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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

There’s no casket for the funeral. In this neighbourhood, that’s expected. After the usual affair at the church, all are invited back to the house to pay their respects. You put the only picture you have of your father on the mantel; his wedding photo. 

You dress in black but not for your father. You’re mourning your sisters. Yourself. You dress in sombre slate for the uncertainty of it all. The colour is as dark as your guilt. You brought this fear upon them. 

You didn’t think about any of this. Barnes was entirely right in that regard. You didn’t think any of it out. You weren’t thinking at all. You were angry and tired. Now, it’s done and there’s no going back to what was. You don’t truly want to do that but you don’t see a path ahead that’s much better. 

The people there are there because it’s expected. They are your father’s associates. Not family or friends. Funerals are part of their job description. 

You walk numbly from room to room. You haven’t cried. You haven’t had a tear for your father in years. You try to make yourself look distraught but all you feel is empty. 

Adrienne sways between bouts of bawling and soft sniffles. Kitty is stronger. She busies herself with the flowers and thanks every guest for attending. You accept their condolences but offer little in return. 

You’re all just pretending. You’re acting like you’ll miss him. You won’t. Even if your sisters are stunned and just as scared as you, you know they aren’t sad. You all wished for this the very night before the envelope showed up. The night that you... killed him. 

You sit in one of the mismatched chairs set out to accommodate the guests. The neighbours lent some of their own for the event. You are worn through. You haven’t slept more than an hour at a time since you pulled that trigger.  

You won’t tell yourself it’s regret, you were never more certain of anything in your life. No, you know exactly what it is. Dread. You have a debt to pay. 

A figure appears in the open door. You see him through the archway of the front room. You stand as the new arrival stops just within the frame. A slow hush rolls over each guest. You look at Kitty as she glances over from the tray of cookies she spent all night making. She sees him too. 

Your older sister goes to Adrienne and touches her shoulder. The youngest lifts her head and peers up as all attention aims at the arched doorway. Barnes fills it easily. He looks around. His suit seems blacker than usual. 

It isn’t a surprise. He’s the boss. He’s expected to see his men off. He nods at you, then your sisters. You go to them, standing with Kitty behind the sofa as she keeps her hand on Adrienne. 

“Please,” Barnes waves your younger sister from standing. “Stay. I’m sure it’s been a long day. I’ve only come to pay my respects.” 

He looks between you all then sidesteps the couch. He goes to the mantle and considers the wedding photo. He bows his head and reaches into his jacket. He sets a silver coin in front of the frame. It’s an old tradition. Back in the 30s, people would leave pennies on the church altar to help pay for the burial. 

He takes a deep breath and backs up. He turns to face the room. The people in it might be familiar but they are just as much strangers to you as someone on the street. They don’t care about you, they don’t even care about your father. They’re only there because that’s what you do. 

“Thank you all for coming. You may go,” Barnes says. 

There’s a moment of hesitation. Then, the men in suits and their wives, shuffle out obediently. Kitty grabs her hand and squeezes Adrienne’s shoulder. You watch the man they call the king. 

When the room is empty, he goes to shut the front door. He returns and stands just inside the archway. He peers around again. 

“Your father died as one of mine, that means you’re all under my protection. Consider the casket paid for,” he says. 

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes,” Kitty says. “That’s very generous.” 

“I do it for all my men. I try not to lose too many,” he replies grimly. “I want you girls to tell me if you need anything. Got it?” 

Adrienne smothers a sob and nods frantically. Kitty hushes her and leans in to pet her head. You stand staunchly beside them, staring at him. His eyes cling to you. 

“Catch your breath, doll,” Barnes says. “Calm her down.” He points at Kitty then you, “Your daddy got a gun safe?” 

You look at your sisters. You can see the glisten in Kitty’s eyes. She’s good at taking care of people. You’re not. Adrienne needs her. You did this. You gotta deal with it. 

“Yeah, upstairs,” you answer as you step around the couch. 

Barnes waits until you’re level with him before he turns. He lets you lead him out and follows you to the second floor. You take him to your father’s bedroom and push the door open. You can’t go inside. You were never allowed. Not unless you wanted a taste of your father’s belt. 

“I don’t know the code,” you say. 

“That’s fine. Just needa know it’s here. I’ll have my men sort that out,” he rocks on his feet. “We needa talk.” 

You nod. 

“Privately,” he glances over at the staircase. 

You look at your father’s door and take a step back, “not in there.” 

“Right, wherever you like,” he shows his palm indifferently. 

You turn and guide him to your room. You pause before you let him inside. You’re embarrassed as he enters. Your basket of laundry is overflowing and your makeup is still strewn all over from your erratic morning. 

He paces around your bed and you shut the door. He’s quiet. So are you. The tension is enough to make you squirm. You just want him to come out and say it. 

“It’s me. I owe you. Not my sisters--” 

He raises his index finger. “You do.” He stops and faces you. “And so did your daddy. He had his hands in my pockets. Deep. I coulda had him done for that. Coulda done it myself. Then I thought about it. I do that, I brand him a thief, and what does that mean for his girls?” 

You stare at him, chest aching as your heart pounds. 

“The house and what he actually brought in, it isn’t close to even with what he took,” he crosses his arms, setting his feet flat. He lifts his chin. “I really shoulda done it myself but you wanna know why I didn’t?” 

You can’t talk. He’s toying with you. You look down at the floor as if you might see your sisters through the boards. 

“Ah, eyes up here,” he comes closer until he’s right in front of you. Your eyes flick up and wet with tears. Finally. “I wanted to know if you would do what needs to be done. If when the hammer comes down, that you won’t crack.” His eyes flick up and down and he sucks his teeth. “You didn't. You didn’t fucking flinch either.” 

“He deserved it,” you whisper, voice wobbling. 

“I know he did, doll. And I know you deserved to do that,” he says. “And what I saw that night, I never seen that before. That’s a woman with steel in her gut. The kinda woman a man like me needs.” 

Your forehead creases in confusion. You don’t know what he means. 

“You want me to... take over for my dad? I can’t--” 

“Ha, no, no,” he startles you as he brings his hand up. You flinch and he keeps his hand aloft. His eyes spark and he tilts his palm, gently caressing your cheek as if coaxing a street cat. “This isn’t woman’s work. No, doll, all I want, is you.” 

Your eyes round and you shiver against his touch. He smirks. 

“And I know, just like in that warehouse, you’re going to do exactly what needs to be done,” his thumb strokes your cheekbone. “For your sisters.” 

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗥𝗢𝗖𝗞 - part eight max verstappen x fem! driver! reader ( fluff ) series summary . . . when the lives of an f1 and wec prodigies collide, they find out they find out that they’re not that different and carve out a place for their selves in each others hearts. the commentators from sky sports call this puppy love

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Max was sitting cross-legged at the end of you’s bed, tugging on one end of a rope while Marshmallow, you spotted Dalmatian, gave it all he had on the other. Marshmallow growled playfully, his teeth gripping the rope as he crouched low, eyes shining with determination. Max was grinning, leaning back slightly to tease the dog by letting the rope slacken, only to give it another quick tug just as Marshmallow tried to make his move.

The game paused when you reappeared from the room service table, balancing two plates. She handed one over to Max, who glanced down to find a plate of kebabs, still steaming and smelling like a mouthwatering mix of spices. He blinked, caught off guard. He’d mentioned in a TikTok interview once that he loved kebabs, but he couldn’t remember telling you about it. She couldn’t have known . . . right?

You sat on the bed beside him, nibbling on your own food and looking entirely unbothered by the thought that you might’ve just exposed yourself. Marshmallow, on the other hand, was absolutely determined to ruin the peace, inching up next to you and giving you the most heart-melting stare as he eyed your kebab. She chuckled, shooing him off with your fork. “You already ate, mister.”

Meanwhile, Max was twirling his fork, glancing between the plate and you, and mustering up the courage to ask something that had been weighing on him. Finally, he spoke, his voice softer than usual. “So . . . what’s your mom like?”

You paused mid-bite, looking at him with a mix of surprise and confusion. She’d never really been asked that before. It was then, as you were processing the question, that Marshmallow seized his chance. With a swift, triumphant chomp, he snagged a piece of kebab off your fork and trotted proudly over to Max’s side, plopping down as if Max had been his partner in crime.

You huffed, laughing softly as you watched your dog munch away before turning your gaze back to Max. “Well . . . I wouldn’t really know,” you started, your voice carrying an edge of practised nonchalance. “My mom was young, barely eighteen when I was born. I guess you just weren’t ready to handle it, so . . . you didn’t.” you tried to brush it off with a shrug, focusing on the flickering TV screen instead. “It didn’t really matter, though. My dad was always there, and I had Fernando, Carlos, Jenson . . . I grew up surrounded by people who cared. I was happy.”

A comfortable silence settled between them, each taking bites from their plates, and for once, Marshmallow seemed satisfied as he sat curled up by Max’s feet, licking his chops. you glanced back at Max, curiosity pricking at her. “Why’d you ask?”

Max hesitated. He didn’t want to admit he’d overheard Carlos mention it to Lando; he didn’t want to make you feel awkward. So he simply shrugged, offering you a gentle smile. “I know your dad pretty well, but your mom? Not so much. I get it, though,” he added softly, his gaze dropping to his plate. “In a way . . . I think we’re kind of similar. We both had parents who—weren’t really there in the way we needed.”

His words hung in the air for a moment, and you felt a surprising warmth bloom in your chest. She gave him a small, appreciative smile, inching a little closer until you could lean your head against his shoulder. You watched TV in silence, the show barely registering as you both sat in a quiet, shared understanding.

You ate in easy companionship until you suddenly remembered your conversation with Lando from earlier. You sat up, your eyes bright, catching Max mid-bite.

Max blinked, pausing as he chewed, his fork halfway to his mouth. “What’s up?”

She bit your lip, and without thinking twice, you asked, “Can I kiss you again?”

Max nearly choked on his kebab, swallowing quickly. “Uh, my mouth’s full of kebab, but . . .” He grinned, wiping his mouth on his wrist. “Sure. Please.”

He leaned in, giving you a quick, playful peck as you giggled, and for the first time, Max felt like he could happily sit here, lost in your laughter, for as long as you’d let him.

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“Is that guy serious?” you groaned, easing off the throttle as the black Alpine in front of you sluggishly took the corner, red lights flashing, his car creeping around the track like it had all the time in the world. You abandoned your fast lap, grip tightening around the wheel as frustration boiled over. “Is he fucking—who is it? Who’s number 31?”

“That was Ocon—”

“Ocon?” you cut off your engineer, voice sharp and incredulous. “Really? Is he serious with me right now? Again?” You sped past the Alpine, flipping the driver off as you zoomed down the straight, jaw clenched so hard you swore you could feel it in your temples.

Your radio crackled back. “That’s P15 for tomorrow, Yn. P15.”

“Great,” you shouted, sarcasm seething through your voice as you pushed the car into the pits. Every turn, every acceleration suddenly felt meaningless. You were stuck now. “That’s it? I’m done?”

“Yes, confirm. That is P16 for tomorrow.”

“Fucking hell.” The words hissed out before you could stop them, anger rushing like adrenaline in your veins. The second you pulled into the pits, you pulled your helmet off, ripping it free of the wires, and hopped out. As you strode over to your team, you could feel the weight of that disappointment pressing down, hard and relentless. Ocon’s little maneuver had cost you everything you’d worked for in qualifying, and now you were looking at a dismal starting position because he decided to mess around.

As you hit the weigh station, getting through the post-session formalities, you felt the simmering anger twist into something even sharper. And what made it worse was everyone around you treating you like a ticking time bomb that they needed to defuse. “Just calm down, Yn, it’s all right,” someone coaxed, a hand patting your shoulder gently. “Deep breath, all right?”

It took every ounce of self-control not to scream. You didn’t need their calm words, didn’t need to be handled like you were on the verge of a meltdown. They didn’t seem to understand that it wasn’t okay, that losing your lap to an unnecessary block wasn’t something you could just brush off.

