#a LOT of it is just... why do you feel the need to put EVERY aspect of yourself through a trans lens

[likelysobbing]

nah let reader get her lick back now cause I can’t have us going down like this. Reader needs to get with one of the team immediately but it’s not like no rebound things it’s fr serious and Paige cannot stand it but who cares anymore?

𖥻 STUNNED. azzi fudd x reader x ex!paige bueckers (for the streets 2)

synopsis: paige’s eyes are on other girls, so azzi’s eyes sure as hell won’t let off of you now—and they’re the loveliest you’ve ever had the honor to look back at.

notes: RAHHH here it is! FOR THE STREETS part 2 ! hi nonnie! this is lightly, lightly, lightly LIGHTLY based off a song called makasarili malambing by hev abi and kristina dawn. sorry this took so long i was receiving my education! also, 3k+ words. if u read this u better read it all the way…tell me what u think too. i love interaction hehehe. also, i tried not to make paige suffer VIVIDLY, because i feel like it hurts more for player!paige to just silently regret #EL EM AY OH. thank u. also i put emphasis on eyes (adoration), the color green (envy), and make a lot of references to the previous fic. it’s linked on this post so go on and read it if you haven’t already <3 also, tagging @elalfywhore as per request hehe. hope you guys like it.

cw: READER’S A BIT OF A BITCH AT FIRST, But ends up folding because no one resists azzi bro, readers sassy, azzi is insistent, paige has avoidant attachment issues, no distinct establishment of a relationship but there is an implication of azzi and reader being more and both parties being okay with that (except paige. paige didn’t consent), PLAYER!paige

azzi always watched you.

you ignored it, especially while you were with paige—but she always watched you. azzi’s eyes seemed to favor trailing down your body more than anything else. whenever you ran into her and paige, back when you were still a couple, you had always kissed paige on the cheek—and azzi nearly leaned in everytime you approached her for a hug; maybe she expected a kiss on the cheek too— that’s funny, actually. but that’s unlikely, right? you ignore it. there was no way. no way she could have had any sort of interest in you.

especially now that you’ve practically estranged yourself from paige and her friends; that includes the basketball team. you haven’t said anything to them beyond ‘hi’ , ‘bye’ and ‘have a good day’—and they know why. they understand why. who wouldn’t want to do the equivalent of bury themselves in a hole if their ex girlfriend who they were so intent on marrying ended it all through a phone call while getting head from another woman? come on. you were sure they understood.

included in this very obvious mass-in-real-life-ghosting phase was none other than paige’s closest friend, miss goo goo eyes, miss azzi fuckin’ fudd.

you really tried to get her eyes off you, but it didn’t matter in the end.

azzi always watched you.

or like, maybe it was watch over instead of simply watch. watching over was more akin to what she did—she always checked in on you, maybe when she thought you weren’t looking her eyes would end up somewhere on your body that wasn’t necessarily scandalous—more so the space between your neck and shoulder or a collarbone. regardless, she had her eyes on you.

but watching you or not, you’re sure azzi didn’t mind you distancing yourself. you’re 100% sure she understood you being a bit too far to look at now? there was no need to dwell on it. you’re sure. you’re 100% sure.

… okay, well, maybe you’re 99.99% sure.

azzi sat across from paige, eyes slightly narrowing and widening as she felt the burn of yet another shot. the bass boomed in both of their ears, and each beat rung through their brain, but all azzi could focus on was that paige had let you go.

you. sweet, lovely, you.

she knew she wasn’t being slick when she watched you—her eyes always seemed to rake down every one of your features, and she wasn’t embarrassed about it. you were beautiful, and in paige’s arms you found your place. azzi couldn’t trespass on that—not because of paige, but because of you. you genuinely believed paige was inlove with you—pathetic, unheard of, even—but with how paige treated you, azzi began to believe it too… or she would’ve, if she knew paige less.

azzi didn’t rain on your parade of delusions hemmed by paige’s beautifully sown in lies.

but she wouldn’t deny that you would look better with her.

“you’re thinking again.”

there it is; paige was never one to think a lot, so she always questioned why azzi did. her decisions spoke for themselves. azzi pokes the inside of her cheek with her tongue, tilting her head just enough to turn her nose up at paige, who grins like she knows what this look is. azzi always seem to come up with the craziest shit, and right now—paige’s excited to see what she comes up with next.

“what you thinking of?” uconn’s number five asks, that drunken lilt unmistakable as she balanced speaking to uconn’s #35 and getting a lap dance from the girl she beckoned over (she knew nothing about her besides the fact she had a nice ass). azzi shakes her head, one side of her lips quirking up. that mystery only serves to make paige even more curious—as always, she doesn’t think twice about digging deeper.

“nah, come on, there’s something—“

“no, paige,”

“there’s someone.”

well, azzi can’t deny that, can she?

so, she burrows deeper into her seat and looks away. paige points at her like she just connected all the dots, going “oh!” like a frat boy surprised that his hunch was even correct. “who’s she?”

“she’s a she.”

“she’s a she and her name is what?”

“she.”

“that’s not a name, bro—“

“how do you know she isn’t a name?”

“bro. don’t do this. i’m drunk.”

by this point, azzi’s (a little bit!) drunk too. there’s adrenaline in her veins; sprinkle in that crazy audacity that paige seems to have all the time, and she could simply say what’s on her mind right now. or, maybe she should just say it to get it off her chest.

“your ex.” azzi murmurs. paige’s eyes darken, flickering from the common deviousness azzi’s so familiar with to something genuine she can’t seem to place. her jaw tightens, smile faltering just enough to make azzi’s own quirk up.

the lights flicker from red, yellow, green and purple randomly. by this point, she’s used to the strain—shes even memorized the pattern. the lights are going from red, to yellow, green, purple— purple again. so why … is paige all green?

“sorry, i don’t mean to impose,” was what she said to you first. you couldn’t even register she was near you at all. why was she even here, sitting next to you in a nearly empty library she’d probably benefit more studying alone in? you weren’t even in the same major. if she had a test to study for, you’d be of no help.

it was stupid of you to even assume studying was on her mind.

she just… did her own thing. in silence. she didn’t push, didn’t press, didn’t— she didn’t do anything. she was just on her phone. why was she in the library if she didn’t have any work to do? she had a whole friendgroup—maybe she did it to get away from them? wait, but why would she need to get away from them? did she need to hide? was she annoyed? why would she be annoyed? well, you don’t suppose it was paige, paige would definitely be quite an annoyance—

“yes?”

her voice is soft. softer than a feather landing on your skin. yet, like a feather, amidst how light her voice is—you feel it. it’s one word, but it takes just that to make you feel the one feeling you know will lead to more than multiple disasters.

interest.

you are interested in her.

azzi fudd’s big brown eyes were something you (and anyone in your place) could only resist for so long, and with one bat of her eyelashes and the flash of her sweet smile that—oddly—didn’t leave a bitter taste in your mouth. atleast, not like it usually did. you never saw her as anything more than paige’s bestfriend who was kind of into you (but also simultaneously there was no way she was into you because she was so pretty).

“you’ve been silent for the past two minutes.”

you blink. “… sorry.”

azzi smiles, again, and this time— you can’t help but smile back.

but it’s not that serious, isn’t it? there’s no harm in introducing new people into your life. there’s no harm even if it’s your ex’s bestfriend who’s watched you with for so long, and with such pretty eyes. there’s like, literally no harm.

you wouldn’t let there be any harm. you could open your heart to her a little. deal with her presence if it’s constant. bite back when needed, push away when called for, right?

“that’s okay.” she replies to you smoothly, looking back at her phone. “—just haven’t seen you in a while, you know.” she offers, and you freeze up. she doesn’t stop speaking. “i kind of.. missed you being close. like i get why—i understand, too, i just— you know..”

“yeah, i know you know. paige wasn’t really subtle with the breakup.” you murmured, “did she send you here to check on me, azzi?”

azzi blinks, scandalized by the accusation. “what… no? i don’t—i would never. i’m not like her— i mean, not like that— i just.. wanna be here?”

you raise an eyebrow, skeptically. “at this specific library?” and azzi inhales, “please don’t make me say what i know you know already.”

“i know a lot of things. but i don’t know what you think i know.”

“don’t you?”

“do i?”

“i just wanna be with you.”

that was easier to get out than you expected. hm, okay. okay— you tilt your head. “you’ve been with me enough, with how much you seem to hang around paige.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means i’ve only ever known you as one of her minions.”

azzi’s eyes widen, and she nearly gasps—once again— SCANDALIZED, by your statement—but she doesn’t. infact, you don’t expect what she does—because she takes your jab in stride.

“wooow, minions, huh? okay, well—why don’t you try to get to know me beyond it?”

“i’d actually rather not. i know who you hang out with.”

“just because i hang out with her doesn’t mean—“

you interrupt her with the zip of your backpack and the slam! of your books closing. “you’re all talk. you never act.”

azzi tries to cut you off with a little “hey, wait—“, her hand on your wrist, her eyes wide and pleading but you do not budge.

you shake her hand off your wrist when she tries to stop you from standing up. it’s the perfect picture of cold ruthlessness you know paige doesn’t believe you have—and you know what? if azzi is going to act like a messenger pigeon, which you assume she is, then you’re going to make sure she has a lot to say to paige when she comes back.

unbeknownst to you, azzi looks at what was once your chair and frowns. she feels your absence more than paige does. more than paige ever will.

and it stings. both for you, and her.

she comes to you again. this time, you’re in another library, and somehow she has enough devotion to presumably ruining your life that she finds you. she smiles when she sees you, waving with a tiny ‘hello’.

you place your bag onto the chair next to you and go back to work. you’re in the zone, there’s nothing stopping you— apparently besides the girl plopping your bag down onto the (dirty!) floor. how rude. how does she have the nerve to sit next to you? why does she still think you’re good? she may want to ‘be in your presence’ but who said anything about you wanting to be in hers? what the hell does she think shes doing?

“i think maybe you should let me tell you what i’m doing here.”

“i actually think you should leave.”

“i’ve only sat next to you twice.”

“twice too many.”

theres a silence on the other end and you think you won. you can’t help the smile on your face—the rejection felt good, in a sort of cruel way. azzi didn’t have any part in you and paige’s downfall, but she did stand by and watch it—you—burn.

so you’d set fire to whatever she was dreaming of in return.

“i always thought you looked better with me.”

record scratch.

“you’re crazy.”

“i am not.” she replies, “just a tad bit tipsy.”

“it’s nine pm?” you scoff, and she shrugs, “pre-game. anyway, i mean it. i always thought you looked better with me. you would, wouldn’t you?”

this time, you leave in a hurry. there’s literally nothing but ‘evacuate’ in your head as you rush to pack your bags, spouting whatthefuckwhatthefuck in your brain as azzi, realizing the utter stupidity of her actions, begins to flail her arms around directionless as she tries to stop you from leaving again.

“okay maybe that was a little bit uncalled for, i’m sorry let me rephrase—“

“no, i am not letting you— and no, i do not wanna find out. you got me fucked all the way up—“

“listen, okay, i just think you’ve always been out of her league—“ she tries to reason, and you look at her incredulously.

“you’re talking about paige bueckers.” you say, back now turned to azzi as you begin to walk out.

azzi shakes her head, already toeing behind you— “i’m talking about my close friend. one who couldn’t see your worth— please, will you let me try again? god, i’m sorry— you’re just so pretty, okay? and you’re so fucking sweet, you have such a pretty face and i just can’t help but look at you—“

“that is so creepy, azzi.”

“it is! i’m sorry!” she whines, obviously more than tipsy, “i’m sorry! just—“ she takes you by the hand, and you freeze up because it’s been quite a while since you’ve had physical contact that had even a smidge of romantic intent, and when you look back— god, there it is.

big, brown eyes.

looking right at you, a tad bit glossy—wide, and paired with by far the prettiest pout you’ve ever seen. “please.” she whispers, keeping in mind how you’re technically still in the library and she’s been looked at thrice for her theatrics—“please? just… let me hang around. i’m not going to force anything i just—want to know you.”

you’re stunned.

you’re in no state to properly answer; your mind is going a mile a minute, and so in desparation to just speak— you speak with your heart.

“nnn… okay.”

that was your heart. it forgot all reason, dignity, and self respect, apparently.

maybe azzi giving you a wide, toothy smile was worth it though.

“you’re seeing her?” paige repeated, some drink she forgot the name of swirling in her cup. azzi nodded, “figured she’d need something soft to land on.” she murmured, and though her words seemed casual—there was more meaning to them than paige could understand. azzi’s tone was expectant, hopeful—she wanted something to bloom between the two of you—something nice. pretty. good.

“and what is that? your chest?” paige’s reply interrupts her, and though she tries to sound teasing—she sounds more... irritated.

“maybe.” azzi grins.

“get outta here.” paige scoffs, taking another swig of her drink as she slumps back into her chair. “you can have her, it’s whatever bro. liter-ally whatever.”

“mhm.”

azzi’s nonchalance only bothers paige even more.

“i hope you understand i’m not ready yet.” was the first thing you said right after that awkward moment back at the library, “for a relationship, i mean. like, this fast.” you clarified.

azzi nodded, bouncing off you well, “oh, me too—you don’t need to see me as a threat. i just want to know you. i know it’s going to be hard, considering well.. your ex is my best friend. paige doesn’t mind—“ she pauses, before trying to reword. “i mean that—“

“oh, that’s fine. i can tell she doesn’t.” you wave it off, and azzi just smiles apologetically as she continues. “even if it’s hard on the both of us, i want to see where this goes. i’ve watched you too long to not want to be close.” azzi shyly murmurs, before trying to rekindle a lighter atmosphere— “just don’t get sassy with me, okay? i don’t like fighting with you.”

it’s been five months now. since she’s said that.

specifically, since azzi began to try to woo you. every flower she gave was always your favorite one, every ramble you graced her with was met with actual listening ears and comprehension, and nearly every thing you wanted? you had it in your hands the next day. azzi wasted no time in trying to show you she in fact, wasn’t like bueckers (who seemed to be meaner these past weeks, impossibly)—you never had to doubt her.

like actually. you never had to doubt azzi.

she didn’t knock on your door three times, but she was… special. enough. to have a key by the third month. she didn’t look you in the eye all that much, too shy to properly maintain it, but you knew she watched over you anyway. and when she held your hand, she was the one that squeezed first.

even if she hasn’t popped the question yet, there is no doubt in your mind that she’s yours already. she may have had grandeur, but unlike paige, she did not let it define her love for you. no, she won you over by the littlest things. the things that mattered.

its been five months now. since she’s said that.

and it’s felt like… six / seven … years?

however long it’s been, you know there’s a connection. and azzi knows too, because why wouldn’t she? she somehow knows everything. there’s always solutions to problems with her, always an answer to a math equation or an existential crisis— its all so different.

different from paige, you mean.

with azzi, you’re always… stunned— from how much effort she puts in, how bright her smile is, how she never seems to not have time for you—hell, you’re stunned whenever you see her. you know there’s something there, but you don’t know who’s going to make a move first—or atleast, when she is.

you don’t know if you should care at all. you don’t know if you should put yourself first, or if you even have real questions. you can’t even ask azzi like you’ve formed a habit of doing because she somehow always says the right things—you can’t even muster up a question for her: what would you say? ‘bro please kiss me already?’ no way.

“you ready to go?” azzi’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you blink to see her holding her hand out. ah, that’s right— you’re hanging out tonight. she’s taking you to her favorite spot across the town—that’s nice. you can’t wait to be with her.

you have so many questions you can’t muster, but maybe you don’t need to ask. maybe you just need to feel—her touch lingers far more than it stays, always tingling on your arm or your back; her absence causes you more heartache than you’d like; … it’s just her. maybe there are no more questions. maybe you don’t have questions, but either way, azzi has answers. she might as well be the answer to everything, actually. maybe there’s no need to dwell, no need to label it yet—lord knows what azzi wants.

you take azzi’s hand and she squeezes it first like she always does. it makes you smile wider this time.

this time, love is kind to you. it is soft and slow and yet passionate all the same. you don’t know where it might lead but the look in her eyes is worth it. this tenderness is worth it.

and you’re not afraid, wherever this might lead you.

paige bueckers.

big name. legendary name, even. yet she’s not as big and bad as shes made herself out to be right now. not at all.

in the same booth she was a few months ago, paige now sits alone. there are girls aching to get home with her, and she’s half-picking who should get that honor—but she’s trying to distract herself more.

the lights go red, to yellow, green, purple—purple again. so why does she feel so green?

envy is a rattle snake, and it wraps around her entire body. it squeezes tight, cutting circulation off to the point she’s so stiff she might explode— but it’s not because of you and azzi.

it’s not.

not even when her jaw clenches at the thought of you. and azzi. azzi is her bestfriend, and when she outright admitted to thinking about making moves on you—paige brushed it off with a laugh and a playful “she can’t even talk to half of us, bro—i got her heart broken … or like heartbroken or something.” but now, here she is.

and she’s not heart broken. shes not even bothered at all. she’s not.

she just doesn’t like to see you so close. why would she want you close? she’s done her time. pulled you in closer. you always burrowed in deep, she felt you in her heart. maybe that’s what sickened her— the feeling of endearment. you tried to reach your way in, but to paige it felt like you were tearing her apart—ripping her to shreds to crush the organ in your hands and make the victory against her sweeter.

she’s not heart broken. why would she be? there’s no one here breaking her heart.

there’s no one she lets close enough to even have a shot at it.

there is only her. and while she may not accept it, especially now? now that you are gone? now that she’s driven you away like she once did with every other girl who’s ever tried to come close—although you came closest—who came her way?

paige bueckers.

big name. legendary name, even.

but her heart breaks, and she’s the one breaking it.

