#have a feeling this one might get done soon

[jellymochii]

Stray Kids - What Kind of Dominant are They? (Headcanons)

❣ pairings: ot8 skz x fem!reader

❣ genre: smut, fluff

❣ wc: 2.3k

❣ cw: HEAVYYYY SMUT, bondage, bdsm, pet play, dom/sub relationship, sensory deprivation, overstimulation, unprotected sex (please don't), cnc

↪author's note: hello! got in the mood to make some skz hcs. i might do sub!skz next OR dom!txt hehe. hope you enjoy!

**THIS IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION AND DOES NOT REFLECT THE TRUE NATURE OF THE PEOPLE MENTIONED**

❣ Chan - Daddy Dom

Pretty much a classic right here, we all knew this was coming.

Is so doting and loving on you!! He loves taking care of you and spoiling you in every way possible.

You're feeling icky from period cramps? He'll get you sweet treats and massage your worries away. Bad day at work? He's right there holding your face gently and peppering you with kisses.

Loves making you feel good in any way possible. He'll make sure to make you cum at least once before fucking you, and always fucks you slow and deep–just how you like it!

You misbehave though? Yeah, you're in for it.

Will never stop telling you how good you make him feel. Lots of praises like “My sweet girl, always so tight and warm.” Or “Ffffuuuuck you make daddy feel so good, princess.”

Pulls you over his lap and hikes up your skirt, and then spanks you as many times as he sees fit. Lost count? Oops, guess he's restarting from one.

At that point there's tears in your eyes from the sting of your swollen red asscheeks as you're begging him for mercy, telling him you're sorry.

If you really misbehaved he'll pretend like he forgives you and finger your cunt–only to deny you sweet release.

“I thought I told you already, bad sluts don't get to cum, sweetheart~”

If you've been extra mouthy he'll shut you up quickly by grabbing handfuls of your hair and shoving his cock down your throat.

Don't worry, his aftercare is always immaculate, regardless of how good you were that night. Warm baths and sweet words for his baby!

❣ Lee Know - Brat Tamer

Everyone act surprised. We all know the man loves a challenge.

And you, his little bratty baby? Buckle up, you're in for a long night.

Has all kinds of toys to punish you with–cuffs, ropes, whips, etc.

Definitely handcuffs your wrists and ankles to the bed while spanking you repeatedly. You shouldn't have been a brat, now should you?

Whispers absolute filth into your ear, and you secretly love every part of it. Things like “Fucking slut, this was supposed to be a punishment–and look at you, you're dripping.” And “Aww are you crying? Poor girl, I couldn't give less of a shit, huh?”

Definitely not as nice as Chan when it comes to spanking you. At least Chan has the mercy to restart, but Minho? Yep, that's an extra 20.

If he's in a really bad mood, he'll tie you up and shove a remote controlled vibrator up your already leaking pussy and have you at his mercy as he controls every pulse to come out of it. (You're not cumming any time soon.)

May also just deny you entirely and watch you helplessly whine and cry as he jacks himself off in front of you, not giving you a single taste of his sweet juices.

Listen, he's not a complete monster though. Once everything is said and done, he'll still give you the best aftercare.

It's all a game to him. He looooves when you're extra bratty, or when you try and fight back–it turns him on even more, knowing he'll break you down entirely into submission until you're a babbling mess.

Cleans you up nicely with a warm washcloth and makes sure you pee and drink lots of water. He'll also make sure you have a nice warm meal filled with lots of protein to get your energy back.

You're still his baby at the end of the day. Just a very, very bratty one.

❣ Changbin - Pleasure Dom

Oh my sweet Binnie…he's so whipped for you.

He's at your every beck and call, and makes you feel so loved and protected–even in the sheets.

He knows how ridiculously strong he is compared to you, and how you look oh so little caged under his large and muscular body. (He loves it.)

But he's still gentle! He knows he could break you if he wanted to, which is why he treats you like a porcelain doll in bed, and gives you everything you want in more.

But man, you really drive him crazy, y'know?

He can't help it how good you make him feel, your pussy sucking his girthy length in and your walls fluttering around him. Sometimes it's all too much for him.

Takes a LOT of mental and physical strength to not pound into you like a starved wild animal, but sometimes he just can't stop himself, your pussy is just too good.

And so trust, you will get pounded into a brutal pace, but he's gonna make you see stars with how good you feel.

You can tell he's close by how his normal grunts and huffs turn into high pitched whines and moans, his muscles start quivering from all the sensations filling up his system.