In the end, Ocon had done exactly what he wanted, securing his teammate’s spot in Q3 while shoving you down the grid. You could feel your fists clenching, the need to release all this pent-up frustration itching under your skin. Your PC stayed glued to your side as you made your way toward the briefing room, but your mind was still racing, stuck on that Alpine. If you saw Esteban after the debrief, he’d better have his helmet on—because right now, every thought you had involved giving him a piece of your mind and then some.

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direct messenges: Max + YN

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‘Finally’, Charles thought as he leaned his folded arms on the back of your sim chair, watching you do a few laps on the circuit. You smiled a little when he unconsciously commented on what you should do differently, glancing up at him. “I think I know what I’m doing, Leclerc.” You joke, turning off the sim and scribbling your quiet time somewhere.

“But this is the first time you’ve driven here since 2017.” He reminds you, smiling down at you as you stand up. “I’ve also won here a few years ago.” If it was up to Charles, he’d let himself get lost in your eyes and melt at the sound of your sarcastic laugh, or the way you patted his chest before walking out. His eyes followed you as you regrouped with Carlos’ PR to prepare for the media pen, overhearing how your goal for tomorrow would be gaining points for the team, the same words you’ve said last weekend.

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The start of the race had been a chaotic mess, with red flags and yellow flags throwing half the field off their game. But for you? It was a godsend. Each restart and caution felt like another opening, and you seized every one with a focus sharper than any you’d felt in weeks. Bit by bit, you clawed your way through the pack, pushing the limits of your car, finding every possible inch of track space until you found yourself in P2, just one position away from Max. And from there, the real chase began.

For the next grueling stretch, you stayed glued to his tail, pushing him to his absolute limit. You could almost imagine him there, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed, knowing that one slight slip would cost him the lead. You were pushing him so hard, it felt like a game of chess at breakneck speeds—one where every maneuver, every millisecond counted.

Your engineer buzzed into your ear. “You’re gaining, Yn. Keep the pressure.”

“Copy,” you muttered, eyes locked on Max’s car just meters ahead. He was fast, but you had DRS in your back pocket, an advantage you let linger, savoring the chase. You didn’t need to pass him yet; you just needed to keep him pushing harder, faster, to build that gap. And it was working. The two of you were so far ahead of the rest of the field now that it felt like your own private battle.

Each time the DRS opened, you felt the adrenaline kick harder. You could pass him whenever you wanted, but where was the fun in that? You’d wait until the moment was perfect. Finally, with Logan Sargeant’s car ahead, you knew it was time. You opened DRS, overtaking Max with precision, your car slicing past his like it was second nature. Your heart surged as you glanced at him in the mirror, the split-second look of determination in his eyes making you grin.

Now in the lead, you latched onto Logan, using his DRS to bolt ahead and create an impossible distance for Max to overcome. Each corner, each stretch, you could feel the power surging through you, knowing you’d not only taken the lead but had crafted a strategy that made it near impossible for him to catch you. Logan played his part well, too; after you overtook him, he got DRS off you, towing along behind you as you both surged forward. Watching Logan gain positions behind you almost felt like poetic justice.

It wasn’t until you reached the back markers that you glanced in your rearview mirror, expecting Max’s car to be right there, as relentless as he always was. But he wasn’t there.

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The crowd was roaring, a deafening symphony of cheers and applause, but you were hardly aware of anything except the pounding of your own heart. You stood on top of your car in Parc Fermé, fists raised to the sky, just like your dad used to after each of his wins. The moment felt surreal, as if it wasn’t just yours but his too, echoing through time. Closing your eyes, you could almost hear his voice, proud and booming, “You did it, kiddo.”

When you finally hopped down, the first person you spotted was Fernando. Without thinking, you sprinted toward him, leaping into his arms, your heart bursting with the joy of the moment. His hands pressed into your back, holding you close as his voice broke, thick with emotion. “I knew you could do it! I’m so proud of you!” The warmth of his embrace wrapped around you like a protective shield.

Pulling back, you caught the glisten of unshed tears in his eyes. His expression said everything his words couldn’t—this victory was more than a trophy; it was a piece of the past you’d resurrected. You couldn’t help but smile, a mix of joy and bittersweet nostalgia bubbling up inside you. “I felt him with me out there, you know?” you confessed, your voice soft.

As you reveled in the moment, somewhere in the crowd, Max was trying to make his way to you. His eyes darted through the throng, heart racing at the thought of celebrating your win together. He clutched a hair tie in his hand, a little memento from last night—a way to keep your hair back amid the whirlwind of the podium. But before he could reach you, a firm grip yanked him back by his shirt. Carlos stood there, his expression a silent warning that conveyed, Not now. Max froze, understanding the message, but the urge to congratulate you burned stronger than ever.

You were blissfully unaware of the tension, moving on to greet Susie Wolff, who pulled you in for a warm embrace. “Thank you, Yn,” she whispered, her voice filled with sincerity. “You’ve shown that it’s possible. We always knew it was, but now everyone else knows it too.” Her words settled deep within you, pride blooming like a flower in spring, the weight of her admiration lifting your spirits even higher.

Next came the Sainzes—Carlos Sr. wrapped you in a bear hug, his smile radiant, soon joined by Carlos Jr. and Fernando, pulling you into a warm, all-Spaniard embrace. Their laughter mingled with your own, a shared joy that felt like family. “You’re a legend now, Yn!” Carlos Jr. declared, beaming. “Next, we’ll need to build a statue!”

When it was time for your post-race interview, you spotted Jenson waiting with a grin, microphone in hand. But before he could say a word, you charged forward and threw your arms around him. He laughed in surprise, the warmth of your embrace catching him off guard. “Didn’t… didn’t expect that!” he exclaimed, patting your back awkwardly. Pulling back, you could see the amusement dancing in his eyes, and for a moment, the nerves and adrenaline of the race melted into pure joy. “You really stole the show today, didn’t you?”

Finally, you climbed onto the podium, greeted by the deafening cheers of the crowd below. Mark Webber handed you the trophy, his eyes twinkling with pride. You hugged him tightly in thanks, feeling the warmth of his support. Taking a deep breath, you held the trophy close, leaning in to spit on it before kissing it, a ritual honoring your dad. As you lifted it high, tears pricked your eyes, the weight of the moment crashing down on you. This victory was yours, but it was his too, and you wished he were here to see it.

Before you could gather your thoughts, a jet of icy champagne hit your shoulder, and you yelped, spinning around to see Lando grinning mischievously, the bottle in hand. Laughter bubbled out of you as you grabbed a nearby bottle, spraying him back with equal enthusiasm. “You’re going to pay for that!” you shouted, both of you drenched in the celebratory chaos.

Once the festivities quieted, you sat down on the edge of the podium, the trophy still cradled in your arms, letting the crowd’s cheers fade to a distant hum. The reality of it all was slowly settling in, the magnitude of what you’d achieved filling every corner of your mind like a warm glow.

Then you felt a presence beside you. Charles plopped down on one side, ruffling your hair with a proud grin. “Look at you, superstar,” he said, unable to hide his admiration. On your other side, Lando joined you, patting your back. “I knew you could do it! The legend of Yn Ln begins now!” The three of you sat there in comfortable silence, gazing out at the sea of fans, feeling the victory settle into your bones, the warmth of friendship and accomplishment wrapping around you like a cozy blanket.

“Have you guys heard from Max?”

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The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the superyacht as the drivers celebrated the Australian Grand Prix victory. Laughter and music floated across the water, mingling with the soft sounds of waves lapping against the hull. You arrived fashionably late, the buzz of excitement already palpable in the air. As you stepped aboard, the chatter momentarily faded, and all eyes turned to you.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your Australian GP winner!” Lando’s voice rang out, booming over the crowd like a proud announcement. Cheers erupted, a chorus of claps and whoops filling the air, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you raised your trophy high above your head, the gleam of victory shining in your eyes.

“Thank you, thank you!” you called out playfully, the thrill of the moment making your heart race. The warmth of the celebration enveloped you, and as you mingled with your friends, you noticed Lando leaning against the railing, a playful scowl on his face. He shot you a stink eye, as if to say How dare you win before me?

With a grin, you sauntered over, wrapping your arms around him. “What’s wrong, Lando? Jealous?” you teased, planting a quick kiss on his cheek, your lips brushing against his skin. He feigned annoyance, but you could see the corners of his mouth twitching upward despite himself.

“Just surprised you didn’t trip over your own trophy on the way here,” he shot back, but the light in his eyes betrayed him. You giggled and hugged him tighter, savouring the moment before excusing yourself. “I need to find Max,” you said, waving as you slipped away from the group.

Navigating through the crowd, you spotted Max in a quiet corner, leaning against the wall with that familiar, soft smile. As you approached, his eyes lit up, warmth radiating from him like a cozy fire. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“Hey, you,” you greeted, your voice a whisper amidst the sounds of the party.

“Hey yourself,” he replied, his eyes glinting with admiration. He reached up, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You were amazing out there today.”

“Congratulations, Yn,” he murmured, his voice low and full of admiration. His honey-brown eyes softened as he looked at you, and you felt a flutter in your chest at the intensity of his gaze. It was as if the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

“Thanks, Max,” you replied, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “It means a lot coming from you.” You could see the pride written all over his face, and it filled you with a sense of warmth.

He reached up, his fingers gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and your breath caught for a moment. “You look amazing up there. Like a true champion,” he said softly. Then, with a playful glint in his eyes, he added, “Not that I’m surprised or anything.”

“Did you have fun out there?” he asked after a moment, his voice low and soft, filled with genuine interest. You could feel his warmth radiating through you, those honey feeling blue eyes melting any lingering stress.

“More than I ever expected,” you replied, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. You couldn’t help but admire how the moonlight caught his features, making his smile even more captivating.

In a moment of tenderness, he gently lifted a stray lock of hair from your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. Then, with the hair tie he had saved from earlier—more like stole from your room from when you two had dinner together—he deftly gathered your hair into a loose ponytail. “There,” he said, satisfaction evident in his tone. “Now you’re ready to celebrate.”

You chuckled, warmth flooding your cheeks. “You’re the best, Max.” Your eyes locked, and for a heartbeat, the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you in your own little universe. The noise of the party felt like a distant echo, the laughter and music muted by the magic of the moment.

“You know where the Red Bull fridge is?” You ask, taking his hand and pulling him to the rest of the party.

“You are an addict.” Max laughed as he followed along.

As the celebration continued, the music pulsed in the background, but you found a cozy corner on the yacht, curling up on a plush couch with your trophy nestled against your chest. You were half-awake, a blissful haze of exhilaration and a few too many drinks swirling in your mind. The trophy felt heavy yet comforting, a tangible reminder of your victory and the legacy behind it.

Max wandered through the yacht, searching for you among the revelers. Spotting your familiar figure sprawled out on the couch, a gentle smile spread across his face. He quietly made his way over, sitting beside you, careful not to disturb your peaceful slumber. His fingers instinctively reached out, brushing through your hair with a tender, soothing motion.

You stirred slightly at his touch, eyes fluttering open to find him gazing down at you with a soft, affectionate expression. “Hey,” he said quietly, as if afraid to break the tranquility of the moment. “What are you doing down here all alone?”

“Mmm . . . just reminiscing,” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleepiness. “It’s just . . everything feels so unreal.” You shifted slightly, hugging the trophy tighter as a sleepy smile spread across your face. “I was thinking about my dad.”

Max’s heart softened at the mention of your father. “What about him?”

You took a deep breath, the memories flooding back, sparkling with nostalgia. “You know how the Australian GP was always our favorite? We used to come here every year.” A giggle escaped your lips, your mind drifting back to sun-soaked days. “He would always say, ‘This is where legends are made, Yn!’ and I would dream about being on that podium one day.”