@likelysobbing.

[buck-star]

Hello! if your taking requests maybe angry love confessions #9 with bucky barnes x depressed reader? ☕️🍪

Healing love

Pairing: BestFriend!Bucky Barnes x BestFriend!Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 1.059 Words

Warnings/Tags: best friends to lovers, depression, lots of feelings, Bucky being a sweetheart, love confession, fluff

Authors Note: @iris-xoxo-juhu I put both of these requests together, becuase it kinda fit during writing. So hope you enjoy it. Divider made by me.

Events: Sweet & Spicy Bingo: Winter Edition [Row Three-Three | Love Actually (2003)], Fandom-Free Bingo: Frosty Edition [N3 | Soulmate is best Friend]

Another incoming call from your best friend, his grinning face filling your whole screen, but you turn your phone around. You don't want to feel guilty for ignoring him, but with his face appearing every ten minutes on your screen, you feel the exact way. It's not that you want to ignore him, but you just don't feel like answering anyone right now.

The grey clouds and the pouring rain mirror your feelings and the tears rolling down your wet cheeks.

You sigh quietly, pulling the blanket tighter around you to hide yourself underneath it when you get interrupted by a knock on the door. You roll your eyes, groaning. You remain in your position, not moving an inch; if it's a package, they can also hand it to one of your neighbors, and if it's for you to go over, once you feel mentally like moving wouldn't be the same as climbing a mountain.

The silence gets once more interrupted by a louder knock on the door. You don't get up, though; it feels like the heaviest thing ever lies on you. It’s pressing down until you can't hold on any longer and fall deeper into the darkness you're already in. It might help if you talk to Bucky; he always knows how to help; he knows how it feels when the voices in your mind are too loud — and he knows how to help you to shut them up.

The familiar sound of keys makes you narrow your eyes; the only two people who have a key to your apartment are you and Buck—

“Baby doll, are you home, baby doll? I'm fucking worried,” Bucky's voice echoes through the rooms. You shut your eyes, curling further under your blanket. He just called you; how is he already in your apartment? His voice is thick with emotions; you can even hear the tears he's swallowing down.

You were sitting enough nights together, where you comforted him after his nightmares. You can hear almost every emotion in the tone of his voice without having to look at him. It’s actually pretty useful, except right now, where it makes you feel even more guilty.

“Fuck, baby doll. I called you; I’m fuckin’ worried,” Bucky says, sounding slightly mad but even more worried when he walks into the living room. You haven't moved from the spot since last night — something you often do when your depression gets worse — you even managed to lie there for a long time without even having to move to the toilet. “Why didn't you pick up my calls?”

You don't answer, feeling bad for ignoring him. Bucky seems to sense it, his anger pushed to the side and replaced by the softness that feels like honey. He moves closer to you, sitting down on the couch next to you while placing one of his calloused hands on your side and stroking up and down slowly. The brunette pulls the blanket off your face, his fingers brushing over your soft, wet skin.

“I'm sorry,” you whisper, leaning more into his touch. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to make you angry or cause you to worry, Buck.”

“I know. I know, baby doll, I'm not mad. But I need to know you're safe. Because I care about you, I love you,” he breathes out, his fingers combing through your hair before he leans down and presses his forehead against yours. Bucky’s breath is warm, and you can feel him shaking slightly. “I love you. I can't… I can't risk that you're getting hurt, baby doll.”

“You can't love me.”

“Why can't I?” He chuckles, closing his eyes when he takes a deep breath. “Because I already do, and no one and nothing will stop me from doing it.”

“I'm broken; you shouldn't love me. You shouldn't love me and hurt yourself; you're just about to get better with your own mental health,” you whimper, letting a few more tears free before you curl further around your best friend. “I don't want to hurt you. You mean too much for me to hurt you with my mental health, Buck.”

Bucky chuckles once more, pressing his lips softly against your forehead. “I might be cheesy now, but that's just because of you. But I would prefer breaking over and over again, to pick every piece up and fix it, instead of leaving you. You took my hand and collected all the missing pieces; you helped me put them back together. Baby doll, without you, I wouldn't be who I am now, so you can fuckin’ bet on it that I won't move even an inch away from you.”

“But—” Bucky shakes his head, interrupting you.

“No buts, I love you, and you can't change it. Push me away as much as you want, but you will always be my number one. I won't lose you ever again, so please don't make me lose you, oke?” Bucky whispers, watching you intensely with tears in his eyes. You slowly sit up, wrapping your arms around Bucky, who pulls you immediately into his lap. “I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to be the reason the darkness is replaced by light. Please, let me be the reason to keep going if you feel like you wanna give up.” You smile softly, capturing Bucky's cheeks and nod. He smirks at you, leaning closer until your lips are only a few inches away from yours. “We are in this together. I don't care how broken and how much time we need to fix one another. I only know that you're the only person I want.”

“You can be so cheesy and romantic,” you whisper, leaning closer. Your lips touch his soft, plump ones, and Bucky closes the tiny distance to kiss you. “But I love it, and I love you. And you're not broken, just hurt, but our love will heal those wounds.”

“Same goes for you, baby doll,” he growls against your lips, kissing you once more. “You're fucking sweet, precious, mhm, could kiss you the whole time.” And he does; he doesn't stop peppering kisses all over your skin until you giggle and feel better in his warm, loving embrace — he just knows how to fill your mind with lovely thoughts — with thoughts — of the cheesiness — of Bucky.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @rnurse-kole @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @alexxavicry @gremlin-girly @grilledcheesewithjalapeno @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @irisk12 @lilyalone @thenameswinter99 @iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @hisredheadedgoddess28 @princesscore-angel @casa-boiardi @blackhawkfanatic @mrsalexstan @thesarcasmqueen-22 @bamitzzsam @feynightlight @ethanhoewke @kandis-mom @peachy-satan00 @armystay89 @queen-honeybee-stories @p1nkgirly333

[karinamay]

please look at your author friends today

I'm really angry and I just need to write out my thoughts. Like I think literally every author friend I have on here and countless more people a lot of my work was scraped from AO3. It kind of hit me like a ton of bricks - pathos was in there, a fic I spent countless hours writing, researching, a fic that created its own little community, that made me and others laugh and cry. a story created for the joy of it.

That's what fandom is about at its core, right? It's community and sharing joy. At its core. The delight in liking the same thing, and celebrating and sharing the things we create as an answer to it. Sure there have always been bad eggs, plagiarism and reposting without credit has always been an issue. But that's a fightable issue. Especially as a community you can fight those things.

One loser who runs an algorithm to steal literal thousands of freely available works for profit isn't something that feels fightable. Not really. It's something we need to adapt to. And beyond all the many reasons it is in fact wrong to do, it feels hurtful. I feel violated. I got robbed and I don't have a leg to stand on to fight it because it's fanwork.

So I put my works, all 47 of them, of which approximately 40 have been scraped, on "archive users only". And that also hurt. Now if you're not an author you might think that's not that bad, but like I said: fandom at its core is about the delight in liking the same thing, and celebrating and sharing the things we create as an answer to it. Restricting access to something I created just for the joy of sharing it, feels wrong. And I have to do it to protect my work.

Now like I said, scrapers like this are hard to fight. But please, for the love of god, if you're not an author, look around at your author friends right now. The people who create the fic you love. See how fucking devastated we all are again.

Please understand why AI doesn't have a place in fandom. We need our community, we need our joy, delight and our celebration and we need your respect and protection. Because the harsh truth of it is, if we can't have those things we will disappear.

[revcleo]

There's a large amount of tumblr who definitely have 0 money, but still did donate at the beginning of things, and now definitely don't have the money to donate, but there are plenty of people on tumblr who don't donate as much as they did because the messaging has worn off.

I don't think making people on tumblr all into like, people reposting the messages people are posting here on other sites is going to do anything more than make people think of tumblr as a scam site (even if things are vetted) and like that's basically a fundraising job. I run a smallish mutual aid and that still is a little bit like a job sometimes.

I've seen a good TED talk from a person who does a bunch of fundraising recently which is also useful on the whole guilt based fundraising thing:

But like I think the ways how people fundraise have to think about these certain things:

If something is ongoing, then treat it as ongoing, don't make it urgent even if it is. There was a lot of initial donation towards people when the genocide started, because people did want to get people out as soon as possible, but no matter how urgent things are in regards to people needing money, if something is urgent every day the message wears off.

Like people at all income levels felt like they were helping initially, but there were plenty of people at the start saying "please don't treat this as a sprint, treat it as a marathon" who got shouted at and told to shut up when like yeah it's a marathon and people will be demoralised who might be able to buy that cup of coffee everyday but now they see the coffee as my little treat which makes me happy when all I see everyday is war crimes and I can't help.

Treat people as intelligent beings. People HATE being advertised to and especially hate being tricked into being advertised to. Asking for donations is a form of advertising, advertising doesn't always mean capitalist fuckery it just means you want eyes on something for a reason.

So like there was a person I knew who was obviously desperate to have more people look at his work, so he would do a poll about a character which was obviously framed in such a way with one very horny answer that it would get people to reblog it. It always felt so slimey and dishonest to me. Like it's not something fun or organic, it's just desperate.

When people make submissions to the mutual aid I run I specifically ask people not to do long posts telling me all about their problems, it's not that I don't care it's that I don't need to care, I need to know their solutions. If they need money to fix their car so they can get to work, then that's what the request is for. It's absolutely useless to make me feel sad at the same time. If there's money in the mutual aid, then we can help, if there's not then we can't. People think you need to make people feel sad in order to get help, you don't. People want to help. The thing which makes people get help isn't how sad they make people, it's luck, if you're seen first then you get helped first. Sometimes constantly making people sad also just makes people not to want to feel sad any more so they won't interact.

Along these lines is that people want to feel like it's optional to donate towards a cause. That's why people call people who try and get you to sign up to charitable causes on the street by approaching you "Chuggers" (charity muggers). It doesn't matter if someone has £5 spare a month to donate to the Dog's Trust they'll put more than that in a cute statue of a dog with a coin slot in the head than they will to someone approaching them with a clipboard.

The whole charity drive thing is great, it can raise loads of money, but the whole thing behind it is community. That's great for raising a lot of money for something which happens once every 6 months. If people need regular help that won't work.

What I would suggest is instead working community in a way that reddit did. I've seen a bunch of things on reddit of people helping each other out with money in interesting ways. There's some which is a very organised informal loan process, but there was one where a whole bunch of people get together and donate $1 all to the same person.

It's community, and it's enough people that it always makes a difference, and it was regular (like once a week) and there were enough people to pick up the slack so not everyone had to do it every week.

I think what would probably be effective is if there was a community and once a week people picked from the list of vetted people, and then everyone donated a little bit. There doesn't have to be only one of those groups either. There could be multiple, but people could just join one and get a sense of community action rather than a sense of individual hopelessness.

I hope this has been useful and not just me looking like I'm complaining rather than trying to make things more helpful towards individuals

ive been trying to look up the research i read a while ago about the negative relationship between fundraising for charitable causes and using guilt- or scolding-based messaging (to wit, that even though we think as humans that logically yelling at or scolding or guilt tripping someone will make them donate more to a charitable cause, that actually making the target audience feel bad causes an aversive response that lowers the amount of money you raise, or causes a "slaughter the sheep" effect where someone donates once but forms no ongoing relationship with the charity and avoids you from then on, both principles being pretty strongly supported in other areas of human behavior research afaik?) because ive been trying to formulate a post about it that is more likely to be received as constructive rather than critical (which it is not meant to be, critical that is), and since corpo scam charities and NGOs (also scams) are mostly the ones doing this research every search result i find about it is marketer nonsense.

however, this post from 2016 which starts out with the marketing expert relating a story of the time he almost killed his childhood friend with a rock is like one of those horrifying reddit posts that get turned into youtube spook compilations, which is SO funny in this context

[whoopsyeahokay]

Control Freak

summary: prompt fill. Wally needs to be in control at all times, or else the world is going to end. unless he's with you, the only person who can step in and take over without his brain screaming at him. (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut lite. flashfic. Wally Clark is brat. consensual mindfuckery. sub-adjacent!Wally Clark. possessive mentality. Wally Clark has control issues.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🍑

Control Freak

Wally is always in control.

Running the show. Calling the shots. Cool and confident in the driver's seat.

Friend group can't make a decision? Wally spearheads a whole itinerary. Mama can't tell the neighbor that their new hedges encroach on the Clarks' side of the property line? Wally plasters on his best smile and convinces Mr. Griffiths to take action.

MVP of the football team; Coach's favorite player to come along in a decade. Enmeshed with student council to the point that they listen to his ideas without question. Teachers adore him, peers want to be him. Hell, Bud Binns trusts Wally enough to let him close the auto repair shop on his own, acting manager when Bud can't be on the floor.

Wally's image is the perfect combination of natural and intentional—a little bit of charm, a lot of matching auras—to ensure he gets what he wants from the world, and it works.

He's not oblivious. He knows it's an anxiety thing. The reins need to be tight for him to feel safe, solid, secure as he moves through each day. In the past, he tried loosening up a little and learned he's just not built to relax how his nervous system needs him to. Because if he does, everything breaks.

So, Wally stays completely. utterly. in control.

...

......

.........

Except with you.

Standing on the other side of the gym, talking to Some Guy as you help Claire hand out cupcakes for her campaign to be Homecoming Queen. And Some Guy is smiling at you like you're the center of his universe, all straight teeth and crinkled eyes, and Wally hates him instantly. Faster than instantly. Wally's waited to hate him since Some Guy was born, and that hate activates on sight.

Wally festers at Rodney's table, unable to drum up the magnetism that Rodney recruited Wally for to get those sweet votes to be elected Homecoming King. A girl tries to chat to him, lovely and shy and almost in awe of him—just what he likes—but he can't focus. Hardly hears himself as he answers her questions.

Did he just agree to something?

Hopefully not.

His gaze keeps drifting back to you every second. You and Some Guy. Laughing with each other. His hand on your shoulder, your demeanor totally open and friendly, and why are you entertaining that kind of interaction with someone who isn't Wally, huh?

You hand Some Guy a cupcake, tell him something Wally interprets as flirty, and then Some Guy waltzes away with a blush that Wally wants to wipe off Some Guy's face with his fist.

You're not supposed to do that.

You must feel Wally's eyes on you, because you turn your head, placid, and catch his eye. Stare for a moment before a slow, easy smile spreads on your pretty pink lips, giving Wally an obvious elevator look before cutting your appraisal short to address the next potential voter.

Unbothered. Unaware that Wally is this close to losing his shit where he stands because he can't do a damn thing about it.

No one knows about this arrangement between you and him (your prerogative). Not yet, anyway, so as much as he wants to, he can't charge over there and make you understand that that smile and those eyes are for Wally only.

It takes insurmountable effort to stay put at Rodney's table and pretend everything is normal for the next forty-five minutes, but Wally does it. Somehow. Fraying at the edges, steadily losing his mind as he watches the litany of conventionally attractive dudes rope you and Claire and Chloe into conversation.

About what? Pompoms and rom coms? What are you talking about to Some Guy 2.0 that has you giggling like that?!

As soon as Rodney dismisses him, Wally's off, slicing across the gym on a mission.

You don't acknowledge him when he steps over the threshold of your personal space, still discussing tomorrow's cheer practice with Claire, easy-breezy and aloof, as if Wally can wait; his time—his sanity—doesn't matter. Winding him up until he's so tightly coiled he could spring into orbit.

