at Benny’s for as long as you can remember.

“Hi, darlin’, what can I get for ya?” She snaps her gum, pen poised to take your order. You ramble your own off quickly, and your friends follow suit. “Comin’ right up.”

“Okay, sustenance is being obtained, now it’s your turn. What went down yesterday?”

You can’t hold them off any longer. “Rob, what is your fixation with this? It was fine, normal! We grabbed coffee, went back to his apartment. Smoked a little, caught up, y’know? Nothing worth writing home about.” You pick at your cuticles, suddenly very aware of the way your friends are staring at you. “What do you want me to say? We had a dramatic argument that ended in make up sex? It was nowhere near that dramatic.”

“Did you want to have sex with him?”

You choke on your sip of coffee. “What?”

Steve looks at you like his question is worthy of a real response. “Well, with the underlying tension between the two of you, it wouldn’t really be much of a surprise if you did feel compelled to sleep with him.”

“Steve. You sound deranged.”

He shrugs. “Crazier things have been said.”

“Not by you, and never so casually! Whatever, I don't need your guys’ shit.” You shove another bite of your breakfast into your mouth, ending the conversation.

Robin scoffs at your comment. “Hey, I didn’t say anything!”

–

“So, when’s the Halloween bash, Stevie?” You ask as the three of you enter the parking lot. “And is there a theme this year? I have to start collecting my costume.”

Steve shakes his head, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “No theme, I originally wasn’t even gonna throw a party this year.”

You gasp dramatically, feigning offence. “How dare you say such a thing! This party is the one normal thing I have left in my life.” You pout at your friend, earning a giggle from Robin.

“Which is exactly why I’m still throwing one. Well, that and because I’m holding out hope that Nancy will bring her pretty college friends.”

“Never change, Steven.” Robin pats his shoulder, shaking her head. “Anyway, I already know what I’m gonna be.” She crosses her arms over her chest, eyeing between you and Steve. “Aren’t you gonna ask me what my costume is?”

“You’re just gonna say ‘It’s a surprise!’ anyway.” Steve accuses.

“It’s a sur– Oh. Shut up!”

You and Steve burst into laughter at Robin’s frustration. Finally, you’re able to speak again. “Well, I still have to figure my costume out. Something that’s relevant enough for people to get it, but still obscure enough that every single frat guy in the room won’t suddenly think he’s allowed to talk to me.”

“You always have the best costumes, I’m sure you'll think of something.” Robin climbs into Steve’s passenger seat, and you wave as they pull away before getting into your own car. You crank your music, a habit your mother has tried getting you to break since you woke her up with your music coming home at 3am, though you’ve refused to budge. Your car time is your personal time, completely free of judgment from others. Today, you’ve chosen to shuffle your angsty playlist, setting your volume to max as the opening riffs to Citizen floods through the speakers. It’s a short drive, made shorter when you cut through the side streets that are usually less congested during a work day, but you don’t really feel like going back home just yet. Chris is not the person you feel like talking to after yesterday, expecting him to be insufferable with his “told you so”s after telling him about how harmless Eddie is. Maybe you’ll lie just to watch him squirm, you haven’t decided yet.

Instead, you take yourself to the record store, a treat you haven’t let yourself have in a long enough time. You used to come with Eddie every Friday in high school to check out the new releases and avoid your studies together, but since you’d stopped talking the place has been a sore spot for you.

The bell chimes as you step inside, where nothing has changed in the past six years except maybe the records on display. Today, the walls are lined with releases from the past few years, including a variant of Paramore’s This Is Why that you don’t have yet. Tim, the owner of the shop, waves at you from where he sits behind the counter, fiddling with his relic of an acoustic guitar. “Mornin’, Bee! Been awhile.” He smiles at you, revealing his yellowed teeth and pink gums.

“Morning, Timmy. Yeah, I know, it’s been way too long. Got anything good in lately?”

Tim taps his chin with his wrinkly finger before making an “Aha!” sound. “Just got a couple of these in, you heard of ‘em?” He pulls out a record you recognize, but have yet to listen to because you couldn’t find a physical copy, called All You Embrace by a band called One Step Closer.

“No way, where did you get these?” You hold the record, admiring the packaging, reading the tracklist.

“They played a show at the Hideout a couple months ago, they sold me a few at a bulk price so I could sell them here. Nice dudes.” Tim nods thoughtfully.

“That’s sick. How much?”

“For you, darlin, consider it a thanks for visiting an old man.”

“Tim, you don’t have–”

He holds his finger up to stop you. “Here, if you wanna do something for me in return, get Munson to buy something or get him outta here, he’s been here since we opened.” He nods his head to the far corner of the store, where you only just now see Eddie picking through the metal records, a massive pair of headphones on his head.

“Oh, Eddie and I aren’t…” You can’t exactly say you’re not friends anymore, but Tim probably doesn’t care.

Or, you think doesn’t until he’s leaning over the counter. “Don’t tell me you two broke up. I guess that would explain why you’re never in here anymore, I just thought you’d been in New York this whole time. Eddie hasn’t been in much either.”

“And yet, somehow, we’re both here today.” You mumble, mostly to yourself, but Tim hears you.

“Love works in funny ways sometimes.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes at the geezer. “Tim, Eddie and I were never a couple. You know that, right?”

“Sure, not a couple in the traditional sense, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t once a duo to be messed with! I used to love entertaining you two with my guitars, you were the only ones that seemed to care about what I had to say.”

It softens you, the kindness in this old man’s voice. Adults were never fans of you and Eddie, and it warms your heart to know there was one looking forward to seeing you. “Alright, because you’ve been so nice to me today, I’ll see that Munson buys something.” You leave the record with Tim and approach the corner Eddie is still in, flipping through the Used section as if on the hunt for a specific, rare record that probably doesn’t exist.

You tap his shoulder gently, then with more vigor when he doesn’t turn around. Finally, growing frustrated, you snatch one of the speakers from his ear. “Munson!”

He jumps, spinning himself around as if to swing at you, but immediately lowers his guard when he sees your face. “Jesus Christ, Bee, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Glad I could finally garner your attention. Tim sent me to make you leave. He’s tired of seeing your mug when he looks up from the register.” You press your lips into a thin line to keep from laughing.

Eddie’s wearing a tattered Pixies shirt, and his hair is tied back in a low ponytail. In his hands, he’s holding Chappell Roan’s record along with one you don’t recognize. “Aw, you liked the show that much, huh?” You ask, sliding the album from his grip. “There are a few on here I don’t think she played. You’ll love Naked in Manhattan.”

Eddie snatches the record back from you. “Don’t judge, I’m a man of vast taste.”

“Who’s judging? I was sent over here by the boss man, okay? I don't care what you spend your money on.” Eddie sends a wave to Tim, who chuckles in response. “What’re you getting, anything?”

“Tim’s got a record up there for me, I wasn’t planning on getting anything but he got a couple from a band in Wilkes-Barre that I really like. And he has a This Is Why variant I don’t have yet.”

“Red one?”

You pause. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

Eddie shrugs. “Saw it when I walked in, debated on picking it up for you but I wasn’t sure if you had it already.”

“Well, you still can pick it up for me, now that you know!” You give him a wide smile, and he snorts.

“Not a chance.”

You shrug. “Worth a shot. Anyway, quit loitering, Tim’s gonna threaten to ban you again.”

Eddie follows you to the front, placing his records on the counter for Tim to scan. “Long time, Munson. How’s the world treating you?”

You could swear he glances at you before answering, “Better, lately, believe it or not. How’re you doin’, Timmy?”

“Same old. Anything else for you guys today?”

“Yeah, actually, could I get that–” Eddie cuts you off, “I’ll take the red This Is Why variant, please.”

“What if that's what the lady wanted?” Tim scolds him, and you giggle.

“Which is why I’m getting it for her, Timothy.” Eddie crosses his arms as if offended by the assumption.

“Ah, right, the rare record for your Not-Girlfriend. Bet you they’re her favorite, too.” Tim winks at you. “You young people don’t make any sense to me.” He plucks the record off the top shelf and hands it to you. Eddie pays for it, along with his own, and Tim slides it to you with your other album. “Have a good day, kids.”

“You too, Tim! Thanks again!” You exclaim as you and Eddie leave the store, Eddie holding the door open for you.

“You didn’t have to do that, y’know.” You say once you’ve exited. “I have my own money.”

“Pft, whatever. Don’t pretend you’re not pumped that you didn’t spend your own money on it.”

“While I can’t exactly argue, I still don’t see why you did that.”

“Does everything have to have a reason with you?” You can sense you’re irritating him.

“Yes, obviously.”

“What a miserable way to live. Anyway, where to?”

“Where to what?” You open your passenger door, placing the records on your seat.

“Well, you dragged me out of there. I was planning on hanging out for at least another hour, so now you have an hour of my time.”

“Oh, yippee!” You quip, earning the smallest smile from Eddie. “I dunno, I was just gonna go home and play these.”

“I have a better idea.” Eddie has a mischievous look on his face, like he’s got a secret you’re not allowed to know yet.

“Do tell?”

“Nah, it’s better if it’s a surprise. C’mon. I’ll drive.” You are left with no choice but to abandon your car in the lot and follow Eddie to his van.

–

Eddie drives like he’s not afraid to die. In the ten minutes you’ve been on the road, you’ve counted ten different car horns, and caught several people shouting out their windows, middle fingers angrily shaking in the air. Through it all, Eddie is screaming along to his music, headbanging as his lead foot rests on the gas pedal.

“You are gonna get us killed!” You shriek at some point, your knuckles turning white as you grip the overhead handle.

“Oh, relax! This is nothing, you should see me on the highway.” You can only assume his glove compartment is overstuffed with unpaid speeding tickets.

“Where are we even going?” You don’t recognize the route he’s taking, twisting and turning down woodsy back roads that are growing scarily narrow as they progress.

“I told you, it’s a surprise!” Eddie cuts the wheel, taking a sharp right back onto a main road, earning a long, angry honk from the SUV behind him. “Besides, if you knew where we were going, you wouldn’t have come.”

“That is so not reassuring.” You grumble, finally looking at him. His cheeks are red, probably because even though it’s forty degrees he’s driving with the window open as he puffs on a cigarette. He has one hand on the wheel, the other out the window as he whips down the street, hair flying in every direction with the wind. “What are you staring at?” His question makes you realize you had, in fact, been staring at him.

“What? Nothing. I’m… nothing.” Real smooth.

“Right. Okay, we’re here!” He turns into a parking lot on an otherwise deserted street, empty save for an old, white van that’s likely seen better days, parked in front of a small, shed-like building with a sign that reads “Vintage” in red, faded paint. “I need some stuff for Steve’s party.”

Oh, come on. “You’re going to that?”

“‘Course I am, how else am I gonna pay rent if not with the money from the rich kids that attend his parties? C’mon. Maybe we can find you something for your costume.” Before you can move, Eddie shoves his van door open and runs around to your side, yanking the door open for you. It gives you pause, but you choose to ignore the way your stomach flips at the gesture. Eddie leads the way inside, where the bell rings as he opens the door. From the counter, an old lady with hair so silver it’s almost blue, looks up from her crossword to greet you.

“Hello, darlings! Anything I can help you find?”

“Not just yet, Murial. Thank you!” Eddie speaks to the woman like an old friend, and you cock your eyebrow at him. “What? Where did you think I got all my classic band shirts from?”

“In all honesty, I don’t think about you that deeply.” You thought he’d gotten them on eBay, but you’re not about to tell him that.

“Ouch, that one stung.” He chuckles, and you groan at him. “Okay, let me give you the tour. Over here, we have the dusty old knick knacks that are for sure haunted.” Eddie gestures to the metal shelves crowded with porcelain and plaster figurines, some cute while others frighten you to your core. A particular piece catches your eye; a figure of a pierrot clown, painted to look anguished, pouting despite its playful makeup. You pick the doll up, turning it in your hands until you find the price tag, a tiny yellow sticker that reads $5. You decide to carry it with you, just in case.

“Oh, and I’m the freak?” Eddie nods to the clown. “That thing is gonna bring demons into your apartment.”

“Not if I’m nice to him!” The paint on the figure is chipping in places, but you think it adds character. “His name will be Gustav.” You decide firmly, holding him up to Eddie’s face. “Say hello.”

“Will you get it out of my face if I do?” You nod. “Okay, fine. Hello, Gustav.” He says, disdained. “Now, get that thing away from me.”

Sighing, you lower your clown statue, and Eddie rolls his eyes at you. There’s a moment of comfortable silence, and you can’t decide if it’s awkward or not. Eddie’s eyes scan over the shelves of dusty knick knacks and candles, but yours are stuck on the way his hands keep clenching into fists and back again. “You alright?” You ask as his eyes seem to fixate on a wooden sign with some witty saying on it.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. You okay?” He moves his stare onto you, causing your chest to tighten.

“Y- yeah, I’m good. Gonna go look at the clothes.” You turn on your heel, practically galloping away from him. You’re about half a yard away when you hear his heavy boots following you.

–

“Okay, what about this?” You step out of the dressing room, which is really just a closet with a paper sign taped to it. You’re wearing an obnoxiously bright pair of hot pants, and a glittery tank top.

“No. You look like my mom in high school.” Eddie shakes his head, causing stray curls to fall into his face. You catch yourself staring before it’s been too long.

“Your mom was a beautiful woman, I’m flattered. Okay, fine. I have one more, then it’s back to the drawing board.” You close the door again, and examine your final costume choice; a low cut, sage green dress with dramatic bell sleeves and a flowy skirt. You also somehow managed to find a corset that matches perfectly, a shade of light brown that reminds you of your morning coffee. You step into the dress, careful not to trip on the fabric as you hike it over your thighs, hips, and chest. You slide your arms into the sleeves and feel the soft, light fabric engulf you. Immediately, you love it. In the mirror, the garment hugs your body perfectly, clinging to your curves and fanning out around your feet. You’d wear this every day, if it were practical. “Hey, Ed? Can I get some help?” He doesn’t answer. “Eddie?”

“Sorry, yeah. Can I open the door?”

“Yeah, I’m decent.” Your back is still to the door, but you catch his eye in the mirror as the door opens, and watch as his eyes scan from your face and down your figure, then quickly back up to meet your eyes. “Whoa.”

You scoff. “Can you zip me up?” Silence. “Hello? Earth to Munson?”

“Huh?”

You turn to face him, having to look up at him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine, why?”

“You’re being weird.”

“Am I?”

“Oh my god. Please just zip me.”

“Okay, sure.” You turn back around. It feels like forever, his calloused fingertips brushing your spine as he slowly pulls the metal zipper up your back. “Tada.” His voice cracks, and he attempts to cover it by clearing his throat. You turn back to face him, and he won't look at you.

“How do I look?” You challenge, stepping back to give him a better view.

He looks at the top of your head when he answers, “Great.” with no enthusiasm.

“You didn’t even look.” You huff, crossing your arms. Where did his attitude come from?

Eddie takes the quickest look at the dress and nods curtly. “There, I looked. Great, like I said.”