Max listened intently, his fingers still weaving through your hair, his gaze locked onto your face as you spoke. “We’d spend the whole week surfing, chasing the waves. He’d push me to go bigger, to not be afraid. I can still hear him cheering for me, ‘Go on, my little champion!’” Your eyes sparkled with fondness, but there was a hint of sadness that Max caught.

“Did you surf today?” he asked gently, wanting to keep the conversation flowing, to draw you deeper into those cherished memories.

You shook your head slowly. “Nah, I didn’t. Too busy racing, I guess.” A small laugh escaped you. “But it doesn’t matter. I feel like I brought a piece of him with me today. Winning here... it’s like I finally made it happen. I know he’s proud.”

Max’s heart swelled as he absorbed your words. “He is, Yn. You did something incredible today. I could see it in your eyes out there.” He brushed a thumb against your cheek, his gaze unwavering. “You’ve honored his legacy.”

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand grounding you. “Thanks, Max. I really needed this. You have no idea how much it means to me.”

In that quiet moment, as you shared your memories, a profound connection blossomed between you two, weaving your past into the present. Max leaned a little closer, whispering softly, “I’ll always be here to remind you of how amazing you are. You’re more than just a champion—you’re a force.”

With a sleepy smile, you closed your eyes again, allowing yourself to drift off once more, comforted by his presence. The gentle rhythm of his fingers in your hair lulled you into a peaceful state, the chaos of the party fading into the background as you felt safe, cherished, and deeply understood.

[bitethedevil]

If you’re taking writing prompts consider-

Raphael reacting to Tav/Durge confessing they’re in love with him

I made it a Durge because I haven't written a lot of Durge stuff (fun fact: the first longer fic I ever wrote was with a Durge warlock that had Raph as a patron, but I never released it). Raph is being a bit of a manipulative dick in this one, but what's new. Also, I'm slow as fuck at replying to my asks (especially prompts)

Love

Clack clack clack clack…clack clack clack clack…clack clack clack clack.

His office was deadly quiet except for the sound of his claws tapping on the hard mahogany of his desk, a dangerous rhythm that she knew immediately what meant the second she heard it. The rhythm echoed her heartbeat as she waited for her patron to say something. She was in trouble.

He was leaning against his desk, looking at her and keeping her in suspense. A cruel smile stretched over his face, as he saw how she was beginning to feel uncomfortable. She had defeated monsters, mindflayers, gods…even the biggest monster of them all, her father. Still, nothing made her stomach churn more than the thought of Raphael’s wrath.

The feeling humiliated her as much as it thrilled her and drew her closer to him. She had been a god in her own right with all the lives she took under Bhaal and the cult she had led in his name, but this mere cambion brought her to her knees.

She was like a moth to his fiery flames. Everything about him excited her: his cruelness, his gracious mercy at times, his power plays. He felt like home. There was something safe and known in that cruelty that drew her closer. It was something she understood the rules of.

Click clack…

“I have always questioned your loyalty,” he finally said and moved his claws up to his face to look at them as he spoke. “It is no secret that I am prone to play favorites, but perhaps I made a mistake when I took you in…”

His yellow eyes looked up at her. His comment hit her like a punch to the gut and she knew as well as him that that was the intended effect. She hated the feeling of disappointing him. She hated that she felt that way about it even more. She cleared her throat.

“What is this about?” she asked quietly.

That was the wrong question. She could see it from the way his tail flicked in irritation. She had taught herself every one of his physical cues. They were subtle sometimes, but easier to read in this form. The man had total control over his body, but the devil was just a tad less composed.

“What is this about?” he repeated his question in a smooth, even tone. “Many things, my dear.”

That was another thing she had learned: it was never just one thing. Raphael held grudges. He archived every little mistake in his head in neat files, so he could throw them in your face when you stepped out of line.

“You came crawling to me after your father spat you out, after defying me at every turn and without a crown for me. You begged me to take you in, and yet I question your devotion to my cause. You owe me a grand debt when it comes to loyalty. A debt you have not yet paid back with your services, and one that I now question if you will ever pay back if you keep associating yourself with the wrong people.”

She had wanted to give him the Crown of Karsus. She had liked him even back then. Her companions had fought her every step of the way, and with her dealing with Bhaal, she had too much on her plate to fight them on it.

“It wasn’t my choice, Raphael,” she pleaded. “You know—”

“Yes, yes,” he cut her off impatiently with a wave of his clawed hand. “I have heard all your endless excuses…and I graciously forgave you, didn’t I? You would have been a bloody stain on my carpet long ago if I had not. What I cannot forgive is disloyalty.”

“Raphael, please,” she pleaded quietly. “Just tell me what I have done. I’ll make it right.”

Another flick of his tail. His nose wrinkled and his eyes narrowed, but he quickly schooled his features back into one of indifference.

“What were you doing in Waterdeep?” he asked slowly, each word as heavy as a brick.

That was what all of this was about. She had visited Gale. Gale who had been the very reason that the Crown of Karsus did not go to Raphael. Gale and her had started out as friends, but it evolved to something more along the way. It did not work out. Gale was too perfect, too functional for her. She broke his heart, and she would be lying if she said that this fact wasn’t taken into consideration when she gave up on trying to give to the Crown of Karsus to Raphael.

“I was just visiting,” she admitted. “Nothing more.”

“Just visiting,” he repeated with a hint of venom in his voice. “Just visiting an old flame that snubbed your patron of what was rightfully his, is that right? Is he well, our dear Gale? Does his new unburdened life suit him?”

“We are friends—”

“Friends,” Raphael said with a cruel laugh. “How awfully sentimental of you, dear. How soft you have become. I remember a ruthless woman who murdered her way through Baldur’s Gate. That woman, I could have used. It seems that your father has stripped you of everything that once made you interesting.”

That comment made her furious. It made her blood boil, but then why was she on the verge of crying instead? Why did she find herself pleading instead of yelling?

“Gale and I have been through hell and back,” she said. “It doesn’t change my loyalties for you. Please, Raphael.”

“I will NOT be made to look a fool!!” he roared with a sudden fire in his eyes.

The sound boomed through his office. She flinched. His tail flicked from side to side now. He looked her up and down. It seemed to please him how she was turning pale at his words and tearing up. He returned to his calm and collected demeanor as quickly as he got angry.

“Why are you crying?” he asked without a shred of sympathy in the question.

She tried to stop, but she couldn’t. She just wanted him to understand that she was devoted to him, and that this was all a mistake. She had not meant to cross him or make him angry, but merely to visit an old friend. His nails started tapping on the table again as he waited for her to speak.

“Can’t you— can’t you see that I’m only loyal to you?” she sobbed. Clack, clack… “I made a contract with you because I wanted to work for you. I’m yours, and only yours.” Clack, clack, clack. “Can’t you see how I only want to please you? How much I love you?”

Clack.

He froze for a moment at the oddly heartfelt confession that escaped her lips. She had not meant for that to come out, but he was great at pressuring her into saying things she didn’t want to admit. It was a humiliating confession. She hated being so vulnerable and weak. She wished that she could stuff the words right back down her throat. He wasn’t supposed to know.

A smile spread over his otherwise frozen face. He looked her up and down and let out a small huff of laughter. He looked like a man who had just been handed the perfect weapon. His hand left the table and beckoned her closer with a finger.

She walked over to him, unable to look him in the eye. He tilted her head up with a claw under her chin. He towered over her in that form.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

She looked into his yellow eyes. He was smiling at her.

“Say it again.”

“I love you,” she repeated.

The humiliation in the confession was more apparent this time, and he was eating it up like it was the best meal he had had in centuries. He laughed her straight in the face.

“Oh, dear,” he said with a chuckle. “A creature of habit, aren’t you? You poor girl…”

She swallowed hard. She should have just shut up. His thumb ran over her jaw and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The touch set her aflame, despite the excruciating embarrassment she was feeling.

“Do I remind you of your dear old papa?” he asked, still smiling like the cat that got the cream. “Is that what this is about? It is always the fathers, isn’t it? Still searching for the approval of a cruel master, even now. Perhaps you haven’t changed at all, my dear…”

She kept quiet. He leaned closer as if sharing a secret. She could smell wine and tobacco on his breath. His thumb rubbed circles on her jaw.

“Tell me,” he whispered to her. “Where did your dear Gale fit into this picture? I’m awfully curious.”

Her eyes flicked to his lips for only a second, but he didn’t miss it by the way his smile widened.

There was only one acceptable answer and she prayed that she would choose the right one. She shrugged.

“He didn’t,” she said quietly.

That was the right answer from the way his smile widened.

“No, I would imagine not,” he said. “Too…boring…wasn’t he? He was not enough of a challenge for you, so you discarded him.”

There was a hint of guilt in her eyes at his words. He tutted gently and caressed her cheek.

“Who could blame you?” he cooed. “People like us won’t concern ourselves with boredom. You were right in choosing to focus on greater things. Gale was easy. Pleasing him was easy. He would not make you fight for it like I will.”

That promise made a shiver go through her. Raphael grabbed her arm and tugged her even closer, until she was standing between his legs with her chest pressed against his. His hand came to rest on her hip. He pressed his forehead against her, his nose touching hers. He was tantalizingly close.

“You are mine then, aren’t you?” he asked. “Only mine.”

She nodded. He gave a dangerous smile.

“You want to please me,” he said. “To make me happy…”

Another nod.

“You love and adore me.”

Another nod. His lips were so close she could almost taste them. His thumb was rubbing circles into her hip. His tail was flicking side to side, but not in rage. It was more like a cat that is ready to pounce on an unsuspecting prey that it had been sneaking up on for a while.

“You will write a letter to Gale Dekarios and say that you are unavailable for any future visits,” he whispered against her lips. “That you have already done plenty for him and that you never want to see him again.”

His lips brushed lightly against hers before he pulled away, stealing her breath. She chased his lips, but he only smiled and pulled away further. She knew she had to earn it.

“Go. You wouldn’t want to disappoint me, would you?” he said with a smile and let go of her.

[ladykailitha]

Around the World Part 6

Hello! And welcome to another chapter of this very underrated fic. Thank you to everyone who has given it love in the way of comments, reblogs/tags, and likes.

It's London calling! And we meet a Murray Bauman in the wild. Eddie and Steve get a little introspective and Steve does something rash.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

~

Their trip through the haunting and beautiful Ireland was amazing. So many tales and history. This is why Steve wanted to do more than just America like Eddie had originally wanted, because America just didn’t have the history Europe and other places did. Not unless you wanted to disturb actual First Nation people and that was something he wanted to avoid at all cost, thank you.

They were on the ferry from Northern Ireland to Scotland and Steve was looking out over his shoulder at the water as he leaned against the guardrail. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, allowing the wind to blow through his hair.

Eddie slid his arm around him and Steve laid his head on his shoulder.

Today Eddie had his beard and faux-dreadlocks in a light blue button up shirt and cream colored wide-legged pants. His chunky sunglasses covered the his face.

“You know,” Eddie murmured, “until we reached this leg of our journey and you started to disguise me, I didn’t realize how much I missed just being Eddie Munson, regular guy. I can really see the appeal of you and friends’ way of doing it.”

“Yeah,” Steve said softly. “Of course it means that we can’t go all out and buy everything we want, stay in fancy hotels, show up at restaurants without a reservation and get in. But I can go into my local grocery store and buy two tubs of mint ice cream because I felt like it.” He lifted his head to look Eddie in the eye. “Like some Karen would judge me, but it’s not going to go up on TMZ that I’m letting myself go.”

God, Eddie had had that happen more times than he cared to count. Like once Chrissy was on her period and he went to go get her chocolate, Ben and Jerry’s, and pads. Before he even got to his car it was all over the internet that he was letting himself go, just because it was 2am and his best friend needed something to help her feel better.

“You think you’ll ever come out?” he asked, pulling Steve in closer.

It was a familiar and well-worn topic of theirs; whether or not Steve would ever come out as bisexual at least.