Finally, you greet him with a smile, eyes knowing as they travel up the length of him again from shoes to sockets. You don't speak, just tilt your head in the direction of the door as you gather your bag. A quick hug for Chloe, a wave to Claire, and you swan to the exit, Wally hot at your heels.

You stay a step ahead of him, hips swaying, smiling at acquaintances in the hall. Meanwhile, Wally's losing it by the second, the top of his head about to blow off, he's so frustrated. And you just. Don't. Notice.

Pleated skirt bouncing, legs on display, waist beckoning Wally's hands to grab hold bruise, mark your skin to make sure everyone fucking knows you're off the market. Totally disregarding that you told Wally you don't want to advertise anything too soon; want to enjoy the bubble while it lasts; want to be selfish with him.

Can't hurt to leave a mark or two anyway. Who'll know it's the impression of Wally's teeth on your throat?

You lead Wally to his car, wait patiently for him to open the door for you, staring at your phone as you slide into the seat and get comfortable.

The longer you don't speak, the more Wally's blood begins to feel electrified, shooting signals to his brain that everything is wrong and he needs to fix it.

This isn't how he planned his day.

When he tries to instigate conversation, you answer with a hum or a slanted smile. Wally white-knuckles the steering wheel the whole way to your house, his gaze intense as he watches the road and thinks obsessively about how to get you to say something, anything.

As soon as he pulls up to the curb, you're out, flouncing toward the walkway that leads to your front door. Wally watches you stop halfway and turn to look over your shoulder, gaze sharp when it lands on him.

"Let's go," And it's a command that Wally's entire being is persuaded to obey, a trained mongrel jumping at the snap of your fingers.

He practically falls out of his car, tripping over his feet as he hurries behind you. Up the front steps, through the door, and into your quiet house. He doesn't know where your parents are, if someone's home, or if you and he are actually alone.

Still barely acknowledging him, you head to your room, once again stopping when Wally lingers at the bottom of the stairs, fidgeting and uncertain. You jerk your head to the side to indicate he should follow, and so he does, taking the stairs two at a time.

You gesture toward your bed where he takes a seat; spine straight, eyes tracking you while you close the door and deposit your backpack on your desk chair. Pull your hair out of its tie, toe off your shoes, humming to yourself as you go, as if you don't have an audience that's desperate for your attention.

After less than a minute of trying to sit still and accept your pace, Wally's face crumples. Eyes pleading, lips slightly twisted, hands wringing in his lap. He releases the smallest whimper, a tiny noise that fills the room, and finally gets the acknowledgement he's tweaking for.

You pivot on the spot by your desk and stare at him, considering. After a brief moment, your features soften. Eyes just for him. Smile just for him. You just for him. No one around to interrupt or distract or dissuade.

He almost sobs in relief when you get close enough for him to touch, fitting yourself between his legs. One hand on his shoulder, the other combing through his hair.

"What's wrong, baby?" You ask like you don't know. Like you aren't single-handedly responsible for why he's suddenly shaking apart in your presence.

His hands clench in his lap as he regards you, begging to reach out but too afraid you'll deny him.

"You need some attention, don't you?" You run your hand from his hair to his jaw as you lean in closer, brushing the tip of your nose against his. "Tell me."

Wally exhales sharply and nods, his voice caught in his chest.

You take pity on him. Lift one of his hands to place it on your waist. The other you guide under your skirt and encourage him to squeeze your ass cheek.

"You can touch me," You tell him, soft and kind, lips grazing his as you speak. "You don't need my permission, baby."

But he does, that's the thing.

As much as Wally wants, he can't just take. Not with you. His brain recoils at the idea, hate hate hating it more than anything. More than Some Guy and Some Guy 2.0, and how they looked at you like you were dinner.

Thinking of doing something to you without you telling him it's okay, that he's good, that he's pleasing you by obeying your every command, sets Wally's teeth on edge.

Wally whines when he feels your warm, supple flesh under his hands, thoughts instantly coming to a standstill. His lids get heavy, breathing deep, willing his fingerprints to fuse to your skin as he kneads your ass. Really absorbs how you feel and lets it soothe him.

The tension bleeds from his muscles.

The world falls away.

And Wally feels secure and solid for the first time since he joined Rodney in the gym to network Homecoming Court votes.

He exhales, long and rough, lifting his chin to gaze up at you through his lashes. A thick swallow, and then, "I need you. Please."

"Is that it, beautiful boy?" You trace his lower lip with your thumb, dipping in for a quick, biting kiss before pulling away to hear his answer.

"Please," Wally chokes out, sounding pathetic and not giving a single shit about it.

He feels his cock stir in his jeans. The intensity in your eyes coupled with finally, fucking finally, being able to feel your soft skin under his hands making his body react like he's still thirteen and an opportune breeze gets him hard.

You lean back, eyes never leaving his, smile morphing into something wicked, deliberate, as you lift your skirt and hook your thumbs into your panties. He's completely rapt, high-pitched white noise muffling every sound outside the narrow space between you and him.

He chokes, weak, and begins to tremble when you start to peel your panties off in a show that makes Wally's mouth go dry. You take another step back so he can see more of you, and unzip your skirt to let it puddle at your feet, stepping gracefully out of it with a smirk.

Fuck, you don't even have to touch Wally, and he gets goosebumps. Body so sensitive already that one accidental twitch will set him off.

"How do you want me?"

The question makes him whine. No, absolutely not, don't make him choose, please don't, he can't—

"Shh, hey, I've got you." You assure him, tone kind, and then you're ordering him to, "Show me that fat cock, baby. Let me see how much you want me."

Wally does as he's told, undoes his fly and shoves his jeans down and off one ankle, forgoing the other just to get you in his lap faster.

"Please," He begs, voice pitched high and needy, "Please, I need it so bad, baby, I'm so messed up, please."

You bite the corner of your lip, expression hot and dark, and then climb into his lap in feline motions. Shirt pushed up to show off your tits because you know Wally can't get enough of them when you ride him.

You let him stew for another moment, hips a fraction too far from where he aches, nipping and licking a trail of fire from his pulse point to his ear. Building the anticipation and driving Wally insane. He groans, hands clenching your thighs, reedy little sounds of need spilling from his throat.

"Tell me, baby," You murmur, rising to your knees and taking him in hand to line him up, "Tell me what you want."

"You," He says without hesitation, the word a breath, and he's so fucking desperate now, knows he won't last long, will blow his load too soon because he's fucking worthless like that, but you won't judge him, he's safe with you, "Please, God, I need it, please."

No more teasing. You drop and take him deep in one slick move, pussy so hot, so tight, Wally's eyes roll back and he sobs in relief. He doesn't move because if he does, he really will come before he's even registered the sweet, velvety bliss of being inside you.

His fingers dig into your thighs, your ass, your hips. Moans and keens and fucking kitten mewls pulled out of him as you ride him like a mechanical bull, fucking him to the brink, praising him for how good his cock is, how perfect, how only he can make you feel this way, just him, no one but him, and, Jesus Christ, oh God, yes, yes, yes, "I'm gonna come!"

And that's it, Wally's hips spasm, his back arches, jaw dropping as he cries out in ecstasy, thanking you profusely for letting him have this, letting him have you, holy fuck.

The static crests over him as he comes down. Restlessness replaced with peace. His body is loose, warm, content beneath your weight when he lies back and takes you with him. He can't stop his hands from roaming your back, needing to feel you in the afterglow, to know that you're real, this is real, he's here with you, and everything is better now.

"Thank you," He whispers into your hair as you nuzzle into his neck.

You hum, and he can feel your smile on his skin, "Of course, baby boy. You know I'd do anything for you." And then you lift your head, "Even after you've been a brat all day."

Wally pouts, "I wasn't."

You raise a brow.

His pout deepens. "You were ignoring me."

You huff, chuckling and shaking your head, "I wasn't ignoring you, I was busy." You correct. "You were being a naughty distraction when I was trying to help Claire."

Wally's chest puffs out, proud because, heh, he was distracting you when, the whole time, he thought you were deliberately trying to get under his skin by refusing to even look at him. And then he sobers, pout returning.

"You were flirting with those guys."

"I was doing Claire a favor," You correct, sitting up just enough to look him in the eye, palm cradling his jaw, thumb tracing the arch of his cheek. Soothing, sweet, everything he needs right now.

"I didn't like it." He admits as he averts his eyes. Ashamed and embarrassed and vulnerable in a way he only lets himself get with you.

You don't say anything for a moment, and Wally worries that he's done something wrong by confessing that. Should he be okay with it? Is he allowed to be jealous? Has he fucked up and now you're going to leave him because he can't get his shit together and act like a man?

He feels your lips on his, and his thoughts come to an abrupt halt, brakes screeching. His hands tighten on your hips as he releases a sigh, that relief, that solid-secure-safe feeling, washing through him again.

"I don't care about anyone but you, baby boy," You murmur, and press your forehead to his. And you're so sincere, Wally can hear it, that he wants to cry.

"Really?" God, does he have to sound so fucking pathetic?

But you don't let him ruminate, cut through the self-deprecation with a soft, "Really, Wally. You're perfect. Everything I need and more."

His body goes lax beneath you, sinking into your mattress like pudding, and he gives you a smile. Warm and happy and completely smitten.

Quiet, afraid to disturb the atmosphere, "You're everything I need, too."

Wally is always in control. Until he's with you. His safe space where he can let go without feeling like everything is going to break, because you know exactly how to hold him together.

🍑___________fin.____________

also on AO3!

Order Up! MASTERLIST

if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Anxiety.

sub!Wally smut lite. Wally isn't clingy. he isn't. honest. but something about your aura makes him nervous, and suddenly he's all hands everywhere and babbling where he's normally calm, cool, collected, and he needs you to get his head back on right.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Apparently we are asking sex Ed questions now?? Somehow a tumblr ask bow is easier to unload into than a doctor.

I masturbate over my clothes (use my underwear to create friction, basically) because I am way too scared of penetration. I have looked at diagrams and tried every which way on the internet to get past this, but it simply does not work.

That is, however, not my issue. My issue is that after a while of the rubbing, my legs tremble and touching my self again feels bad, but from what I've read about orgasms, it feels different? Like, every post about it says if you're questioning if it was an orgasm, it wasn't one, but it's the strongest feeling I've gotten in my many years of masturbating. I've tried continuing even after that point, but it just... doesn't get any better. Am I doing something wrong? Do I need to have penetration to feel good?

hi anon,

so, first off, no, you don't ever need to do penetration if you don't want to.

secondly, listen: don't worry about whether or not you're having orgasms. literally irrelevant. do you like what you're doing? does it feel good? are you stopping when it doesn't feel good? okay, awesome. those are the only things that matter. you can't get a bad grade in what makes you feel good.

it's very normal for the clitoris to become too sensitive for continued stimulation after a while, hence why it wouldn't feel good anymore, but it's also possible that rubbing through your underwear is creating too much friction with not enough lube. you don't have to directly touch yourself, although I will respectfully point out that there's a lot of middle ground between "rubbing over the clothes" and "full vaginal penetration" - tons of people get a lot of mileage out of just touching their clitoris without putting anything in their vagina (it's me hi!!!), and that can be a lot gentler on the clit. either way, a little cheap, water-based lube could go a long way!

[bumbled-bees]

Getting Close Was What Set Me Free

(Or: Why I Do This Work)

So I've come to realize that getting close to Lily was what set me free. And by that I mean: the reason I was able to finally see Lily for who she really is wasn’t because I stumbled across some damning document or a big exposé. It was because I got too close to her to keep lying to myself.

I was in her server from June to September 2024. Three months. Not long in the grand scheme of things, but long enough to change everything.

Before that, I was just a casual fan. I watched her videos, nodded along with a lot of her takes, maybe rolled my eyes at a few. But I still trusted her. I still believed in the version of herself that she presents—the version that’s loud, unfiltered, “honest to a fault,” as she might say. Someone who’s rough around the edges but ultimately good-hearted. Someone who "says what everyone else is thinking." That’s the version she wants you to see.

And for a while, I bought into it. A lot of people do. Especially if you’re neurodivergent, LGBT+, or otherwise looking for a voice that feels like it “gets” you. She markets herself directly to us—those who’ve been overlooked, who’ve been hurt, who want to believe that someone loud and confident must know what they’re talking about.

But once I got inside that server, once I was in her space every day, I saw the real Lily. Not the polished version, not the performance. The person.

It started small. Subtle acts of condescension toward her own viewers. Passive-aggressive remarks she clearly expected people to just “get.” The way she acted offended if someone asked a question she didn’t feel like repeating herself on. That kind of thing. It wasn’t abusive in an overt way at first. But it chipped away at you. It created this atmosphere where you always had to tiptoe around her mood. And if you didn’t? Well, you were either ignored, mocked, or quietly exiled.

What really changed things for me was realizing how much effort she puts into controlling the space around her. That’s what it comes down to. Control. Everything is about control—what people are allowed to say, what kind of questions are allowed, what “tone” you’re supposed to use when addressing her. And the more time you spend in that environment, the more you realize that nothing you say is ever just a question. It’s a potential offense. A potential threat. Every interaction with her is a test you can fail, and she gets to decide the rules.

The incest game folder is when I started going back to old allegations, to posts I’d brushed off as “haters” or “drama.” And suddenly everything clicked. It wasn’t just “cancel culture” or “jealous ex-friends.” These were patterns. These were consistent behaviors. And they matched exactly what I was now seeing firsthand.

That’s when I got out. But that’s also when I realized how dangerous her grip really is.

Because if I’d stayed a casual fan? I wouldn’t have looked any of that up. I wouldn’t have believed the claims. I would’ve kept assuming that anyone who criticized her was just bitter or couldn’t handle a “strong personality.” And that’s what scares me most. How many people are still in that mindset? How many people are still where I was?

That’s why I started documenting. That’s why I made this blog. Not to “get back at her,” not to cause drama. But to lay out the patterns. To name them. To put them in the light. Because they are recognizable—and not just in Lily. The same red flags show up in other online spaces, in other creators, in other parasocial relationships. And if this blog helps even one person get out of a toxic space, or recognize that they’re not crazy for feeling like something’s off? Then it’s worth it.

I do this because I’ve been there. I saw it up close. And I got out. Now I want to help others recognize what I did—before they get pulled in too deep.

This isn’t a callout blog. It’s a flashlight. And I’m just trying to shine it where it’s needed.

[fanfics-i-find-here]

Do I Know You? Part 23

Synopsis: the brunch begins! You have a conversation with Duke and Damian.

Note: this has been interesting to write just because there other people I have to work into the story. I think this might feel rushed, like there’s a lot going on but that could just be me. Enjoy the brunch (part one of it at least)!

Masterlist

Despite being cajoled into a suit, neither Bruce nor Alfred pulled Jason into the opening activities of the event. Jason may be legally alive again, but it wasn’t something the family wanted the press in on. Of course, they were prepared should someone ask, but why flirt with the devil.

You had questioned it. A sweet tilt of your head had the late morning light catching your eyes, out on the edge of the crowd, while Bruce gave some speech about the importance of giving back to the community. Jason knew that none of these people cared, but donating to a Wayne cause would put your name out there. This was all publicity. He’ll give Bruce at least one thing: he knew how to manipulate the rich into helping people.

Jason had stared at you for a moment, taking in your soft features and questioning look. You shimmied your shoulders every so often in a way that made Jason think you were uncomfortable, but then you would settle down again, watching him in wait with a faint smile.

“I don’t usually come to these things.” He finally answered, still staring at you, “Nobody would want me up there anyway.” He didn’t mean to sound like such a drag, but that was the way he felt. That Bruce usually invited him to these events out of obligation, not necessarily because he was wanted. You must catch his tone because your next words are a soft coo.

“That’s too bad for them. Now I get to keep you with me instead.” The pout you give him certainly makes him feel some type of way. He wishes he could just kiss it off you. Instead, he grabs two flutes off a tray as a server walks in front of you.

“Mimosa?” He offers, usually he wouldn’t drink. He hated the taste of champagne, but he needed something to get through the day, and the orange juice would hopefully drown out the flavor. You take the glass timidly, readjusting your grip every few seconds.

“How do you hold it?” Your confusion makes him want to laugh, along with your whole hand grip on the glass.

He remembers the first time he had snuck a glass of champagne at a gala when he was thirteen. It had been a few months after Bruce had taken him in, and he just wanted to try some so bad because that’s what all the fancy people were drinking. The wait staff was no competition for the Robin in training, but Bruce had caught him before he could bring his lips to the glass.