You’re fed up. “Why are you being so fucking weird all of a sudden?”

“I’m not being weird! Bee. Really. The dress looks great.” Before you can argue, he steam rolls you. “You should get it. We should get going, though. I have a shift.”

You don’t argue, just nod as he leaves the dressing room, the door clicking behind him as it closes, leaving you confused and close to tears in a pretty dress.

–

66 notes · View notes

secretidentie · 1 year ago

Text

My Superbat prompts

I've been reading superbat since forever and I finally got a tumblr account so I thought I could ask some writers to use these.

Clark kent is at the manor to interview Bruce Wayne when Dr Freeze attacks and they're basically snowed in. Bruce trying to hide secrets and Clark getting the chance to write the story of the year in the form of an I depth exposé from inside the home of billionaire blah, blah, blah... Chaos and fluff.

Bruce is in a love triangle with superman and Clark Kent. Clark assumes Bruce knows he's one person. Bruce decides to solve this by brooding and going on a series of dates with them both until he decides who's his perfect match. (you decide if Clark knows Bruce is batman but think both versions are hilarious)

Bruce Wayne has to go undercover as a carnival worker in a small town on batman business. After the Daily Planet is bought out by corrupt government officials, Clark quits and goes back home to Smallville. He feels like he's changed and isn't as fulfilled by the simple life, not to mention how much harder it is to keep being superman. He doesn't even feel useful on the farm and can't find a job he enjoys to make some money of his own and leave the house. He starts visiting the fair to take his mind of things and meeting this handsome carnival worker who he definitely would have recognized in a small town like this.

LexCorp frames Wayne enterprises for some shady dealings putting the company under investigation which might even lead to it filing for bankruptcy. While Fox and others fix this, Bruce, as the face of the company, is advised to lay low and leave Gotham for a bit. He decides to get an apartment in the cheap side of Metropolis, since all his assets are frozen and he only has one working bank account. On top of that he has to deal with his hot new roommate (or neighbor depending on how you write it) who keeps leaving and coming back at the weirdest hours while also trying to keep tabs on Gotham and maybe getting himself a job in the mean time. (to be clear Clark is the roommate)

During an argument batman says he could easily do superman's job and superman says the same. So they swap cities for two weeks. First to call for backup looses. (feel free to add romance if you want but it's not compulsory)

Clark final gathers the courage to ask out batman but right before he does, green lantern starts flirting with batman too. Harvey dent is recently released from arkham and claims to be reformed and wanting to rekindle his well known public relationship with his collage sweetheart Bruce Wayne. This causes Oliver queen to also try to win his childhood best friend's heart. It's a very long week for Bruce. (all povs if possible. Also Bruce knows everyone's identities but no one knows his. This also doesn't have to end up superbat, choose your favorite ship. Make this love-pentagon as messy as you can)

These are just a few of my personal favorites. I have a lot more. Let me know if you want me to post them. If fics with these premise already exist let me know coz I would love to read them. You can make it as explicit as you want or make it for general audiences but for my sake please add fluff. If you use these prompts also make sure to tag me here or on AO3.

196 notes · View notes

charmandabear · 1 year ago

Text

Office Hours - Chapter Six

Summary:

Astarion surprises you with a night at the theatre that doesn't go quite according to your plan.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4.7k Tags/Warnings: rough/angry sex, hair pulling, emotional manipulation, dubcon, bad BDSM practices, angst, daddy kink, reminiscent of Ascended!Astarion, discussions of domestic abuse (in Taming of the Shrew)

Hi. Hello. My sweets. My darlings. This is it. The chapter where you absolutely must mind the tags. Just know that I won't take you anywhere that we won't be able to come back from. Know that I, too, am an absolute baby when it comes to intense subject matter in fics. But I want you to take care of yourselves and your hearts. As always, shoot me a message if you'd like more specifics.

Photo credits: Zaria for Green Pussy Suit Astarion and Nephi Garcia for the incredible dress.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

“In the library? Babes, are you insane?” Shadowheart's voice reaches a pitch you’re fairly sure only dogs can hear. You curl your knees into your chest and cover your face in your hands, feeling the exact appropriate amount of shame.

“I know, I know. All logic goes out the fucking window around him. All I can think is ‘mm, good dick makes brain go brr.’” You let out a frustrated sigh into your hands.

“Do you want to get fired?” She pulls your hand from your face so you can't hide from her pointed stare.

“Oh trust me, I ran about forty different scenarios of that happening through my head on the drive home.”

“Did you, now? And in how many of these did he also get fired?” Shadowheart presses, knowing how your anxiety can get out of hand.

“Like, two,” you groan and drop your head back onto the couch cushions. “I don't know what comes over me. I feel like I can't tell him no.”

“Wait, wait.” Shadowheart grips your knee, suddenly worried. “You can't tell him no as in it feels too good to stop? Or as in it doesn't feel safe to say no?”

“Nine hells, no, the first one!” you respond, horrified. She squints at you and you squirm under her gaze until you’re finally more truthful, both with her and yourself. “Well, I mean, mostly. Like it's not like that. But like also not not like that, you know?”

“I can assure you I do not,” she says in a flat voice, not interested in joking around. You sigh dramatically, trying to find the right words to describe how you feel.

“Like. Okay. Am I fully consenting to everything we do? Yes. 100%. Oh gods, yes.” Your cheeks tinge pink even thinking about it. “But like… am I going against my best judgment? Do I feel like I should say no? Does part of me kinda wish I would say no? Like… maybe?”

“Tav, that's not okay. You need to talk to him about this.” Shadowheart’s voice is soft with genuine worry. Which is ridiculous, because she’s focusing on the wrong thing.

“No, see, that's the thing. It's not actually a him issue, it's a me issue. Like there's something wrong with me, I see his most toxic traits and suddenly I'm like a horny teenager!” Your voice increases in pitch as you grow more hysterical. “How am I supposed to call him out on it when the only words that will come out of my mouth are ‘yes daddy, more please’?”

“Is there anything redeemable about him at all? Besides being good in bed?” She leans back, taking a sip of her wine and fixing you with an incredulous look.

“I mean… yeah. He’s witty, and bantering back and forth with him is fun. He’s incredibly smart, as loath as I am to admit it, and I like hearing his ideas on things, especially his interpretation of Shakespeare’s text.” You don't even notice the smile growing on your face, but Shadowheart does. “And he’s got this unexpectedly soft side. Like he seems cold and aloof on the outside, but he cares, deeply. About his students, about his cat, about-”

“About you?” she interjects, and your smile falters.

“I don't know, Shade,” you say quietly, almost ashamed to look her in the eye. “I think so. I hope so. But it's not like we've been seeing each other for that long, he’s under no obligation to feel anything.” You practically swallow the last sentence, a truth you're reticent to voice.

“And you?” she asks softly.

“Man, I don't fucking know. I just want to keep getting laid and not catch feelings, is that so much to ask?” you whine. She laughs, but you can tell that she's only humoring you.

“For you? Probably.”

***

It's been several days and your busy schedules have kept you and Astarion apart for most of it. Save the occasional tension-filled passing in the hall, you've barely interacted at all. You're almost beginning to believe that your whirlwind affair has come to an end when you find a mystery package at your apartment door.

It's made out to you with no discernable return address. You bring the box into your apartment while examining it, trying to ascertain its origin. It doesn't even really look like it was sent through the mail, it looks like it was dropped off.

You take out your phone and call down to the front desk. It rings a few times, then a somber voice answers.

“What dost thou require?” His voice is deep and crackled, like some ancient eternal being.

“Hi Withers, it's Tav in 3C. Do you know anything about this package that was left at my door?”

“I have inspected it, and determined it safe for you to open. It was brought by someone claiming to be a friend.”

“Can you tell me anything about this someone?”

“No.”

And the line goes dead. You laugh and shake your head. If Withers says it's safe, then it probably is. You��d trust that wrinkly old man with your life, honestly. You cut open the tape sealing the box shut and lift off the top.

Inside is something wrapped in tissue paper with a note stuck to it in Astarion's immaculate handwriting.

Tomorrow evening The Rosewood Seven o’clock Wear nothing underneath

You let out a small involuntary moan when you read the last three words. You carefully unwrap the tissue paper to find a fabric that looks like it's made of starlight. You pull out the midnight black dress and go slightly breathless when you get a good look at it.

It’s a backless dress with a sweetheart neckline and intricate gold embellishments that almost make it look like armor. It has a lavish gold neck piece attached by several gold chains that drip over the skin. The skirt is made of a weightless black fabric that shimmers with gold as you move it in the light. It almost appears to be cut into two panels with dual hip-high slits.

With a dress cut like this, you wouldn't be able to wear undergarments even if you wanted to.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you think about what he might have in store for you. You're not even sure what's running at the Rosewood right now, but it could be complete trash and you wouldn't even care. You probably won't even be able to pay attention, too distracted by Astarion sitting next to you for two hours.

You feel a pulsing between your legs at the thought. You think of his hand sliding up your knee while you struggle to keep a straight face. Or him reaching an arm around you, gently sliding his fingers into your hair before giving it a sharp tug.

Another moan works its way out of your throat and you follow it up with an annoyed groan. You can really get swept up at the most inconvenient times. It’s not like you don’t have any work you need to do or anything. You roll your eyes as you stalk off to draw a bath.

***

Waiting in the lobby of the theater, you’re feeling surprisingly nervous. The dress, though beautiful, is not particularly comfortable. With all of its various chains and pieces, you needed Shadowheart’s help just to put it on. It helps that she’s also incredibly talented when it comes to hair and makeup, so in truth you feel positively glamorous.

When you see Astarion, however, everything goes silent. You’re certain that he’s posing for you the way he’s stopped to adjust his cuff. The cut of the suit he’s wearing is exceptionally flattering and you imagine running your hands all over the emerald velvet. His crisp white button down is almost sheer and you desperately want to pull him into you by that forest green silk tie.

But you can’t tear your eyes away from his face. This is the first time you've seen him wear makeup, and the simple smokey eyeliner look makes his red irises pop. He’s decided to forgo his glasses, presumably opting for contacts instead to show off the makeup. He’s also swapped out his standard silver hoops for little daggers with a red rhinestone glimmering at the hilt.

He looks up at you the moment you lay eyes on him, or more specifically, the moment your heart starts to beat out of your chest. He flashes you a devastating smile before striding up to you and pulling you into a deep kiss. You can’t even be bothered to care that the other patrons are probably staring as he slides his hand onto your bare lower back, his cool touch sending a shiver up your spine.

He pulls away from you just enough to breathlessly ask, “Are you ready to sit down?”

“Huh?” You’re distracted, too busy plotting a mental path to the bathrooms to fuck him. He lets out a winded chuckle.

“The play. House is open, would you care to find our seats?” His palm is still pressed against your back and you can barely form coherent thoughts. You still don’t even know what play you’re here to see. You just want—no, need—to be near him.

“Um, yeah,” you respond, still trying to get your bearings and remind yourself how to be a person. You let him lead you into the theater, and only once you're in your seats do you realize that neither of you grabbed a program. You pull out your phone to see if you can look it up, but service in the Rosewood is notoriously bad. Instead you just need to sit still next to Astarion, who looks like a dream and smells even better.

He glances at you as your heart quickens again and his lips curl into a smile. He slips his hand behind your neck and lightly runs his finger along the seam between the golden collar of the dress and your flesh, sending goosebumps down your arms. He leans toward you until his lips are almost brushing your ear.

“You look absolutely ravishing, my dear,” he whispers, his breath tickling your earlobe. You turn your face toward him on instinct, your chest heaving as you try to steady your breathing. Your lips hover inches apart, anticipating the kiss, when suddenly a throng of noisy actors come barreling down the aisles. You snap away from Astarion as the cacophony of their shrieks of laughter, calls across the audience to one another, and drunken banter fill the house.

One of them clambors onto the stage and shouts, “For God’s sake, a pot of small ale!” He’s dressed in rags and appears by far to be the drunkest of them all. Three servingmen swarm him with various shouts of, “Will’t please your honor?” He shoves them all away and proudly takes up space center stage.

“I am Christophero Sly! Call not me ‘Honor’ nor ‘Lordship,’” he bellows as the rest of the players make their way onto the stage.

Christopher Sly… you’re wracking your brain to remember which play he serves as a framing device for. Most productions cut this scene because it’s long and completely irrelevant. You just can’t for the life of you remember which play he appears in.

The scene continues with their drunken antics and slapstick comedy as the players address Sly as “my noble lord,” making him believe he’s a king that they’re about to perform for. Eventually they carry Sly out on a makeshift palanquin as the “play within the play” begins. Two handsome young men in preppy clothes enter, holding a book and wearing glasses that aren’t too dissimilar from Astarion’s round metal ones. The one without the glasses speaks first.

“Tranio, since for the great desire I had to see fair Padua…”

Tranio? Isn’t he one of the characters in Taming of the Shrew?

He knows you don’t like this play.

Well, if it’s all that’s playing at the Rosewood right now…

But if that’s the case why not just, like, see a movie?

You shift uncomfortably in your dress and cast your gaze towards Astarion. He smiles, taking your fingers and placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles before turning back to the stage. He keeps your hand in his, absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.

You can feel your heart pounding in your ears and you find yourself wondering what’s running through his head. Just when you think you have him figured out, he does something to surprise you. And honestly, not always in a good way.

Maybe it won’t be so bad. You know the creative team at the Rosewood wouldn’t pick this show if they weren’t going to try to do something with it.

But even still… is this text even redeemable?

You sit through the entirety of the show cringing as the audience around you laughs at flagrant displays of domestic abuse. The actors, several of whom you’ve worked with before, are trying their hardest to make the lines playful, but some things just can’t be recovered. Between the forced starvation, physical intimidation, and gaslighting, you wonder why companies even bother performing this play anymore. No matter how witty the writing is, it’s just too out of date to be a good season choice.

When the time comes for Kate’s final monologue, you watch in pain as the actress tries to wink-wink-nudge-nudge her way through lines like “place your hands below your husband’s foot.” She’s young, and you wonder if this is one of her first professional gigs. You get a little sad knowing that she’s probably just desperate to do anything, even if it’s trash.

Maybe you’re being a little harsh. All of the individual elements of the show—the acting, set, costumes, direction, lighting—were quite good. You just can’t get over how irredeemable this text is. Worth teaching, yes, and maybe even taking Act II out of context just for the fun banter and clever wordplay. But professional theatre companies should really just retire this one.

In the Lyft back to your apartment, you decide to get Astarion’s take on the matter.

“Do you think it’s possible to redeem a text like Taming in a modern age?”

He pauses for a moment, continuing to look away from you and out the window.

“I do, yes,” he finally answers. “I think it takes a skilled hand, but it can be successful when done well.”

You sit on his response, chewing it over. You decide to take a different route.

“I guess a better question is do you think it’s worth trying to? Like, what are we getting out of it anymore?”

“Is entertainment not enough?” he says with a laugh. You wrinkle your nose at him.