Whispers things like “Aigoo, baby, I'm sorry. I-I can't help it, it's too good~!” And “Shhh I know, baby, just let daddy use you for a little.”

Huge load. That's all I gotta say, your poor cunt is leaking from the generous load of his love he's bred into you.

Aftercare king. The best and warmest cuddles you could ever ask for.

He's so in love with you, please tell him what a good job he did and how much you love him!

❣ Hyunjin - Service Dom

A service Dom is typically someone who enjoys inflicting or giving any sort of stimulation to their sub for their own pleasure.

Lover boy Hyunjin is no exception. You're his muse, after all. He wants to explore every part of your body in any way he can.

He watches your scrunched up face while biting his lip as his fingers dig into that sweet spot you love, the other hand fondling your breasts or pinching your nipple as he watches attentively for any sign of pleasure.

Definitely into sensory deprivation. He loves having you blindfolded, handcuffed, and even likes having cute earmuffs on you so you can only feel him using your sense of touch.

Ice cubes, paintbrushes, anything non-conventional that stimulated your nerves in any way. The way you twitch ever so slightly with just a light touch to your clit gets his cock soooo hard.

May also take photos of you while you're in different positions (with your consent, of course) to have for later to either jerk off with or paint and save to his private collection.

If he's eating you out, he's got his plump lips sucking on your clit while his fingers twist in every direction of your sloppy pussy, all while humping the bed from how insanely turned on he is.

When you actually have sex, his hands are all over you. Even if he's sweating buckets and shaking from overstimulation, he's gonna make you cum as many times as he wants. He has to, in his mind.

The way your face contorts from pleasure and how your walls flutter around his cock is enough to make him cum, but he always restrains himself.

Uses his dick so skillfully. He knows your pussy inside and out, and thrusts himself into you mercilessly. Yeah, you're having multiple orgasms tonight.

“Nnngh, jagi–you're so beautiful, I could hah- stay like this forever.” Or “C'mon honey, just one more, for me?”

Major cuddlebug afterwards. He'll clean you up eventually, but for now he just wants to hold you and bask in your presence and tell you how much he adores you.

❣ Han - Dom Tendencies

I don't think Han is any kind of traditional Dom, I more so assume that he has Tendencies that match up with your typical Dom from time to time.

Kinda cocky and more dominant at first when you two are fucking. Lots of “Yeah, you like that huh?”

As he gets closer though, his brain becomes more and more mushy. He's so drunk off your pussy that his head fogs up like he's in a trance.

All he can focus on at this rate if you, and how pretty you look with your nose all scrunched up underneath him.

Once you get close and start ng things like “Ha-Hannie please, I’m gonna cum~!” It's all over for him.

He's suddenly forgotten how to be dominant entirely and all he can think about is wanting to cum. You could basically say your pussy was so good that it made him go stupid.

This usually leads to him cumming before you, but if you cum before him? Oh poor boy, he's gonna malfunction.

“Jagi–angh, please cum for me, I'll do anything!” He'll say desperately pounding into you at an irregular pace, looking for any sort of stimulation.

The feeling of your walls slurping him in and coating his cock with your cum makes his eyes roll in the back of his head. You swear you can see his tongue sticking out like an ahegao.

And yet in true Dom fashion, he plugs you full of his babies–making sure every last drop seeds inside your cervix.

“Fuckfuckfuck I'm cummi- agh~!”

You're both totally wiped after that. He'll still pepper your face in sweet kisses and tell you how good you were, a few giggled mixed in between.

❣ Felix - Versatile Dom

Felix is very flexible in terms of pleasing you.

You want a softer, more love making session? He'll be right there with rose petals and candles. On the other hand, if you're wanting him to absolutely destroy you–he sure can!

Even through his cocky Dom exterior, much like changbin he's petrified of hurting you or going too far. You're his sweet baby, after all!

He uses his rich and deep voice to groan sweet nothings into your ear, he knows it drives you crazy.

When you are looking for something more kinky, he'll bust out a pair of pink fluffy handcuffs and that vibrator wand you love so much–and use it to push you farther than you've ever gone before in terms of overstimulation.

“Yeah? You like when I touch your clit like that, baby?” Or “Ohhh look at you dripping, my nasty little slut.”

Seeing you so obedient and helpless underneath him may scare his brain, but his tip throbs at the sight.