Surprisingly, at least to him at the time, fresh off the streets, Bruce didn’t scold him. He hadn’t even taken the glass away from him as he gently coaxed Jason into a side room, out of the eye line of others. It was there that Bruce had squatted down and taught Jason how to hold a champagne glass the proper way.

“I don’t want you drinking now, but when you're old enough, you’ll need to know how to hold it.” Bruce had said. At the time, it had been startling for Jason, the implication that Bruce was going to keep him until he was well into adulthood, that Bruce didn't want to be just a temporary guardian for him.

Bruce had let him have a sip, just one, and Jason had happily relinquished the glass over to Bruce, not wanting to drink anymore of it.

The sudden memory is jarring, enough that he almost steps into someone behind him, had you not stopped him with a hand on his arm. You look worried, that cute scrunch you get between your brows, prominent.

“Are you-” Jason stops your question to readjust your handhold on the glass. He didn’t want to talk about it, the memory. It was rare that he thought back to his time as Robin with fondness. Usually, believing the narrative he had told himself. That he was never enough, not the golden child, Dick Grayson, and easily replaced by the better copy of him, Tim Drake. No, He didn’t want to talk about it with you.

****

You're startled by Jason’s swaying, an unsteadiness to him that concerns you, but he brushes you off before you can ask. You probably would have ribbed him for it, told him to let you help, had you not gotten distracted.

Distracted by the way his entire hand covers yours over the glass, moving your hand to hold the glass properly. Yes, very distracted. You knew Jason’s hands were larger than yours. Jason was larger than you in every way. Taller and muscular, your brick wall of a friend. This was not new information.

However, staring at his hand now made you think of early that morning, the press of it against the bare expanse of your lower back, how he had easily pressed you down and kept you there. Your mind drifts closer to the scene in front of you, his hand curled around yours, and you get a flash of his hands pinning your own to a mattress.

You blink away the thought as the warmth of his hand leaves yours. You meet his eye before dropping your gaze with heat on your cheeks. You can't believe you're thinking about something like that in such a public place. Your eyes settle on the glass, your fingers now towards the bottom, index and thumb pinching the stem, your other three fingers resting. You pop out your pinkie and tilt your glass to Jason.

“Cheers?” you say as you wiggle your pinkie. He chuckles at your antics, shaking his head.

“It's not tea, put your pinkie down.” Despite his words, he knocks his glass against yours in a pleasant clink. Jason takes a large gulp like his life depends. Your lip quirks into a small smile. Sometimes he was so odd.

You take a small sip and your face twinges, nose scrunching a little in disgust. You don’t know what it was with rich people, but that was some weird-tasting orange juice.

“Don’t like the taste?” Jason asks you, eyes on the crowd like he’s searching, you assume for the rest of his family, the opening activities having ended.

“It’s okay,” you pause to take another sip, “I’ve had better.” You say which you think makes you sound full of yourself, but you really had better orange juice than this, freshly squeezed at the farmers market.

“Sorry,” you add on, feeling guilty for already dissing on the food being served.

Jason snorts at your comment, taking another long drink, “Don’t be. Keep up the attitude, you might just blend in with these people.”

“I don’t think that’s something I want,” you say in mild disgust. Just in the short ten minutes since the event began, you had gotten enough dirty glances to know that this is not your type of event nor your type of people.

“Good. Keep that in mind, sweetheart.” Jason mutters, unexpectedly stepping into your space and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You don’t fight the urge to smile at his affection.

“There you two are! What’re you hiding for?”

It takes you a second of scanning the crowd to find the bouncy blonde hair. You glance around where you and Jason stand. It’s hardly what you would call hiding, very much still in the open forum. You take a longer sip of your drink, the flavor slowly becoming less and less obvious. Jason watches you as you do so.

“We could still run. She hasn’t made it to us.” He whispers the words into your ear and it has you giggling into his shoulder.

“She already saw us, it's too late for that.” As the last word leaves your lips, Steph hops in front of you two. Following behind her is a young, dark-skinned boy. He has a mirth to his eyes that makes you feel like he’s ready to tease anyone in his current vicinity, but he seems set on Jason.

“Look who finally showed up. Suddenly remembered you had family, or is this more about the pretty lady I’ve all about from a few birds?” the young man teases. You were right about him having his eyes set on Jason.

“Take it easy, Daisy Dukes, just be happy I'm here,” Jason responds, and it has you spitting your juice back into your glass to laugh. You're quick to cover your mouth with your hand, a flush of embarrassment running through you. The three Waynes you stand with all smile at you, which makes it worse.

“Sorry,” you mumble, pressing the side of your face to Jason’s shoulder where you had giggled into earlier. Jason’s arm comes around your shoulder, and the warm expanse of his hand settles on your bare shoulder, thumb stroking soothingly.

“It’s okay,” He waves you off, “You must be the girl I’ve heard so much about. I’m Duke.”

You shake his hand and offer your name up, “and Daisy Dukes, I get it now. Not in reference to the short.”

“Oh, you thought-“ Steph cuts off her own statement, falling into a state of laughter, Duke close behind. It draws the attention of some of the brunch goers, a spare glance of disdain.

Just as their laughter starts slow, Duke adds, “I think I could rock them, I’ve got the perfect legs for it.” It has Steph cracking up again, and you join her. Even Jason lets a quiet chuckle leave his lips.

“He dines to laugh with his estranged family,” Duke gasps. You can tell it’s a playful rib at Jason, Duke's tone layered in teasing, but it makes Jason grumble.

“You hungry? I know we didn’t eat breakfast.” He questions you quietly, ignoring the two gigglers in front of you.

“Yeah, I could eat.”

“Should eat.”

“Yeah, whatever.” You wave off his accusatory tone. He smirks at you and takes your now-empty glass to swap it for a full one. The ease with which he exchanges the glass on the moving trays has you shifting just slightly. If someone were to ask, you’d say it was from standing for so long. That would be a lie.

“Will you be okay if I leave you with these two hooligans?” He spares a glance where they’ve settled, now seemingly picking fun at a woman's hat.

“Yeah, you won't be gone long, right?” You're worried a little to be left with Jason’s family, but Steph was there, and she was someone you were very familiar with. He nods at your question.

“Bring me food then,” You playfully demand. Jason cracks a smile at you and presses a longer-than-necessary kiss to your temple. He leaves you there, and you watch him easily sneak through the crowd.

The moment he’s gone, Steph asks you a question, something about how many fruits you can put on a hat before it becomes a fruit basket. You fall into an easy conversation with her and Duke. Tim comes by briefly to say hi before he’s dragged away by “Vultures” trying to make a deal with Wayne Enterprise (according to Steph). Soon, Cass greets you, but only to take Steph to show her the boy they had apparently been spying on at these events, and you're left alone with Duke. Evidently, he’s been waiting for a spare moment because the girls are hardly out of sight when he questions you.

“You’re just pulling everyone’s leg, right?” The question throws you off.

“What do you mean?” Your tone is worried, worried that you’ve made a bad impression, and you're about to be accused of trying to marry someone for money.

“You and Jason. It’s a big prank on the family that you're not dating.” Duke says the words with such surety that for a brief moment, you almost nod and agree with him. You shake your head.

“No, Jason and I aren’t dating. We’re just friends.” You take another sip of the fancy orange juice.

“You’re gotta be shitting. There’s no way you two aren’t a thing.” You give him a reprimanding look for his language, which he pays no mind to.

“We just aren’t,” you pause for a moment, “Why do you think we're dating?”

Duke doesn’t hesitate, “Because you're obviously in love with each other.”

You glance down at your glass, swirling the drink around. Obviously? Was your affection that apparent? Wait, with each other?

“What do you mean by each other? You think Jason’s in love with-“

“Thomas, I wish to speak Jason's acquaintance in private.” You jump at the sound of Damian, who suddenly materializes beside Duke. Duke just rolls his eyes.

“Whatever,” He points a finger gun at you, “Yes, I do think that by the way.” He answers your second question before wandering off, and you're stuck with a child. You use the term child loosely because you think Damian is at the awkward pre-tween age. He gestures to a table, and you silently follow him and sit. You shift slightly, fighting with the halted straps, trying to ease the ache that had started to grow on your neck from it.

Once you settle, suddenly more aware of Damian’s stare, you feel like you’ve sat yourself a in a job interview. You try to smile, but his features don’t change. You’ve never felt so judged by a kid before. Of all of Jason’s siblings, Damian’s the only one you know anything about. Time to find some middle ground.

“So, Jason tells me you like animals?” you offer the statement in hesitation. Damian, surprisingly, seems shocked by your sentiment but schools his features quickly.

“Todd told you this?” Damian asks. You think there is an inkling of curious want in his voice. You remind yourself that Jason is Damian’s big brother. A big brother who doesn’t like to hang out at home. You're sure it can be hard, at such a young age, to be sure your sibling loves you if they're never around.

“I’ll share a secret with you, Damian.” He leans forward at the proffered secrecy, “You’re the only sibling Jason has told me anything about.” Damian seems pleased to hear the information, a grin works its way across his lips.

“Good, I am the best of us. You’ve already met Titus. Would you like to meet Jerry?” He asks, standing from his seat. Titus was the sweet great dane you had met earlier. Like any big dog, he thought he was a lap dog, which was fine with you. You hadn’t been aware of the dog's existence prior to meeting him, so you assume that Jerry is another dog. You easily follow Damian through the crowd and then out of it and onto a path leading away from the brunch.

****

“Oh. He’s a turkey.” To say you had been confused when Damian led you to a barn is an understatement. Your confusion grew when he introduced you to Jerry, who was not, in fact, a dog, but a turkey.

“Yes, what else would he be?” he doesn’t wait for your answer before moving more into the barn. You stare at Jerry, and he stares back before giving a gobble. You shake your head before following Damian.

“And this Batcow.”

MOOOOO!

You jump at the noise, startled by the appearance of a cow on the Wayne property.

“Batcow?” You ask incredulously. The cow takes a tentative step forward and Damian happily pets her, offering her an apple he must have snuck from the brunch.

“Yes. Batcow. She has a mask.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but still does a half outline of said mask with his finger. You take a step forward, and she snuffles at your hand in interest.

“Sorry, I don’t have anything for you, girl.” The cow seems unbothered by that fact and still lets you pet her.

“While I do enjoy introducing my animals, that is the purpose of my bringing you here.” Damian starts, and you wonder, briefly, if you should be worried before you decide otherwise. He was just a kid.

“Then why did you bring me out here?” You focus on petting the cow, her fur soft and obviously well cared for.

“You and Todd are courting. I do not often care for the pursuits of my siblings. Todd, however, is an exception to that.”

“Why?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Jason was the first ahki I ever had before I met the rest of the family.” You're startled by the momentary language change, by the deep sincerity in his voice, and by the way he actually called him Jason instead of Todd. Damian gave such an air of aloofness, you assume he doesn’t have many moments like this.

“What do you mean?” you ask quietly, sparing a glance at the boy. He seems focused, a thoughtful expression on his features.

“He was with my mother when I was a baby,” he says slowly, like he might say the wrong thing, “before father knew about me.”

Your brows furrow. What strange family dynamic.

“It is a story for another time.” He continues, “The reason I brought you out here was to express my wishes regarding your relationship.” He straightens up.

“Ooh-kay, and what would those be?” You have no reason to deny the relationship bit because apparently the whole family thought you and Jason were together already.

“That you continue to bring him to the manor and ensure that he stays longer than family dinner.” He offers it like you're making some big trade deal, and you're pleased to find you were right about him wanting to spend time with Jason.

“I think I can manage that.” You say with a smile. You’ve found in the more recent months that it’s easy for you to convince Jason to do things. Spending time with his family might be harder, but you think you can manage.

“and continue to take care of himself. Todd has an issue of remembering that he is alive again and requires normal human care.” Your smile drops from his statement. Alive again?

“What?” You ask, hands pausing where their petting to meet Damian’s eye. He has a moment of panic before his features settle again. It startles you how much it reminds you of Jason, when he seemed like he told you more than he intended, always quick to hide the expression. You wonder if it’s a family thing.

“It's nothing,” He waves you off, “He trusts you. I’m sure you do not know, but He does not trust anyone, not father and not us. Perhaps that Harper idiot and all his delinquent friends, but he does not trust people in Gotham. He trusts you.” Damian says with a steady stare at you, and a heavy silence overtakes you both as you take in his words.

This was not a conversation you were expecting to have today. You had maybe anticipated some sort of shovel talk, especially if the whole family believed you two were already dating, but this was much heavier. It made you feel dizzy. You're thankful for the docile cow between you two for giving you something to steady yourself on.

Part of the conversation hurts because you know Jason trusts you and you trust him. You also know that you're both lying to each other about something. Yours regarding the reasons you came to Gotham and your relationship with Red Hood, and about that night in the warhouse. Okay, you were lying about a couple of somethings. 

“I’ll do my best. I care about him a lot.”

“I am aware. He cares deeply about you as well. I have never seen him so affectionate with someone and openly so. He has been calmer as well. Less prone to violent outbursts. You are good for him.”

“Oh,” you don’t know what else to say (Actually, you want to ask about the alive again thing and violent outburst thing, but this conversation seems too sentimental for that), “Thank you, Damian.”

He gives you a curt nod before stepping away from Batcow. The cow moos in indignation.

“I shall return later. Until then, control yourself, Batcow.” The cow moos again at his comment before dipping her head to eat some hay, “We should return to the festivities. I am certain Todd will have a stroke if he cannot find you.”

You suddenly remember that the only reason you had been parted from Jason was so he could get food for you.

“Oh, shit,” you smack a hand over you mouth, “shoot, I mean, shoot. Don’t use that word.” Your use of language and attempt to cover up makes Damian smile playfully. He seems more like a child.

“I see Todd is rubbing off on you as well.” He notes as you two walk out of the barn and on the path back to the brunch.

“I don’t know that bad language is a Jason thing.” You say, your sure things about Jason have bled into who you are, but you don’t think that’s it.

“Then perhaps the saying it around a child.” He says, and you consider the notion.

“Yeah, okay, that might be a Jason.” You say with a laugh. You and Damian fall into a comfortable silence as you walk back to the brunch. You still feel dizzy, and you're starting to think it has nothing to do with the conversation. Maybe Jason was right, you needed to eat.

You two barely make it to the brunch before Damian is whisked away by Steph. She sets another mimosa glass in your hand with promises of finding you later. You're suddenly alone in the crowd, but you don’t feel as anxious as you did earlier. You sip on the offered mimosa, hoping to hold your stomach over with the orange juice til you can find Jason.

Additional Note: I don’t know if anyone’s notices but I am a firm believer in Jason and Damian knowing each other at the league. I know Damian’s close with Dick but I think him Jason get along well because they do have shared experiences from the league. I think it’s such a fun concept. Anyway, next chapter does have Selina, Bruce, and Dick. I’m still writing the scene with Dick but I have waiting for this moment for weeks, probably months and I hope it works the way I want it too. Thank you guys for being so so lovely, you keep my serotonin up with your words. As always I love to hear people’s thoughts! So talk to me, baby!

Tag List: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs, @uzxotic, @qardasngan, @stormz369,  @g4bbi3xx, @iwatobiswimbros, @the-lonely-flute, @elz-xo, @gone-batty-fics, @princessesgarden, @notfckincreative, @love-theangel, @feyres-fireheart, @penguimlover23, @herodedicatedblog, @dearghostling, @automaticplant, @alma-ru3, @13fresh, @anuttellaa, @nekotaetae, @redsakura101, @sleepy-head1

[abusivelittlebunny]

Max and Carlos only being separated because of there mother/father in law is so funny, like I just know Carlos’s dad hated max because he taught omegas at such a young age would only cause trouble,that max would take his money like a gold digger and leave. And Carlos’s mother disliked max, when they had a short alone time, she asked max to do her house work to see if max was fit for Carlos, but obviously she made everything harder for him. At the end, Carlos’s parents convinced him to end it with max. But they haven’t seen the end of it.

Then there was Charles, when Charles first came over, Carlos’s parents immediately loved him, because Charles looked so innocent, but they didn’t know that he was a little minx..

I just know Carlos sr now regrets not allowing Carlos to just only marry max so Carlos stayed happy and didn’t go around getting everyone pregnant.