“Sure, if you’re a basic ass bitch. But I want my art to mean something. And I can’t think of what this play can possibly mean if it’s not ‘shrill women are annoying and should learn their place.’” You cross and uncross your legs, trying to keep yourself decent.

“Last I checked, you enjoy being put in your place,” he says in a low hum and your pussy betrays you with a clench.

“Shut up,” you grumble, and you’re grateful that the dark car hides your reddening cheeks. “It’s different.”

“Is it, though? Ultimately it is a text about two dysfunctional people finding comfort in one another.” His sincerity catches you off guard, and almost makes you angry that he’s been taken in by the propaganda.

“That’s only a valid interpretation if you ignore half of what happens in the play. They’re not equally dysfunctional, Kate literally gets beaten into submission and pretends to be happy about it. Petruchio is exactly the same from the start to the finish, he has no fucking character arc.” Your hands start to shake as you try to keep your cool. You’ve had this conversation far too many times with men who think they can interpret out the sexism by simply glossing over Kate’s abuse.

The Lyft stops in front of your building and you thank the driver as you get out. Astarion follows you, and you’re not even sure if you want him to accompany you upstairs. But you remain silent as you walk past Withers and into the elevator.

“You’re overreacting,” Astarion says once the elevator doors close. “People are drawn to this play for a reason. The text is excellent, and no one truly thinks of Petruchio as an abuser.”

“Are you joking?” Your voice gets shrill and the similarity to Kate isn’t lost on you. “The whole thing normalizes his abuse. The fact that people don’t think of him as an abuser is the problem.”

“It’s a slapstick comedy,” he snaps, his voice growing stern. “Are you going to tell me that we need to cancel the Three Stooges because it promotes violence?”

“Don’t be fucking condescending,” you spit. “It’s not the same and you know it.”

“How is it not the same? Suddenly because it’s a woman in the role it no longer counts? Are you implying that women should be barred from certain types of performance because of their gender?” He walks past you into your apartment and you throw your keys and bag on the counter, not even bothering to see where they land.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying, now you’re just twisting my words,” you grumble, more frustrated than ever by your inability to match his eloquence.

“So use your own words,” he sneers, whirling around to face you. “How is it not the same?”

“It’s because- well, I- It’s different, just- argh!” Your head is clouded by your attraction to him, which has annoyingly only grown over the past few minutes of shouting. You’re suddenly reminded of the smug arrogant bastard that you first met. He lets out a jeering laugh.

“See? You can’t even defend your own point.”

His sardonic cruelty sets something off in you and you angrily grab the lapel of his green suit. Your intentions are a complete mystery even to you, because as soon as you’re within inches of one another, instincts take over. You crush his lips into yours and pull him backwards until you thump against the door behind you. He paws hungrily at the dress, sliding his hand under the slit and around to grab your bare ass. You gasp into his touch, feeling equally frustrated and aroused that he even controlled what you wore tonight.

Your fingers make their way into his hair and you pull hard, breaking the kiss and leaving his mouth open, panting. His eyes are sparkling with a fire that you haven’t seen yet and a low growl manifests in your throat. He smirks and buries his teeth into your shoulder, something he usually asks bespoke permission for. You cry out in response, twisting your hands tighter into his silvery locks.

He unlatches from your shoulder and pushes his knee past the front of your skirt and up onto your bare cunt. You grind wantonly against the velvet as he kisses you with bloody lips. He grabs hold of the delicate chains of the dress and yanks, detaching them from the collar and making the entire bodice crumple and pool around your waist. Your nipples immediately harden at the sudden exposure to cold air and he pinches one sharply between his fingers. Your hips roll into his leg as you groan, fully ruining his pants. He continues to bite around your neck and shoulders, placing little puncture wounds in his path, marking you as his.

You grab onto his tie and push him away so you can shimmy out of the rest of the dress. You’re now down to just the gold collar of the dress and your heels, a look you wish you could hate but don’t. You pull him across your living area and toward your bedroom, shoving him down onto the edge of the bed.

“Thou hast hit it, come, sit on me,” he says, quoting Petruchio with a sinister grin. Kate’s retort falls out of your mouth reflexively.

“Asses are made to bear, and so are you,” you hiss as you straddle his hips, wrapping his tie around your hand until you’ve gripped it up to the knot. Your other hand violently unbuckles his belt, yanking it through the loops with a snap.

“Women are made to bear, and so are you,” he says with a caustic laugh, digging his nails into your ass cheeks. You tug sharply on his tie, bringing his lips close to yours.

“No such jade as you, if me you mean,” you snarl and silence him with an angry kiss. You don’t want to encourage his idiotic behavior, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said this wasn’t a fantasy you’ve had before. You fumble with the buttons of his suit jacket, trying to get him undressed as quickly as possible. You’re not sure if you feel more vulnerable or more powerful being undressed while he’s still fully clothed, but either way you want him naked, now. You get about three buttons into his shirt before you grow impatient, ripping it the rest of the way open and sending buttons flying.

Good. Let him need to repair his clothes for once.

You push him flat onto his back and descend onto his chest, alternating kisses, licks, and bites. Your dull human teeth don’t have nearly the same effect as his fangs, but it just means you get to bite twice as hard in order to leave a mark. He writhes beneath your touch, and you feel a twisted satisfaction at the quiet little grunts and gasps you’re finally pulling from him. He’s rarely this vocal during sex, and it’s only serving to spur you on more.

His groans build until you capture his nipple in your teeth and bite down, causing him to shout and buck his hips up into you. In a flash he flips you around onto your back and he bears down on you, eyes dangerous.

“Little love, do you think you’re in control?” he asks in a low growl, his hand gripped around your jaw. You sneer and slide your leg against the strained bulge in his pants. He hisses and your smile widens.

“Right now? Yes,” you coo, continuing to press your calf against his velvet-covered cock. You grab the tie still hanging around his neck and pull him close.

“If you want it back, fucking take it.”

If I put my hands around your wrists, would you fight them?

He kisses you roughly, catching your bottom lip in his teeth biting hard enough to puncture the skin. He pulls back slightly, a drop of your blood running down his chin and a snide grin. He makes like he’s about to kiss you again but shoves your face away before your lips make contact.

This is the worst you’ve ever seen him—the most arrogant, the most condescending, borderline cruel even. And you have never been more turned on.

If I put my fingers in your mouth, would you bite them?

“Is that all you’ve got?” you taunt, licking the blood from your lips. “Go ahead, choke me, daddy.”

The feminist in you is horrified, but the little gremlin controlling your libido is having the time of its life. It squeals with delight when his hand closes around your throat, just barely constricting your breathing.

“You insolent little brat,” he breathes into your ear, pulling up on your jaw. “I will absolutely ruin you.”

And there will be no tenderness, no tenderness.

“Do it, coward,” you spit, and he lets go just long enough to finish undressing from the waist down. He grabs your still heeled ankle and presses your leg up by your shoulder, stretching you wide enough to take him without any prep. You gasp as he fills you, the stinging pain outweighed by the gratification of finally feeling him inside you.

The only thing that I ask, love me mercilessly.

He sets a punishing rhythm, one knee on the bed and the other foot still firmly planted on the floor. He bottoms out with each long thrust and you grab hold of his hair to brace yourself. He winces with the pain but doesn’t slow down, and your moans grow high and loud as he continues to furiously pound into you.

“Gods, fuck, Astarion,” you keen, your desire coiling in your belly and threatening to explode. “Keep going, daddy, fuck me please.” He grunts with the effort and your dirty talk seems to be having an effect as his pace falters. You jerk your hips up into him, chasing your orgasm, until finally it barrels through you like a runaway train. You pull on his hair as you come and that sets off his, his pulsing cock pressing against the clenching walls of your cunt.

He stays deep inside you as the aftershocks reverberate through both of you, until the only sound remaining is your heavy panting. He drops his forehead to touch yours, a pleasantly tender moment after some of the roughest sex you can recall having. He starts to giggle and you follow suit, suddenly giddy. He pulls out of you with a squelch and walks to the bathroom to get a towel to clean up the mess you’ve left behind. He wipes you down gently, a surprising bit of aftercare you’re not accustomed to with him. He plants a tender kiss on your lips and you feel dizzy with affection for him.

You settle up against the headboard of your bed, his arm around you and both of you looking at your phones in a companionable silence. After a moment, he lets out a small chuckle.

“What?” you ask, turning your head towards him quizzically.

“I’m just shocked that worked, is all,” he laughs, shaking his head. Your confusion grows and you furrow your brow.

“What worked?” you laugh with him, but something doesn’t feel right.

“The whole night, taking you to see Taming, getting into just enough of a fight to result in,” he vaguely waves his hand, gesturing to the edge of the bed, “all of that.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean?” You pull away from him and your stomach drops. Surely he can’t be suggesting what you think he’s suggesting.

“You get riled up so easily, I thought this might be fun.” He still doesn’t seem to have picked up on your heart pounding in your ears, which is frankly unusual for him.

“Are you saying… Wait, are you saying that you planned that fight? So, what, we’d have angry sex?”

“Of course, you don’t think I actually believe anything that I said, do you? Taming of the Shrew might be well-written, but it’s a rubbish play to produce.” He finally turns to you and sees that you’ve gone white as a sheet. “Oh, darling, don’t take it like that, you’re positively adorable when you’re angry, I couldn’t resist.” He tries putting his hand to your cheek but you flinch away like he’s burned you.

“Get out,” you say in a low voice, unable to even look at him.

“What?” He’s still laughing. He doesn’t get it. “My sweet, didn’t you-”

“GET. OUT.” Your voice has a venom in it that even shocks you. He stares at you in horror until you shoot him an icy glare. “Now.”

Without a word he stands and quickly puts his clothes back on. You stay in your bed, naked and curled under a sheet, until you hear the front door of your apartment slam. With shaking hands, you call Shadowheart.

“Moonmaiden’s delight, did you enjoy yourself? It certainly sounded like you did.” The sound of Shadowheart’s bubbly laugh usually makes you smile, but right now it seeps into your skin like poison.

“Shade, please come over,” you whimper, and the second the words leave your mouth, the tears begin to fall. You don’t hear her hang up, but you do hear a muffled, “I’m going to fucking kill him!” through the wall. You pull your knees further into your chest and sob.

251 notes · View notes

musings-of-a-rose · 1 year ago

Text

Not Without You

Pairing: Lucien De Leon x f!reader (nickname: Poppy)

Word Count: 2800+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: Listen. I saw that clip of him making out in The Uninvited. That's it. That's the explanation. This is not betad. This one is for the sluts.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

→Tell Tumblr this should be shared with others by reblogging! That's what the algorithm loves (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Lucien Masterlist

--------

I get out of my car, staring up at the ridiculous mansion in front of me. The sound of the ocean, just out of sight behind the giant home, is soft and gentle in my ears, calming me. Giving me a little mental boost before I sigh, smoothing down my dress. I make my way to the front door, weaving between a few cars that were parked out front. Expensive cars.

It's not that I'm jealous of my childhood friend. Emilia deserves to be happy and she's happy that she married money. Some fancy producer out here in LA that fell for her big eyes and bright smile the second he saw her.

But that doesn't mean I wanted to come to one of her dinner parties, having to schmooze and pretend to be interested in what everyone has to say. I've been here before, met the people, fucked the party boy actor that eventually broke me, and yet here I am, unable to say no to Emilia.

I raise my hand to knock, dreading what the evening will bring but the door flies open before my knuckles touch anything. Emilia stands before me, a few rollers still in her hair, stress all over her body.

"Poppy, you're early! Thank GOD!" She pulls me inside and hugs me, the door closing heavy behind me.

"I always come early because you need me," I smile as she chuckles, lightly punching my arm. "What can I do to help?"

"You're angel, I swear! Can you make sure the table settings are right? There's extra silverware in the-"

"I know, Emilia. Everything like normal?" I'd been to so many of her parties, I know exactly what the set up is.

She nods, her smile growing wider. "Keep it simple and classy. You know me!"

I nod. "So what kind of party is this one? Another schmooze for Mr.?"

She waves her hand. "Yeah something like that. He's meeting with a bunch of actors for some upcoming project. He's hand selected them."

"Cool."

Emilia thanks me again before running off to finish getting ready. I pause for a moment, looking around trying to remember where the dining room is. I head down the hall and into what I think is the dining room. It turns out I remembered correctly, my eyes roaming over the table and making small adjustments to the settings already there. I end up pulling out more silverware, fixing them to Emilia's standards. I hate that I know this stuff, but I've saved her ass more times than I can count at these things so it helps to know what to expect.

As I work, my mind goes back to all the parties past. The ones she brought me to when she first started dating the producer several years ago. She had been so nervous, as if the producer wasn't already head over heels for her. That's where I met-

No. Not going down that road again. I can't do that to myself.

I shake my head and finish the settings, adding some minor touches to the decorations and finally lighting the candles. A knock at the door brings me out of my head and I walk over to answer it. An older gentleman stands there, putting out a cigarette with his shoe. He introduces himself as the director. What an ego.

Several people arrive after him, a mix of actors and a screenwriter. They all mingle in the sitting room for a few minutes before Emilia and the producer make their way in, everyone doing introductions.

The producer claps his hands together, looking around. "We're still missing one, but I doubt he'd mind us getting started. Who's hungry?"

Everyone gives their approval but as they move towards the dining room, a knock raps on the front door.

"That should be him. Guess I tried to start too soon!" Polite laughter at the producer as Emilia moves to answer the door, a quick glance in my direction before she disappears down the hall. The producer is telling some little story about a prior movie he was involved in, one I've heard a zillion times. But his story is short and he motions behind me.

"Just in time! We were about to eat. Welcome, Lucien."

My back stiffens. The room starts to spin my chest heaving. He didn't say Lucien. Did he? Maybe it was another Lucien. It couldn't be my Lucien? No. He's not my Lucien. He made that very clear when he wanted to continue partying and I wanted to settle down.

"Perfect! I'm starving."

Fuck. There was no mistaking that voice, the one that sets my skin ablaze, makes warmth pool between my thighs, the one that told me he needed to focus on his career and couldn't be with me. Not in the way I wanted him.

A small hand on my elbow squeezes me and I know it's Emilia, gently guiding me towards the dining room.

"I'm sorry, Poppy. He invited him and I didn't make the connection until the last minute."

"You couldn't have given me a heads up?" I yank my arm from her grip and swallow hard. I can't let him see how he makes me feel. He doesn't deserve that. I turn, letting the others file past me until he stops in front of me.

"Poppy. I..I didn't know you'd be here."

I'm determined to show him how much better off I am, that he means nothing to me now. I look up into his eyes and all of my resolve goes completely out the window. Were his eyes always that big? That round? So soft? I want to yank him to me by the thin chain around his neck, press my lips to his and never let go.

Way to show him, Poppy.

"I didn't know you'd be here either."

A silence stretches between us, a heavy, loaded silence. His eyes soften the longer he looks at me and is that regret I see? No. I'm projecting. But then he offers me his arm, taking me completely by surprise.