He's very generous when it comes to making you cum. He won't deny or torture you, but he loves teasing you for how squirmy and pathetic you are bound up like that.

His generosity (and slight sadism) peeks through when he makes you cum more times than you can count. And best believe, he’ll be pulling more out of you!

Creampies–lots of them.

Aftercare is always a must for both of you–kisses, cuddles and brownies in that order.

Moral of the story--he’s anyone you want him to be!

❣ Seungmin - Pet Owner Dom

Everyone act surprised part 2

Lee Know's evil counterpart in terms of brat taming. You wanna misbehave? You're gonna get treated like the animal you are.

He’ll put you in your kennel and tie your vibrator to your sopping cunt, leaving you there for as long as he sees fit.

“Awww, you're such a pathetic little puppy.” Or “Bad puppies go into the kennel, you know this. Or are you too dumb to remember, hmm?”

You've got the whole set at this point��ears, matching lingerie, and a collar with his initials engraved in it so everyone knows who you belong to.

Maybe if he's feeling nice he'll let you desperately hump his thigh for any sort of friction while teasing you.

And trust, YOU. WILL. BE. BRED.

Calls your ovulation period your “heat”, and knows how much his sweet puppy needs his cum when she's oh so desperate!

Yep, doggy style. It's both of your favorites–your brain goes fuzzy from how deep his tip kisses your cervix, and he loves hearing his puppy's whines and cries when she's close or overstimulated.

Tugs you by your collar when he's close, his breath becomes erratic and his limbs shake.

By the end of your playtime, there's so much cum seeping out of your cunt (you'll probably get plugged so you're bred properly)

Tells you how much he loves you and what a good puppy you are for him after!

❣ I.N. - Primal Dom

Oh my sweet innie

He really wants to be gentle and loving, and be the sweetheart Dom in bed.

But he simply cannot control his animalistic urges when he's around you.

He's pounding into you at a merciless and brutal pace, all while strangled cries and guttural moans spill from his mouth

He can't help it! His urges are just telling him to :(

Prefers raw any day, let's hope you're on birth control anyway

You almost wonder where this ungodly stamina has come from, especially on days when he has a lot of pent up frustration from practice–you've never been drilled in at this fast and rough of a pace.

Not a lot of words when he's close, he's breathing heavily as filthy moans growl into your ear. Almost as if he were saying “You made me like this.”

Huuuuge breeding desire. He needs to fill you up and make sure you're swollen with his kin in 9 months.

There's something so feral about him when he cums. It's the sweet release he’s been needing, but he’s so addicted to the way your walls take all of his seed in–so much so that you're in for another few rounds just so he can feel it again.

Poor baby, he's so mortified once he snaps out of it and realizes he basically ruined you. He uses gentle warm washcloths like Chan taught him to tend gently to all of your bruises.

Tons of reassurance and apologies spilling from his mouth, but you wouldn't have it any other way since you know how much he loves you.

[starry-eyed-psychopomp]

REAL. People in this fandom bend over backwards to blame Wei Wuxian for every little thing, as if the entire point of the series wasn’t that he was being used as a scapegoat.

Like, Wei Wuxian is an unreliable narrator, specifically in the sense that he has an incredibly low sense of self-worth, defaults to blaming himself for everything, excuses any wrongdoing done to himself, and represses the memories of his own trauma. And he’s like that specifically because of his upbringing with the Jiang. Madame Yu blamed him for anything and everything, Jiang Fengmian enabled her and made Wei Ying feel like every bit of kindness incurred a debt that had to be repaid, and Jiang Cheng relied heavily on Wei Ying taking the blame for everything, so much so that he never really learned how to manage his emotions in a way that wasn’t blaming Wei Wuxian. He was raised a scapegoat, and that continued on in his role as the Yiling Patriarch. People blamed him for anything and everything, because it’s easier to pin all your problems on one convenient target than accept the complexities of a situation (and reflect on your own culpability in them).