Interesting take but it's actually the reverse in my au; Carlos' parents would have been accepting of their relationship if not for Jos' strict forbidding of Max getting into any sort of relationship especially with someone who he should view as his rival; he taught him not to trust any alpha aside from him because his father knows best. I'll not detail how Jos went above and beyond to possess his omega son in every possible way, but Max's life under him was extremely restricted and the few occasions he could sneak away to Carlos' family they always made sure to make him feel welcome.

Carlos Sr may have... Liked what he saw a little too much but Max regarded his overly familiar touches as the sort of gentle fatherly affection he never received before so he had zero complaints about Carlos' family. It was hard to complain though when your own father wakes you at 4 am to get back to training and after school you're straight off to training more and if you're caught slacking the punishment could be severe. And if you're caught looking at Carlos a little too long or blushing when your hands touch you'll get degraded to bits. And if you try to argue back... Might as well already take off his father's belt in the same breath.

Sr does try to give them their safe space but he also warns Carlos every time that he should not be messing around with Jos' son but find himself an omega with a less territorial father because he's only going to hurt them both if they keep up their love affair. This sort of warning talk can be quite harsh at times and him and Carlos fight a lot about it but they always make up after; Carlos knows his father is just looking out for him and that's why he's saying these things. How absolutely right Sr is only comes to light a bit later, but even he couldn't predict just how severe the hurt would be. He's there to console his son after but he has a major "told you so" talk with him as well.

Sr endorses Carlos moving on after the traumatic end to their relationship and that's why he welcomed Lando with open arms even when Carlos was still not ready, his heart still tied to Max too strong, and Lando wasn't mature enough to understand his depression and regarded it as his own fault for not making Carlos happier, which made him extremely insecure. Sr kept pushing Lando towards Carlos to just try harder, eager to get his son out of his melancholy and focus but that only came true when Charles started distracting him from his woes.

Charles was so determined and full of confidence, knowing what he wanted and was ready to work and get it, both on track and when it came to seducing Carlos. Sr was honestly impressed by the spell Charles was able to put on Carlos, making him hyperfixated on the omega in a completely different way he was fixated on max but it brought him to this sort of competitive mindset that catapulted his son to perform to his fullest potential to try to win Charles over, not that it was needed, but they just wanted to conquer each other so much.

It helped that Charles was an incredible beauty that Sr also got fond of Charles; he could be such a vision on and off track Sr had a hard time keeping his hands to himself and with him there was no possessive father to worry about either. And Charles was a coy thing, he knew exactly how to act to charm Carlos' family to the fullest, and even when Sr saw right through it, he had to give it to him, the omega was talented enough that he damn well earned his spot in their family tree. And he doesn't have this opinion of most of Carlos' omegas ... Of course he can be swayed in a variety of ways ...

[wolfish-trickster]

People pleaser(s)

Astarion x f!reader/Tav

Word count: 5.8K

Summary: Astarion pleased people to survive, you pleased them to keep them with you. What happens when one people pleaser meets another? Trauma is what.

Warnings: angst (like heavy amount), trauma (lots of it), typos, grammar mistakes

A/N: based off of this. A random 3am motivation hit and i thought why not write the whole thing myself 😅

Observe, listen, learn, use, lure. Those were the tactics Astarion used while under Cazador's reign.

Observe: go into a crowded space, usually a bar or a tavern, look for people, preferably lonely or loners.

Listen: sit close to them, listen to the conversations they are having, either with their friends or bartender.

Learn: if his new target is a regular and a hard nut to crack memorize every detail about them for future use.

Use: talk with them, compliment them, tell them what their heart yearns to hear, use his aquired knowledge from previous steps to his advantage, mold himself into the person they desire

Lure: give them a night of passion, promise them more, and while they're still drunk on the pleasure he gave them, take them back to Cazador's palace.

This was the regime he lived under for around two centuries. A flawless plan no one was able to escape nor evade. Until one fateful night he got kidnapped by mindflayers. Those retched tentacled beasts. And yet he was grateful. Even death or changing into one of them was better than his life so far. But fate had other plans.

It lead him to you, among other people. You were sharp, aggressive in just the right amount, but soft and caring when needed. It was obvious you were the leader of the group he stumbled into. This new status quo gave him a new perspective of life, of his situation. He was still undead, still tormented by sanguin hunger, but he could walk on the sun now. He could cross rivers and enter buildings without needed invitation first. Small things, but they made him feel much more powerful, more in control of his life. Once he realized it, it made his head spin. For the first time he was free.

And he could be even more. If only...

If only he played his old tricks on you. To get you to like him, love him even. You'd aid him greatly in defeating his former master.

And so, reluctantly but partialy out of habit, he fell into his old ways.

Observe: some days it seemed like you were everywhere at once, helping everyone with everything and yet no one has done the same for you

Listen: there wasn't much listening on his part. You were the one to listen to your companions. Whatever bothered them, their opinion, their life story, the topic varied but you always listened, never spoke.

Learn: from his observing he has learned, well, practically nothing about you. You never talked about your past or your interests. And yet that has told him everything he needed to know.

Use: when you walked up to him and asked him anything, he always turned the conversation back to you. Oh him? He's good today, how are you doing? Late at night when you volunteered to keep watch (of course you always did) he kept you company and gave you the space to talk your heart out. It was to make you see him as a trustworthy companion, someone all he sees is you. And even though it was all part of his plan, very deep inside he has started to quite enjoy the alone time he had with you

Lure: it didn't take much convincing to take you to his bed. Or rather to take you to a forest. True, you've refused him the first time, no doubt playing hard to get. But the second time he only needed to use a charming word or two and, even though an expression he couldn't quite put a finger on flashed through your face, you agreed. You came. Several times in fact.

And that was it. Nicely wrapped around his finger. Or so he thought.

"You will come to my bed tonight, won't you?"

You took a sip of the wine he so generously shared with you and shook your head. "No, sorry. Too tired."

"Come now, don't be coy. Or do you need a bit of enticing?"

You pondered a bit. With a held breath he waited for your answer, already preparing some of his favourite lines that would definitely work on you in case you insisted on your previous answer. The last few days you have been spending more and more time with everyone else rather than him. Astarion found it quite odd, people like you usually get attached to people like him. Nevertheless, he needed to remind you what he can give you. In return for your help and protection, of course.

Eventually after looking around a bit, most likely checking if your companions were asleep, you nodded with a sigh. Not an enthusiastic one, as he observed.

"Is something the matter?" He asked.

"Huh? Oh. No, nothing. I'm just really tired. But, I mean, you want to, so..."

"Oh my sweet," he took your chin between his index and middle finger and tilted your head up to look at him, "trust me, after some time with me you'll fall asleep faster than a babe. You'll never have a better rest than in my embrace," he purred.

*

Paradoxically after that night you avoided him even more. And Astarion has put such a work into pleasing you! What went wrong? Will you not sleep with him anymore? Not that he'd complain, but to think about the consequences it could bring him. Any misstep, any minor inconvinience and you could chase him off the camp. Others merely tolerated his presence, none of them would stand up for him if his exile was ever brought up. Well, maybe Karlach would, but she seems to mindlessly love everything and everyone, like a huge beastly looking puppy. A true enigma, that woman.

Since sex was no longer working he tried to at least be useful to you. However every help, every assistance, every chance of him spending even a minute longer than needed in your presence was met with a "no, thanks Astarion, I can handle it."

His position? Hopeless. His skills? Useless.

As he was drowning in despair he didn't even hear the conversation with a drow you've discussed some potions with. Until the word spawn was mentioned.

"What's your name, spawn?"

"Astarion," he said.

"Astarion," the woman repeated. The way she prolonged the wovels in his name made him shudder. Even more when he finally registered the stench that has been enveloping them and which his mind was ignoring for the past few whiles. It was coming from her. Her blood. Astarion surpressed the need to gag.

"I can give you a potion of incredible power. It isn't for sale, but it's yours," the drow told you and then turned her head towards him, "if you bite me."

"What? You want to be bitten?" He must've hit his head. Or has Gale put a spell on him to make him a complete fool?

He glanced at you but your face remained emotionless. No indication of what you wanted him to do. Or if you even wanted the potion at all. Though, he promised himself to win you over by any means possible, he simply couldn't push himself to drink that foul excuse of a blood in that drow's veins.

"I would have to decline," he tried. It's been a long time since he had said similair words to anyone. It felt foreign, but powerful in a way. He liked it.

"Excuse me?" She exclaimed. "This is a chance of a lifetime."

"I gave you my answer," he growled. This, the ability to say no. To finally be the one shaking their head and declining. It made him higher than any passionate night ever did.

"Ugh, can you talk some sense into him?" The drow turned to you.

You blinked at him and he finally could read your expression: confusion. Well, better that than anger, right?

"I kinda thought you'd jump at the opportunity there."

"Can you give us a moment?" He said way too sweetly as he took your shoulder and fully turned you away from everyone to have some privacy with you.

"Are you seriously asking me to do this?" He asked and prayed to all gods you'd tell him no, just like you always did.

"Why? What's going on? You're not hungry?"

"It's her blood. It's," he inhaled to get a better grasp at what it actually reminded him of, "rotten. Drinking it wouldn't kill me, but it certainly wouldn't be pleasant."

You shrugged. "It's your life. Your choice. Do as you want."

"Really?" He was taken aback. Do you even realize what you just said? What amount of power you just gave him? After nearly two centuries he was given his will to choose for himself. Free of consequences, with no conditions or threats of violence. "Thank you," he told you before turning back to the drow and releating his proud no.

As all of you were leaving back to the camp Astarion couldn't surpress the smile blooming on his face. He has done it. He said no. He declined someone access to his body. Granted, only to his fangs, but even that's a wonderful start.

Then his thoughts went back to you, as it was a custom since he joined your group. It was some weeks since the two of you layed together the last time. Even longer since he was usefull to you in any way. Even in battles the one with the most blood on their hands was Karlach and not the charming rogue. He hasn't given you a reason to stand up for him like that. Or to care for him in any way. He was almost sure you've even grown to hate him. And yet your actions proved otherwise.

He observed you again. You still helped wherever you could. Still listened and played therapist for everyone. Wait, that's it!

"Y/N dear," he aproached you one night, "can we talk?"

He took in your doe slightly startled eyes. How the stars twinkled in them. It made his chest twist in this unknown way.

"Sure, what do you need? You don't want to sleep with me again," you took a small defensive step back," do you?"

"What? No, don't you worry. Even masters of the horizontal tango need some rest. I wanted to ask you," he wasn't even sure what is it he wanted to know. "I wanted to ask..."

You waited patiently for him. No interuptions, no hurrying him to just spit it out. As if you were the immortal one with plenty of time on your hands.

"Do you hate me?" He spat out almost as a one word. There, it was out.

"What? No. How did you even come to think of that?"

"Do you want it alphabetically or chronologically?"

"No need for that," you halted him. "Just... did I do something you didn't like? Was I annoying? Just tell me and I'll stop."

"What? You think you've done something to me?"

You nodded.

He laughed. "Oh my, how funny you are. No, you haven't done a thing I didn't find absolutely indearing. It might've been me who overstepped. But no need to nitpick about the past. You don't hate me and that's all I needed to know. Have a pleasant rest of the night, dear," he waved you goodbye but before he could go back to his tent you called out for him.

"Astarion wait," you tugged at his sleeve to stop him, "can you at least tell me what I did to make you think so low of me?"

He was quiet for a while. Now that he thought about it, the reason was quite silly. Or maybe that's just his mind playing with him. "You weren't spending as much time with me anymore," he admitted and now that it was said outloud he cringed. He sounded like a whiny teenager with a crush rather than an experienced rake.

"Oh," you let go of his sleeve. "I'm sorry. It wasn't on purpose."

"I know, how can anyone neglect this wonderful bastard on purpose after all," he ran his hand through his curls and made them a bit more puffy.

You chuckled and bid him goodnight. Back in his bedroll he kept replaying your chuckle in his head. Was it just him or did it sound sweeter than usual? And what is this twisting in his chest again? It must be just delusions from his hunger. Even though he has sucked dry one huge deer an hour ago he must've become hungry again. But even when hunting for a new prey he barely focused. His mind kept doing what it did since he joined your group: thinking about you.

*

His feelings grew from minor twisting and turning into a full body reaction whenever he was close to you. Which is all the time nowadays. You must've taken his complaining about your lack of companionship to heart since you've practically become his shadow from that night forward. Not that he minded, of course. You fed his ego wonderfully and at times Astarion had difficulties remembering he was supposed to be doing that to you, not the other way around. He was supposed to make your heart sing for him, your hands itch to be on him, your eyes stealing glances at him and shyly turn away once you notice him staring back. How dare you reverse the roles he planned for the two of you!

Then again it wasn't so bad. Waking up and having thoughts of anything else rather than survival was a nice change, especially if those thoughts were of you. Especially now that the two of you spend so much time together. It felt like getting to know you all over again.

He was more than sure you were discussing your mutual fear of snakes with Gale a few months back. Now you excitedly tugged on his arm and pointed at any legless reptile you spotted on your path. Maybe he had a therapeutic effect on you.

Nearly everything he learned about you before was wrong. But that made you that more exciting. And that more easier to care for.

He couldn't bear it any longer. He needed to tell you the truth. You were much too good of a person to be left in a lie. Even though the loving words he told you before as a lie became true. You still deserved to know.

"You see I had a plan. A nice simple plan. Seduce you, slelp with you, manipulate your feelings so you'd never turn on me. It was easy. Instinctive. Two hundred years of charming people kicked it and all you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do was not fall for you. Which is where my nice simple plan fell apart."

Throughout his whole confession he closely studied your face. It changed from curiosity to shock to sadness. But never anger. A good sign to continue.

"You deserve something real. I want us to be something real."

Your expression was still sad. How come? It was supposed to turn into hapliness. He just opened up before you, poured out all his feelings and gave you his heart on a silver platter. Then again he should've seen this coming. You were much like Karlach. A fearsome fighter but pure as a lilly. And what he has done to you, what he has just confessed to... you truly deserved something better than him. He wouldn't even hold it against you.

"Well, since we're admitting to secrets and all that, I don't want to leave you hanging," you nervously played with your fingers, "I also have something to confess to."

If Astarion still had a beating heart it would sink to his feet upon your next words.

*

"People come and go. Some decide to stay, some don't. That's life, Y/N. You just have to accept it and move on. Someone great will show up for you soon, I'm sure of it."

Those are the words your parents used to tell you everytime a friend of yours distanced themself from you or outright left you. When you were little you believed their words and always held hope that someone will show up and finally stay. To fulfill your dreams of a big friend group, fooling around under the summer sun, talk spooky stories around campfire. Things you saw other people do, living your dream.

But no matter who came across you they always left one way or another. It started to seem like athe whole world was against you. Once you couldn't bear the unfairness and you outright asked a friend who started to avoid you for a reason. Why they all started to avoid you.

"If it smells like shit everywhere you go maybe you should check under your shoe," they snickered, as if they haven't spend the past few momths with you, as if you were a pest.

But they were right in a way. Compared to your peers you were quite odd. While others steered clear of corpses you had no problem poking their eyes out, no matter what species or size your macabre plaything was. Most people would stay away from fights with people twice their size, but once you got riled up enough you weren't affraid to throw a punch yourself, even tricking bigger oponents so you weren't the only one with a busted lip. Your fashion sense and taste in music wasn't much better.

Over the years you perfected your abilities to see through people. Look for what they wanted. If a soft spoken friend was what they desired there you were, telling them flowery words you studied night before in a cheap romance novel. If a drinking buddy was needed you experimented with different types of alcohol to see which one can your body tolerate the best and then off you went to the pub with your new friends, making youself look like the biggest expert. If any as much as glared at something you found utterly indearing, whatever it was, you completely agreed with them. You even had to stop wearing some of your most favourite accesories. It broke your heart but it was a neccessary sacrifice.

As years passed you learned even better to expect people's needs ans fulfill them before they even voiced them. You even found a bit of a fun in it all. Putting up different masks depending who you were with. If birds of feather fly together was literal, your flock of friends was the most diverse in the nature. You had obtained friends of any kind, size, personallity, race, rank, gender, sexual orientation, quite everyone to be honest. You never had this many friends. None of them knew the real you but you couldn't care less. None of them left you. It was all that mattered. You swore you have forgotten what being abandoned even felt like.

Until Astarion.

When he first joined you didn't feel much about him. Blood thirsty, flirtatious, most likely dark past. You've had at least three people like him and they all became your friends in under a week. Getting him would be easy.

And it was. Few compliments here, some ego strokes there and he was happily sitting by the fire with you, even right next to Gale if you arranged it so.