"We can be adults. Shall we?"

Don't do it. Don't take his arm, Poppy. Don't do it, don't do it, don't-

My fingers close on his offered up arm. "I'm sure this is a great opportunity for you."

Fuck, he's still warm. His skin smooth where my fingers touch him. Way to go, Poppy.

He escorts me into the dining room and I feel Emilia's eyes glued to us. He pulls out my chair and I sit, him scooting the chair in behind me before walking around the table, looking for his name card. Which was conveniently placed directly across from mine.

The producer clears his throat after everyone sits and starts making some speech about the project, about handpicking everyone here, blah blah blah. I zone out, trying to use my peripheral to steal glances at him. It's been several years since that night we split, the yelling match that had devolved into quite possibly the hottest sex I'd ever had. No, don't think about that. I need a better look so I turn my head to take a drink and chance a glance at him, only to find him already looking at me, still with the soft eyes. I nearly choke on my drink, managing to swallow it and clear my throat.

He finishes his speech and everyone claps politely, starting to eat and talk amongst themselves. I sit, deciding to choose silence while eating but then Lucien looks directly at me.

"So, what do you think?"

"Uh what?"

Fuck him with those big, stupid eyes.

He gestures towards the producer with his fork. "The project."

"Oh. Well I'm not involved so," I shrug. "I'm just here for Emilia."

He chuckles. "How many rollers were in her hair this time?"

I laugh, my body betraying me. "Four."

"But seriously. A good project?"

"I think..I think it's an honor he hand picked you. I'm not sure what the project itself is, but I'm sure it would be great for your career."

His eyes study my face as I take a bite of my food. "It's not always about the career though."

Anger surges up through me. "Isn't it?"

"How are we doing over here?" Emilia had walked up, cutting off whatever Lucien was about to say to defend himself.

"Great, Em. I'm just going to get something from the kitchen." I set my napkin on the table and push my chair back, Emilia giving me the smallest squeeze to my arm before I turn and head into the kitchen, the door closing behind me and effectively cutting off the sounds of the dinner party.

I lean over the kitchen island, my hands splayed out over the cool marble, trying to calm myself down. I hear the door open, the chatter from the party momentarily loud again before the door swings shut and it's quiet again.

"Em, I'm fine. Really. He just...caught me by surprise. I can hold it in."

"What if I don't want you to hold it in?"

My head snaps up, meeting his gaze, embarrassment making my skin heat up. "Oh. I thought you were Emilia."

Lucien takes a few steps towards me, the light glinting off the thing chain around his neck. "You didn't answer my question."

I stand up straight, crossing my arms. "We've done this dance before, Lucien. It didn't end well."

He smirks and I want to slap him. "I think it ended just fine. In the doorway, on the floor, in the front yard. I had to move my neighbors were too jealous."

My body betrays me with a small smile at the memory but then I reign it in. "I'm still not paying for that end table."

He's closer now. When did he move closer? Almost close enough to touch. His voice is low and raspy. "I'd destroy every end table on this planet if it meant having you under me again."

Fuck. Me.

I turn away from him, not giving him the pleasure of seeing what he does to me. "Flattering. But you made it very clear I was not number one in your life."

"I was stupid. I guess I needed to prove to you, to myself, that I could actually do this acting thing."

Finally composing myself, I turn to face him. "And how'd that work out for you?"

His eyebrows furrow together. "Have you not seen any of my films?"

I had. I had seen them all. I know I shouldn't have, that it wasn't helping me get over him. But Lucien has this pull, this hold on me I've never been able to fully shake.

"Some. But I'm asking your opinion. Off camera."

His jaw ticks a moment before he takes a swig from the glass I only just realized he was holding. "It brought me here."

I scoff. "Yeah, the producer hand picking you is actually a very high honor. I'd be-"

"No, you misunderstand." He shakes his head and sets his glass down on the counter. "I lied earlier."

It was my turn to furrow my eyebrows. "When? You've lied to me a lot."

"Earlier, when I said I didn't know you'd be here. I knew, well...more like hoped you'd be here. Knew it was a long shot but the only way you'd talk to me again."

My heart was racing, nearly bouncing out of my chest as he takes another few steps right into my personal bubble, my lower back against the counter. "I already told you I'm not replacing that end table."

He's right in front of me, the warmth from his body radiating onto mine. "I was a fool, Poppy. I..I love you."

I've waited years to hear him say those words to me again, to hear him actually mean them. To hear them not sandwiched between things like "but I have to focus on my career".

His lips are so close to mine, his breath fanning over my face.

"You broke my heart, Lucien."

"I know. I'm sorry. Let me put it back together."

"Lucien, I-" but he cuts me off with the softest touch of his lips I've ever felt, a whole slew of emotions flooding my body, including the one pooling between my legs.

"I can't do this without you, Poppy."

"Do this?"

"Life. I don't want to do it without you."

Fuck.

I grip that chain around his neck and pull him to me, our lips crashing together, his body pressing into mine. But then the counter scrapes across my spine and I jolt, breaking the kiss to gasp in pain. Lucien steps back, offering me his hand.

"Let's go somewhere where we won't break the furniture."

I shouldn't take his hand. I can still back out. But a small voice in the back of my head believes that he means it. That he wants a life with me, wants what I wanted all those years ago. And right now, I'm letting that voice win. I take his hand and he smiles, that smile that makes me feel like I'm the only person in the world. He guides me out the back door, past the pool, past the changing tents between the pool and the beach, and down the walkway alongside the neighbors cement wall that leads down to the beach.

He spins me and I laugh, tasting the salty ocean air on my tongue. I back up towards the wall and he follows me, lowering himself to my level. His large hands wrap around my hips, gliding down to cup my ass, and I moan into his kiss, my hand gripping his shirt to pull him closer to me. He kisses me, his tongue sliding into my mouth like it had so many times before. One hand still firmly on my ass, the other slides up my side, cupping my face so tenderly, full of love. He pulls back slightly and looks at me, like he's shocked I'm really here. That he's really kissing me.

"I love you, Poppy. I never should have let you go."

"Then don't let me go. I've always been yours."

He kisses me again, his hips pressing into mine and I can feel him hard, my cunt desperately throbbing, begging to feel him inside me again. Somewhere in my haze of desire, I hear myself begging, whispering pleas in his ear to take me, that I need him inside me before I die. His hands slide my dress up my thighs, reaching under and ripping my underwear in two, tucking them into his pocket. He had ruined so many good pairs of my underwear that way, but I honestly couldn't care less. My fingers fumble with his zipper, but I manage to get it down, reaching in to grip him, a sharp intake of breath when my fingers close around him, pumping him a few times. His hands slide under my ass, lifting me up as he presses me against the wall. He slides into me and the world stops moving, colors are brighter, and I finally feel right, like I'm actually here on this planet. Every thrust of his hips brings him deeper into me, holding me here, holding me to him. His breath comes out in short pants, desperate pleas of love and apologies between our moans as he fucks me against the wall.

And then the light blooming inside me breaks, my head pushing back, my nails digging into his skin, my entire body tingling as pleasure radiates out from where we connect. Lucien follows suit, moaning my name as he spills himself inside of me, pushing as deep as he can. We stay like that for a moment, trying to catch our breaths.

"I want to stay inside of you but my legs are fucking shaking."

I laugh and he yelps, quickly trying to pull out of me as my laughter contracts my body around him. He sets me on the ground and zips his pants as I smoothe out my dress, my laughter slowly fading. I look at him and he looks back at me, his eyes still soft and gentle. He tucks some hair behind my ear before cupping my cheek again.

"I wasn't kidding, Poppy. I was fucking stupied before. I need you next to me. When we're together, I feel...right. like I belong here. I don't think I can face this life without you."

I know it's a possibility this will end the same way it did before, but something in his eyes is different this time. He's had time to think, time to experience life without someone with him. Without me. He's grown, matured - well, matured some at least. But do I want to open my heart back up to him? Knowing that he could shatter it again at any moment?

"I'm still not replacing that end table."

He smiles and it lights up my entire world. "That's ok. I have plenty more furniture we can ruin with our love."

-------

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @booksarekindaneat @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed @ladykatakuri @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

#lucien flores x reader #lucien flores x you #lucien flores x f!reader #lucien flores x female reader #lucien flores #the uninvited #the uninvited ff #the uninvited fanfiction #the uninvited fanfic #lucien flores fanfic #lucien flores fic #Lucien Floires ff #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character ff #pedro pascal characters #lucien de leon

258 notes · View notes

chaotic-iguana · 2 years ago

Text

desperate

joel x f! reader

my little contribution to kinktober. a teasing/denial fic that i originally wrote for butcher (the boys) but joelified bc he's so daddy. nsfw under the cut. sorry i've been mia

“fuckin’ look at you, doll.” joel flashes you a shit-eating grin before reaching up to pinch your nipples between his thumb and forefingers harshly, rumbling a chuckle at the whimper it draws from you. you’re all splayed out for him with your hands tied to headboard above, thighs wrenched open by his shoulders; skin hot and flushed under his touch. he’s told you to stay still twice already but you can’t, not when he’s been leaving featherlight brushes on your skin for hours and cruelly laughing at every sound that comes from your mouth, smiling at the way your hips buck in his hold-

and then he’s leaning in just to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to your sternum, beard stinging against your sensitive skin, jaw working to nip and bite until your tears are falling and he’s pulling back with a mocking tut, eyes twinkling.

“all these pretty tears just f’me, love?” your frantic nod makes him raise a brow, hand coming down to swat the inside of your thigh - the impact shooting straight to your poor, neglected cunt.

“use y’words, chatterbox.”

his tone makes you want to curl in on yourself, because he knows you’re too far gone to form words right now, too far gone to think about anything beyond the fact that you need him and that you might actually die if he stops touching you. but you know joel, and you know how mean he really is - he’ll keep you writhing on the bed for hours to fix your attitude if he doesn’t hear an answer now; uncaring of the fact that you’re barely grasping at thoughts and completely fucking gone. and like the devil, you he starts rubbing circles into the juncture of your thighs while you struggle to answer him.

“y-yes, da-joel. ‘m cr-crying for y-you.” he hums, and suddenly runs a knuckle through your folds, making you keen, tears sticking to your lashes.

“yes, who?” bastard. he knows you can never bring yourself to say it - not even if it rests on the tip of your tongue every time - and despite yourself, you bite your tongue and shake your head, hiccuping.

“oh we’re being shy now? fuck me, honey, where was this when i had my cock in your ass?” his hands rest just above where you need him now, thumbs stroking your abdomen in careful, downward brushes. your back arches into the touch, hips chasing him even when he pulls his hands away, and then you’re sobbing in earnest.

another tut, dripping with condescension. “no more cryin’. tell me what you want, baby.” and you’re gasping another breath and gulping air, wrists straining against the rope before stammering out another response, too delirious with your need to register what you were saying.

“need you to t-touch me, d-daddy, please.” he shuffles up, gripping your chin to turn it towards him before capturing your lips in his, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. his thumb presses gently on your buzzing clit, making you jolt with surprise. you blink at him, frowning. he’d never cave this quickly.

until- he’s reaching down to plant a kiss to your forehead, smoothing over your hair before nuzzling against your cheek.

“gotta give my pretty girl what she needs, don’t i?

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day!

taglist (lmk if u wanna be taken off, no hard feelings): @imherefordeanandbones , @theywhowriteandknowthings , @josephquinnswhore , @millerscoffee , @nostalxgic, @sscorpiiio , @pedrosaidsheispunk , @its-nebuleuse, @sofiparallel , @mandoisapunk , @bastardmandennis , @pawnshopb1ues,

dividers by @cafekitsune (the best.)

417 notes · View notes

graciereadshannigram · 5 months ago

Text

hey fam, welcome to the November round up of all my favorite fics i read this month!!

as a reminder: the ingredients for a five star rating typically (but not always!!) include some combination of a.) believable characterizations of both Hannibal and Will, b.) compelling plot and/or character arcs, and c.) high quality smut.

that being said, my judgment of the aforementioned ingredients is powered almost exclusively by vibes and as such, it's incredibly subjective.

you can find past recs below:

February March April May June July August September October

you can now also find ALL of the five star fics in my 5 Star Hannigram Fics collection on ao3 :))))

and if you have any recs of your own for me, PLEASE SHARE.

without further ado, and in no particular order, let's go!

WET by agarina_amigara

Word Count: 5652 Summary: the prompt for day 5 of fcktober: "wet"Post-Fall. The water filtration on the boat sailing Hannibal and Will to freedom sucks ass. Thankfully Will is good with his hands. So is Hannibal.

i desperately need more 'Will being good at fixing boats' fics lolol this was so good!!

Only One Night? by onmywayhome

Word Count: 3203 Summary: It had been 20 minutes of him laying down with his eyes closed, still awake. The only thing that caused his eyes to open was the feeling of his psychiatrist wrapping his arm around his stomach. He pulled Will in closer, Will could hear the faint noise of snoring, ‘Is he asleep?’ he thought to himself, he suddenly felt something poking his backside as Hannibal pushed closer. ‘Oh.’-OR-Hannibal and Will have to share 1 hotel room (and 1 bed ;)) which brings out some intense feelings in both of them

oooooooooookay, i saw the "only one bed" tag and blacked out, love love love love. (it's just PWP, what more do you want from me?)

The Corpse-Angel's Blessing by @dbmars

Word Count: Summary: Will Graham is the omegan prince of the kingdom of Gaulemagne. Despite being the eldest child of the murdered king and queen, he cannot take the throne - the crown is reserved for alphas only, and his brother Matthew will rule once he comes of age. In the meantime, Will and beta princess Alana are under the guardianship of the Regent, their father's first cousin: Frederick Raul de Brûler, Earl of Chilton. Gaulemagne suffers under Chilton's rule. Will's only method of resistance is writing anonymous pamphlets about omegan rights and getting them into the hands of those who can affect change. Chilton knows this brilliant omega is trouble, and arranges a marriage for him with Alpha King Hannibal, the sovereign of Eidermark, the last "civilized" kingdom before the Northern Wastes - a tundraland filled with dangerous nomads uniting under the banner of a man calling himself the Great Red Dragon. Will is sold to King Hannibal the Vicious, traded along with a herd of cattle and casks of wine for weapons and armor. He travels to Eidermark determined to stand up for his beliefs and resist any way he can. And yet... there is more to King Hannibal than anyone knows...

this was a TREAT!!! (idk what else i'd be expecting from dbmars though) the tag 'hannigram is very very horny for eachother but they have to wait for the wedding' is what initially got me and wowow.