Over the course of the novels, we see a lot of people blaming Wei Wuxian. Madame Yu and Lan Qiren are the first, and Jiang Cheng picks up soon after. Once the Sunshot Campaign ends, everyone is quick to blame every little thing on him and his cultivation. Then people like Jin Guangyao take advantage of that and manipulate it in their favor. Jin Zixun blames him for his stupid curse, then Jin Zixuan pops up and starts blaming him for the entire fight. There are mobs of people at the Second Siege of the Burial Mounds who blame him for all sorts of unreasonable shit. Jiang Cheng is CONSTANTLY blaming him for anything and everything: Lotus Pier, his parents, Jin Zixuan, Jiang Yanli, none of which were actually his fault. Shit, after the Golden Core reveal happens, Jiang Cheng starts blaming Wei Wuxian for the fact that he can’t blame Wei Wuxian for his problems anymore! And don’t get me started on Lan Xichen and the “his only mistake was you” conversation, as if Lan Wangji’s incredibly inobvious crush was somehow his responsibility to reciprocate while starving to death and trying to prevent a genocide. As if Lan Wangji’s punishment was his fault, despite the whole point being that Wei Wuxian was telling him to stop trying to help him. People lob so much shit at Wei Wuxian, and within the context of the novels, it is abundantly clear that it’s all just SHIT.

And the thing is, the novels understand this. Even though Wei Wuxian might not personally blame characters like Jiang Cheng or Lan Xichen for their reprehensible actions, the narrative ensures that they face consequences. Like, people get upset about Jiang Cheng’s ending, but he had ample opportunity to make amends with Wei Wuxian, and he refused. He just kept blaming him! Jiang Cheng never would have had to learn about the core transfer if he’d just shut his damn mouth and put the whip away, but he wouldn’t, so his entire fragile sense of accomplishment was destroyed. Now, he can’t blame Wei Wuxian for all his problems, because he knows Wei Wuxian gave up EVERYTHING so that he could lead the Jiang sect and be a powerful cultivator. And he can’t cope with that, so he ends the series unsatisfied and in seclusion.

And then look at Lan Xichen. Wei Wuxian never blames him for the whole mistake thing, but I really don’t think we’re supposed to see Lan Xichen as being in the right in that conversation. Like, first of all, he’s needlessly cruel. Second of all, with what we have read about the Second Battle at Nightless City, how would it be in any way reasonable to describe Wei Wuxian as being “satisfied with the killing?” People make Lan Xichen’s actions out to be understandable concern for his brother, but then Wei Wuxian gets nothing in regards to his own grief over the deaths of his sisters? Third of all, Lan Xichen is, at that moment, STILL making allowances for Jin Guangyao, even knowing the awful shit he did. Pot, meet kettle.

And that’s the thing! Towards the end of the series, the cultivation world’s mob mentality shifts from scapegoating Wei Wuxian to scapegoating Jin Guangyao. Technically a more worthy target, but even Wei Wuxian himself expresses discomfort at that shift. Lan Xichen, who still loves Jin Guangyao and is probably shaken by his own guilt over the part he played in his schemes, defaults to scapegoating Wei Wuxian instead. And sure, this scene happens in large part because of the narrative need for wangxian to get their shit together, but it still contextualizes Lan Xichen’s arc’s conclusion. And I’d argue that’s why he ends the series miserable and in seclusion too. He needed to be strong armed into feeling guilt and taking responsibility for his actions.

But back to the main point: I think a lot of people don’t understand that Wei Wuxian largely isn’t to blame because most of this comes in as subtext. Wei Wuxian is the narrator and he often tells us that everything is his fault, that the things he’s put through aren’t so bad, but in moments of flashbacks, when he’s knocked out or using empathy and doesn’t have so much control over the narration, we see more clearly that he had noble intentions and was consistently backed into a corner. Meanwhile, we’re seeing all these other characters turn a blind eye to injustice (or actively participate in it) and then turn around and say UNTRUE SHIT about him. Even though the narrative doles out karmic punishments for characters’ fucked up actions, the fact that Wei Wuxian doesn’t SAY they’re wrong and deserving of consequences trips people up.

MDZS is a story that really needs to be read with a critical eye. I feel like a lot of people just hear that Wei Wuxian is an unreliable narrator and decide that means he’s crazy and can’t be trusted. Or they see that he uses ~dark magic~ and has technically killed a lot of people and decide that means he’s “morally grey” or a war criminal or smth. Or they personally like Jiang Cheng or Jin Guangyao or Lan Xichen, and end up blind to those characters’ flaws and resort to the same scapegoating of Wei Wuxian that those characters engage in. And that’s whatever. You’re allowed to like flawed characters. It just bothers me that this leads to SO MANY misinterpretations of the books. Or when people go too far in trying to make the conflicts in the story seem like ~both sides~ are at fault, and it ends up with some…questionable real-world implications.