You seemed to go up a level in his eyes when you offered him to drink from you. Despite all your instincts yelling at you to get the hell out of there you pushed through it and gave him as much of your life force as you could. He became tamer than Scratch after that day. Not that you've used it against him. You were just glad he took a liking to you. So what if you were dizzy the whole day afterwards.

But then it all changed when he asked to bed you. In all your life you've had friends who mistook your kindness for flirting but you've always turned them down. By the time they even worked up the courage to ask you've built yourself into such a good friend to them that even a romantic rejection wouldn't make them leave. Pleasing them and telling them what they wanted to hear was one thing but being intimate, letting them close to your body, was completely different. Even you had rules and boundaries you simply refused to change.

His first request was met with a harsh rejection. He was sulking for couple of days but you were sure he'd be like before in no time. He still fought with all his might and joked around but more often than not you've felt his piercing gaze on you. As if he was studying you. For sure trying to figure out why you've rejected him. He looked like the type that wasn't told no often after all.

Then you noticed how closer he grew with Karlach. Of course he did, she was the most lovable person you've ever met. You could even be yourself around her to a degree. Her ruthlessness in battles always came as a whiplash to you though. The duality of her, a true mystery she was.

She started to gush about him more too. No doubt viewing him as a quirky little guy since he couldn't harm her at all. Even enjoying his stupid jokes the most.

By the time Astarion's second proposition came you've been trying to make up your mind. No doubt if you refuse him again he'll grow bored and leave. He's too proud to stay after being rejected. When his question finally fell you glanced around and took a sight of Karlach. That huge warm ball of pure joy. If her favourite jokester left the camp, you couldn't bear the sadness on her face. So you agreed.

You drank a whole bottle of wine on your way to the agreed place in the forrest. Far away from the camp. You couldn't figure out why. Was he a loud lover? Would you be? Only one way to find out.

Or not.

He kissed you and that's the last thing you remember. The next thing you know you were laying on the grass, naked and sweaty, with Astarion standing afar, taking in the morning sun. Was it morning already?

Without a sound you gathered your clothes and sneaked off. You passed a small creek on your way, in it you've washed away the previous night. Despite the cold water bringing you back to reality you still felt touched, tainted. Your brain couldn't remember a thing but your body did and it disgusted you. But Astarion was apparantly happy. He wouldn't leave. All was good.

*

It was all a mistake, you told yourself. Of course now that he has had a taste he wanted more. Even though you gently turned him down and even suggested someone else or outright offered to go to the nearest town and search for a brothel, hells you'd even give him some of your gold if needed, he still only asked you. Why? It was beyond you. The same scenario played out again. He asked, you declined, he insisted, and even though you were quite curious about his was of enticing people you caught a glance of Karlach again, reenacting some funny scene from her life for Shadowheart. The smile on her face...

You agreed, again. This time you at least wanted to feel good. You didn't drink in hopes of remembering at least the pleasure. That was what the sex was about right? Pleasure, climax, a feeling most of your friends quickly got addicted to and gushed about infront of you.

You felt nothing. Mentally you were there, but more like an autopilot. He kissed your neck, so you tilted your head to give him more space. Not because it felt good being kissed there, becuase of how he moaned while he licked up your pulse. When he made a sound so did you. When he caressed you, you caressed him bacm. You mirrored him as best as you could to make him not suspect a thing. However there came a moment when you just needed to cry. You quickly pulled his head into the nape of your neck so he didn't have to see and question what kind of a weirdo you were. Crying during the most pleasurable part. Truly weird beyond belief.

The next morning you couldn't even look him in the eye. He did nothing wrong and you knew it. It wasn't worth it. Torturing yourself like this. Not for Karlach, not for him. You were done. If he ever asks you again you'll reject him. You didn't care if he stayed or left anymore. He must've had his fill of you. You won't give him anything more.

*

"Do you hate me?"

That question was like a punch to the gut. Completely out of the blue too. "What? No. How did you even come to think of that?"

Your own thoughts were racing as well as his. You did most of the chores around the camp, even those you agreed would be his. Just becuase you won't let him use your body as he pleases doesn't mean all your people pleaser instincts will leave completely. If you can't give him your body you'll at least gift him your own free time. Still even after that he tried to come and take som chores off of your hands but you wouldn't let him. You had to keep on moving, it distracted you from what he did to you. Or rather what you did to yourself.

Even later at the drow you stood up for him when she just treated him as a peace of meat. You just didn't have the heart to let her.

"Do you want it alphabetically or chronologically?"

"No need for that," you halted him. "Just... did I do something you didn't like? Was I annoying? Just tell me and I'll stop."

"What? You think you've done something to me?"

You nodded. What else could be the reason? It was always your fault others left. Maybe you've slipped up on accident and showed him a part of you that annoyed him. For some reason keeping up a mask around was harder and harder with each passing day.

He laughed. "Oh my, how funny you are. No, you haven't done a thing I didn't find absolutely indearing. It might've been me who overstepped. But no need to nitpick about the past. You don't hate me and that's all I needed to know. Have a pleasant rest of the night dear," he waved you goodbye but before he could go back to his tent you called out for him.

"Astarion wait," you tugged at his sleeve to stop him. You needed to know. "Can you at least tell me what I did to make you think so low of me?"

He was quiet for a while. Then he spoke. "You weren't spending as much time with me anymore."

"Oh," you let go of his sleeve. "I'm sorry. It wasn't on purpose."

"I know, how can anyone neglect this wonderful bastard on purpose after all," he ran his hand through his curls and made them a bit more puffy.

You chuckled. He must've figured out you loved his hair. It looked even better under moonlight. You shook yourself from admiring his hair and bid him goodnight.

How could you have been so careless? Neglecting him like that. You felt hurt, true, but it was your fault you felt like that, not his. He didn't do anything wrong. None of them ever did.

After you were done beating yourself up over your stupid mistake you promised yourself you'll spend more time with him. Hells, you'll become his tail if needed.

And as you were falling asleep you thought to yourself that maybe being that close to him won't be so bad.

*

Astarion was truly weird. But in a good way.

First you halt all intimacy after he has had a taste of you. Then you avoid him to the point he thinks you hate him. And yet he's still there, every single morning you expected him to be long gone he still greets you and compares your hair to a birds nest, offering his hair taming services for you.

You started to ease up a little around him. Being with him all the time was a bit overwhelming in the begining but the more time you spent together the more slip ups you made. And the wider his smile seemed to become.

Sooner or later you've dropped your mask completely around him. Told him what you thought, freely got excited about anything you encountered on the road, talked endlessly about topics most found boring. But Astarion? No boredom ever showed itself in his eyes. He only looked at you as if you were his whole world. Even when you were in a city negotiating something you could still feel his gaze on you.

His touches began to linger too. Before you just bit your cheek and let him touch you as he pleased. As long as his hands didn't wander you didn't exactly mind, if he wanted to you let him. But something has changed about him. Or rather the way you see him. His touch was less calculated and more... friendly? Sort of shy? When he was trying to get inside your pant the first time he usually brushed his palm along the small of your back with a wink but now, all he needed to slightly blush was for the backs of your hands to make a contact while you walked. Did you misread him in the begining?

The answer came like a lightning from clear blue sky.

Here you were now, listening to the rogue vampire who you grew to love despite how much pain you suffered through just to keep him from leaving, telling you about he was forcing himself as well all along. At first you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but you could only feel sadness and sympathy for him. He never truly talked about his master and what he had to go through under his rule, but whatever he decided to share with you should've concidered more carefuly when coming up with ways of pleasing him. You should've known he was trying to manipulate you, just like you were him.

"I also have something to confess to," you took a deep breath. "I never wanted to sleep with you. I only did that becuase you would've left otherwise."

"Wha-" he took a step back, bewildered. "What are you saying?"

"I never wanted to do it with you. After you asked me the first time and I rejected you I noticed how Karlach grew to like you and I thought you would've left if someone didn't fulfill your needs. Since nobody really liked you back then, well aside from me and Karlach, and you only ever asked me I felt like I had to. You would've left otherwise and Karlach would be sad to see you go. Me too in a way... It is quite funny if you think about it," you chuckled a bit.

"Funny? In what universe is this funny?" He said with a slight anger in his voice.

"Just think," you tried to explain, "you manipulated me and at the same time I was kind of manipulating you back. You were right, this group really is full of wierdoes."

He didn't share the same humor as you. What was on his face was a mix of anger, disgust and horror. But he quickly hid those feelings away. "Well, seems like we are truly fated to be together then. If you'll have me that is."

You smiled up at him. The past is past now, you only focused on the fact that he grew to truly care about you, despite his plans. "Of course I will Astarion. But I do have a request."

"Anything, my dear."

You smiled at the pet name. Many people gave you cute or silly nicknames but this was the first that felt genuine. "No sex. For now at least. Please?"

He nodded. "Even though it would almost be a challenge, I would greatly appreciate it as well."

You smiled at eachother like two idiots in love, which you believed you were. Two broken people as well, but now you have eachother.

"I also have a request: no lying, no telling me what I want to hear. Only truth from now on," he said.

You agreed. He then extended his hand to you and you gladly took it. The feelings you held towards him from the first night you slept together still lingered but not as strongly as before. You could see the situation more clearly now. The world broke both of you in different ways, but together you could heal again.

That night you dreamed of what could be. After his master is defeated, after you're both freed from those worms. For the first time in your life you had someone by your side who wouldn't leave. And for the first time in your life you were excited for the future with him.

The same couldn't be said for Astarion that night. He couldn't close his eyes without seeing your face, your lovely innocent looking face, telling him how you forced yourself to be with him. You were even pure enough to find humour in that. Maybe that was the way you coped.

He felt disgusted in himself. What was supposed to be a romantic bonding moment, changing your lives for the better, became an ugly memory.

Night after night he talked with you, truly talked. Admitted to everything Cazador has did to him. He also pried out the truth from you, how you came to wearing hundreds of different masks for hundreds of different people. You were right in a way, it was a bit funny how similair the two of you were. But while he wore those masks to survive you wore them to not be alone. He understood regardless.

However, on the nights when his racing mind wouldn't slow down he saw all the pain and suffering he caused and now with your face added among them all in the worst way possible. Making you do as he asked, you not being able to decline. How was he any better than Cazador?

[eevzz]

a toymaker's desire o(≧▽≦)o

brief sum: not one but two yan toymakers!!

notice! semi-based off of @yanderenightmare's post about yan captors !! its perfectly written (as all of their stuff)!!! btw this might be a bit long i realize. i spent sm words on the coming to life part :,)

There was something so intimate about constructing your face. Your head, the curve of your nose, your eye shape. It felt so personal. From this moment he knew you were gonna be the favorite out of all the dolls they've had.

After being fully made there was never a day that went by where you weren't dolled up. Even though you weren't alive they dressed you for every occasion. For example when it's bed time they choose from various types of pretty pajamas to put you in, one might even read a bedtime story for you. When it's morning hours you're put in frilly dresses or if they want to go for something more casual they'd put you in a baby doll dress. If they have to attend a gala or something fancy and punctual they'd dress you in a long dress adorned with intricate details with satin bows and silk gloves and lace. You obviously never end up going with them. If we're being honest though, if it weren't for societal norms and the stares and looks they'd get, you'd definitely end up going.

They love you so much, it's weird. You don't show signs of life but they feel strangely attached to you. They feel as if you all were meant to be. If we're being honest, it took a while for one of them to understand the obsession with you, he thought it was creepy if anything. However, over time he started to understand, their love for you transcended words and life altogether. No one's quite sure what had happened, they say that is was fate, it was destiny, etc. But your vitalization was truly something unexplainable.

It was a silent night in the manor today. The boys had already put you to bed and read you a story. Born staring, all you could look at was the pink bed canopy curtains that decorated the sides of the bed. You're not sure what had happened but suddenly you could blink. Hm, that's weird—You're a ball jointed doll, ball jointed dolls don't have joints in their eyelids. Even if they did they probably would still need someone to help them blink. Before you had the chance to think about it more you could move your eyes too! Your eyes usually are just straight across you couldn't move them before. This makes you wonder actually, if you can move your eyes and eyelids, you can move other body parts, right?

Almost instantaneously after thinking about it you could move your head. Honestly, it hurt like hell, now you're starting to understand why humans complain about the pain they feel. You decided to take another chance and just try try to sit up, that's is easy enough, right? When you hoisted your back up to sit in an up-right position it felt like a huge stab of pain in your lower back. You wanted to scream, you almost did actually, but you wouldn't want to wake up the boys, would you? They do so much for you that they don't have to. At the very least you owe them uninterrupted sleep.

Now that you're finally sitting up-right how about giving walking a go? You flung your legs over the side of the bed and decided to stand up. Honestly, this isn't that far off from being unable to move. You just have a lot more feeling in your feet. You decide to try walking! Though, this one is probably the hardest of all. You've never walked before, not even when you were a solid doll. You just try to copy what you see humans do! Uhh, one foot forward and uhh another one forward? You try to put another foot forward but you end up wobbling a lot. Oh my—You never realized how much balance that goes into walking! You end up falling, thank god it didn't make much of a sound though. That whole night though, you were fixated on getting walking right. It took you up until almost the break of dawn to get it right, once you finally walked good enough for your satisfaction you just passed out sleeping on the floor.

It was finally morning and the boys had the most perfect sleep! One of them went downstairs to make food and some coffee, the other went to go get you dressed for the day. As soon as he opened the door he was met with shock, you're on the floor and not on the bed as he left you.. Huh, weird. It's okay, as long as you're here he's fine! As he was about to pick you up he realized you're a bit heavier than usual, that's unusual but that's fine. Maybe he's just now noticing how heavy you are, you are a doll after all! As he picked you up, he realized, you're very not stiff? Your joints are much more limp and more prone to moving. Maybe he's just tired and his brain is just messing with him. Upon putting you on the bed he realizes, why is your chest rising and falling—Oh my god, are you breathing? This can't be right! You're a doll, is his brain playing games with him? He starts to put his hand on your chest. What the hell! Why does he feel a heartbeat?! Are you even the same doll he's loved? He looks at your face and body, I mean, you do look relatively the same.. He lifts up your sleeves and realizes your doll joints are gone..

Upon feeling all of this commotion along your body, your eyes start to carefully open. "What the hell.." You hear a masculine voice say, huh, he sounds just like one of your owners. As your eyes start to focus and make of what you're seeing, oh, it is him! He looks scared, and suddenly he pushes you off of him and backs away from the you. He starts to yell for your other owner. "You have to come see this, I don't know what happened!" He sounds so panicked, he looks terrified of you. Seeing this makes you a bit self conscious if anything, you're still the doll they know and love. You're not any different. You finally open your mouth to say something, "You still love me, right?" Moments go by and no response. The silence being so loud between you guys, you almost thought it was the end of the road for you until you see his face get less and less tense and his eyes start to soften. He walks towards you and gives a warm, deep embrace. "How could I not, my baby?"

౨ৎ

[alexanderlightweight]

Hi Lumine, hope your Wednesday's going well! My boy (greyhound) has been at the vet today for dental check-up (all clear!) and came back as high as a kite - I swear he is so out of it he forgot how to lay on his bed, just stood on top staring through me and the walls into space! If you feel like it, I'd love to see a similar situation with either Alec or Magnus on strong painkillers and the other bemused/amused by their reactions. SfW please.

omg your poor baby!!! I bet he gets hit pretty hard with how slender greyhounds are!! I love that even like that, they're kind of the same when the drugs finally hit.

Nightshade is built like a tank so we have to dose him extra and every time he just looks sadder the more he slips under like 'why would you give me MORE drugs? thinking is hard enough already!!! baba noooooooo.' he also gets the munchies. and while he can put himself in his crate when he's drugged he doesn't know how to get through the open door or he'll cry if his toy is too far away or i'm too far away. he's very pawthetic.

Magnus took a magic replenishing potion btw. he doesn't normally 'indulge' because it's more potent than drinking but he trusts Alec enough to let down his guard. he's not just trusting Alec to take care of him, he's also trusting his instincts and magic not to hurt Alec.

i hope you enjoy! the story about your baby was lovely and this prompt was a lot of fun!

<3 lumine

tw character on medication

-

subtle secrets of the heart

Despite Magnus’ lust for decadence, he never indulges himself to where he ends up like this.

That’s all Alec can really think of as he watches Magnus turn limp and languid and his golden, luminous eyes threaten to swallow Alec whole.

It’s understandable really.

Magnus being intoxicated — on a very specific potion because his alcohol tolerance is too high for even fae wine to work — is clearly dangerous.

Because Magnus hasn’t even asked for anything yet and Alec is dying to give him whatever he wants.