He ducked his head and looked away. He didn’t know. He didn’t like hiding parts of himself for those he loved. He would like to tell people this is the love of my life.

“Would you leave me if I said no?” he mumbled, not daring to look up.

Eddie placed his finger under Steve’s chin and lifted his head gently. “Of course not, Stevie. There are literal actors who have been married for years and no one knows. It’s just between them. We could do that too. Just a quiet ceremony, Robin and Chrissy as the witnesses, and a justice of the peace.”

Steve let out a weak sort of watery laugh and shook his head. “I want all our friends there, famous and otherwise. I want a full tilt party with music playing into the early hours of the morning. I want fancy tuxes and flowers galore. I know I might not get that, the absolute coward that I am. But if I marry you, it be to scream from the rooftops that I love you.”

Eddie bumped their shoulders together. “Softy.” Steve blushed. “Besides there is nothing in the world that says we can’t have it both ways. Have a quiet little ‘just us’ and then go full tilt when you come out. You don’t even have to tell anyone. Just a little comfort that I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve pressed a gentle kiss to Eddie’s cheek. “I’ll think about it.”

Eddie kissed him deeply and then tucked his head under his chin and they stayed like that until the ferry docked in Scotland.

~

God, Scotland and England were beautiful countries Eddie decided as he watched the rolling green hills from his train window. That was another thing he really liked about Europe in general, just all the different ways to travel that weren’t a car.

He looked over at Steve who had his glasses on and reading a book. He smiled at the title. His boyfriend wasn’t a fantasy fan or science fiction either, really, but put a clever mystery in his hands and you would have to pry to the book from his cold, dead fingers.

He glanced over at Chrissy and Robin who were playing Go Fish! They had asked him if he wanted to join them, but he passed. He rarely got time to just relax and watch the scenery go by when he was on tour. He was always doing something related to the band. Writing music, practicing, talking about the next venue, interview, or TV spot.

Him and his friends had fun, because of course they did. But it was nice to just let his mind wander. Currently he was sad that they were going to have to miss Wales this time. He really wanted to buy some Welsh gold jewelry. It’s super rare and absolutely gorgeous.

Maybe he would have to come back later and get something special for Steve. Just something simple like matching bands even if it wasn’t on the left hand. Or necklaces. Just something simple to prove they were it for each other.

“I made an appointment with a well-known tattoo artist in London,” Steve said nonchalant, but like he was reading Eddie’s thoughts.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to Steve. Robin nearly giving herself whiplash in her speed.

“As your friend, manager, and platonic soulmate,” she said darkly, “I advise against that. You can cover it up but someone, somewhere will see it.”

Steve looked up from his book and leveled her with his best bitchy glare. “Not if it’s on my ass.”

Chrissy and Eddie’s eyebrows shot up and they shared a shocked glance. Eddie always loved tattoos, he had a couple of stick and poke style ones from when he was young and stupid and couldn’t afford to pay for an artist to do the job, but there was one place, well technically two if you included his dick, which he absolutely did, that he refused to get a tattoo on and that was his ass. Not being able to sit down properly for what would probably be weeks was not his idea of a good time.

“Not really, though, right?” Chrissy asked with a grimace.

Steve took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Of course not really. Sheesh, you guys. But I hid fucking hickies from the both of you for a year and you never noticed, so I’m pretty sure I can hide one fucking tattoo.”

Robin and Chrissy shared their little ‘manager’ glance and Chrissy folded first.

“You’re right, Steve,” she said calmly. “Not once did you forget or slip up and you should be applauded for that. But is there a reason you’re deciding to get a tattoo now instead of waiting until we’re back in the States and you can use Eddie’s personal artist?”

He looked over at Robin and their little telepathy thing went off again and this time Robin folded first.

“It’s for Eddie,” she murmured. “They can’t be out as a couple and with Steve being the romantic that he is, wouldn’t want to get married without all his friends there, so this is his way of telling Eddie he isn’t going anywhere either.”

Eddie blinked for a moment. “Do you think they take walk-ins?”

“I booked it for both of us.” Steve smiled at him and took his hand. Eddie beamed back at him.

“They are so disgustingly cute,” Robin huffed, crossing her arms. “I bet Steve has this really sweet idea for a tattoo that even if people do notice it they won’t be able to tell the meaning but he and Eddie will know and be so sickeningly precious about it.”

Eddie gave him a huge kiss on the cheek. “I love my super clever boyfriend and can’t wait to see what this brilliant plan is.”

~

Steve’s brilliant plan was half of a white mask on Eddie’s inner wrist and half of guitar on Steve’s and when they held hands it formed almost heart.

The tattoo artist was really impressed with the idea and was more than happy to implement it. Steve walked out of there, completely smug as Chrissy pointed out. Deservedly so.

They were to stay in London for three days because of all the haunted places in London alone, there were so many worth visiting. They were going to start at Jack the Ripper tour and move onto the tour of London.

The tour they learned with deep dismay had accidentally been scheduled at 2pm and not 2am like Eddie had thought it said. It was so boring and their tour guide so dull, Eddie accidentally tripped of one of those concrete pillars they had in the middle of the sidewalk to prevent cars from driving up on it.

“Oof!” Eddie wheezed as he straightened up. “Why do they even put those things here?”

“Chrissy Cunningham,” a nasally voice said from behind them. “What are you doing in my neck of the woods?”

They all turned slowly to see a weaselly little bald man with thick horn-rimmed glass.

“Holy shit,” Chrissy said slowly. “Murray Bauman, as I live and breath. What the hell are you doing in London?”

He shrugged. “Eking out a living doing tours for bored tourists. When the biggest metal band in the world drops you, so does everyone else.”

Chrissy and Eddie shared a grimace. Corroded Coffin had deliberately did that to Nancy after the shit she pulled with Steve and trying to be The Fallen’s agent. But this one was a complete accident.

“Oh fuck off,” Robin said with a grin. “You love it. I can tell. You have actual notes written down, you have a map marked with all the spots the murders take place. I bet you have all the great stories.”

Murray flushed and cocked his head to the side. “I mean I didn’t want to brag. But yeah, certainly better than Molly over there.” He jutted his thumb at their tour guide. “Most of the good ones are from tour companies and then you get people like Molly who make it look legit online and trick people into taking day tours.”

“God, I was so bored,” Eddie huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets, “I felt jet lagged.”

Murray’s eyes instantly narrowed and cocked his head to the side and instantly everyone else tensed up. He took in their reactions and mimed zipping his mouth shut.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, “if you’re still in town tomorrow, meet me here at 9pm and I’ll give you a proper tour.”

Chrissy licked her lips slowly. “Or what?”

“Huh?” He was confused for a moment before he smacked his forehead. “Oh! No, no. I’m not going to blackmail you. Holy shit. If people want to enjoy a vacation without all the publicity, good on them.” He looked Eddie up and down. “Looks good on you kid.”

Eddie was suddenly glad for the large sunglasses and beard because it hid the blush on his cheeks.

“No, I’m just saying,” Murray continued, “that if you wanted to experience a proper Jack the Ripper tour, I’m willing to do it. I don’t have a tour currently booked and beside I like her.” He pointed at Robin, who grinned back him.

The four them all shared glances at each other.

“I’m down,” Steve said with a shrug. “If you’re as good as you say you are and aren’t trying to actively ‘get back’ at Chrissy for taking your job, I know I’d be interested in seeing what Whitechapel has to offer after dark.”

“I like him too,” Murray said brightly, rubbing his hands together. “So what do the rest of you say?”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” Steve’s three menaces said together.

He just smiled fondly and shook his head.

~

Part 7

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @garden-of-gay

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina

[vscabarca]

a gavi fic in which he dispels the reader's insecure about her appearance? pleaseeee

"one tummy roll or two, I don‘t care" - pablo gavi

summary: before a date night you become insecure about your appearance, but gavi talks you out of it.

genre: fluff,

warnings: talks of body image

a/n: enjoyy!💞💗

———

„Amorcito are you ready to - hey why are you crying?“ Pablo originally wanted to check in on you to see if you were ready for the date he had planned.

Since he could play football again, you and the brunette hadn’t had much time for each other. It didn’t bother you - you loved seeing him smile again and do what he loved, but of course - you were excited to be taken on a night out again.

That excitement was long gone though.

When Pablo told you to dress nicely, you immediately thought of that one dress. The one you wore on the first date with the midfielder.

Everything had been going well so far. You took a shower, did your makeup and straightened your hair until it was time to put on the black dress.

Once you put it on, your heart sank. Why didn’t it look like the other times before? You tried to flat it out, maybe there were just too many wrinkles from being in the closet for too long.

After trying to adjust it better, you realized it wasn’t the wrinkles, it was you. Suddenly all the confidence you’ve had about your appearance vanished. The dress was too tight in all the wrong places, showing off your insecurities no one besides you would notice.

Your hips seemed to be too wide, your arms too big and your belly seemed to be extremely visible through the silk material. The smile gradually turned into a frown and you had to swallow down a forming lump in your throat.

Do I really look that bad? You questioned yourself, now looking at every detail of your body. More and more seemed to make you insecure. Did you gain weight? Why were there so many pimples on your forehead and why did your legs look like that? Your thoughts kept spiraling till they stopped at the comment section of your instagram profile. Since you and Pablo have made the relationship public, comments and tweets decorated not only his posts but also yours. A lot of them were just purely jealous, but a few also pointed out how you were not worthy enough to be a football star‘s partner.

They called you all kinds of names, but Pablo was always there to talk them out of your little head. At the beginning it was horrible. He even disabled yours and his comment section to show you his support.

Now, after several months, you have gotten pretty used to it. People still call you slurs and whatever, but you realized Pablo loved you the way you were. Yet there were days where the suppressed feelings came back to make life difficult for you, just like now.

You still stood in front of the mirror, silent tears rolling down your cheeks, messing up the pretty makeup you have done just moments before.

The sound of Pablo’s voice made your head spin and once you saw him standing in the doorway, you quickly wiped away the tears.

„Oh, I wasn’t don’t worry.“ You bluntly stated, not wanting to mess up the night.

„Bombón don’t lie to me, I see how you were crying before.“ Pablo said with a sad tone, slowly walking up to you. As he stood in front of you, brushing away the wet tears, your chin started to quiver even more. More and more tears streamed down your face as your boyfriend pulled you close against his chest. Pablo’s arms were tightly wrapped around you, soothing you and placing gentle kisses on top of your head.

„Do you wanna tell me what happened? I hate to see you cry.“ He whispered, trying to get you to look at him.

You finally did, looking into the eyes of your worried boyfriend who was giving you a weak grin.

„I hope I wasn’t making you cry with something I did.“ Pablo joked, finally getting you to crack a smile.

„No, of course not.“ You sniffled, mentally preparing yourself to explain to him why just everything seemed to disgust you about your body.

Pablo led you to the bed, taking your hand into his.

„I think I gained weight.“ You simply swallowed while new tears poured down your cheeks.

Pablo knew immediately what you were about to tell him. He wished you could see yourself through his eyes, how beautiful you smiled at people you loved, how soft your skin was and how you still turned his head upside down every new day.

„Bombón… I love you. I wish you could see how much you mean to me and how beautiful you truly are.“ Pablo softly caressed your cheek, trying to lift the weight off your chest.

„It’s just… I hate how I look in that dress. And then I think about all those comments I‘ve received. What if I really don’t deserve you?“

Pablo’s heart shattered right there. How could you even think of something like that while you were all he ever wanted in life?

„I am with you because you are all I want in my life. You complete me in every way possible. If one of us doesn’t deserve the other then it would be me. You are beautiful inside and out. These people who write these tweets are just jealous and don’t see how good you do me.“ He stopped his small speech, pressing soft kisses all over your face, achieving to elicit the sound of your giggles.

