#all those stitches he has when they made the deal 👀

[lilfriezatyrant]

@reptile--queen ✨✨🥺👌

[madnessiseverything]

grishaverse (mostly soc) fics

since i've now posted over 20k of fic for this fandom i figured i'd do a little collection post for them 👀

when i'm beat up and alone, 1.4k words. jesper has a very bad day and gets beat up for his efforts. It’s a testament to his fucked up state—the reason he should never touch another drop of alcohol, a promise he has made far too many times—that they get the jump on him and he can’t reach for his guns in time, long-trained reflexes impeded by just about everything this shitty day has thrown his way. His head meets concrete and the world slides away for a brief, but far too crucial moment. -

live to fight another day, 2.6k words. five times jesper says "this is how we die" and one time he refuses to say it. His mama presses her lips to his forehead, tugs him down to match her height once more. She smiles, bright as the sun above their heads. The tear tracks down her face turn golden. Then those gentle, oh-so-gentle hands move to his chest, and Aditi—beautiful, loving, stubborn woman that she is—shoves. -

anything for love and war, 587 words. jesper gives wylan a key and freaks out about it. But insecurity has always been a loathed companion following his every step, and Jesper has always talked too much. Everything suddenly feels too fast, like he’s falling from a precipice he didn’t even have time to see. He’s never been here before, he thinks with an edge of panic. -

with bloody feet across the hallow ground, 8.9k words, ongoing WIP. everyone is fucked up in a more magical way, kaz is the barrel itself, the wraith receives prayers, wylan still crawls out of Ketterdam canals, jesper loses his soul during a game, and nina dabbles in necromancy. How then, the Wraith muses as she watches Ketterdam come to life with the approaching dark, is it possible that he doesn’t scoff at her mere existence—when faith is engraved into every tool her hands reach for, when the torn loom of her being is stitched up with the very thread that fills his floors with every new prayer a poor soul utters somewhere in the streets? -

all i ever wanted was to be of use, 5.6k words. jesper and kaz are missing inej and don't deal with it in a healthy way. kaz uses wylan's past to get to jesper. He knew the sanctuary he had found would be temporary, that his father would find him again to finish what Wylan failed to do back in the canal. He’d been foolish when he hoped it would take its time. All this time where he thought he had found happiness, he’d instead gotten complacent, let himself be lulled into a false sense of security with Jesper’s laughter and kindness. He should have known better than think he could build himself a home amidst these people.  -

please forgive my ugly, 2.1k words, ongoing WIP. jesper, up to his neck in debt, gets evicted and moves in with nina and inej, finally accepting that he needs help. The last time, Jesper tells himself on his first night, the last time things were this bad, he’d gotten Inej stabbed and irreparably damaged his relationship with Kaz. “This action will have no echo,” Jesper laughs joylessly into the rain thundering down on the bus stop roof. At least this time he alone has to bear the consequences. At least this time he doesn’t have blood on his hands. -

like a true survivor, 2k words. alina climbs into the car trunk of some strangers and ends up as a road trip buddy for the crows. She’d climbed into the backseat, with the Suli woman joining her on the other side. The Zemeni man had slid into the driver’s seat with a bright grin—Alina is pretty sure he was the one who kept laughing last night—and promptly held out an opened tub of gummy worms towards her. She hadn’t taken one until the man pointedly ate one himself as though to convince her they weren’t poisoned.

[frannyzooey]

do i smell another fic 👀 another… filthy fic?? i have a feeling it’s going to… take me out…

I mean, it’s me and I have no self control and @javierpcna and @djarinsbeskar have been encouraging the clowning so yea — it’s filthy ❤️

Take Me Out is a universe I thought of while at a baseball game during my hiatus and like any normal person who sits at a baseball game with their family, I spent 5 innings daydreaming about Din Djarin, the professional baseball player and you, the daughter of the team manager —

Traveling back home after graduating college, you make a trip to the ballpark to catch up with your dad at work, since he’s always there and the two of you catch up while he makes his way around the stadium after practice.

Standing in front of the locker room, he goes to open the door and waves away your sound of protest — “You used to come in here all the time, it’s no big deal” — and when you follow him in, you see Din, climbing out of an ice bath.

He’s nude save for black briefs, a smirk at the way you immediately averted your gaze and he keeps looking at you while making small talk with your dad, his broad, lean muscled body sauntering over to grab a towel from a hook on the wall.

Here’s a moodboard I made for it:

And a sneak peek:

you just wanted to say good luck — making your way down to the locker room from the box seats you watched every game in — and finding him there, his back faced you as he went through his pregame stretches.

a roll of his broad shoulders under the tight uniform, “Djarin” stitched across the back in big, bold capitals, his muscles flexed under the letters as he pulled one arm forward, then the other.

his dark curls are getting longer, the ends of them barely skimming the back of his tanned neck and you picture them how you usually see them: peeking out from underneath his cap, damp with sweat when he sits in the dugout or wet from the post game shower.

it’s worse when he turns around — the buttoned collar of his uniform low, exposing his throat and you want to know what that pebbled skin feels like under your lips, how his groans feel when they vibrate out from just under his Adam’s apple.

your gaze wanders over the width of his chest, his short sleeves highlighting the lean, ropy muscles of his arms but it’s his thighs that you fixate on; the striped fabric stretched taut.

“what are you doing down here, pretty girl?” he slowly comes forward, your eyes still on those thighs and the bunching of the fabric between them. “come to wish me good luck?”

It won’t be a series or anything because I’m a clown who has too much other stuff started, but feel free to send me asks if you have any questions about him ❤️