Safehome by @dbmars

Word Count: 27798 Summary: On the run, Will and Hannibal lay low for a month in a safehouse in rural Iowa.“We could disappear now. Tonight. Feed your dogs, leave a note for Alana, and never see her or Jack again. Almost polite.”Will’s mind railed against the words. His resistance was powerful at first, like the failure of a mighty dam holding back a river, the water pounding down to the valley below. No. Of course not. Hannibal had to pay for what he’d done to Abigail Hobbs. Jack Crawford was his friend and on the right side of the law. The plan to betray Hannibal would go down exactly as they’d plotted together.But then...Will opened his mouth to artfully refuse.Instead, he heard himself say, “Let’s go.”This is a finished, polished version of my DoMAYstic 2023 prompt challenge completed with twitter x threads. I was saving it to publish in May of 2024 with more smut and better writing, and then suddenly I realized IT'S JUNE AND I FORGOT TO POST IT.So, anyway. If you're looking for a comfort fic, this is pretty damn sweet. And if you've ever lived in the Midwest, well... you get it.

oh oh oh oh this was so freaking good. it was beautiful, it was poignant, it felt like home (hi hello, i am from the upper midwest), it felt like a hug. i love them so much.

Strangers with History by sourweather

Word Count: 2843 Summary: Will and Hannibal both like to visit a website that allows them to sext with random, anonymous strangers. What are the odds they would match with each other?It had to happen eventually.

I want like… 80k words of Will and Hanni sexting each other anonymously while normal s1 events are happening, you know? Or s2.

Night Terrors by @gnawing-suspicion

Word Count: 2665 Summary: Will Graham wakes up from a sex dream about his therapist. It throws off his whole morning.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH I AM DECEASED THIS WAS SO HOT. the entire series is fucking AMAZING, @gnawing-suspicion bb you're amazing <3

Birthday Wish by Redeye17

Word Count: 5927 Summary: Will makes an impulsive wish and is dismayed to find it granted by the gods of love.-"I feel it's pertinent to ask you what exactly you wished for last night."Will rapidly mentally calculates how to explain the situation. He certainly hadn’t fucking wished to be a woman, but he has to admit that it is perhaps an easier solution to his wish than the logistical hurdles that carrying a baby in his male body would present."I can't tell you. If I do, it won't come true," Will mumbles out against Hannibal’s chest after a moment's hesitation.

DELICIOUS

Quarantined by KatherineKrawl

Word Count: 9102 Summary: En route to Kansas City for a murder case, Hannibal and Will get an urgent call from Jack, telling them to self-quarantine immediately in a small cabin near the woods. Shopping at Walmart, one double bed and no suits will bring them both a lot of 'firsts'.-“Perhaps we could...” and before Will could turn, an arm extended before his chest to pick a bottle from the pile. “...forgo this for the coming weeks?”Hannibal had appeared beside him, and Will saw the cart he was dragging after himself filled to the brim with cans, bags, bottles and packages. Toilet paper, too.Hannibal had been smart rather than stubborn by forgoing the fresh, perishable produce, and Will was relieved to see it. The look in those amber eyes, however, was... haunting.“That's my aftershave,” Will frowned, as he watched the glass bottle with the little blue ship being removed from the basket.

Enough time has passed since those initial days of the pandemic that this was actual perfection. I loved this so freaking much. And the marshmallow bed. Naturally.

responsible, forever, for what you have tamed by multifandom_fanfic_writer

Word Count: 6689 Summary: There was only one bed.

ONLY ONE BED. God, this was perfect.

To Fuel Your Radiance by GoldenUsagi

Word Count: 21340 Summary: AU where Will is the actual Devil. After Hannibal sells his soul, a fascination begins to develop between them. Will is intrigued by the unique monster Hannibal is, while Hannibal thinks Will is the most magnificent thing he's ever encountered. As their conversations continue, their involvement with each other becomes something else entirely.

Oh this was excellent. This dialogue here was TOP NOTCH.

If i went to touch you now (what would you do?) by LumusWinter

Word Count: 1944 Summary: Will tries to make Hannibal jealous. Needless to say, it works. Set during the second half of season 2.

This was hot PWP, love Will Graham being a size queen.

SEMI-BUTLER by TheSeaVoices

Word Count: 23714 Summary: A modern day Master/servant Hannigram AU. This idea came to me whilst working (literally on my hands and knees applying gold leaf) in one of the extraordinary Cheshire mansions I find myself in surprisingly regularly. I am continually surprised by the inexplicably loyal staff managers (nobody ever says the word BUTLER - but they are), proudly servile and selfless.Will inherits such a property in North West England, complete with staff and an interesting sort-of-butler who enjoys his work. REALLY enjoys his work.Also inspired by Jeeves and Wooster which I'm currently re-reading and loving, and all butlers everywhere. Oh, and Men On Edge :)Encouragement, ideas and pointers have really helped, thanks to:@weconqueratdawn@thecountessolivia@zigzagwanderer@aviran007@zacharybosch@fragile-teacup (Mrs_Gene_Hunt)

This was so OOC for Hannibal and Will, BUT i loved them anyway, and the sheer creativity when it came to the smut ramped this up to five stars for me!

Graham Cam by bigfootghostdick

Word Count: 19363 Summary: In nearly every aspect of his life, Hannibal is wholly unabashed in the endeavors he chooses to take on, especially where Will is concerned. At his core, he lives outside the realm of societal norms, so in a twisted effort to learn more about the beautiful empath that has captured his attention so utterly, he decides to install hidden cameras inside Will’s home.Will is blissfully unaware…or is he?

Will Graham showing off for Hannibal on the cameras Hannibal set up without telling Will? God, this was perfect.

It takes four by TheRosetteThief

Word Count: 4893 Summary: Adam confesses that he has a dirty fantasy to Hannibal. Hannibal talks him into letting him help him act it out with Will and Nigel.It's really just shameless foursome smut written for my lovely friends.

okay yes this is technically not just hannigram, but HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA good lord, I think if I could be Adam in this scenario, that would fix me.

The Pleasure Was Ours by wyldefire

Word Count: 4215 Summary: “Hear that, Han? Fucking your boy full. He fucking loves my cock.” Nigel teased, reaching up and tweaking at a nipple, nearly drawing a cry from Will’s lips. “Hush. Go on, Will. What else?” Hannibal replied, unfazed by his brother’s taunts. “And… And… I need… I need more. Fuck, Hannibal, I need more. I need more. Please.” Will begged. “What do you need, William?” Hannibal inquired. “You.”

Once again, not strictly Hannigram but... yeah, I'll see myself out. Trans Will in this was perfect.

A Joy Hard Learned in Winter was the Warming of the Bed by omnilegent

Word Count: 2709 Summary: The doctor took the key and opened the door, revealing a pretty standard motel room. Small en-suite with the light still on, terrible TV leaning precariously off the wall, clean but worn out to almost complete smoothness carpet. And only one bed.Ah.‘Adequate.’ Hannibal sniffed, hanging his coat up and feeling the fluffiness (or lack thereof) of the pillows.‘Yeah?’ Will asked, nervous that Hannibal was going to demand another room out of disgust.‘It’s only a night, after all.’ He gave Will a look, fond with a teasing twinkle that he couldn’t quite understand. ‘Unless you would be uncomfortable?’‘No!’ Will replied all too fast. ‘No. Better than the car.’ He tried to quip, but Hannibal’s smirk grew toothy.‘I assure you, I will keep you far warmer than the car heaters can.’—————The boys get stuck in a snowstorm and have to stay in a motel - but guess what? There was only one bed!

THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED.

Appetites of the Flesh by Magnetism_bind

Word Count: 2902 Summary: Will gets aroused at murder scenes. Eventually this gets noticed.

So this is a thing now for me, I guess!!!

The Business of Pleasure by Magnetism_bind

Word Count: 23888 Summary: Hannibal hires a hooker with the intention of eating him after he’s done fucking him.His plans change when he sees the hooker.

Give me moreeeeeeeeeeeeee.

A Little Unfinished Business by Magnetism_bind

Word Count: 26680 Summary: Ten years later Will Graham returns to Baltimore.

Sequel to The Business of Pleasure. Just as good.

Sweatpants by mattHughdancy

Word Count: 11736 Summary: It's gray sweatpant season and Will wears some for Reasons. Poor Hannibal is having a *hard* time.

Gimme more of the gray sweatpants please. Tbh me and Hannibal are very much on the same page here.

Wringing a Rock Dry by McRibFarewellTour

Word Count: 4556 Summary: (Between S2 and S3)Will’s sick. Sick enough that he’s pretty sure he’s going to die. Aware that winning their game is no longer an option, he decides to change the rules and go see Hannibal in prison.Hannibal does not appreciate this move.

OUCH. I've rec'd this one before, but I did a reread and it is just as good as it was the first (several) times!!!

and that's it for this month!! see y'all next month for the December rec list :)

#gracie reads hannigram #fic recs #hannigram fic recs #hannigram recs #hannigram #hannibal #will graham #hannibal lecter #murder husbands #mads mikkelsen #hannigram fic #nbc hannibal #hugh dancy

64 notes · View notes

quicksilver-castiel · 2 months ago

Text

In a cat's Eye

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Pairing: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims

Archive warnings: None

Rating: General Audiences

Summary:

They walked through a set of doors, and then another, and then Martin’s steps faltered as he was suddenly surrounded on all sides by cats. They were in cages, though not the small, cramped ones stacked atop each other that Martin had expected, but tall ones, with toys and places for the cats to jump and play. Sometimes, there were three or four cats in one cage, sometimes less, but it was still a room full of cats. Martin didn’t know how to feel about that. Jon, of course, had no such problems. His eyes lit up, and he looked around curiously, craning his neck as Isabel told him all about the different cats’ breeds and personalities.

Author's Notes:

This was written for @jonmartinweek Day 1: Cats and Pets // Feelings Realised. It's canon-divergent, could (currently) be read as a tie-in to my long fic And each doth good turns now unto the other, but you don't need to read that to understand this one.

Read on AO3 or under the cut

“Just a moment, please,” the employee called when Jon and Martin came in, throwing them a quick glance before focusing back on the people standing with her. One of them, who looked to be the father of the family of four, was handling a cat carrier, from which curious eyes were peeking out into the room.

Jon’s eyes fixed on the carrier. Martin could see him lift himself slightly onto the balls of his feet when the man moved, obscuring the view, before Jon caught himself and stood straight again, glancing around as if to see if anyone had noticed.

When Jon’s eyes met Martin’s, Martin smiled, but Jon still ducked his head and blushed slightly.

“Sorry for the wait.” The employee stepped over to them, smiling. “I’m Isabel. How can I help you?”

“Jonathan Sims,” Jon said, gripping the handle of his cane tightly while he extended the other hand towards Isabel. “We spoke on the phone, I believe.”

Isabel’s face lit up. Martin hoped it was because of the reason they were here, and not because she liked what she saw.

In any case, she shook Jon’s hand. “Ah, yes, Mr. Sims. You’re here to adopt a cat, correct?”

“Please, just Jon. And yes, that’s why we’re here.” Jon glanced at Martin, who gave him another smile, and shook Isabel’s hand in turn.

She didn’t seem deterred by the fact that Jon had brought someone else, so with a bit of luck she hadn’t gotten her hopes up.

“Have you thought at all about what you’re looking for? Kitten, adult, or senior cat?”

“An adult one. This will only be my second cat, and Martin has never had one, so…” Jon shrugged. “I suppose we’re not yet ready for a kitten or the more, ah, difficult cases.”

For some reason, Isabel’s face softened. “I see. Well then, follow me and let’s meet some of our little darlings.”

As they walked down a hallway, Jon and Isabel kept talking. Jon mentioned wanting to get an affectionate cat that liked being petted, glancing back at Martin as he did so. Martin rolled his eyes. Yes, he wanted a pet he could — you know — pet. Sue him.

Jon just smiled, and turned back towards Isabel, who was talking about different breeds and how some of their rescued cats were plenty affectionate.

They walked through a set of doors, and then another, and then Martin’s steps faltered as he was suddenly surrounded on all sides by cats.

They were in cages, though not the small, cramped ones stacked atop each other that Martin had expected, but tall ones, with toys and places for the cats to jump and play. Sometimes, there were three or four cats in one cage, sometimes less, but it was still a room full of cats.

Martin didn’t know how to feel about that.

Jon, of course, had no such problems. His eyes lit up, and he looked around curiously, craning his neck as Isabel told him all about the different cats’ breeds and personalities.

Martin took a deep breath. Then he hastened to catch up with them.

He was still wondering if coming here had been the right decision — not that he had anything against adopting a cat. In fact, he was quite looking forward to having a little furball at home, as long as it was friendly and didn’t try to scratch his eyes out.

But being here, surrounded by all these cats that stared at him with their yellow, slitted eyes, made Martin shiver.

That was, until Jon turned back to him, his face glowing with an otherworldly light that had nothing to do with the patron they both served.

“Martin, look,” Jon said, gesturing to one of the cats. Martin had no idea of the different breeds, since he hadn’t really been listening to Isabel, but it was a brown and white one, with fluffy fur. “His name is Scones.”

“Oh, that’s cute.” Martin leaned a little closer to the cage. The cat’s ears flicked, and it turned to look at them with lazy blinks.

“I was just telling Jon, Scones is our resident sweetheart. He’s three years old, and already very relaxed for his age. Quite cuddly, too. Due to his long fur, he needs to be brushed regularly though, so it’s a bit more work than with a short-hair,” Isabel explained.

Martin thought of how often he brushed and braided Jon’s hair, and only barely kept back from running his hands through the grey strands that were spilling freely over Jon’s shoulders today.

It was usually an issue of convenience for Jon to put his hair in a ponytail or a braid, though that day, he hadn’t been able to stand the tugging on his skull that either caused. This meant that he was always busy brushing back the hair that slipped out from behind his ears in an attempt to veil his face.

Not that Martin minded — he loved being able to run his hands through Jon’s hair. Though he had promised not to do so in public.

They moved on, looking at the other cats, listening to Isabel talk about their quirks and grooming needs. There were some that Martin could imagine taking home, which both put him at ease and made him anxious.

It was good that they would be able to find a fitting cat here. But how in the world were they going to choose?

There was one, an orange tabby — Isabel mentioned that ‘tabby’ wasn’t a breed, and specified it, but Martin forgot it again almost immediately — that Jon stared at for a bit longer than the others. Its name was apparently ‘Tart’, which made Martin wonder which of the different meanings the staff had chosen that for.

“She gives most people the cold shoulder, but if she likes you, she really likes you,” Isabel explained. “So far, the only one who has made his way into her heart is Mark, one of our staff. She keeps trying to sit in his lap when he’s here.”

That was adorable. Of course, there wasn’t much of a chance of Tart liking Martin, of all people. Jon, maybe, since he was a cat person and all that. But not him.

Martin sighed. It was a nice thing to daydream about, anyway.

“She’s also blind in one eye, so her depth perception is a bit off. Sometimes she gets startled when you come into her field of vision, or she runs into things.” Isabel smiled, and gestured towards another door. “Would you like to meet them a little more personally now?”

Jon was in heaven.

The room Isabel had ushered them into looked not unlike a playroom for children, though with more cat-appropriate toys. There were little doors in the wall for the cats to walk back into their cages if they had enough or needed some quiet, which was a set-up Jon would have liked for pretty much all rooms in his life.