„You are gorgeous. I love your hair, your cute nose, the bushy eyebrows, your long legs, your tummy and your butt. I love everything about you. More or less weight, one tummy roll or two, I don’t care and so should you. You turn my head upside down wearing that dress, wearing anything basically or nothing, you decide.“

Finally, your laugh echoed through the shared bedroom, shaking your head softly at your boyfriend’s comment.

„I love you too, everything about you. Sometimes I don’t know what I would do without you.“ You said once you felt yourself relax and laid your head onto his shoulder.

„Mírame.“ Pablo said gently, making you turn your head to look into his beautiful brown eyes.

„Let’s skip our reservation and watch a movie cuddled up under some blankets. Maybe bake something? What do you think?“

You gave Pablo a gentle kiss, silently agreeing with his proposal before he took your hand and led you downstairs to the kitchen, making you forget all the worries from before.

[skeletorrito]

im sorry im just obsessed w this chapter of my teen stsg fluff fic

Sunshine Days - chapter 2

Rating: T

10.7k (total)

The first time Satoru saw Suguru swallow a curse, he gagged. 

“Oh woah that’s so gross!” Satoru commented, both fascinated and disgusted. “You really have to swallow them like that?! Does it hurt?!” 

Satoru was burning with questions. Every week, he had a new question about Suguru’s curse manipulation technique. 

“What do they taste like?” “How many curses do you have in total?” “Do you ever throw them up?” 

Suguru entertained Satoru’s constant curiosity with mild amusement. It didn’t bother him because, well, it was just another excuse to talk to Satoru Gojo. 

They were entering their second year at the academy, and both boys were growing stronger and stronger day by day. Missions were in full swing, and Satoru and Suguru were always the top picks for the most dangerous missions. On day one of the semester, they were already called into Yaga’s office to discuss a mission. 

“Suguru, what’s your favorite curse?” Satoru asked as he lounged in one of Yaga’s office chairs, waiting for their teacher to return from a meeting.

“Hmmm,” Suguru contemplated for a moment. He had about two hundred and fifty curses by this point in his life, but some he used more than others. “Oh, the flying stingray.” He finally replied, nonchalantly.

“Excuse me, did you just say flying stingray?!” Satoru leaned in, his mouth open with surprise and wonder. His eyes sparkled and glittered with curiosity. “Can you ride it?!”

Suguru grinned. “I can.” 

Satoru stood from his chair, probably more excited than he’d ever been in his whole life. “You mean to tell me you’ve been holding out on me this whole time?!” Satoru gripped Suguru’s shoulders and started shaking him, which caused Suguru to chuckle. “Are you serious, Suguru, or are you messing with me?! Because either way, I definitely need to ride that stingray.”

“I’m not sure if it can hold two people, honestly…” Suguru murmured, mulling over the idea for a moment. He started thinking about how he’d even fit Satoru on the stingray with him, Satoru’s long legs would likely need to straddle him while he steered. That visual made him blush slightly. 

“Well, we’re gonna fucking find out!”

“Find out what exactly?” Yaga entered the room, his suspicious, beady eyes darting between the two of them. “Settle down, Satoru. I’ve got a mission for you boys.” 

“Damn, already?” Satoru plopped back down into the chair with a sigh, tipping the legs back dangerously. 

Yaga sat down at his desk silently and opened a manila folder containing the details of the mission. “This one’s across the bay in Chiba, located in a nearby Buddhist temple at the base of Nokogiriyama. Visitors of the temple are being terrorized by whatever cursed spirit is haunting it,” he passed both boys the report to review, “Ijichi will escort you, it’s going to be quite the trip.”

“Oh, no need for an escort, Yaga,” Satoru peered over his sunglasses at Suguru with a wide, wild grin, “We’ve got our own ride.” 

“I don’t know about this, Satoru…” Suguru trailed off, examining his pink stingray curse anxiously. It was small, really small, especially for two teens who were already breaching six feet. He could sit comfortably on it with crossed legs, but he’d never tried having a passenger with him. “What if we’re airborne and it gives out on us?” 

“Oh, c’mon Suguru, have a little faith.” Satoru walked around the stingray, checking it out with delightful inquisitiveness. Its eyes followed Satoru three-hundred-and-sixty degrees around its body, fluttering quietly about a foot off of the ground. Suguru could tell, judging by the boy’s intense stare, that Satoru was figuring out the physics of it in that magnificent brain of his. He finally gave it a gentle pat as he reasoned, “It’ll be like… sharing a bike. You sit in front and steer, and I’ll be behind you and try not to fall off. It’ll totally work.”

Suguru hesitated, hand on his chin as he considered Satoru’s suggestions. Even with their weights combined, they weren’t especially heavy. He was more concerned with being able to fit all of their limbs on the stingray. The thought of Satoru behind him so closely made him break out into a sweat. 

Satoru pushed him towards it, ushering him to get on. “Look, you sit here,” he tapped near the ray’s head. Suguru complied nervously, crossing his legs tight, trying to make himself as small as possible. The stingray dipped slightly but still hovered above the grass. “It’s a little cramped, but… if I squeeze in here…” Satoru then slipped his thin, lanky body behind Suguru, his legs bent and feet resting near the base of the wings. The ray grazed the ground just slightly before rising back up to its original resting place inches above. 

“Yes! See!? I told you it would work!” Satoru exclaimed into Suguru’s ear, totally unbothered as he settled comfortably snuggled against his teammate.

 Suguru’s back went rigid as he felt Satoru’s entire torso pressing against him. He flushed a deep red, feeling incredibly grateful that Satoru couldn’t see his face. “Don’t speak too soon, we haven’t even tried flying yet…” he murmured, setting a hand on the stingray’s head, using cursed energy to start elevating. 

The stingray jolted, nearly sending Satoru tumbling off. He yelped and grabbed Suguru’s waist suddenly for leverage. “Jeez, Suguru, at least give me a warning first!” 

Suguru himself jolted at the warm hands gripping his waist. His face grew hotter, this whole situation making him so flustered. “Sorry,” he replied sheepishly, “Just- just keep holding on, I’m going to try and get us in the air…” 

Satoru clutched him firmly as the ray escalated, slowly but smoothly, off of the ground and into the sky. They just about reached the clouds, high enough so that regular humans would only catch a glimpse of them as a speck darting across the horizon. Suguru knew that Yaga would be furious if he found out about this, they definitely omitted (lied) about this detail of the trip, but it was so hard saying no to Satoru when he flashed those big, beautiful, cyan eyes of his.

“Wooooah,” Satoru gasped in awe, looking around at the clouds with child-like wonder. “This is amazing! I’ve never been this high up before…” He peeked down through his sunglasses for just a moment, watching the earth below grow smaller and smaller. His stomach clenched with anxiety and exhilaration, a wave of adrenaline crashing over him. 

He was fully trusting Suguru Geto with his life in this moment.

And it thrilled him more than it scared him.  

A shy smile spread across Suguru’s lips. He took in a huge breath of relief, closed his eyes, and felt his back push into a firm, anchoring chest. He relaxed into the touch, his creeping guilt and shame dissipating as he just… let it all blow away with the wind whipping in his face. 

It wasn’t lost on him how incredibly intimate this felt, just the two of them in the swirling pink and orange sky, surrounded by fluffy clouds, the sun shining on their faces in the brisk, early morning. 

He peeked behind him and beamed at the expression on Satoru Gojo’s face, how stunning he looked, with his brilliantly white hair and his perfect eyes reflecting the sunrise sky, his easy grin taking in the beauty of everything around them. 

He looked like pure sunshine. 

It hurt deep within Suguru’s chest how badly he wanted to kiss Satoru. 

Right there, in the rosy sky.

It was an overwhelming, lovesick ache he’d never experienced until just now.

“Are you ready?” Suguru asked, his mauve eyes darting down for a beat to glance at Satoru’s soft lips.  

Satoru caught his stare, searching Suguru’s face for words left unspoken. His hands reached out, long arms hugging around Suguru’s middle and squeezing tight. 

He replied, softly, genuinely, “Yes. I trust you, Suguru.”  

Suguru took off, at full speed, skating across the clouds.

They beat Ichiji by a whole fifteen minutes. 

Still totally worth it. 

Satoru and Suguru peered up at the massive temple in awe, the towering, wide-flared roofs glinting with accents of pure gold under the veil Ichiji set. As soon as they stepped foot on the grounds, they felt a rumbling below their feet. 

The aura suddenly thickened, settling on both of them like a shift in gravity. 

This had to be a special-grade curse. 

The pair looked at each other, silent and wide-eyed, as the steps leading up to the temple continued to vibrate with each stair they climbed. Whatever cursed spirit was in that temple sensed them and it was furious. 

They split, Suguru peeling off to the side of the temple to check for another entrance. Satoru was more of the head-on, confrontational type, anyway. He swung the large, embellished doors wide open. 

He was immediately faced with an opalescent, serpent-like dragon twisting itself around a temple pillar. The curse stretched at least a hundred feet long as it spiraled up to the ceiling. Its angry roar shook the entire temple as it witnessed Satoru’s presence, yellow eyes spinning angrily, locking on and preparing to swoop in for an attack.

 “Suguruuuu, I think I found a new Pokémon for you to catch,” Satoru sang, his Infinity blocking the creature’s first attack. He still felt the quake of the curse’s impact under his feet. This thing was clearly powerful and sturdy. The barrier only made the rainbow dragon angrier, the rebound slamming its body into the temple walls. It screeched an ear-curdling scream, the entire infrastructure rattling. 

“Let’s make this quick before the whole place goes down,” Suguru appeared from behind the temple’s gigantic Buddha statue and summoned his ginormous hookworm curse from underneath. It shot up, managing to rake off a few shiny scales with its teeth, but the dragon was too fast and its skin too hardy. It slid through the hookworm’s grasp easily and ascended to safety. 

Both boys gasped, watching in amazement as the dragon circled around the temple’s tall ceiling, evading Suguru’s curse attacks with grace and precision. 

“Oh hell yeah, this thing is awesome!” Satoru exclaimed as he strolled to the middle of the temple floor. His neck craned upward as he slipped off his sunglasses and tucked them on his head. He examined the curse with a wide grin, taking in every detail of this terrifying cursed spirit with no fear. The dragon was too smart to strike again and risk rebounding; it instead seemed to focus on gaining distance and defending its birthplace by staying close to the perimeter. Unlike most cursed spirits, this appeared to act like a wild, territorial animal, protecting the temple and scaring off any man who dared to enter. 

Satoru glanced over to Suguru, who was already standing above black pools of tentacle-like curses, as he commented, “We’re totally riding this one home, Suguru.” 

Suguru smirked, replying, “Yaga’s gonna kill us if he finds out.” 

He locked eyes with Satoru, confirming the plan of attack. They weren’t telepathic, by any means, but in battle together they were two pages out of the same book. After countless missions together, fighting side-by-side for all of them, one always knew what the other was thinking. 

“Nah, he won’t. We’re the strongest they got.” Satoru smirked back, giving Suguru a playful wink. 

Together, they moved in sync. Suguru commanded the numerous cursed tentacles to stretch into the air as Satoru used Blue to pull the cursed spirit toward them. It strained as it fought against the gravitational pull, thrashing and digging its claws into the temple walls, until Suguru’s tentacles were within reach to bind it. Suguru anchored himself to the floor using his curse, bracing himself against the insurmountable power of Satoru’s technique. His arm stretched out, ready to absorb the cursed spirit, swirling energy on his palm. The dragon shrieked again, echoing through the temple. It was inches away from his grasp. “Almost!” he shouted against the whipping winds of Blue. 

The back wall of the temple collapsed in suddenly. Satoru took a quick step in front of his teammate to block the flying debris using his Infinity, doing his best to extend it as wide and as flat as he could like an impenetrable shield. He poured all of his cursed energy into dragging the heavy, writhing dragon down and protecting them, sweat flicking off his brow. Suguru was behind, exerting as much energy as he could muster into his curses and his absorption. 

Just a few more seconds… Just a few more inches…

Until everything clicked into place. 