And also keep as close to him as possible because while Magnus is always warm, he’s molten like this and his body is a beacon to Alec’s senses.

It makes it all the more frustrating that right now, Alec can’t enjoy it because he is currently just trying to get Magnus to stop snapping things away.

Mainly because Alec isn’t sure that Magnus will remember where he sends anything while he’s like this and Alec really doesn’t want to have to explain to Idris that his primary and personal tablet was sent to the Bermuda Triangle.

“Please, Magnus—” he catches Magnus’ hand and kisses the blue sparks that have just started to form. “Nothing needs to be put away, just let it be a mess. For tonight?”

It takes a moment for Magnus to focus on him — he’s been currently getting rid of everything he looks at that he doesn’t like, which is apparently everything but the chair he’s flopped in and Alec.

And Alec breathes out a sigh of relief as his work bag is blessedly left alone.

Going to the roof doesn’t seem ideal with Magnus like this — too much wild energy and complicated magic and things that Magnus might dislike in this mood.

So to the bedroom it is.

That has the least objectionable amount of things in it, considering every little thing has been handpicked by Magnus or Alec or both.

“My strong, sturdy shadowhunter.” Magnus purrs out the words so strongly that Alec can barely understand him and he’s a little worried that Magnus is going to need some healing tea the next day.

“Yes Magnus, your shadowhunter.” Is all he really manages to get out because carrying Magnus is always lovely but it’s even more distracting with Magnus groping his muscles and ass and nuzzling as close as possible.

Alec might drop him if this keeps up.

Something that is too horrific to truly consider and Alec braces himself better and speeds up.

He is not dropping Magnus just because his husband is a little handsy at the moment.

That would be possibly the most embarrassing thing Alec could ever do and worse, Magnus probably wouldn’t even hold it against him.

Magnus takes care of Alec when he’s drunk, sleep-deprived, fucked-stupid and a plethora or other things and he hasn’t dropped him even once.

True, Magnus has magic but Alec is a shadowhunter so he feels like that isn’t probably the excuse he’d like it to be.

Pain blooms on his neck and as delightful as it is, he also almost knocks Magnus into the doorframe and it takes a moment of maneuvering before he has his deadweight, warlock of a husband and his very frisky magic into their room.

Alec is going to kindly request that Magnus never take this kind of potion again without them both properly preparing and being set up for this.  He knows he’s being dramatic, but the last thing Alec wants is Magnus to wake up sore and with bruises and then Alec having to explain that it’s not what he’s thinking. And that it’s because Alec couldn’t get Magnus from the living room to the bedroom safely... not because they fucked happily and merrily from the living room. 

Which they’ve done.

Multiple times.

With less injuries and bruises than are currently being stacked against him.

Considering all the times Magnus has whisked Alec away from battlefields and political landmines and family disputes and just general unpleasantness, Alec thinks he’s personally failed since he’s having trouble simply conquering two hallways and an open concept loft.

Magnus fingers cling to Alec’s skin as he wrestles him onto the bed — because Magnus like this is pliable only to a degree.

He lets Alec carry him and move him but the moment Alec tries to step away or even look away from Magnus, he’s being pulled back.

By magic that sparks and sweaty fingers that drag on his skin and catch on his clothes and eyes that sear through him to the bone.

“Let me get the lights.” Alec murmurs, because Magnus can’t be comfortable with the sun shining through the windows or the chandelier still lit up.

It’s a mistake to let Magnus know what is taking Alec’s attention because suddenly the room is dark.

Alec can no longer see even the shadows as everything is consumed by an abyssal darkness — everything but the twin rings of Magnus golden cat eyes.

Giving it up for a lost cause, Alec does his best to get into the bed without digging a knee into Magnus’ ribs or elbowing his face.  It works despite the fact that Magnus is fighting dirty and then Alec can finally curl up next to his husband and be the pillow Magnus wants him to be.

Magnus climbs atop him, ear to Alec’s heart and fingers possessive on Alec’s hip.

“You’re very adorable like this.” Alec murmurs quietly, fingers running through hair soft as silk, the magic that normally kept it coif melting under his touch. “But I already miss your voice.”

Magnus purrs at him, something deep and rumbling and it soothes the small ache of loneliness that Alec’s been feeling since Magnus took the potion.

[artchvies]

for putting a guy in a situation carcar and 39

wasn’t planning on writing angst but it kinda wrote itself with this one...

(900 words, avoiding a conversation)

It’s after.

The air in the room is thick, humid with the leftover weight of it. The desperate, half-silent way Oscar had climbed into Carlos’s lap, the way Carlos had let him, had kissed him like he could solve whatever it was Oscar wasn’t saying with just his mouth.

Maybe he had, for a while.

But now, Carlos lies still on his back, cooling sweat sticky on his skin, feeling every inch of space between their bodies even though Oscar is still technically there. Draped over him, face tucked against his collarbone, one hand curled tight in the sheets instead of touching Carlos.

It shouldn't feel like this.

Carlos keeps his breathing slow. Like if he stays calm, maybe Oscar will too.

Like if he stays calm, he won’t blurt something stupid, like Do you even want to be here anymore? or Did I lose you and just didn't notice until now?

Oscar shifts slightly, and it’s not to get closer. It’s almost like he’s bracing himself—forehead pressed hard against Carlos’s chest, fingers twitching once in the sheets before stilling.

"You’re quiet," Carlos says, low. Careful.

Oscar lets out a breath that’s almost a laugh, except there’s no humor in it. "Tired."

Carlos could point out that Oscar hadn’t seemed tired when he was grinding down on him earlier, mouth open, panting quietly into Carlos’s neck.

He could say a lot of things. He doesn't.

Instead, he lifts a hand and settles it lightly on Oscar’s back, feeling the tension thrumming under his skin.

Oscar leans into it instinctively, but Carlos can feel the hesitation there too—the way he accepts the touch without seeking it out.

"You don’t have to stay," Carlos says finally, voice so light it sounds foreign to his own ears. A joke, almost. The kind you tell when you don't want to hear the answer.

Oscar stiffens.

It’s small. Barely there. But Carlos feels it like a punch.

"I want to," Oscar says, too fast. Too defensive. It doesn’t sound like a promise. It sounds like an apology.

Carlos hums, noncommittal, and slides his palm up Oscar’s back until he reaches the nape of his neck, fingers threading into the damp hair there.

He wants to pull. Wants to tilt Oscar’s face up and look at him and demand, Then why are you acting like you’re already halfway gone?

Instead, he just strokes his fingers through Oscar’s hair, gentle.

Oscar lets him.

The hand that isn’t fisted in the sheets comes up, hesitant, and settles on Carlos’s chest. Right over his heart.

Carlos holds his breath without meaning to.

He wishes it would be enough. He wishes it didn’t feel like Oscar was clinging out of guilt instead of need.

They lay there like that—two bodies still close but worlds apart—until Carlos feels his resolve start to crack.

Until the words are pressing up against his teeth, hot and bitter and heavy.

"Was it not good?" Carlos hears himself ask, stupidly.

Oscar jerks back like he’s been slapped. His eyes are shocked and hurt.

"No—no, it was—" he stumbles, shaking his head violently, like he can erase the idea from Carlos’s mind just by denying it hard enough. "You’re—Carlos, you’re—"

Carlos pushes himself up onto his elbows, looking at him properly for the first time since they finished. Oscar looks wrecked. Not in the good way.

There’s a frantic edge to the way he’s breathing, the way he keeps glancing away and then forcing himself to look back.

Carlos feels something ugly twist in his chest.

"I’m what?" Carlos asks, quiet.

Oscar opens his mouth. Closes it again.

He looks like he’s on the verge of saying something huge. Or running out the door.

Instead, he leans in suddenly and kisses Carlos—messy, desperate, all teeth and trembling fingers fisting into Carlos’s hair.

Carlos lets him.

Lets Oscar press him down onto the mattress again, lets him slide over him, lets himself pretend that Oscar’s mouth on his skin means more than fear.

Lets himself pretend that this isn’t a goodbye in disguise.

Oscar kisses him like he’s trying to drown in it, gasping against his mouth, hips grinding slow and filthy against Carlos’s thigh, chasing friction.

Carlos groans, deep in his throat, and lets his hands wander—down Oscar’s back, under his thighs, gripping tight enough to leave marks.

If he’s losing Oscar, he wants to leave something behind.

They move together in the messy, frantic way of people trying to outrun something.

Oscar ruts against him, frantic and silent except for the broken little sounds he tries and fails to smother against Carlos’s neck.

Carlos cups his hand around the back of Oscar’s head, holding him there, holding him close, until Oscar shudders apart in his arms—biting down on Carlos’s shoulder hard enough to bruise.

Carlos doesn’t let go even after it’s over.

Even when Oscar pulls back, panting, blinking at him like he’s just realized where he is.

Carlos brushes a thumb over the curve of Oscar’s cheekbone—a gesture too tender for what just happened between them—and watches as Oscar’s face crumples, just for a second.

Oscar leans into the touch. "I’m sorry," he says, so quietly Carlos almost doesn’t catch it.

Carlos’s chest tightens painfully. "For what?"

Oscar doesn’t answer.

Just closes his eyes and presses his forehead against Carlos’s again, breathing him in like he’s trying to memorize him.

Carlos doesn’t push. He holds Oscar there, and lets the silence stretch out heavy and warm and miserable around them.

Maybe this is all they get tonight. Maybe this is all they’ll ever get.

Carlos closes his eyes and pretends it’s enough.

[peteytheparrot]

Stuck in your web

Pose I referenced: https://pin.it/ASgd7LEwX Chair I drew over:  https://pin.it/79tZ9GzWH

+ an older lonngggg thing I wrote with these two (and Hazel) if you’re interested!! (TW for physical and mental abuse)

It was cold and dark out, Obsidian walked slowly back to the apartment, his body was sore, he couldn’t take it anymore, he was going to tell Hazel today. About him joining the foundation behind his back, about him dating Milo, and most importantly, about the abuse Milo was putting him through. Milo had struck him in the face earlier that day, he forgot why, it was over something insignificant, but it was all the same to Milo, and it would land Obsidian with a new bruise or scratch. 

Obsidian open the door to the apartment, he saw a small light was on above the kitchen table, Hazel was there, he had prepared a small meal for the both of them. Hazel stared blankly, “You were gone for a long time, the foods going cold.” Obsidian rubbed his arm, which was sore from another time Milo hit him, “Can we talk… It’s important.” Hazel grumbled, “For the last time, I can’t get us better meals, I don’t have enough money for tha-“ Obsidian stopped him, “It’s not that.” Hazel sighed and sat down at the table, “Well, what is it?” Obsidian stood for a moment, maybe this was a bad idea, but Obsidian had to tell him everything, he couldn’t keep lying like this. “I… You know about the foundation you’re in? For extra money and stuff…” Obsidian could see Hazel’s eyes widen as if he already knew what Obsidian was about to say next, “I… I joined it. Awhile ago-“ Hazel cut him off slamming his hands down on the table, “You what?! I told you specifically not too!! Are you serious?!” Obsidian flinched, “I- It’s because I met this guy- You should know him-“ Hazel growled and stood up from the table, now walking towards him, “You met someone? How much bullshit have you been doing behind my back?!” Obsidian backed away from him, “His name is Milo-“ Hazel got closer to him, “Milo? Isn’t he the son of Murphy? The damn boss of the entire foundation?” Obsidian looked down as to not look Hazel in the eyes, “Yeah- Yeah. We got close.. And we.. Kind of started…” Obsidian trailed off, telling Hazel they were dating would be a horrible idea. 

Hazel suddenly grabbed Obsidian’s shoulders forcing Obsidian to look Hazel directly in his eyes, Obsidian was terrified, tears welded up in his eyes, “You two started.. What?” But Obsidian could already tell Hazel put the puzzle pieces together. Obsidian couldn’t take it anymore, he burst into tears, “Just- Just look! He’s horrible to me!!” Obsidian wailed “I thought he was nice but he’s not!! He hurts me Hazel!! He hurts me a lot! I need your help!!” Obsidian begged Hazel, hoping, praying that Hazel would understand, that he would get him out of this mess, but Hazel just looked at him with anger and disgust, “And why would I help you? You deserve all of this bullshit happening to you.” Hazel spat the words in Obsidian’s face, and his heart broke, “Please Hazel, he hits me, scratches me, punches me, Hazel plea-“ Hazel screamed, “You know what Oliver?! Good!! I’m sick of you! You’re a fucking idiot you know that?!” Obsidian sobbed, “Hazel! Hazel plea-“ Hazel continued screeching at him, “All my fucking life I’ve helped you and yet you never listen!! Every. Single. Fucking time. You know what I’m gonna do now?” Obsidian was shaking, “I’m gonna tell Milo allll about what you said to me, I’m sure he’ll be soooo happy to learn about you telling me how cruel he is to you huh??” Hazel was mocking Obsidian at this point, Obsidian was sobbing, the tears wouldn’t stop, Obsidian wailed and wailed, “Hazel no!! You can’t! Anything but that please I swear I’ll do better just please!” Hazel didn’t care about a single word he was saying, “I just wanted you to help me!!” Obsidian sobbed, Hazel walked past him now, with a dull expression on his face, “I don’t help people like you Oliver, and I’m sure Milo will feel the same way very soon.” Hazel slammed the door to his room, and Obsidian continued to cry and cry practically all night, alone in his room, with no one to help him, not even his own brother. 

Obsidian found himself back at the big building of the foundation, a massive party was going on inside, and Obsidian was terrified if Milo was in the crowd of people, if Milo knew of Obsidian telling Hazel how cruel he was, he was done for. Suddenly he felt a pat on his shoulder, Obsidian jolted over to see Milo with a warm smile on his face, his eyes full of love and care, “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you darling!” Milo said cheerfully, he gave him a big hug, Obsidian put on a smile on his face, but it was just to cover up what he was truly feeling, which was now of confusion. He knew Milo hid his true emotions in public, but Milo’s emotions just felt so real here that he didn’t know if Hazel truly told him or not. Milo and Obsidian now walked around the foundation with their arms interlocked, talking to other people, drinking wine, and having fun. But Obsidian wasn’t having much fun, he was still trying to figure out what Milo knew. Milo and Obsidian sat down on a couch, Milo’s arm was around Obsidian and Milo was talking to another guest right beside him. Obsidian looked over at Milo, he was happy, very happy. Milo leaned into Obsidian lovingly, when the guest finally leaved Milo looked over at Obsidian with his kind eyes, “So how is everything today with you?” Milo said as if he knew truly… Nothing. Obsidian let out a fake chuckle, “Oh! Fine! Great!” Milo rubbed Obsidian’s shoulder, “I would hope so, so much has been going on lately!” Obsidian blinked, trying to make sure his eyes didn’t look watery, “I hope you and your brother are doing well?” Milo said calmly, but that only struck Obsidian’s nerves again, “Oh yeah! We’re doing good, y’know, as good as we can get with how Hazel is!” Obsidian nudged Milo and let out a fake laugh, Milo laughed with him. “Ah! You know how he is! Cold as always!” Milo nudged him back and winked, “But he’s always good at his job eh dear?” Obsidian smiled and nodded, he didn’t know what to feel about that, if Milo was trying to hint at Hazel telling him or if Milo was oblivious to it all, Obsidian hated this entire conversation. It was finally getting dark out, and Milo and him were ready to go home, “How about you go back to my place tonight, hm dear?” Milo kissed him on the cheek when no one was looking, they walked themselves back to Milo’s car, Milo was holding Obsidian’s hand the entire way, Obsidian had no choice but to go with him. Obsidian could feel Milo’s soft fur brush up against his, Milo was leaning on him. Milo was being so loving with him, he really didn’t know.

Milo drove the car with a small smile on his face, Obsidian sat next to him, Obsidian didn’t know how to feel, Hazel had clearly not told Milo about what happened, and he didn’t know if he should be relieved in the moment. Obsidian closed his eyes, he might as well put his mind on other things, to stop thinking about the night before. 