But of course the best thing was that most of the cats stayed. Some were just lazing about, or playing by themselves, though others came towards Jon curiously, and got excited when he picked up a feather on a string.

Martin was sitting a little apart from him, tentatively reaching out to any cat that came close to him. Most of them ducked away from his hand, which he respected — Jon had long since taught him that you needed to give cats time. They would turn away from you the first few times, and once they learned that you could be trusted not to touch them when they didn’t want you to, they would seek you out in earnest.

Some cats were more immediately affectionate, though. One kept rubbing its head against Martin’s knee, demanding scratches, and another sniffed cautiously in the direction of his lap, but was startled when a third cat came looking at the new addition to the playroom.

Jon could understand the curiosity. If his experience translated at all to cats, then Martin’s lap was bound to be the most comfortable spot in the whole building.

For a moment, Jon’s hand stilled as he wondered if he was making a mistake. Would an affectionate cat take his favourite place from him?

But surely, he told himself as he continued moving the stick with the feather on a string, it was silly to be jealous of a cat. Especially if it was to be their cat, an addition to their household and possibly the closest thing they would ever have to a child.

Jon stopped his hand again when Scones caught the string and started gnawing on it instead of the feather. Jon smiled, and let his eyes wander, considering which cat would fit their criteria the most.

Then his eyes caught on Tart, who was sitting a little ways off, close to the door to its cage. She was surveying the room, not seeming to pay anything or anyone special attention, though Jon could tell from her body language that she was alert, if not tense.

Jon kept watching, and caught Tart’s eyes lingering on Martin while she blinked slowly. She turned away after a moment, but before long, she was sniffing in Martin’s direction, her butt leaving the floor for a second as she seemed to struggle with herself on whether she wanted to move or not.

It was only when Tart noticed Jon looking, and locked her one eye with his, that he turned away. Staring at something was a cat’s behaviour towards prey, and Jon didn’t want Tart to think that he was being in any way aggressive towards her.

He could have slow-blinked at her, of course, but it was better for him to focus back on the cats near him, anyway. One of them was trying to attack the stick he was holding, and Jon made sure to distract it with the feather at the other end instead.

Jon was so absorbed in the game that several minutes passed until he even so much as glanced at Martin again — though then his eyes were glued to him, and to Tart, who was swishing about him, never quite touching.

“Oh, erm, hello,” Martin said, chuckling a little nervously. He was probably remembering the stories about her being cold with most people, and was worried that she might not like him.

Tart sniffed at Martin’s arm, then circled him again, only to sniff at his knee on the opposite side.

Then she rubbed her head against his knee.

“Oh,” Martin made again, looking startled, though it was soon replaced by a slightly confused delight. “Hi there.”

He reached out hesitantly. Tart turned away, putting some distance between them with measured steps.

Then she looked back.

Martin had dropped his hand, and held it out to another cat to sniff instead.

In the same slow, but confident pace as before, Tart circled back, and pushed away the other cat.

“Hi again…?” Martin asked, his hand hovering over her uncertainly.

Tart just looked at him, blinking slowly. Martin blinked back, confused.

Then Tart got onto her hind paws, and headbutted Martin’s hand.

The smile that spread on Martin’s face as he was finally allowed to pet the cat was breathtaking. Jon always thought that he was the most handsome man alive, but in that moment, he looked practically ethereal.

Then Martin looked up at Jon, still glowing with joy and a little bit of pride, and Jon couldn’t help but smile back.

“Made a friend?” he asked teasingly, causing Martin to duck his head in slight embarrassment.

“I guess she likes me?” Martin said, continuing to pet the very satisfied-looking cat. She had her good eye closed — her bad eye was permanently closed anyway — and was leaning into Martin’s touch.

It didn’t take long for Tart to climb into Martin’s lap, curling up there. Jon noticed that none of the other cats would get close to Martin then, and figured it was because they didn’t particularly like Tart.

“She’s purring!” Martin exclaimed suddenly, startling Tart a little, though she settled down again soon enough. “Aww, she’s so cute. Jon, can you take a picture?”

Jon’s face was starting to hurt from how big his smile was. It dimmed a little when he struggled to get up, his leg aching after his time on the floor, but he managed to stand and walk over to Martin without too much effort.

“Say cheese,” Jon said as he had his phone camera trained on the adorable pair of gingers.

Martin just grinned, and Tart stayed where she was, only flicking her ear in Jon’s direction.

The pictures didn’t quite do the reality of the moment justice, but they were cute enough. Considering Jon’s usual struggles with getting a half-decent picture — a fact that always made both Martin and Tim snicker and make teasing comments about the pupil of the Eye not having an eye for photos — they were even pretty good.

“Do we have a winner, then?” Jon asked when Martin handed him back the phone after inspecting the pictures.

“Oh, I-I think so? I mean, if you’re okay with it.” Martin didn’t often bring out the puppy eyes, but when he did, Jon didn’t stand a chance.

Not that he had any issue with adopting Tart, silly name or not.

“Should we call her something else?” Jon just asked, and reached out to pet her himself.

Tart peeked an eye open to glare at him, making Jon stop in his tracks. He blinked at her.

She didn’t blink back.

Only when Jon removed his hand did Tart close her eyes again, burrowing herself deeper into Martin’s lap.

Oh dear. Jon was going to be in competition with the cat after all, wasn’t he?

Martin didn’t seem to have noticed the little row, since he continued scratching between Tart’s ears enthusiastically. “You’re not naming her. Otherwise we’ll just end up with a Sergeant, or a Lieutenant-Commander, or something.”

“That’s not fair,” Jon said, omitting the fact that he had indeed been considering Sergeant as a name. “I was actually thinking about something like Miss Claw-lace.”

Martin looked at him weirdly. “You were?”

“Nancy Catstor would also be a contender.”

For a long beat, Martin just stared at him. Then he sighed fondly, shaking his head. “I stand by my opinion — you don’t get to name this cat. Or any, for that matter.”

“Why’s that?” Jon asked, huffing.

His suggestions were quite clever, after all, weren’t they?

“Jon, I love you, but those are terrible. We’ll give her a normal cat name.”

“What, so she won’t get bullied by her cat schoolmates?” Jon deadpanned, making Martin snort out a giggle.

“Exactly. It’s hard to be a little kitty cat, you don’t have to make it harder,” he said, smiling, one hand still buried in Tart’s fur.

“Yes, clearly, it’s an awful lot to be a cat being lovingly petted by a gentle giant,” Jon said dryly. “I would shudder to be subjected to the same cruel fate.”

Martin grinned. “So if a giant picked you up right now and put you in his lap…”

Jon rolled his eyes. “Shut up. What would you name her, then?”

“Hmmm. What about Butterscotch?”

Jon scoffed. “And that’s better than Nancy Catstor?”

“... Yeah, Jon, it really is,” Martin said, looking like he was holding back laughter.

“We might as well keep her name, then, if you’re just going to name her after a different pastry.”

“Yeah, but Tart is mean. Butterscotch is cute.”

Jon huffed. Then something came to him, and he smiled slyly. “We could call her Martina.”

“I’m sorry?”

Jon shrugged, even as his smile grew wider. “She does have the same hair colour as you.”

“Yeah, well, she’s also picky in who she lets near her — like you,” Martin countered unfairly.

“Hey,” Jon grumbled.

“We could call her Joanna.”

Jon kept grumbling.

“Our little tabby daughter, Joanna Sims-Blackwood.”

Jon stopped grumbling, his breath hitching. “Ah.”

“She gets her looks from me and her personality from you,” Martin kept teasing.

“Shut up.” Jon meant to make it sound scathing, he really did, but infuriatingly, it came out tender and loving.

“Maybe we can train her to research statements,” Martin joked.

Jon shivered. “Best not.” He reached out again, but this time for Martin, putting a hand on his arm. “We should probably talk to Isabel before we go about renaming Tart. We haven’t adopted her yet.”

“Right.” Martin looked like he would have gotten up together with Jon, if he hadn’t had his lap full of cat.

“I’ll go fetch her. You sit tight.”

Martin chuckled. “Don’t really have a choice on that, do I?” He kept stroking Tart’s fur, humming in time with her purrs.

Those two were utterly adorable.

As Jon grabbed his cane and went to look for Isabel, he didn’t know that the reason Tart had lost an eye had been because she had been staring at other cats with an unblinking gaze, causing them to become aggressive.

He didn’t know that the tether to the entity that loomed over them all had almost been broken with the gash across her eye, and had only been preserved through her own cowardice, which had prompted her to run away quickly, thus sparing her other eye.

He didn’t know that for her, everything had started with a bulging spider. Or that it was the fear of its hairy legs and its web that kept her wary of most people.

He would know, one day, of course. Not that day, but soon enough.

But by then, little Butterscotch would have become Jon and Martin’s little furry daughter.

She got her looks from Martin, and her personality from Jon.

And some mannerism from her godfather, the Eye.

#This is mostly just fluff #Mostly #Jonmartin #Jmart #Teaholding #Peace and love on planet Earth these guys deserve a kitty cat #jonmartin week 2025

27 notes · View notes

l0h3ngrin · 5 months ago

Text

Sae Itoshi x reader

________________

A/n: this is a pretty old fic i wrote a while back that i posted on my ao3 acc!!

Warnings⚠️: angst w/ comfort, established relationship, NOT proof read, VERY old fic that i wrote😭

______________________________

You and your boyfriend Sae have been together for 6 years now and living in a shared house.It was currently 12am and it was pouring outside, you were waiting on the couch for sae to come home two hours ago for your date but he hasn’t showed up. Not a single text or call from him, he’s done this many times but still you got worried and decided to call him, you should have done so earlier but you were too excited for your date night and haven’t thought about it thinking about what he was getting you, it was your anniversary after all.

As you pick up your phone and click his name you see the door opening, its Sae, “where were you?!?” You yelled, “you were supposed to be here two hours ago..” Sae looks at you with a tired and frustrated look, “ I’ll take you out tomorrow lets just go to bed im tired.” As anyone who was stood up for hours would you told him off “Excuse me!? Who are you talking to like that?! Why the hell were you gone for so long? Im not letting you leave until you answer me!” Anger was shown on your face as you started to clench your fists, what the hell was up with him? Sae just stares at you, not being able to figure out what he's thinking about you get infuriated “what, so your just gonna stare? Not even gonna answer a simple question. I see how it is then, fine I don’t care anymore. It’s not like this is the first time either.” You grab your things from the couch and start to walk out the door, before you could fully make it out a hand grabs you.

“What?” Sae just looks at you, this time you can see something, a look of guilt in his eyes, “please don’t leave..im sorry.” You just look at him and roll your eyes “you really think a sorry is gonna fix all the times you’ve stood up on me? Well it won’t. You’re gonna have to try harder than that sae. You know what? Don’t even bother messaging me tomorrow or calling because I’m not going to answer. If you try i’ll block you im done with your crap sae.” Your eyes water as you pull your arm back and speed walk out of your shared house and quickly get into your car and drive off. What you didn’t know is that the reasons for sae working late hours was because he was planning on proposing to you, he was waiting to take you out tomorrow to a fancy restaurant where you guys would eat breakfast and lunch, he was going to take you to your favorite peer and propose to you, everything was prepped and ready for that special day tomorrow. All sae could do was just burst into tears as he watched your car get farther and farther, he knows it was no excuse to leave you waiting for hours on end on dates that you guys would plan, but money was a little tight and he wanted to make everything perfect for you. He loves you, no..he adores you.

You where driving into your best friends house quickly getting out as tears poured down your eyes making them extremely puffy and red, ringing the door bell at least a dozen times and knocking your best friend opens the door quickly, she sees you and immediately shes worried for you. “What the hell?! [name] what the fuck what happened come inside quick before you catch a cold!”

After getting yourself situated and calm down a little you tell your best friend everything thats been happening. She knows about Sae’s plan but all she could do was give you a sad smile and try to comfort you. “Do you want to stay the night? You can stay in the guest bedroom.” She says. You nod your head in agreement and she leads you to the room, she leaves you alone to give you some space.

You decided to wear some of your friends guest clothes that you had found in the closet, after changing you look into the mirror. “What went wrong? I guess..nothing i do is ever good.”

You had a downcast expression, and questions were filling your mind why does he stay with you if he ditches you on dates? Is he tired of you? Does he perhaps think your ugly? …was he…cheating? You shake your head to try and get rid of the thoughts as you get ready to go to bed and soon fall asleep tears still staining your face, “maybe it’s just a dream, maybe tomorrow will be better.” Wrapping up the last of your thoughts as you start to fall asleep, mind going blank. That is, until you hear a knocking from the window. You quickly open your eyes “what was that?” You whispered maybe it was just a branch, either way whatever it was wouldn’t let you sleep till you knew for certain, slowly and quietly getting up from the bed you walk to the window opening the curtains, your eyes widen to your surprise..it’s sae! “What the fuck?” You quickly open the window and let him in “what the hell do you want? How did you even find me?” Sae looks at you and your surprised, was he crying? He quickly but gently cups your face “please [name] im so sorry, i love you so much im so sorry i-i didn’t mean to-“ his voice falters as he starts crying again, “ I didn’t mean to upset you i know I’ve been a bad boyfriend i promise i’ll make it up please i’ll do anything just forgive me my love, i love you so much please it’s not an excuse but I promise i’ll tell you why i left you waiting on all those dates please just let me explain…” he gets down on his knees wiping away his tears, all you could do was tear up as you got down to level with him and caress his cheek. He tells you everything. From the very beginning how hes been thinking about how he wants to propose to you to how he was going to take you out tomorrow. You just looked at him, you felt so stupid for this. “I..i don’t know what to say..” Sae hugs you tightly as he kisses your cheek, “im infatuated with you [name] i promise after this i’ll take you on as much dates as you want, i’ll make up to you for all the times i messed up, please don’t leave me.” You just hug him back as you bury your face into the crook of his neck as you start crying.

Some minutes pass as you both held each other in a tight embrace, as if one were to disappear if the other loosened their grip. Sae lets go and starts to pull something out of his pocket as he looks at you. “[name] no matter what happens i will always love and adore you, you’re the reason im able to do the things i do, if it wasn’t for you i’d be nothing, I couldn’t have made it this far without you. I love everything about you, from your personality to your smile, your looks, those little ‘imperfections’ about you that you complain about so much, everything about you from head to toe im in love with, i know right know isn’t the best time but…will you give me the honor of marrying you…will you marry me [name]?” Sae opens a black box that he took out from his pocket and opens it facing you to reveal a gorgeous diamond ring. Tearing up again you nod your head quickly, “yes yes of course sae of course i’ll marry you, i love you so much, I genuinely thought you hated me, i would always think that nothing i’d do was ever good. I thought I wasn’t good enough for you..” Sae looks at you in shock he quickly grabs your face with his free hand and kisses you, this wasn’t like any kiss you guys ever shared this one was different, it was filled with more love, passion, care, and adoration for you. You stop kissing as you guys hold each others faces, heads pressed against one another as your eyes close. He gently takes your hand and puts the ring on. As soon as this happens the door bursts open and the lights turn on, “What the fuck is going on here?” It was your best friend, you just smile and lift your hand to show her. She smiles brightly and chuckles “not the best proposal but its definitely the most passionate and genuine I’ve heard. You and Sae both smile at this, a look of confusion shows on your face, “Wait heard?”