“Got it!” Suguru shouted out. The beast roared violently as it started disintegrating, breaking off piece by piece and joining the whirlpool of energy on Suguru’s palm. Satoru held Blue until the entire curse was contained into a stormy globe. He dropped everything, debris and shards of wall finally falling to the floor with a few seconds delay. 

“Holy shit that thing felt like it was made of lead!” Satoru exclaimed as he collapsed on an unscathed meditation bench. He was exhausted, his energy depleted significantly after the battle. Releasing a heavy sigh, he brought his sunglasses to his eyes as he lounged across the bench.

“I know, right?” Suguru agreed, “Makes you wonder how it was formed in the first place…” Suguru examined the curse ball in his palm before shoving it in his mouth, wincing at the taste as he swallowed it whole. He plopped onto the bench alongside Satoru, slumping and leaning his hand on his chin. “I might need a break to summon it, I’m exhausted.” 

 Satoru comically scooted himself down the length of the bench until he was resting his head on Suguru’s thigh. “Play with my hair while I nap,” he requested in a murmur. 

Suguru laughed, shooting an incredulous look at his friend. “Are you joking?” Satoru peered up at Suguru over his sunglasses. Oh, no, he’s serious. Suguru started, carefully, “Satoru… isn’t that a little-” 

“What, best friends can’t play with each other’s hair?” Satoru defended, a small flush spreading across his cheeks, “We clearly need some rest and we’ve got time to kill before we ride back.” 

Satoru flashed his big, blue, puppy-dog eyes, not that Suguru needed much convincing anyway, and Suguru sighed. “Fine, fine. Such a princess…” he muttered. He gingerly threaded his fingers into Satoru’s fluffy, snowy white hair, so soft and thick.

Satoru was immediately transported back to his childhood when his many nannies would stroke his hair to coax him to sleep. It was so soothing and nostalgic to feel Suguru pet his head like this. “Just gimme like… fifteen minutes, okay?” He said with a hum, eyes closing contentedly as Suguru’s fingers grazed his scalp. Satoru was out in a matter of minutes, easily slipping into slumber on his trusted friend’s lap.

Suguru could have easily spent hours like this, spending an equal amount of time watching Satoru sleep peacefully and admiring the vast temple they were in. As he mindlessly stroked, he finally had a chance to take a good look around. Even with the rubble and destruction, it was gorgeous. The walls stretched on and on, accented with rich reds and glinting gold murals of Siddhartha Gautama and his journey to enlightenment. Miraculously, the giant, gold Buddha statue still stood tall behind the collapsed wall. He closed his eyes, focusing on steadying his breath and nothing else in the world besides his hand in Satoru Gojo's hair.

 

Satoru finally stirred from his slumber nearly an hour later. Suguru was still in the same position as before, losing track of time as he meditated with his fingers in Satoru’s hair. Satoru let out a big yawn, sitting up and stretching. “Damn, I needed that. How long was I out?” 

“An hour, I think.”

“An hour !? You could have woke me up! What the hell were you doing for an hour?” 

Suguru shrugged, “Meditating.” Satoru gave him a deadpan expression. “Oh, I got rid of Ichiji, too. He thinks we’re taking the train home tonight,” he added, smirking. To avoid raising suspicion, Suguru called Ichiji not long after Satoru fell asleep to sweet-talk him into leaving. According to Suguru, they were going to “sight-see” in the area since the mission wrapped up so quickly and they’d take the train back to Tokyo tonight. Ichiji bought this lie immediately and reported back to the academy. Suguru’s curse manipulation technique always fell second to his ability to talk himself out of a situation, his charisma and charm its own jujutsu entirely. 

Satoru laughed and smiled, “Nice! Now we have the whole day to chill.” He turned towards his teammate. “Alright, Suguru, it’s your turn.” 

“Huh?”

Satoru patted his lap as he clarified, “I’m not greedy, I’ll return the favor.” 

Suguru eyebrows knitted together. “I don’t really nap well, you know that.” Though he’d be lying if he said didn’t think about Satoru stroking his hair. 

“Well, that’s because you’ve never had Satoru Gojo playing with your hair. C’mon, just lay down. If you fall asleep, awesome, and if you don’t, you still get to relax.” 

Suguru smiled, conceding and resting his head on Satoru’s thigh. He blushed, his gaze resting on the temple ceiling. Were his daydreams of romantic moments, such as these, with Satoru Gojo finally coming to fruition? His shallow crush only deepened over the time they grew close, but never once did he expect it could be reciprocated. 

At least, not until today. 

“It sounds like you just want an excuse to play with my hair,” he teased. 

“Well, you do have great hair, Suguru,” Satoru replied with a grin as he pulled the elastic from Suguru’s bun, allowing his charcoal hair to spill onto Satoru’s lap. “It’s getting long!” He pulled his fingers through to splay its full length. 

Suguru’s eyes fluttered closed as he commented, “Thank you. I’m letting it grow out.” Satoru wasn’t lying, it was extremely soothing having Satoru run his fingers through his hair. He fell silent, a small smile spreading across his face. 

It had been over a year of Satoru secretly longing to touch Suguru’s hair again. The time Suguru spent the night in his dorm, and his curiosity got the better of him, nearly changed his life. He couldn’t stop obsessing over it, his fingers itching every time he saw Suguru fix his bun. It was still so silky and beautiful as it fell through his fingers. For having such an excitable personality, he had a surprisingly gentle touch as he caressed Suguru’s locks.

“I admit, this is nice…” Suguru practically purred, sighing happily. He was definitely growing sleepy, allowing himself to let go and lean into the feeling of Satoru playing with his hair. 

“See? Now go to sleep.” 

Suguru did end up drifting off, but only for about thirty minutes. He awoke to two luminescent, ocean eyes staring right at him and jolted. “Jeez, Satoru, you scared the shit out of me.” He moved to sit up, but Satoru’s fingers were still tightly entwined in his hair. 

“Oh, sorry,” Satoru replied sheepishly, flushing and looking away. He pulled his hand back quickly so his friend could get up. 

Suguru stood and stretched his arms and back. He felt better, a lot better actually, his energy replenished. “I guess we can go, I can summon the- hey, where’s my hair tie?”

“Oh I lost it, sorry.” 

He lied. It was in Satoru’s pocket.

Suguru squinted at him, giving him a scrutinizing look. “You’re lying.” 

“Swear I’m not.” Satoru lifted his hands as if he was being interrogated by the police. 

“Guess we need to call Ichiji, then…” Suguru started with a mock sad tone, pouting and grabbing his phone from his pocket. “It’s not safe to fly with hair in my face.” He opened the phone, his thumb over the call button. 

Satoru groaned and rolled his eyes, shoving a hand in his pocket. “Oh, look at that, I found it. Oops, my bad,” he said sarcastically and flicked it over to Suguru. 

Suguru rolled his eyes back, muttering “Idiot” under his breath, and quickly tied his hair up in a tight bun. He strolled outside of the temple to find an open space to summon his new curse and Satoru trailed along. 

The rainbow dragon appeared out of a swirling mass of black energy, resting docilely on the grass near the temple. He was monstrously large up close, the top of his head alone big enough for both boys to lay down and spread out. Along its head and back was a soft mane. 

“This is such an upgrade!” Satoru exclaimed excitedly, placing his hand on the beast’s nose. It snorted, the dragon’s hot breath falling fluttering his hair. It still amazed him to see a once fearsome, aggressive enemy suddenly become Suguru’s house pet. His best friend had an amazing technique, there was no denying it. 

They clambered up onto the massive dragon, settling on the beast’s head in the middle of its horns. It certainly was an upgrade, the beast’s fluffy mane was comfortable and easy to grip onto. They were able to sit side-by-side. Suguru locked eyes with Satoru before placing a hand on the dragon. “Let’s go,” he commanded. It darted off faster and smoother than the stingray. Being in the sky with the beast felt like floating on a cloud, soft fur cushioning their legs as they soared. 

They weaved through clouds, dipped down to skate just above the ocean, and twisted around the entire island for hours. The pair rode around on the majestic dragon like it was a personal rollercoaster. Their cheeks started hurting from how much they were smiling, laughing, and screaming.

The pair lay on the rainbow dragon’s mane, side by side, staring up at the stars together. They hovered just outside of the academy grounds, the night sky clearing of clouds just in time for stargazing. 

“I think… yeah, this is definitely the best day of my life so far,” Satoru commented, a lazy grin on his face. 

Suguru looked over at him, admiring how his eyes reflected the night sky, creating two murky blue galaxies. “Oh yeah? Me too," he agreed with a smile.

“Besides that day you showed up to my door totally trashed, of course,” Satoru added with a laugh, sticking his tongue out.

Suguru pouted playfully, “Hey, ruin the moment, much?!” He laughed and gave Satoru a little shove, adding, “I must have really embarrassed myself then. I still don’t even remember anything. What did I even do?”

Satoru flushed a little. Unlike Suguru, his memory of that day was vividly clear. It altered his brain chemistry permanently and gained him his first best friend, too. “Oh, you were just being you, but more… silly, I guess. You gave me those sick sunglasses, too.” 

Suguru beamed, replying, “I’m glad you like them, Satoru. They really suit you.” 

Satoru’s flush deepened. He was thankful it was dark (and also for Suguru's normal eyes). He stretched out his arms, his hand grazing his friend’s gently. Heart hammering in his throat, he reached out a little more, clasping his hand around Suguru’s. 

Suguru looked down, then up at Satoru with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. He froze for a moment, then softened, his fingers gently slipping between Satoru’s. They lay silently for minutes, staring up at the stars with faces blushing, hearts racing, and fingers intertwining. 

They’re both thinking the same exact thoughts, fighting and struggling against the same exact bubbling embarrassment and shame keeping them from what they truly, desperately wanted and needed. 

I really want to kiss you.                       

                                          I really want you to kiss me. 

Finally, Suguru broke the silence, “Is this… something best friends do, Satoru?” 

Satoru took a quiet minute, swallowing nervously. How was Suguru the only person to make him feel anxious, out of everyone else in the world?

He looked at Suguru, a lovesick ache in his throat as he said, “Yeah. I like it.” 

Suguru smiled coyly in response. He squeezed his hand gently. 

“I like it too.”

Loveee these boys

Here's the rest:

[britcision]

Hey by the way Dungeon Meshi gang, I have noticed that we seem to be pretty heavily stuck in “people hit like instead of reblog” gang so I just wanna throw this out there

Hitting “like” on Tumblr is basically a nod across a crowded room to OP. It doesn’t share it, doesn’t increase reach, nobody is gonna see it from your likes

If you wanna actually boost a post and encourage OP to make more of the same, you gotta hit reblog, maybe go a little feral in the tags, maybe just hit the same tags the post had before

Cuz again: nothing happens when you hit “Like” except the heart turns red and it adds it to a list on your profile

(You cannot meaningfully search this list)

Now this has absolutely nothing to do with anything I post, because this is about fan artists! Because we have some goddamn INCREDIBLE artists blessing us every single day in this fandom

And every time I see and share some of this goddamn majestic pieces and see “3 reblogs 1500 likes” it makes my heart sad, both because the majestic art deserves so much more acclaim and also less of us will get to see and enjoy said art

This is a goddamn tragedy

Imagine if you just… never saw that absolutely bangin’ Laios-dragon with his tiddies out because you just… weren’t following the artist because you didn’t even know they did Dungeon Meshi art, or weren’t browsing the tags right when it was posted

And listen, I want you to feel encouraged to interact with every post you even vaguely feel like tagging with a key smash! Even if you don’t tag at all and just silently hit the reblog button!

But seriously guys you gotta reblog all the fanart and go full feral in the tags if you don’t want to go in the comments or hype it in a full post, because while I am a full proponent of “you gotta create for yourself”

We

We want them to share their creations, right? We want to see them on our tumblr?