AND it fucks with the themes of the story, which include some very poignant messages about propaganda, scapegoating, the ways that people in power shift blame and make themselves out to be victims, and how people can be pushed really far when backed into a corner while still being fundamentally good and deserving of happiness. A cornered dog is going to bite, it’s fucked up to criticize people for the methods they use to crawl out of hell, especially when YOU should have lent them a hand, etc.

Rant over. For now.

It frustrates me so much when people use Jin Zixuan's death as some kind of proof that Wei Ying was out of control because you do remember he was being attacked at the time, right? Like he accepted the invitation to see his nephew in good faith, and instead, he was attacked. Violently. With the intent to kill. They were shooting arrows at him. If he hadn't spurred Wen Ning into action, he would have been killed. Like, you guys remember that, right? And it's not like he could just hop on his sword and fly away. He was cornered, and the only way out was to fight.

I'm not blaming Jin Zixuan for his own death, that blame lies solely on Jin Zixun, but I still think it was incredibly stupid of him to walk right into active fight zone and not expect to get hurt. Also, why was he telling Wei Ying to stop when Jin Zixun was still trying to kill him???

I don't understand this need to find something to blame Wei Ying for. He's always acting in defense. Against forces greater than him. He's reactive. He rarely actually starts things first. Like yeah he's a flawed character but that doesn't make him automatically culpable.

People at Nevernight were calling for both his blood and the Remnants, and he's supposed to just take that???? Just let it be? Take the Remnants and hide??? To where???? Wei Ying was so desperate to find them a place to go the first time that he took them to the Burial Mounds. The Burial Mounds. Do you know how desperate you have to be to consider a haven for corpses and ghosts as a safe haven??? Where else was he supposed to take them???

Even then, THEY shot him first. He didn't even make the first move. I do not understand why people think Wei Ying is in the wrong for simply fighting back to protect people he cared about.

For the love of God, someone needs to explain this to me because I'm really sick of this fanon character assassination

[strawberrykidneystone]

Hiiiiiii I know we talked about mechanic sevika buttttt can I request gym owner sevika?

I saw THIS and I couldn’t help myself 🤭

OMFG YES

gym owner sevika!!!

(fem reader, women’s only gym sorry)

unfortunately, your new year’s resolution was pretty basic

going to the gym!

you weren’t expecting to keep up with it like most of your other resolutions

until you met the owner

the first few times you went to the gym by your house, you didn’t think much of it

it was pretty basic, had all of the machines that you needed and a bored blue haired girl who sat in the reception area who was probably working there part time just for college. she was pleasant enough and the two of you had chatted a few times while you were on your way out.

but it was a women’s only gym, so you actually felt really comfortable in the atmosphere of the building

you usually went at night, but today you had a free morning so you thought you might as well get it over with

as soon as you tapped your card onto the outside sensor and opened the door, your knees almost buckled under you as you went to greet the usual blue haired girl who was replaced by a beautiful buff woman with a short black haircut, a shimmer prosthetic arm, and the most intense eyes gray you’ve ever seen

you nodded to her awkwardly when you made eye contact and stiffly walked over to the cubbies, shoving your bag into its usual cube

you shook you head to try and clear your mind, you were here to improve yourself not to stare at beautiful women!!

jumping up in the treadmill, you couldn’t help but steal a few glances over at the welcome desk

you prayed to all of the wlw gods that she was single

once you were done with your cardio, you headed over to the weight lifting stations and thanked the gym gods that your favorite spot was open. there wasn’t anything special about it, it’s just the one you usually went to and might’ve accidentally gotten an emotional attachment to it

you slide on the weights you needed onto each side of the barbell and secured them in with the clip, adding a little more weight than you usually did this time

ducking under the bar, you rested the bar on the sweet spot down the back of your neck and adjusted it to your liking

you reached up and under the bar, adjusting your grip until it felt right and just as you were about to lift the bar off the hooks, you saw a pair of sneakers step into your line of vision

as you slowly lifted your head, you took in the entire body of the ripped woman in front of you who was wearing nothing but gym shorts and a sports bra

you had to bite your tongue to keep from drooling over her defined muscles, her bulging flesh arm that crossed her prosthetic in front of her chest made you feel dizzy as you ripped your eyes away from them

once you met her gaze, those same piercing eyes that you met at the entrance you almost didn’t catch her question

“need a spot?”

“huh?”

“while you lift, do you need a spotter?”