________________________________

A/n: hope you enjoyed this lol i will be posting on and off in the future but using what I’ve currently been working on instead of old stuff i have like the one im posting, this was just for some kind of reference i guess lol bye bye!!

#bllk sae #itoshi sae #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #angst with a happy ending #angst #comfort #sae itoshi x reader

36 notes · View notes

grayintogreen · 11 days ago

Text

HELLO FELLOW NEIN AGAIN ENJOYERS. And happy Tombtakers Loredrop Day. Today I bring you a preview of a long term event coming this summer.

Are you sad that all the enticing lore dropped in CR2 episode "Fleeting Memories" might as well be an eternity away from bearing fruit? Did you think Cree was a fun NPC and wanted more of her? Are you a fan of fix-it fanfic that barely fixes anything and in fact just makes everything a little bit worse?

Well, I have something you might enjoy!

In honor of Nein Again reaching episode 26 on the day of LitMoR's fourth anniversary, I'm going to be running a weekly "bookclub" for the series to run parallel with Nein Again starting July 29th. You can find the full schedule for the entire duology, plus side stories and intermissions here (more dates to be added depending on where I get with the third mega novel and yet it's still going to take less time to get through than Nein Again). It runs exactly like Nein Again, only its a really long fanfic.

And you may be asking yourself? Uh, what's LitMoR? And I'm GLAD YOU ASKED.

life in the margins of redemption is a post-episode 26 canon divergent series I started writing four years ago after the end of Campaign Two to satiate my incredible need to retell the story but slightly to the left, keeping dead characters alive, making certain plot threads and themes more prevalent, and exploring some elements from the campaign that I thought were underdeveloped simply because those just weren't the things the cast wanted to focus on (and that is valid- this is in no way me going HERE'S MY BETTER VERSION OF CANON, it's a love letter to wanting more of these characters). At 1.6 million words and the main two stories of the duology remaining in the top three longest fics in the CR tag even after all these years, it is an absolute chonker and I'm still adding to it. It's a story that is very close to my heart and I thought it would be fun for people to either re-read or discover it while taking it in in bite-size chunks as you watch how it diverges from canon and goes off in wild new directions.

Below the cut is an FAQ ranging from what you can expect to the story to how the book club will be run if you'd like to participate. If there are any other questions, please don't hesitate to send me an ask! I look forward to seeing how this goes. Hopefully it'll be fun for the people who would love an excuse to reread and for new readers alike.

WHY ARE YOU DOING IT?

I've been told numerous times by people that LitMoR looks interesting, but is ultimately very daunting and intimidating. By promoting a book club, I hope that maybe those people who have wanted to read it will find it easier to do so. Also a lot of people who have read it thought it would be cool to do.

WHAT WILL WE BE DOING?

Whatever you like! You can read the assigned chapter and go "that's nice" and never do anything else. You can leave a comment on AO3! You can join my Discord and talk about it with other people. You can talk about it on tumblr. You can not do any that at all and instead do some secret additional thing. It's really up to you how you engage with it. I just ask that you be polite about it. It's all in fun.

WHAT IF I DON’T LIKE IT?

Back button. I really don't expect this to be a huge thing- it's just something that I'm proud of and want to share it with others and if there's a way to share it that makes it easier on people to read, that's great! But I will not be coming to your house and demanding you give me my flowers. I just ask, again, that you be nice. If it's not for you, it's not for you.

WHAT CHARACTERS DOES THIS FOCUS ON?

This is an ensemble story, so while there are significant narrative beats dedicated to Molly, Cree, and eventually Lucien, every character is given a chance to shine and have their own subplots and arcs. A lot of arcs still play out as they did in canon, but under radically different circumstances and in new ways and some characters whose personal growth wasn't focused on as much even get some additional layers.

WHAT IS THE SHIPPING/ROMANCE VIBE LIKE?

My rule of thumb is that if you absolutely despise any of the ships listed, this series isn't for you, but if you're indifferent at worst, you'll probably be okay, because the shipping is on par with how canon treats it- i.e. it's part of some characters' arcs, but it does not derail the plot nor does the romance override other relationships. Everyone is still intensely weird about one another, regardless of whether or not they are kissing.

EXPLAIN THE RATING

The rating is for violence, gore, intense situations, and a lot of mindfuckery, but I wouldn't say any of it is atypical of what you would see in canon. The tags represent anything that comes up more than once, but if something is specific to a chapter, I will usually put it in the author's notes.

WHAT TAGS SHOULD I USE IF I WANT TO POST ABOUT IT?

LitMoR, LitMoR bookclub or life in the margins of redemption are good tags to use! I would avoid using canon CR tags unless you're just really into them for organizational purposes so to not to annoy people who aren't here for this. I'm trying to make this as fun and hassle-free for all sides of the line. I will only be using the CR tags for this post and the starting post and every subsequent bookclub post after will be tagged with the series name or "LitMoR bookclub" to keep things tidy and not annoying so you can either follow me or the LitMoR bookclub tag for updates.

WILL THIS SPOIL FUTURE EPISODES?

If you are aware of things that are coming up narratively even if you don't know the details, then you should be okay, because for the first few weeks OUADYA will follow pretty close to canon before it wildly diverges and doesn't pick up canon events until much, much later. If you want ZERO spoilers ever, then you might wanna sit it out, because while it does take lore in a different direction and does operate under its own thing, it will likely spoil a lot of things for you.

I have heard that it's possible to enjoy the fic if you haven't seen the full campaign if you don't care about utterly spoiling yourself! If you decide to stop watching after episode 26 for... reasons, it is actually fully able to be enjoyed with just that context.

HOW CANON COMPLIANT IS THIS?

It does not consider TNEOL or Molly and Caduceus's Origins comics canon (the first story was written before any of them came out), and does, again, take things in wildly different directions and has intense, deep, and maybe not exactly what was intended by Matt and the cast, lore, on top of occasionally throwing out certain spell rules that get in the way of good storytelling (like Doric's infinite wildshapes in the Dungeons & Dragon movie). I do have it on good authority that my characterization is pretty damn accurate, but you'd have to ask the frequent readers to weigh in on that.

Also shockingly, I have accidentally predicted a lot of canon events, which is very funny.

#critical role #cr fanfic #cree deeproots #mollymauk tealeaf #the tombtakers #lucien nonagon #life in the margins of redemption

24 notes · View notes

theealbatross · 3 months ago

Note

hi, I just read your sebastian fics and to say I'm obsessed would be underestimated hah

I wanted to ask if you take requests, and if you don't do you recommend some writers who you like or write similar to you?

I do take requests but there's no promises on when I can get on with it, I mostly use it as inspiration to integrate on the WIPS I am currently working on!

PREPARE YOURSELF FOR MY RECOMMENDATIONS:

@applinsandoranges - applin (idk if that's her name I just call her that in my head lmao) is my go to for ANYTHING because she writes SO WELL and has such an extensive collection of work that I know anyone will find something to enjoy!

@anto-pops - anto (again i just call them this in my head idk if this is their name jasdfk) is my go to for ~ spicy ~ content + dark!obsessive!yearning sebastian AND BEWARE IT IS SUPER SPICY SO MINORS DNI

@shadowtriovibes - girrrrrl her masterlist is again extensive and immaculate but you ARE NOT READY for her 'break a sweat' series (cheack out both the version here on tumblr and on ao3) IT IS A MASTERPIECE

@whizzing-fizzbee - MY CURRENT FAVORITE but mostly NSFW so children pls stay away! The 'This is How It Starts' was hilarious and sooo well-written

@callmehopeless - the series 'A Matter of Public Record' deadass had me giggling, swinging my feet A PERFECT COMBINATION OF YEARNING + DUMB TEENAGERS BEING DUMB TEENAGERS + AND ANGST

@choccy-milky - 'THE RAVEN AND THE SNAKE' IS A FANDOM CLASSIC AND I WILL TAKE NO NOTES (clora is my sweet angel baby) plus her art is sooo fucking pretty and hilarious and hot (minors dni i beg u)

@slytherizz - I actually discovered them on AO3 and TRUST I was jumping for joy when I realized she was in tumblr too! Most of her fics are nsfw so again MIND UR AGE!

@writing-intheundercroft - 'This Little Life' series had me BAWLING I love love LOVE her characterization of seb and mc I keep rereading it when I need to cry lol

@jackalope-patronus - they mostly do headcannons and drabbles but they have one shots too and they're perfect all the same!

I probably have more but these are the authors I constantly come back to! If anyone has any more recommendations please feel free to add! I mostly used her/they pronouns so any of the authors I recommended don;t hesitate to correct me if you want it fixed <3

#hogwarts legacy

49 notes · View notes

silenzahra · 1 month ago

Text

A personal update

Hey, everyone! My life has changed a bit these past few weeks so I thought I should update you on how it's going to affect my activity on this site. You totally don't have to read this as it's gonna be mostly personal lol, you're obviously free to skip it 😅

But for whoever's interested, let me explain ~~

First of all, some of you might remember that I took an exam back in December. Welp, I finally learned in March that I didn't pass 🙃 It was a great bummer but I wasted no time in trying to fix it and now I'm attending an academy in which they're helping me prepare for the next time the exam will take place. It's still soon to know when it'll be, probably next year, but this only means that I have more time to prepare myself better than last time.

And the academy is truly helping me a lot! I've only been inscribed for a week but every time I've gone, I've felt VERY motivated and absolutely ready to go on and continue doing my best. I didn't pass only for 0.66 tenths so I know that next time will be my time. Especially with the help of the academy 💪🏻

Still, this is obviously affecting my social life, my writing and, well, everything in general. On weekdays I probably won't be too active, maybe I'll just drop by occasionally to reblog stuff but won't interact much in general. I'll still take the weekends off, though two days is certainly not enough to catch up with everything I miss during the week 😅 So I hope you'll understand that I'll be slower than usual in getting to everything. Doesn't mean that I'm ignoring you or that I don't like your content 🙏🏻

As for the tags, just like I did almost a month ago, I decided to turn them off. I still can't be mentioned on anything, something that I'll only remove on weekends. As I said these are gonna be my only two free days, so if there's anything you want me to see, be it fanart or a silly post or whatever, the weekend will be the chance to tag me.

Still, please understand that I might NOT get to see everything, be it for a lack of time, be it because of personal preferences. As you can see I'm extremely busy, which means I can only get to the content I'm VERY interested in. And that is: brotherly love and Luaisy, mostly. I'm obviously open to seeing more stuff, headcanons and such, but I hope you understand that, for the time being, I have to be VERY picky when it comes to deciding what to consume. This is a hobby after all, so I'm 100% prioritizing getting to my favorite content. Absolutely nothing personal 🙏🏻💖

When it comes to fanfics though... I'm tremendously sorry, but having to study again for most of my day, I sincerely don't feel like reading that much 😅 (in general, not only fanfics). I still have a LONG list of fics to get to on AO3, and I hope I can slowly find the time to get to everything even if I take forever, mostly during the weekends. But with this I mean to say... if you wanna tag me in something (when it's active on the weekends), PLEASE, don't tag me in anything that involves reading, at least for the time being 🥲🙏🏻 I'm truly sorry for saying this, especially being a writer myself, but I really can't read at the moment, and I fear that I'd only feel stressed adding more stuff to my TBR... Again, nothing personal, it's totally up to me and my silly anxiety, but of course I'll change this as soon as I manage to find a better balance between studying and my hobbies. This is only temporary, promise 🙏🏻

My writing will also be affected, as I'm struggling to find the time to finish a fic that I'd like to post in a couple of weeks 🙃 I'm trying my best though, but I just want you to know that, after said fic is up, I'll probably take a long time to post something new. I'm not gonna set dates or anything, I'll just flow with whatever I feel like writing once I'm done with the one I'm working on (which I'm enjoying writing 100%). I feel terrible that I still have to respond to the feedback I got on my latest story even though it's been a month since I posted it... I'm tremendously sorry but of course I'll get to it as soon as I can 🙏🏻💖

This got incredibly long lol, but I'm gonna take the chance and leave this post pinned to my blog for the time being (gotta make a new masterpost as soon as possible 😅). I just hope you'll all understand that I'll be even slower getting to everything, and that when I'm around I'll mostly be focusing on just reblogging stuff as it's what works best for me to find a distraction from my responsibilites. Doesn't mean that I'm ignoring you, of course not 🫂 And I'm always happy to interact even if I'm slower these days. I just hope I can get back to normal as soon as possible as I progress in the academy and find the perfect balance.

Thank you so much for reading, especially if you got to everything 🥹🫂 I really appreciate you being there and I feel sooo lucky to be a part of this community 🥰

Please take care! I love y'all so much 💖💖💖

#zahra's posts #personal post #personal life #update #things are gonna be a bit different for a while #hope you understand 🙏🏻💖#and also that you're doing fine!#(again I don't mean to sound like I'm gonna ignore you or as if I'd be bothered by tags #that's not what I mean and I really hope I didn't sound like that 😭🙏🏻)

37 notes · View notes

i-hope-this-is-a-phase · 9 months ago

Text

Insult to Injury

A Test Drive by Zuesue for @honelle56 (T | WIP | 3k)

#injury recovery #emotional hurt/comfort My contribution to the End of the Summer Fic Exchange. Updates each day until complete

Thank you to @fujogie for sponsoring the collection, and thank you to @jess-total-mess and @dreastmilk for betaing.

Happy reading!

Fic underneath for those who prefer Tumblr over ao3

Dream remembers when George and Sapnap got the UTV.

He's not the greatest at keeping up with Sapnap's streams, but he tries to catch as many as he can. And when both his roommates are participating, he thinks it'd be rude to miss even with all the code he still needs to get done.

When they had gotten home, Dream had asked why they'd gotten a car they wouldn’t use.

“Bro lacks the vision,” Sapnap had said, making George cackle into his hands.

“I don’t lack anything,” he had retorted, which had made George wolf-whistle and Sapnap laugh. “No, shut up. George needs a car he can actually drive so he can learn.”

“He’s stupid too,” George chimed in, and if Dream had chucked a pillow at his head, that’s his business.

“No, no, listen,” Sapnap said. “It has all the shit a regular car has, brakes, steering wheel—”

“Wow, dude knows what’s in a car,” George drawled.

“—and it has a speed cap, so George can get all his fucking driving experience without being a menace to society.”

It had taken some convincing (because UTVs are fucking dangerous according to Dream), but Dream had come around to the idea, even if it was mostly lies so they could have a UTV. And even then, it had been a good source of happiness for them in the following rougher months, which Dream only saw as a positive.

It was a random day in May when George asked if he’d watch them ride it.

“You’re so boring, we’ve been at this all day, and you want to keep working,” George laments.

“It’s not that, I’m almost done—”

“You’ve said that already. Four times.”