So we gotta give them that good good dopamine on the tumblr

Cuz lemme tell you I’m sure as shit not gonna stop or even slow being feral and unhinged in the tags and text posts and shit posting, but I might not bother posting fic here first and just toss it on AO3 if only 3 people are gonna see it here

(I’m also not gonna stop or slow writing unhinged fic or sharing it all on AO3 it’s just… not gonna get posted here separately?

Cuz yeah for real hype your own stuff, reshare and gas yourself up and all that and keep tossing it out there for shits and giggles, but it does take extra time energy and effort for me to double post and I am a Lazy Bitch and perpetually busy on a new unhinged project

There’s no real number I’d look for, it’s more the near complete lack of reblogs even when something gets liked, it’s the ratio that’d tell me it’s worth it to y’all for me to put the work in)

And also if enough people reblog a post you get to see the super cool viral explosion of all of the reblog chains and where people saw it and they’re awesome

Go find a well noted post and check it out

[baldurs-writers-3]

Gen Fic 1: A Baldur's Gate 3 Fanfiction Rec List

This week, we have our first iteration of another recurring theme, Gen Fic!

Gen fics are fics where the primary pairing and/or focus of the fic is not romantic or sexual. This recurring theme is to help highlight fics that might not get picked up as often due to searching behaviors.

Check under the cut for seven excellent fics that explore complex platonic friendships, found family goodness, and character deep dives! And as always, comment and kudos if you like them!

Seven Minutes in Avernus by cyranonic (3503, Teen) Content Notes: None Pairings: Astarion & Karlach

While exploring the monastery Astarion and Karlach get sealed into a trap! A box of stone... Astarion doesn't handle it well, but it's a bit too early in the trip for Karlach to really understand what is happening.

Reccer says: His freak out is v. well done, and I love her moment of realization.

Taters by OrangeChickenPillow (1,593, General) Content Notes: None Pairings: The Origin Gang

Karlach might have lost one family, but she gained another (and her new family tells her "taters" with varying degrees of enthusiasm)

Reccer says: I really love team as family and this fic does it wonderfully

Lost in Frozen Fire by SadinaSaphrite (10,333, Explicit) Content Notes: Explicit for torture not sexy Pairings: Astarion & Jaheira

Astarion has a bad time and cannot save himself, even though oh how he tries. Too bad he doesn't have anybody who cares enough for him to come look for him... oh wait!

Reccer says: It's SO SAD how Astarion is hopeful and hopeful until he just has to give up and admit total defeat. Then his interactions with Jahiera are SO good.

Descent into Baldur’s Gate by Starlight_Rogue (19,331, Not Rated) Content Notes: None Pairings:

An Iseki fanfic where someone from this world wakes up as a tiefling barbarian in bg3 and lives through their favorite story

Reccer says: It is an amazing mix having humor with serious moments sprinkled throughout. It is still in progress

Fool Me Once by cyranonic (6994, Mature) Content Notes: None Pairings: Astarion & Karlach

In hindsight, Karlach wonders how she ever came to trust Enver Gortash. A requiem for loyalty in seven moments.

Reccer says: I really enjoy the exploration of Gortash's manipulation methods, and I absolutely ADORE the conversation Astarion and Karlach have afterwards! Friends don't let friends blame themselves for being abused!

Broken Little Puppets by BlackjackKent (1797, General) Content Notes: None Pairings: Astarion & Karlach

Astarion and Karlach talk a bit about how it feels after killing the people who ruined their lives.

Reccer says: The phrase 'And the hunger will never, ever, ever stop.' lives in my brain rent free. That just says it all about Astarion right there. He won, but it didn't undo anything that was done to him.

Apples by AlwaysMauria (2041, General) Content Notes: None Pairings: Astarion & OC (named Tav)

Approximately 20 years before the events of the Absolute, Astarion meets a child while on an errand for Cazador.

Reccer says: I read AlwaysMauria's fic 'Star Crossed', and this one-shot feels like such a sweet supplement to their backstory. It's a sweet interaction, and my new HC for Astarion's 'House of Nightstar' dialogue origin. Def recommend!

The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ!

Next week, we’ll be exploring Worldbuilding Fics! 

[conundrumoftime]

heavens above

Look: there are a lot of Haladriel Discords and groupchats. I'm in some of them, I'm not in others, there's plenty I don't know about. There is not a Haladriel Discord specifically set up to talk shit about newer fans on Tumblr (or if there is, I don't know about it and I'm not in it). Anyone who tells you that is Making Things Up, and if you've been in fandoms before you may want to have a think about why they'd do that.

Lots of smaller groupchats include safe spaces for people to vent about things that are frustrating them in fandom, without personal attacks or co-ordinated harassment campaigns. And if you don't like any of my Tumblr takes - or my ships or my fic or whatever - I absolutely encourage you to go complain about that in a private groupchat somewhere. (also! I know this happens already! and it's FINE.)

To answer two specific questions though: "Why didn't you speak to Apolo directly?" (I did; see below!), and "why didn't you just block Apolo" (I did, right after that, when Apolo's response made it clear she wasn't interested in listening to a different point of view on this one).

For context to anyone who missed this/can't see it because of blocks, I'll put here the post I was responding to and my response itself, which was also informed by seeing Apolo say previously that there are no Celeborn fans just anti-Haladriels. You are free to judge for yourself which one of these contains the language you are happier with seeing in fandom about other fans.

This is my post from Saturday about how I would like Celeborn to return in TROP;

This is from Apolo's post two days after that, addressed to people who want Celeborn to return in TROP:

and this is my comment:

Not going to comment on it or any of this beyond that.

My messages are open and anyone is free to speak to me or ask questions or whatever they like at any time. Or you can block me for whatever reason, I won't get offended.

[1tsstargaze59]

Anxifear College AU Chapter 3🧡💜

I still have no idea for a name for the fic- ILL THINK OF ONE I PROMISE ^^""""

Prepare to meet all the other emotions! Including Shame! 👀 Guess in the comments who's who, cuz I (hopefully) made it obvious enough XD /Mild family angst

Chapter 3 : Conversations

Anna-lee happily skipped on over to her department's teacher's lounge. Entering the room, she approached her supervisor, a woman with a small but thick build, thin rim round glasses, and a blue sweater. She placed the hair from her short black bob behind her right ear and turned to face her junior :

"He gave you a bouquet of lavender?" questioned Saddie, a little perplexed.

"Ya! Do you know where I could put them? I wasn't exactly prepared with a vase- it's not every day someone gifts you flowers!" Anne laughed nervously.

"He gave you flowers! Anne, that's wonderful. What's his name again?"

"Fred," affirmed Anne, "he's a good friend. He got sick and couldn't come in to work today so he- send me flowers?" She laughed again, "He's so funny, I wonder how he comes up with these gags!"

Saddie leaned in, analyzing the look in Anna's eyes, "Has he been... complimenting you?"

"Huh? Ya, why?"

"Let me see that note," asked Saddie, opening her hand for Anne to pass over the little sheet of paper. After carefully reading it, her eyes opened wide, and she blurted out, "Anna-Lee, he's been flirting with you!"

"What???" Enid yelled back at her, "Are you telling me my brother is flirting with my teacher???"

"Don't say it like that! You make it sound like it's a bad thing," Daphne replied, checking herself out on her phone, "They're both teachers. What's the harm? I think they're cute; I like teasing M. Frederick about it, right Vivi?" Her sister smiled and nodded furiously as she gobbled down her lunch.

Enid sighed deeply, wiping her long face with her hand, her dark eyeshadow mysteriously left intact.

"I can't believe it; how did I not notice? I mean, looking back, it's so obvious!" Anna paced around the office, the sound of her shoes tapping against the wooden floor followed by the sound of a clean slap between her hand and her forehead, "I feel so stupid-"

"Don't be so hard on yourself, sweetie," Saddie reassured her as she sat back down on her chair, "You don't need an excuse to misinterpret situations."

"Misinterpret? Who the heck misinterprets giving someone FLOWERS???" She dropped all her weight into her chair, causing it to roll back slowly.

She chuckled, "Why are you so upset? Isn't this good news?"

"Good news? This is TERRIFYING news! I've never had someone hit on me before!" She brought her hands to her cheeks and squeezed her face.

"Never?"

"Well, yes, but mostly from people I've been in a relationship with, and even then, I was the one who initiated my past relationships! I was NOT prepared for THIS; how could this happen to me? Well, I honestly didn't even consider this was a possibility- but still!"

"You're overthinking things dear, is there something now that's troubling you?"

"Well, it could get really awkward for me since I still, O tu sais, LIVE WITH HIM?? Could you IMAGINE he takes her home and it's just like 'oh, hi! It's me, your HISTORY TEACHER'!!!" The yelling knocked the air out of Enid's lungs, her head dropped to the table as soon as her rant was over.

"OK, that's fair, that does sound really awkward," Daphne responded, opening her setting powder container, "is that all you're worried about, or?"

"That's it? You're acting too calm about this, even for my liking," she sighed again, she who does not tend to care about things, now yelling at her best friend, "I'm thankful for my brother, but I am NOT playing third wheel to any of his romances; I'm not his child."

"I'm sorry, it's just hard to take you seriously when I already got a solution planned!" She smiled, a perfect white smile, before closing her makeup container.

Her droopy eyes peaked up with a glimmer of hope, "You do?"

"I propose we go see my husband. He's a terribly shy guy, I'm sure he has some wise words for you. Besides, the library is a quiet, pensive place; it'll help clear your mind dear," Saddie leaned over her desk to pat Anna-Lee's hand.

Anne smiled meekly.

●●●

"Hey Freddie! Welcome back; you feeling better?" greeted Joy, sitting at the teacher's lounge table of the math department.

"He's fine! He had me deliver flowers to little miss carrot top!" Angrily yelled Antonio from behind his desk.

"You-" she gasped dramatically, "You had Anthony do you a FAVOR!? That's a new one!" She laughed hysterically.

Fred sat beside her, a smug grin plastered on his face, "Hey, miracles can happen. Thanks, Anthony. I owe you one!"

"You owe me 40 bucks!"

They laughed at their elder's frustration.

"So~ how's the courting going?"

"Joy, you know I hate it when-"

"Ok, I'm sorry, you're right. Let me try that again : romance isn't really my thing, but I sure do like watching it go down, so spill!"

"Well, I don't wanna push any further than I already have... I think I've made my intentions clear, and I fear if I flirt anymore, it'll creep her out..."

"Oh, thank the lord," sighed Anthony in relief.

"Anthony!" she yelled at him.

“It's ok Joy, he doesn’t mean it that way.”

“Yes, this childish behavior is simply a pain to watch,” he grumbled, frustratedly tapping away at his keyboard, ”I, for one, think he should be upfront about how he feels.”

Joy stared at Antonio with her mouth agape, “I… agree! You should keep being honest and clear about your feelings.”

“Thank you.”

“About what?” she whispered.

“For caring about me.”

“Of course sweetie,” Saddie reassured her.

She took Anna into the library and behind the counter, where she sat her down to speak with a tall older man. He was rounded and soft in appearance, betraying his size. He seemed like a gentle giant. His pink cheeks matched well with his pink cardigan. Anna felt a weight lift off her chest when in their presence. 

“Anna, this is Emmet; my husband,” Saddie clarified, squeezing his right hand, “Barry, this is Anna-lee, she’s a friend of mine from the History department.” 

Emmet waved a small shy hand at Anna. It made her smile. She explained to him everything that’s happened so far; her uncertainty about her feelings towards Fred. He listened to every word without a peep, his eyes trying to maintain eye contact, but always darting back to Saddie, his face flushing with more pink. When she was done, he looked pensive, staring down at the table. Then, he looked up, a glimmer sparkling in his eyes. 

“What about the chess club?” asked Joy, “Did you think of inviting her?”

“The chess club?” Fred lifted his finger up to his chin, passing near the door, “No... I talked to her about it, though; I thought that if she wanted to see me more often, she’d take initiative, you know?”

“That’s fair,” she remarked, “Dead end there then.”