“o-oh yes! yes please!”

sevika walked around and stood behind you

suddenly the room felt a lot hotter

this was totally normal right? she was probably a personal trainer here or something!!!

having her behind you was definitely a comfort, usually you did your lifting on your own but knowing that she was there made you a lot more confident, especially with more weight than usual

she squatted with you as you moved and held her hands about half a foot under the bar just in case something slipped, giving you little pointers to improve your technique

you were ashamed to say that you purposefully arched your back a few times, you couldn’t see but you hoped that she was looking… (she was)

once you were done with your set, she easily helped you put the bar back onto the hook as if it weighed nothing, which to her it probably didn’t

“so sorry i totally forgot to ask you your name?” you asked with a flutter of your lashes, hoping you didn’t look to disheveled as you wiped down the equipment

“sevika, nice to meet you,” she said smoothly, giving you a firm handshake with her flesh hand

god her hand almost completely enveloped yours

you quickly told her your name and gave her your sweetest smile, “so do you come here often? i don’t think i’ve seen you here before.”

sevika chuckled and crossed her arms over her chest once again, a seemingly relaxed position for her, “i actually own the place, but my niece usually works the front desk, ‘specially when her uncle has me running errands all around town.”

“oh! well it’s so nice to finally meet you, i’ve talked to jinx a lot and she’s a super talented artist,” you recalled, seeing jinx drawing in her sketchbook at the front desk

sevika deadpanned and pinched the bridge of her nose with her hand, “has she been drawing on the clock again?”

you covered your mouth with your hand as your eyes widened, shit you didn’t mean to snitch on her

she sighed and shook her head, “i told her not to but she insists that she ‘can’t stop the creative flow when it’s happening!’” she said with exaggerated air quotes and made her voice higher to imitate jinx’s

you giggled at the impression and the two of you continued to make small talk until you had to leave to go get ready for work

sevika stepped behind the desk and waved as you were about to leave the gym, but you stopped yourself

you backtracked and stood in front of her at the desk, mustering up all of your courage, “can i give you my number?”

sevika looked up at you with an inquiring eyebrow before slowly nodding

“yeah sure, do you need some more pointers or a trainer?” she asked as she handed you a pen and paper from across the desk

“nope. well i mean yes, i’d love some pointers, but i’d also like to take you out on a date. romantically.” you said as casually as you could, scribbling your name and number down onto the paper with a little heart next to it, your own heart pounding so much you could hear it in your ears

sevika was a little in shock and numbly took the paper from you, a blush creeping on her cheeks as you waved goodbye, almost running into the door on your way out

she was so used to being the one initiating dates that having a woman so bluntly ask her out was new territory for her

but it felt,,, good? oh god is that what butterflies in your stomach felt like?

she immediately saved your number into her phone and added a heart by your name, just like on the paper you gave her <3

you received a text about 30 minutes later, something sevika had to rewrite at least 5 times

it’s sevika. so when is this date we’re going on sweetheart?

a/n: i’m sorry if the jargon is off yall im a pilates/yoga girlie😔

taglist: @maneskinwh0re @archangeldyke-all @fandoms-will-be-the-death-of-me @sevikasfan @lez-zuha @comfortripley @sunflowerwinds

[himluv]

Spiral

Chapter 23(?!) of Say My Name (Say it Twice) is here! Find it below, or head over to AO3 to read from the beginning.

After a harrowing day in Isana Negat, Lucanis decides to finally tell Rook how he feels.

cw: PTSD, panic attacks

Lucanis reread the parchment for the third time. Teia had sent word, Viago’s people had found something. Something big enough that the Talons wanted to meet outside of the city. Outside of Illario’s reach.

Normally, he’d bring this straight to Rook. They needed to get to Dock Town, to the Cobbled Swan soon. And they would. But not tonight.

Tonight, he was just grateful they’d all made it out of Isana Negat alive. For a moment, he’d thought all was lost, that Rook and her big, soft, foolish heart chose to stay and die rather than leave Harding to the Titan’s rage. 

He would have run, had tried to get Rook to run. But, she’d refused, and of course he couldn’t leave her to face Harding alone. So, he’d followed her up to that stone platform, certain it was their final moments. 

And, yet again, Rook proved that he should know better than to doubt her heart. Against all odds, she’d reached Harding, soothed her rage and reminded her of who she really was under all that pain. Lucanis was still rocked with awe each time he thought of it. 

Was there anyone Rook couldn’t reach?