Dream pauses and glances away from the monitor to where George sits. There's a computer now in the gym so they can fix code as they work. George is turned toward him in the office chair, and Dream notes the tiredness in his hunched-over posture. They’ve been at this for hours, he will admit, and George has been a great help the whole time. Has been for a while actually. “I have?”

George rolls his eyes, but he smiles. “Idiot,” he says. “Break for tonight. We can start again tomorrow.”

Dream looks back at the monitor. He is really close, he just has to adjust the rendering a tiny bit and—

“Dream.”

He glances over again. George is still smiling, but there’s a no-nonsense look in his gaze. “Please? Just for tonight?”

Dream looks again at George, at the days-old stubble, the hoodie he’s been wearing for two days just so he didn’t have to abandon Dream while he’s been working, and thinks he deserves a break.

He makes a show of rolling his eyes as he gets up.”You just want me to get you food.”

George’s eyes light up, but he still scoffs at Dream. They each have to play their parts. “That’s not true.”

“Is true.” He stretches up, feeling the cracks in his shoulders and spine. “Fuck.”

George laughs. “Bro’s getting old."

“Like you’re one to talk.”

George hunches over and makes a groaning noise. “Oh, I’m Dream, and my poor back hurts from all the dicks in my ass—”

“George!” he exclaims, scandalized, and George laughs again, bright and loud in the space.

“We should do something,” George says.

“Like what?”

“Like, go out, do something active. I’m too tired to sit.”

Dream walks toward George, and the two make their way out of the gym. “How does that even work?”

“Dunno, but my butt’s gonna fall off if we don’t do something.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want you to lose your best asset.”

“Asset. Ass-et. Get it?” He elbows Dream’s side.

“You’re so dumb.” They’ve reached the kitchen, and George beelines for the fridge. He pulls out a bottle of water and (quite dramatically) drinks it all in one chug. “We have a fridge in the gym,” Dream reminds him.

George shakes his head. “Doesn’t taste right.”

Dream doesn’t get it, but he knows George has his quirks, like only wearing a specific brand of sock because it’s “just right” or the way he tidies his sheets but not the pillows when making his bed. “Well,” he says, “since you’re no longer dying of thirst, what do you wanna do?”

George thinks for a minute before he brightens. “Have you seen me drive the UTV yet?”

He hasn’t. Every time George and Sapnap went to mess around with it, he politely excused himself. Although he likes that George is getting "driving" experience, he has his reservations about the safety of it.

Then again, George has been quite accommodating for his antics, so maybe it’s time he returned the favor.

“No, you wanna grab Nick?”

“Yeah!” George runs off, and Dream hopes Sapnap isn’t busy and George isn’t about to terrorize him.

Even if it’s fruitless.

An hour later, Dream sits watching his idiot friends drive up sandy hills on their UTV. The off-roading park allows members to keep their vehicles there, fueled and ready, and since it’s not on Dream’s bill, he’s happy to watch them goof off all night long.

Just then, he sees the UTV careen over a hill and come crashing down thirty feet away.

“Holy fucking shit!” Sapnap yells from the driver’s seat, a wide grin plastered across his face. George whoops beside him, clearly gleeful.

A few seconds later, he sees George and Sapnap undo their seatbelts and make their way over to where Dream is sitting.

“Impressed?” Sapnap asks, breathing heavily.

Dream hums. “Thought George would be driving,” he says, “since it’s his car after all.”

“Am I not good enough for you?” Sapnap gives him a puppy-eyed look.

Dream laughs. “You’re a good driver, Nick.”

“Hell yeah!” he shrieks. George pouts at Dream.

“I’m a good driver too.”

“Not from my point of view,” he says. George meets the challenge with a blaze in his eyes. He smirks.

“Alright.” George walks off, and this time, climbs into the driver’s seat.

Sapnap plops down next to Dream and pulls out his phone, aiming it toward George. “Woo!” he screams. “Kitten’s driving!”

He can see George scoff from where he sits. He takes off, doing a tight turn before hurdling up a hill.

Sapnap cheers beside him, and Dream thinks, This isn’t so bad.

“Dream, look!” he hears. He shields his eyes and looks to where he heard George.

The UTV is now on top of the biggest hill. George is standing next to it, waving.

“I’m gonna go down it!” he yells.

“Do it, pussy!” Sapnap yells back. Dream nudges him for the comment, but he joins the cheering.

George slides into the driver’s seat and straps himself in. Dream hears the motor roar from where he sits, and he watches the UTV gun it down the hill. Sapnap raises his phone higher, most likely to get a better angle as dust billows behind the truck. It speeds down the hill, toward the ground, and—

It happens.

The UTV catches on a rock. It flips.

One.

Two.

Three times.

It slams into a hill.

It stops.

Then, silence.

“GEORGE!”

Dream takes off running toward the UTV. He was wearing his seatbelt, he’s gonna be fine. "GEORGE!"

But then why hasn't he answered yet?

“George, are you good!?” He’s at the UTV. He climbs the hill to get closer. “George?”

George is hanging awkwardly in the harness, barely sitting in the seat anymore. His eyes are open, gazing forward. He's breathing, though. Dream can hear it. He reaches out a hand and presses it against George’s face. It’s an awkward angle, the UTV is slanted on the hill, but he needs to see, needs to feel that George is alright.

George’s face is sticky with dirt and sweat when he presses a hand to his cheek. But it’s still warm and soft like Dream always imagined, and he can feel the breath on his arm.

George blinks, and Dream breathes.

“George.” His other hand brushes the hair out of Georgge’s eyes. “You alright?”

George is still hanging in his harness. Dream leans over to unbuckle him and accidentally nudges George, causing him to hiss.

“Wha—did I hurt you?” Dream asks, pulling back a step.

“Head,” George groans, and something bad curls in Dream.

“Your head...hurts?” George tries to nod but groans again.

“I don’t—didn’t hit it,” George says. Dream gently, ever so gently, cards his fingers through George’s hair to feel for bumps or blood.

He finds nothing, but when Dream looks to George to tell him, he notices something.

Dream looks at people. A long part of his career was watching his friends on streams, and, since his face reveal, he has spent a lot of time memorizing what people’s faces look like outside of a screen. He knows what George looks like, can tell how long his stubble has been growing, when he needs to take George to get a haircut, what he looks like when he's tired, upset, in pain.

As he’s looking into George’s eyes, there’s something wrong. They aren’t focusing on Dream; they’re dazed and unfocused.

And the bad feeling inside Dream gets worse.

“Let’s get you out of there.” He’s careful this time as he leans over and unbuckles George, carefully distributing George’s weight onto him as he pulls him out onto the sand.

At that moment, Sapnap appears.

“I called for help, they’re getting another vehicle to come pick us up and take us to the road,” he says, and Dream loves him.

“Thank you, Nick.” He looks back at George, who’s squinting at Sapnap.

“Look funny,” he says, and Dream chokes.

“And you look stupid.” But there’s a tenderness to Sapnap’s gaze, and Dream understands he’s equally as worried as he is.

A vehicle comes over the hill and stops next to the UTV. With a bit of maneuvering, they get George secured into the back alongside Dream. Dream has his arm slung around George’s shoulder for support as they navigate back to their car.

“We’re gonna get you checked out,” he promises. “We’ll drive straight to a clinic.” George doesn’t respond, but he presses closer to Dream, and that's enough for now.

Time both moves fast and slow as they get George to a doctor. Fast in that it's a blur. Slow as in every bump that makes George wince makes fear twist inside Dream.

He was wearing a seatbelt, he thinks. He’s gonna be okay.

The nurse checking out George is thorough. She asks questions, flashes lights, and writes her findings on a clipboard. She gets George’s details from Dream (he has George’s insurance card saved into his phone) and tells them the doctor will be in soon before she leaves.

George lays on the hospital bed. They turned down the lights in the room, so George isn’t squinting anymore. But, his face still conveys pain.

“My head’s still hurting.”

“The nurse says she can’t give you pain meds just yet.” If he didn't know already that giving pain medication would only slow the nurses down, he would’ve gone to the pharmacy himself to grab some for George. But, his mom’s voice reminds him that pain is often a good symptom of where the hurt is, and so he stays put.

“Don’t worry, George,” Sapnap says. “When we get back, I’ll let you have some of my special gummy bears.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and George snorts.

“Thanks, I guess.” There’s silence for a second. “Did you get it on video?”

“What are you—oh yeah!” Sapnap pulls out his phone and taps in his passcode. “It was kinda sick actually.”

“Can I see?” George tries to sit up, but Dream (ever so gently) pushes him back down.

“No. The nurse said no light until the doctor returns.”

“Oh, c’mon Dream,” Sapnap whines.

“Oh, c’mon, remember? He used to say that.” George has his stupid grin on his face, and Dream is only a bit relieved that he’s at least feeling well enough for mockery.

Just then, the nurse comes back in with what Dream supposes is the doctor.

“Hi everyone!” she says, focusing her attention on the figure in the bed. “You must be George.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sapnap muffling a laugh.

“I am Dr. Smith. I’m the resident neurologist for this floor.”

“Neurologist,” Dream says. “So it is a brain problem.”

She nods, but there is no tightness to her face when she looks at George. “You seem to have a minor concussion. I was told he was in a car accident?” She looks toward Dream at that.

He clears his throat. “Well, yes and no,” he starts. “He was messing around with our UTV, but he was wearing a seatbelt though, so we didn’t—I didn’t think he’d get hurt?”

She hums. “Concussions don’t necessarily occur because of impact. They occur when the brain bounces around inside the skull.”

“The UTV flipped a bunch,” Sapnap says. “Could that’ve caused it?”

“Yes, that would explain the bruising. I would still be very glad you were wearing a seatbelt, for I’m sure we would be having a very different conversation if he was without it.”

George is still hurt though, Dream’s brain adds. He shakes it off.

Dr. Smith is talking again to George. “We’ll be giving you a list of what you can and can’t do during your recovery. You’ll most likely want to avoid computer screens, TVs, anything with bright lights. You’ll also want to avoid doing anything mentally strenuous for the first few days. We saw a lack of concentration in your testing, so we want to keep on top of that.”

George speaks up: “But, my work—it's all computers and screens.”

Dream turns to George. “We can figure stuff out or take a break,” he assures. “We can pause the project for now.”

George’s face looks pained again. Dream wishes they could give him medicine. “No,” he says, “I can’t, you—”

“We can provide a doctor’s note if necessary, but using electronics will stunt your recovery. For at least two weeks, you need to stay away from screens.”

Two weeks, Dream thinks, as Dr. Smith goes on about migraine recovery. George is gonna hate this.

George looks like he’s hating this. His lips are pressed together in a thin line, and his brows are furrowed. For a moment, Dream wants to smooth the lines out from his face, but he knows now is not the time.

“We’ll be keeping you overnight for observation.” Dr. Smith gives Dream a form. “We’ll get George to a room as soon as a gurney frees up.” She hands him a pen as well. “If you need help, press the call button.”

And with that, the two leave the room. George turns to face the wall.

Dream looks over the form. It’s various medical jargon and information. He starts filling it out while Sapnap goes over to George.

“So, concussion,” he states. Dream hears George scoff.

“Glad you were paying attention,” he snarks over his shoulder.

“Well, since I’ve actually been concussed before, I was going to offer to grab all the usual shit you need, but since you’re being a little bitch—”

“Nick,” Dream interrupts. He would usually let them fight it out, but Dream sees the tense lines in George’s back, and thinks this isn’t the time. Sapnap glances over to him and must see something too because he huffs and backs off.

“Got it,” Sapnap grumbles. He turns back to George. “Want me to grab anything else while I’m out?”

George turns his head back over. “Sushi?” he asks, and Dream can see a glint of mischief.

Sapnap must see it too, because he softly laughs. “Should’ve guessed that.” He grabs his phone and stands up. “I’m assuming you’ll be staying too?” he says to Dream.

Dream nods. It isn’t a question in his mind, but it makes sense why Sapnap asks.

“K, see you at home.” With that, Sapnap walks out, making sure to shut the door quietly behind him.

Dream continues to work on the form while George stares at the ceiling. A few minutes later, a team arrives to help George get up to the observation room. Dream follows dutifully behind, carrying George and his phone.

Once they’re settled in, with George in the bed and Dream sitting in a chair beside him, finally done with the forms, he finally asks the question.

“How are you feeling?”

George continues fiddling with the sheets. The hospital provided pajamas for him, as it was long past the early evening it was when they took the UTV for a spin. The lights are dimmed low, shadows casting across the room and across George’s face.

“Could be better,” he mumbles. “Head still hurts.”

“The nurse gave you pain medication, right?” He’s sure at some point a nurse came in and gave George pills.

“Yeah,” he says. “Still hurts though.”

Dream nods and scoots his chair closer. There’s a beat of silence, then George says, “I’m sorry.”

Dream looks at his face. “For what?”

“The pause—it was only for tonight.”

“The pause,” Dream says again. “You mean…for the project?”

“Yeah,” George mumbles, hunching over slightly as he continues to fiddle with the sheets.

“George, I don’t—I’m not thinking about that right now,” he says. “I’m just so glad you’re okay and that it’s going to be okay.”

George rolls his eyes. “I’m not gonna be able to work for weeks, Dream. How is that okay?”

“Because—okay, look.” He reaches out and grabs George’s hand to stop him from tearing the blanket to shreds. George’s hand falls still under his touch. “The project’s been delayed so many fucking times. One more time is not going to kill us.”

He feels George’s hand twitch under his palm. “But it’s not—it was stopped before because of the code,” he starts. “Not because of—not because I couldn’t help.” He hasn’t met Dream’s eyes yet.

Dream moves and sits on the bed. George’s hand twitches again in his grasp. Dream squeezes it, gentle, soft. “George,” he says, “two weeks is not the end of the world. This stuff, this technology, it’s gonna change the world. It can wait two weeks while my best friend recovers.”

He sees a ghost of a smile flash across George’s face. He presses on: “The nurse says no screens or bright lights for at least two weeks. So, you can’t code. But you can help me render shit, set stuff up once your doctor clears you, or we can sit in bed for two weeks. But all that really doesn’t matter, because I’d rather you get better quicker than you hurting yourself because you want to help me.”

“And I’m fine waiting for you,” he adds. “We’ve already gotten this far, and we’re this close. A two-week break isn’t going to change that. Plus.” He turns to smirk at George. “Weren’t you the one before now who was asking for a break?”

George groans, but he’s smiling now, and that’s all that matters. “Alright,” George says. “If you insist, I guess I could take a break.”

“I’m glad.” He’s smiling now too. George turns his hand over to squeeze Dream’s. Once. Twice. Three times. Dream’s smile grows wider.

“I love you.” Even in the darkness, he can see George’s blush, and it makes Dream’s heart flutter.

“Idiot.” But he’s smiling too, and that’s all that matters.

#rei speaks #dreamwastaken #dream #dtblr #gnf #georgenotfound #DNF #DreamNotFound #Rei recs #fic rec #Rachel speaks #iti

68 notes · View notes