“Book delivery,” a small raspy voice shot Fred from behind. He yelped like a young girl and jumped forward, looking behind him to find the slim dark figure of a young woman, “For the math department?”

Joy laughed, “Shay! Be careful; you trying to give Fred a heart attack?” 

Taking deep breaths, he took the pen and clipboard Shay had in her hands and signed off on the delivery, shivering from head to toe.

“Thank you,” said the young lady, taking her items back, “and sorry for scaring you, M. Fitzgerald.”

“It’s… ok! I’m very jumpy anyway, dear,” his shivering making it hard to hold onto this many heavy books, “and thank you for your service!”

After waving goodbye with a timid smile, Shay rolled her cart down the hall to the elevator, down to the ground floor and into the library. She went behind the counter and placed her clipboard back onto it’s hook on the wall and left to find her uncle, her expression dulled. She found him sitting at a table, accompanied by her aunt and a strange woman. Her ginger locks tied up in an unusual, incomprehensible manner; she had giant round glasses and a remarkable overbite. At first, she stayed out of the conversation, listening in curiously, as she had done with the two math teachers before, as she had done for too many conversations before. Then, she understood who the lady was.

“Ok, but how do I spend more time with him? I’m so busy, I practically spend all my time in between work and home!”

“What about the chess club?” Shay whispered behind them; making the lady jump in her seat. Her aunt and uncle turned to her, and Saddie smiled. 

“Anna-lee, this is Shay.”

●●●

The leaflet Daphne had handed her had a bold red title : Seeking roommates? Reach out! Enid made a sour face and looked up at her once more.

"What do you say? This could solve a lot of our issues, you living with your brother, me paying the whole rent; we can kill two birds with one stone!"

"Aren't you rooming with your sister? No offense, Vivi," she clarified.

Vivienne shook her head in response, "None taken. I wanted to prove I can room on my own like Daph, despite her insistence on rooming together."

"Ugh!" Daphne rolled her eyes, "Quit acting all grown-up, you're 18! Anyway, as you can see, I got rejected!" She turned to her sister, vindictive, and smiled painfully, "So I got an open spot in my apartment. What do you say?"

"... I'll think about it; thank you for the offer," she said with a hoarse tone.

From then on, the leaflet was placed in her pocket. During her next class, it rolled around. On her way home, it crumpled in on itself. Once Enid walked into their condo and placed her hand in her pocket, she found it had become a shriveled mess. She opened it carefully : Seeking roommates? Reach out! The bold red lettering was a wet slap to the face. She threw it out the door furiously, but not before her brother could catch it. 

“Hey! Lâche ça tout de suite, it’s not yours!” she yelled at him.

“Woh hey, calm down, Ellie; I thought you knew better than to litter,” Fred crossed the doorstep into their apartment and removed his shoes, “and mine? Of course not, but it’s not yours either since I just saw you throw it away,” he handed the piece of paper over to her. 

Enid froze for a while, staring at the paper with distress. Fred looked at her before directing his gaze towards the leaflet, “... Do you.. want to leave?”

“I…” she didn’t know what to say.

He swallowed, “You don’t have to stay, Ellie, I’d never force you; you know that, right?”

“But, what about my studies?”

“I’d still help you pay for them.”

“Still?”

“Yes, really… I want what’s best for you.”

Her eyes looked up at him; he was sincere. He meant every word, but the shine in his eyes... Enid felt guilty, “I want to be with her, Fred, mais… I don’t want you to be sad, because of me.”

“I won’t be; I’ll be sad, but I'd never blame you. You deserve to choose what you want to do in life.”

Enid’s blank stare was highlighted by a single teardrop, streaking down her cheek. He extended his hand to wipe it off and forced a smile on his face, “If you need to go Ellie, don’t be scared. I will remain the annoying thorn on your side forever; we’re family, remember?” He pulled her into an embrace.

Ellie chuckled and hugged him back, feeling his arms tremble, “Ya… I know home isn’t a place.”

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

-----

Hey! Thanks for reading! I know that last scene probably left you with many questions, so I’ll be happy to answer the general ones, since I know I don’t want to address them in this fic:

Fred and Enid have a complicated family history, but mainly know that they were separated, Enid was placed in the child care system since her birth. Recently, Fred lost their mother to an illness. She admitted to Fred that he had a sister on her deathbed, and this helped him cope with her passing. He felt less lonely knowing he still had a living family member, and he reconnected with her right before she left child protective services on her 18th birthday. They have lived together ever since. Enid is currently 25, do the math XD Damn that story is sad- Sorry guys, I like complicated relationships it seems XD I wanted to include this scene though, as it demonstrates their bond and how important it is for Fred to find company for himself, to rebuild that family bond he feels like is lacking in his life. If there are any other questions about any other character, send an ask my way! I’ll be happy to answer! ^^ Know that we won’t be hearing much about them from this point onward; they are mostly background characters. 

Doodle reward for scrolling to the end! ^^💖

[bedforddanes75]

sometimes i see the asks people get on here about their fic and its. so insane. because ill read what the ask says and go "oh my god ??? thats so fucking horrible" or something similar And then you all reply like theyre an angel telling you that your writing is amazing. am i just bitchy?? anons on here are VILE sometimes and even when they arent being just. outright Terrible. they can be sooo backhanded. be NICE to people or im gonna come and get you

[somnimagus]

My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.

[id in alt text]

[nyxi-pixie]

yk the alllergy to commenting people have is actually so funny bc wdym you dont want to talk about something you really really like with the person who really really likes it enough to have spent hours upon hours on it

[ofmermaidstories]

there’s something so bittersweet and lovely about fanfic, at it’s core. it’s so impermeable, because it’s so individual. fics don’t get finished. fics get lost because they were typed out and sent to friends, in the 70s, and somewhere along the way someone packed it up in a cardboard box and their kids shuffled it to the attic. websites go down. archives get built, but then people lose faith in the story or the canon or the creator and delete them. you read it at like, 3am, and can’t remember the title months later when you look for it again.

the tiktok these comments are from was lamenting about the loss of a favourite fic—it (the tiktok) had 85k+ likes, and over 700 comments, mostly similar to these. people talking about downloading fics to read on a tablet only for them to disappear the next day. using the wayback machine and combing through results, just to find something they loved. i think it’s sweet because it’s so human—how easily we love something, and how easily we lose it. i used to print out my favourite fics, as a kid—i still have a binder of them, buried under yearbooks and the old journals i kept during those topsy turvy preteen years. i could tell you the overarching plot to a Cardcaptor Sakura fantasy AU i read (and loved; it became my personality for months afterwards) but i can’t remember how it ended, or if it even did. i finally broke down and signed up for an account on AO3 specifically to bookmark an old, old fic that i had read somewhere else, years and years and years ago and found again on AO3 only because i accidentally stumbled on the author here on tumblr (i had only found the fic in the first place all those years ago because of a playlist). i used the same shade of lipstick for years purely because a fic i really liked had the main character apply it (it was a limited edition one at the time; i bought my first one from a ebay seller in the UK at double the retail price, lmao) while the love interest watched them, but i can’t remember the name of it, only how it made me feel (and how, for years afterwards, i would wear that shade whenever i felt like the day had something promising to it).

one of the first anon’s i ever got, in the early days of this tumblr, was someone who asked me if it was okay if they downloaded surrender—and of course it was. of course it is. there was a point, during the final stretch when i was trying to write the last chapter, that i almost lost the entirety of what i had written for that fic—and i mean, it was on AO3 by that stage so it would’ve only set me back a chapter or so, but it goes to show how fragile things can be. how sometimes fics only last in tiny ways—because of the unfinished PDF file someone downloads. The patchy memory of someone’s who’s jumbling it and three other fics together. Because someone wore the same shade of lipstick you mentioned, off-hand, for years afterwards.

(this is a love letter to the silent readers; the silent savers. the lurkers. fandom and the internet at large is made of lurkers (eighty-five thousand likes. seven hundred comments). people who saved fics and waybacked them and will reread them, even uncompleted. telling each other we did a good job, that we liked this or we liked that is wonderful, and fun, and a great (and important) way to build a community and has also given me my current friends—but sometimes something you make will matter and live on in a way you will never, ever know. and it’s just how it is. it’s part of the fun and it’s part of the charm. it’s just how we work as people.)

[fountainpenguin]

Things that happened in Martyn & Cleo Double Life canon:

Cleo hoping to find her soulmate and start a life with them

Cleo dumping Martyn without giving him a chance to explain his side of the story, but hearing him out when he comes to her later

Martyn watching Cleo through his spyglass and telling the audience she seems safe and happy even though he thinks it's weird she's outside at night

Martyn, after he's had time to consider how he wants to play this, spinning a story about trying to be a provider for her and Cleo explaining that she wanted him, not things

Cleo not being remotely impressed by the "I was providing" sob story, lol

Martyn calling Cleo selfish for choosing to be with Scott because she's supposed to be HIS soulmate and he wants a partner

Cleo willing to forgive Martyn if he meets them halfway

Martyn refusing to meet them halfway because he doesn't think he did anything wrong

Martyn screaming about how Cleo's building bridges with Scott but "When will she think about mending our bridges???"

Martyn explaining to Cleo that he doesn't understand why his Session 1 actions bothered them

Martyn centering his character arc and roleplay on trying to win Cleo back without actually apologizing

Cleo giving Martyn a flower and stating that if he loses it, she'll be real cross with him

Cleo chasing Martyn out of her yard because he tried to put an HOA sign on her base and she wanted to make it clear that she wasn't associated with them and their hate for his base (even though she does think his heart base is strange)

Martyn attacking Cleo after she said attacking is a form of affection to her

Cleo setting boundaries with Martyn and explaining what he can do to get her back

Cleo sighing when Scar set her up on a date with Martyn, but taking the chance to talk to him instead of walking out

Cleo genuinely wanting Martyn in her alliance

Martyn and Cleo giggling constantly when they chat

Scar asking if Martyn wanted him to play a romantic music disc for him and Cleo (and Martyn getting excited and saying yes)

Martyn offering to take Cleo's armor and weapons to the deep dark so he can enchant them and bring them back while she stays safe

Cleo gifting Martyn diamonds, expecting nothing in return but not wanting him to die from lack of a good sword

Martyn and Cleo forming a secret alliance that allows Cleo to live with Scott while being on good terms with Martyn

Martyn expressing frustration that Cleo wants to keep this alliance secret because he wants them to be public allies; Cleo softly shushes him when people approach and might overhear

Martyn telling Cleo that she's putting out a lot of mixed signals because she keeps reeling him in and then pushing him away, claiming he is very confused about where he stands with her

Martyn teasing Cleo by punching her off a cliff and accidentally killing her and feeling so bad about it that he apologizes profusely despite roleplaying as someone who refused to apologize for Session 1

Martyn and Cleo immediately threatening Bdubs together when he said hi to them while they were hanging out, sdkfj

Martyn genuinely apologizing to Pearl for dumping her after Session 1

Martyn hiding under Cleo's bed while she defends him from an enderman attack

Cleo offering to let Martyn move into her house after Etho and Joel grief his base; Martyn saying he might take her up on that

Cleo and Martyn agreeing to move out and base together at Box

Cleo trusting Martyn with the location and resources of her red life base

Martyn rushing to Cleo's aid in the deep dark and trying to turn everyone against him instead

Cleo responding to Martyn's panicked shouts for her to eat by opening her inventory to get food (and drowning because she forgot she was in water)

Cleo hanging back and letting Martyn attack Scott while she does nothing to stop him from doing so, implying as much as she likes Scott, she won't kill Martyn (and herself) for him (and/or she trusted Scott to handle himself even though he ran away while Martyn was shooting at him)

Things that did not happen:

Cleo unwilling to forgive Martyn or consider being his friend and partner

Martyn and Cleo hating each other

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk

[khaotunq]

"i don't know this fandom but i read this because i like your writing"

i am ON tHE FloOR.