But, their misadventure in the mines also left him feeling uncertain. Not about Rook, he was more sure about her than ever, but about himself. She had done the impossible time and gain, but she was still mortal. And they were still hurtling toward a confrontation with two ancient, blighted gods. Even after all their wins, the odds of victory were long. Too long. And if the Cantori Diamond had taught him anything, it was that, eventually, their luck would run out. 

If something happened to them, shouldn’t she know how he felt? Could he survive losing her, knowing he’d never told her? But would it make her grief that much worse if he did, and he was the one lost? Or would the knowledge of his affection be a comfort in the aftermath?

Tell her, Spite hissed. You want. She wants.

Lucanis knew the demon was right. And, he could feel the gods’ noose tightening. When they did face Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain, it would be all or nothing. There were no guarantees anyone would survive, and they were running out of time. 

Yes. He would tell her. Now. He’d delayed long enough.

Yesssssss!

Lucanis left Teia’s message on his side table, checked his hair in the mirror, and stepped out into the dining hall. Dinner had been a quiet affair. Harding had promptly gone to her quarters and passed out upon their return. Taash had brought her dinner and also not returned. He and Rook had both been reserved, tired after the physically and emotionally draining day. 

As he crossed the courtyard, Lucanis felt a flicker of doubt. Maybe tonight wasn’t the right time. It’d been a difficult enough day without adding an emotional confession to the end of it. And there was still the matter of Illario and whatever Teia and Viago had learned. There was so much to do. 

And by that logic, he could put this off forever. 

No! Spite barked. Tell Rook. Tonight!

Right. If he waited for the perfect moment, he could always find a reason not to have this conversation. He was doing this. Now. 

It wasn’t a long walk to Rook’s quarters, but Lucanis took it slow, rehearsing in his mind what he would say to her. 

Rook. I don’t want to wait any longer. We might not have long and–

No. Too grim. 

Rook. I want… no, I need you–

No. Too clichéd. Even if it was true, he couldn’t steal his confession from the pages of one of his romance novels.   

Just. Tell her. The truth! Spite growled, the demon’s tone distinctly irritated. 

Right. The truth. He could do that. And Rook deserved to hear only the truth from him. He looked up when his path met with her door. He knew she was in there, because Spite had led him here and not to the music room. The truth. Just, tell her the truth. He took a deep, steadying breath, and then knocked on her door. 

It took a moment for her to answer, and when she did she peered around the door with a puzzled look on her face. 

“Lucanis?”

He gave her a tight smile. Mierda, he was nervous. “Rook, I–”

“Come in,” she said, swinging the door open. 

Right. Yes. Good. This wasn’t a conversation to be had in a hallway. He stepped through into the room and froze at the sight of the floor-to-ceiling aquarium. Behind him, he heard the door close. Heard Rook say something. Both sounds were muffled, as if heard from underwater. 

Nooooo, Spite hissed. No! Get out!

He was out. Had been out for months, but the shimmering blue light filtered through the water still turned his blood to ice.

Lucanis closed his eyes and took another deep breath. This was Rook’s room, not the Ossuary. Zara was dead. She couldn’t hurt him anymore. And he would never see that prison again. 

“Lucanis?”

That voice. Rook’s voice. She was the reason he was free, the one who had come to save him. And yet, when she put a tentative hand on his shoulder, he flinched. He spun to face her, hopefully camouflaging his knee-jerk response to her touch. 

“What’s wrong?” Her eyes darted across his face, searching for some clue.

“Nothing,” he lied. Which was stupid – it was painfully obvious something was very, very wrong.

Rook frowned at that and gestured to the green velvet chaise in the center of the room. “Maybe you should sit down.”

He nodded. His knees felt weak, his chest suddenly so heavy. Lucanis let Rook lead him to the chaise, his eyes on her hand where it hooked onto his elbow. He hadn’t noticed this touch – he was afire and frozen all at once. Was he breathing?

“Rook,” he said before she could drag him any closer to the glass. His voice sounded strange. Far away and thin. He licked his lips, eyes darting at the aquarium glass, then back to her face. Breathe. Just breathe and say what you came to say. “Rook, I–”

Neve’s voice rang through his head, ‘even mentioning the Ossuary sends you spiraling.’

Spiraling? No! Spite shouted, face pressed to the glass. DROWNING!

“Lucanis?” Again, her voice pulled him back. And when he saw the concern, the fear in her eyes, he knew the real truth. 

He closed his eyes. “Rook, I can’t.” He turned his back on the glass wall, blinking back panicked tears. Mierda, what was happening to him?