“Hazel told me.” Milo suddenly stated calmly, he didn’t even look over at Obsidian, still having the same smile on his face. And in that small moment everything broke for Obsidian, his entire body filled up with pure terror, his head started pounding, and he had to force his hands to stop shaking. Milo knew. Milo knew he tried to tell Hazel of what Milo was doing to him. Milo knew Obsidian failed at getting help from his brother. Milo knew Obsidian betrayed his trust. Milo knew. Milo knew everything. Obsidian didn’t say anything for a long minute as to get his brain to stop spinning first, 

“I didn’t mean it.” Obsidian stuttered out so quietly he didn’t even know if Milo heard him at all. Or maybe it was because of how loud his ears were ringing, he couldn’t tell anymore. He knew he couldn’t come up with a good excuse for why he told Hazel, and he wasn’t going to try and back up what he said. Obsidian just didn’t want the car to stop at the house, he didn’t want them to go inside alone, he didn’t know what Milo would do to him. Obsidian slightly glanced at Milo for a quick moment, Milo wasn’t looking at him, Milo looked like he didn’t even care. Milo was teasing him. He had to be. 

He suddenly heard the car slowly come to a stop, they were home. Obsidian got out of the car. Everything was so loud, he didn’t want to go inside but he just walked towards the door. With Milo right behind him. Just like that they were inside. Milo closed the door, Obsidian stood in the room, his throat was burning and he was trying not to cry. Milo slowly turned himself from the door, Milo’s eyes locked with Obsidian, Milo’s warm expression at the foundation was gone, his true face was shown now, a face full of anger, “What did you expect?” Milo said calmly, although it had a new certain sharpness to it. “I cannot believe you would tell him.” Milo walked towards him, Obsidian tried backing away but Milo just kept getting closer to him, “I- I can’t- Deal with you anymor-“ Obsidian tried to let out but he was suddenly slapped in the face, blood dripped down from his nose, but before he could say anything again Milo kicked him onto the ground, and kicked him again, and again, and again. Over and over. Obsidian was wailing in pain but Milo didn’t say a word, he just kept kicking him, to the point that it wasn’t just bruises but blood, lots of blood, all over Obsidian’s legs and arms. Obsidian didn’t know what to do besides wail out in pain, he cried and cried, begging Milo to stop, screaming at him that he was sorry, but none of it worked, Milo just kept letting out all of his anger onto him. 

Obsidian rolled around on the floor in pain, Milo had finally stopped kicking him, but now Milo has pinned his arms down onto the ground, his face right up next to Obsidian’s. “Oh sweetheart…” Milo let out in a loving tone, “I told you telling anyone wouldn’t work.. Why didn’t you listen to me?” Milo said as if he was truly asking a question, but before Obsidian could answer, Milo pushed his lips against Obsidian’s, as if Milo was ignoring the blood coming out of Obsidian’s mouth. Obsidian couldn’t push Milo away from kissing him, his arms were locked into place. The kiss felt like a lifetime before Milo finally let go of him. “Can you promise me something dear?” Milo said, now up off of the floor, Obsidian was shaking still, lying in his own pile of blood, “Can you promise me to never break my trust again? To never go against my back?” Obsidian couldn’t speak, he just shook his head yes. Milo smiled and helped Obsidian off of the floor, Milo helped walk Obsidian back into Milo’s bedroom, he helped wash his fresh wounds and give him a new pair of clothes. Milo set Obsidian next to him in bed, Milo kissed him goodnight and cuddled him close. Milo was warm and happy, his arms surrounding Obsidian, as if to let him know he couldn’t escape. He’d never escape Milo’s grasp. And no one else would ever help him. He had no one. No one but Milo. Just Milo. Milo.

[ink-and-dagger]

What do you think of the new Ghost album, Inky? Also, I wanted to ask, if it’s okay to talk about, how was the concert for you? Were the new songs nice to hear live?

Spoilers (or maybe not actual spoilers, but still! This is the part where I share my opinion, and I don’t want to influence you or shape your thoughts if you haven’t listened to the whole album yet.)

To be completely honest, it’s not my favorite, but I know I need to listen to it a few more times to see if it grows on me. This is really just my raw first impression. I feel like some of the songs sound a bit similar, I’m not sure how to explain it.

With the previous albums, especially Impera, I felt like the songs had more contrast, like we had the bold energy of Twenties, and then something really touching like Darkness at the Heart of My Love.

And when I first listened to Impera, or even Prequelle, I could instantly pick a few favorites. This time, I’m a bit indecisive.

But again, this is just a first listen reaction, I’m definitely going to keep listening to it on repeat, and I’m so excited to see them in concert!!!

Oh boy, I have so many thoughts and I'm really sorry if I sound like a patronising asshole at any point I'm just very passionate about music in general. I’ll talk about the album first so I can put a read more cut for anyone wanting to avoid concert spoilers.

I adore Skeletá. I think it’s a bloody masterpiece. Tobias has brought it into existence at the perfect time within Ghost’s discography and I’m not in the least bit surprised that a significant chunk of the fandom don’t get it and/or are mad about it. Every Ghost album has a specificity to it - they all achieve something different - and Skeletá is no exception. It’s not the album you head bang to - that’s what Opus is for. It’s not the album you wobble wobble to - that’s what Impera is for. Skeletá is the album you turn to when the sheer burden of existing in todays world becomes too heavy. Tobias said it himself in numerous interviews and articles leading up to the release: “I wanted this record to be about being human. Being alive.” And I think that’s exactly what he’s done. Skeletá acts as a tether to the raw humanity inside each of us - it forces you to be introspective, to shut out all external noise and to re-live all the moments in your life in which you felt something visceral and real. The intensity of first love. The devastation of first loss. Those memories which lose their impact on us over time because we allow the bullshit of the rest of the world to dampen them. Tobias has given us a fucking gift with this album, and it’s a gift that I think will unfortunately go over a lot of people’s heads. (Not talking about you anon, more referring to the people on twitter bitching that it isn't Impera 2 despite TF literally saying he wanted to avoid that).

I think there’s a wiiiide variety of reasons why so many people aren’t vibing with this album (aside from genuine musical preference), I honestly feel I could write a damn thesis about it. I’m not going to get into it rite here rite now right now, but if people are curious then hit me up I guess. All I’ll say is that if Skeletá has a million fans I’m one of them, if Skeletá has 5 fans I’m one of them, if Skeletá has 1 fan that one is me, if Skeletá has no fans I’m no longer alive, if the world is against Skeletá I’m against the entire world.

My London O2 Concert experience below cut

The concert was phenomenal. I can’t explain what it was like to hear Peacefield live for the first time, I honestly feel so incredibly lucky that I got to experience it like that, because now each time I listen to it it directly links me back to that moment in the o2.

The experience getting into the venue was great. The O2 have it down to a fine art and I basically just walked in straight away when I arrived at the venue. The only time I queued was for merch once I was inside which was quite long (30 mins perhaps), but because I got into the venue so quickly that I wasn’t concerned about time. I was sat up in the nosebleeds, so we weren’t able to get up and dance because it just wasn’t safe to do so, but everyone around me was bouncing up and down in their seats like excited toddlers in high-chairs.

I do gotta say - and I’ll be interested to know if anyone else at o2 thought the same - I thought the sound mix was crap. Papa’s mic sounded a bit tinny which was such a shame because his vocals were the best I’ve ever heard them. Like oh my GOD the difference the half mask makes to his vocals is absolutely insane. And just overall he was so free and happy - it honestly felt like watching a baby cow frolicking in the field after being stuck in a barn all winter.

He didn’t talk much between songs, but at towards the start of the concert he just spoke as Tobias, and throughout the show he graaadually got a little more Copia with the accent and cadence of his words. Probably muscle memory and habit. His movements too - lots of little hops and skips and dances that Copia did but they felt more real coming from V if that makes sense? They’re definitely twins lmfao. Little dressage horses the pair of them.

Some of my fav moments:

Jesus hyping up the crowd before it started

The curtains dropping in Peacefield

Papa messing up the lyrics to DATHOML (really made me laugh)

His vocals. Honestly I cannot express how incredibly he sang.

His smirk at the end of Cirice sent me into the stratosphere I honestly think having a seat so far away from the stage may have saved my life there

Papa pretending to be scared of the audience when we shouted ‘Blasphemy! Heresy!’ During Satanized.

Papa’s scream at the start of Mummy Dust also sent me into the stratosphere

The way Papa said “You Mother Fuckers” during Faith - he really relished it you could tell

Lots of mwah mwah mwahs at the end of KTGG

The concert was the day before Easter, and he asked us if we wanted an Easter Egg up our Keister. Then he paused, and you could see the penny drop because his eyes lit up and he got this goofy little smile and went “Y’all want a Keister Egg??!!” Baby girl was so proud of his dad joke <3

Honestly it was just an incredible night overall, and I’m even more excited to see them again in Linköping because I actually have decent tickets and also my buddy my pal my sweet cheese @lemmielem for company >:)

[m-jelly]

Hey Jelly! Is it alright if I request a Levi x reader in a The Last of Us situation where reader takes the place of Ellie in the second game? She's immune, has just lost Joel, and has kept things secret from Levi about her immunity. Levi takes the place of Dina and their mask breaks resulting in reader telling Levi about their immunity before they were chased by a horde of clickers and runners, leaving Levi to stew in anger and betrayal from the lack of trust from readers side.

So the second game is my fave of the Last of Us series, I like it a lot more. I'm gonna make this a happy ending, cause it kind of goes happy but I don't wanna spoil how things go with the game as I know a lot of people have been introduced to Last of Us through the TV series and the game is a lot better.

The burden and pain I bear.

Levi x fem reader

Last of us game world, angst, communication, bonding, healing, happy ending.

After revealing the truth, you save the day for you and Levi. After parting a moment for you to hunt down those who hurt you, you face facts and decide that revenge is not the best path and return to Levi to talk things through. The two of you make up and decide to chase the future together.

Levi waited by his horse as the weight in his heart got heavier. When you approached him and your horse he felt a pain. He knew the truth, the whole truth and it was painful. You'd saved his life, but only moments before he thought one of you was going to die. Now he knew the two of you were going to live, he had nothing to worry about when it came to you getting infected.

He blinked a few times when you called his name as you put the last of some supplies in a satchel. He locked eyes with you before looking away. He loved you, he loved you so deeply and wanted marriage and kids, but he was hurt by the lie.

You moved closer to him. "Levi?"

He sighed. "I...I love you...I love you more than I can describe, but...I just..."

"You don't trust me."

He looked over at you. "I do, but...I...I feel like you don't trust me."

"I do."

"Then why didn't you...why?"

You looked down at the floor. "There is a lot of pain linked to my immunity, a lot of betrayal." You rubbed your tears. "Joel, he...and...I..."

Levi climbed onto his horse. "Do whatever you want. You want revenge, you have chosen this path. It's clear you don't need me right now." He called your name. "When you're ready, I'll be waiting for you in our home."

You walked closer. "Wait, Levi? Levi don't go."

He pulled on the reins. "Goodbye." He tapped his heels. "Be safe."

"Levi?"

He held back tears as he rode off with you screaming for him. He wanted so badly to turn back around, to hold you, love you and tell you he'll fix everything. The pain was raw right now and he was worried he'd say something he'd regret to you. This space was for the best right now, no matter how painful it was.

Being apart from you was pure hell, he was worried sick about you every passing moment. He was plagued with nightmares so taking care of the small farm you made together was hard. Knowing you'd come back to him was the only thing that kept him going.

Each day Levi gazed out at the path in hopes he'd see you on your horse, but you were never there. Weeks turned into a couple of months. Levi began neglecting himself and even grew a beard. He wanted to take back all the harsh things he said and the mean looks. He wanted you home.

Summer was coming and Levi's longing increased, he wanted to sit on the front porch with you in his arms and talk about the future. He collected water in his watering can and glanced down the path to see someone on a horse coming closer. His heart raced as a blush spread on his cheeks. He dropped the can and watched the person get closer.

Levi moved towards the top of the path by the gate. He called your name and waited for any kind of response. His eyes widened in delight when you waved back at him, but the wave was a hesitant one. He knew there was pain, a burden and something must have gone wrong.

You came to a stop in front of Levi. "I ah..."

Levi could see the wear and tear on you, you'd lost weight and you looked pale. "You can come in. I have the stable ready."

You rode your horse in and put her where she was comfy. You took everything off and made your way out to see Levi was waiting for you. You gripped your bags and looked down. "I'll be gone by tomorrow."

"Why?"

"Do you want me gone now? I can be gone in an hour, I just need to make sure my horse is okay."

He walked closer and saw you back up a little. "No, I mean why are you leaving tomorrow? I never said you should leave. I want you here."

You stared at him for a while. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." He reached over seeing you flinch. He paused and pulled back a bit. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Tears filled your eyes as you remember being alone for months, thinking that everything was over and you'd lost the love of your life. You'd seen a lot of death on the road, you'd made friends with people only for them to die on you. You'd give up seeking revenge, you were tired and you just wanted to see Levi one last time before going off on your own forever.

You smiled sadly. "A lot of death. I'm sorry I'm back. I'll sleep in the stables, get my shit together and move on. I don't want to cause you more pain."

Levi stared at you for a while when things slowly moved in his head, while he'd been full of rage months ago you'd been full of pain. "Let's go inside and talk."

You nodded. "Okay."

He walked with you inside the home. "Take a shower. I kept your clothes, so get changed into something and I'll have a meal and drink ready for you."

"Um...okay..."

Levi set up a nice meal and got a drink ready for you both, he even put a nice flower in a can that acted as a vase. He was going to shave later and look presentable tomorrow, but for now he wanted to communicate with you.

He smiled at you when he saw you stood sheepishly in the doorway, your hair dripping with water. "Tch, silly brat." He walked closer as you backed up. He grabbed a towel and started rubbing your hair as you closed your eyes tightly like you'd been hurt a lot while you were gone. "You still haven't changed, always leaving your hair all wet. You could get a cold."

"Sorry..."

"It's one of the many reasons why I love you."

You looked up into his eyes. "Levi."

He locked eyes with you and cupped your face, your towel still on your head as he softly said your name. "I love you."

"But...I hurt you."

"And I hurt you too. I want to heal with you. I want to move on with you. I don't ever want to lose you again. Those months without you were painful." He tapped his forehead against yours as you both began crying. He sobbed your name. "I love you."

You clung to his shirt. "I love you, Levi. I love you so much." You cried hard, a painful cry that hurt Levi's heart. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

Levi held you tightly against him as the two of you cried together. When you were calmer he crashed his lips against yours. The two of you shared passionate kiss after passionate kiss until you were breathless and needed air. He gazed at you and rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip making you blush.

Levi led you to the kitchen table and watched over you as you ate slowly. "So..."

You gulped hard. "I should have told you sooner, I should have. I have a lot of trauma and guilt linked to my immunity." You played with your cup as you told Levi everything and what Joel did. "This could have been all over...I hate what I am. I hate who I am. I am so mad at him, but he's the only father figure I had." You put your head in your hands. "I cared for him, he did everything for me but hurt me and I lost him." You shook a little. "I'm tired, I'm so very tired. I can't do this anymore."

Levi moved closer to you and held you. "Don't leave me. Please don't leave me. Don't hurt yourself. Please, please stay with me." He turned you and cupped your face and saw pain in your eyes. "Let me help you. Let me help you heal, please." He said your name in a commanding tone. "I love you. I want to help you. We can get through this together. We'll tell each other the truth from now on, no matter how ugly it is."

You sniffed. "Okay."

"Promise me you won't hurt yourself."

"I promise."

Levi kissed you over and over. "Thank you. I promise too that I won't hurt myself. We'll live here together on this farm, okay?"

You smiled at him. "Yeah, it's what we dreamed of."

"What about?"

You shook your head before Levi could finish. "I'm done. It's not worth it. Revenge got Joel killed and revenge will only get me or others killed. I tried hunting them, but people died trying to help me. It's not worth it. I want to live." You reached over and held Levi's hand. "I want to live with you."

Levi lifted your hand and kissed it all over as he smiled. "I want to live with you too." He blushed a little. "I want to marry you and have kids with you."

Your cheeks heated up. "Levi."

"I mean it."

You whined a little. "I want all that too. There is just one thing."

He frowned. "What?"

"Well..."

"Come on, we promised each other we'd tell the truth."

You released a long sigh. "Okay, well...umm..."

He leaned closer. "Tell me."

"The beard has to go."

He stared at you for a while. "What?"

You lightly touched the black beard he had. "It's gotta go. I'm sorry, it's cute and all but...I dunno."

He laughed making you smile. "You're right, it's not the best. I'll get rid of it tonight."

You smiled as your heart raced. "You're so handsome. I love you so much."

"I love you too." He leaned closer and stopped. "I want to kiss you but you don't like the beard."

"You've already kissed me a lot and I didn't mind the beard."

"I dunno." He teased. "You seemed rather against it."

You huffed a bit. "You."

He crashed his lips against yours and moaned. "I love you so much."

"I love you too."

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