Rook stood beside him, her hand still at his elbow. Then she cursed. “Shit! It’s the aquarium isn’t it?”

She didn’t wait for him to reply. She dragged him from her quarters and down to the music room. He followed her, numb and panting against the frozen blocks of his ribcage. It wasn’t until she pressed him down into his usual chair that he felt like his head was back above water. 

Slowly, his chest loosened and he was able to take slow, deep breaths. Eventually, his pulse settled and he became more aware of his surroundings. Rook crouched before him, a hand on his knee. Her other hand was in his, gripped tight. 

“Hey,” she said as he blinked at her. 

He leaned back, resting his head against the wall and covering his face in both hands. Then he let out a string of profanities that would make Teia proud. 

After a beat of silence, Rook said, “I think I understood most of that.”

Lucanis groaned from behind his hands. Leave it to her to tease him at a moment like this.

“Are you okay?” She asked. 

He took a deep breath and felt the last shards of icy panic break away. “I’m all right,” he said. Still, he kept his face covered. 

“Will you look at me?”

No. He didn’t want to see her concern. Or her tenderness. He didn’t want to face the proof that she’d seen him at his worst. He would rather vanish into dust than look at her in that moment. 

“Give me a moment,” he said.

“Okay.”

He expected her to move, to sit at the piano, maybe even to play, but Rook did not leave his side. Her hand stayed on his knee, rubbing gentle, soothing circles above his kneecap. For a moment he let her touch anchor him, his mind swirling like crema in a freshly brewed cup of coffee. 

Mierda, he needed a drink. 

What was the matter with him? How could an aquarium unravel him so completely? How could Rook ever trust him after this? How could he fulfill his contract, how could he keep her safe if all it took to unmake him was a glass wall of water? This was worse than he’d realized. He was worse.

When he didn’t speak or move for what felt like ages, Rook tapped his knee. “Lucanis?”

He grunted.

“I can hear you thinking.”

Lucanis sighed and let his hands fall into his lap. But he kept his face tilted up toward the ceiling. He couldn’t look at her. 

“It’s okay,” she said. “You shouldn’t feel embarrassed.” Rook shook her head. “I should have realized the aquarium might bring up… bad memories. I should have warned you.”

“You can’t take the blame for everything, Rook.” His voice sounded so tired, even to him. 

“No,” she said. “But, I can try.”

He shook his head. “And why would you warn me? It’s not like you expected me to knock on your door.”

A beat of silence hung between them. “Not tonight, no,” she said. “But, I thought, maybe, eventually–”

Lucanis looked down at her in surprise. Did she mean…? She thought about him coming to her room? In the middle of the night?

Judging from her blush, yes. Yes, she did.

Rook smiled up at him. “There you are.”

He didn’t look away from her, even though he desperately wanted to. He felt… fragile. Like a single misplaced touch would shatter him and he’d fall to pieces all over again. But, if there was anyone he trusted not to break him, it was Rook. Lucanis put his hand on hers where it still rested on his knee, squeezed her fingers in his. 

He could tell her how he felt, now, and she would accept him just as he was – fragile and half-shattered. He knew that, deep in his chest. He felt her acceptance in the weight of her hand on his knee, in the weight of her gaze. He should tell her now. He wanted to. 

But hadn’t this… episode proved him right? Like Neve had said, with everything he was dealing with, how was it right for him to squeeze Rook in? He’d thought he was ready, but he couldn’t even step inside her room. There was still so much he needed to do, needed to deal with before he could pull her into his life and not hate himself for it. 

Lucanis squeezed her hand one more time, and then released her. Rook took the cue and removed her hand from his knee. His leg tingled at the loss of her touch. 

Rook stood and put her hands on her hips. “So, what did you come to talk to me about?”

Lucanis stared at her for two panicky heartbeats, then remembered Teia’s message. “Viago and Teia sent word. They want to talk. About Illario.”

Spite growled from behind Rook at mention of his cousin.

“Whatever it is, they wish to speak away from Treviso. Away from anyone who might be listening. They won’t put more to paper.”

“Oh,” she said. She sounded disappointed. 

“I need to meet with them, as soon as possible.”

“All right,” she said, nodding. “We’ll head out first thing tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Rook,” he said. He hoped the weight of his voice told her he meant it for more than just their impending trip to Minrathous. 

“Of course, Lucanis,” she said, and the warmth in her eyes told him she understood completely. Just as she always did. 

Lucanis couldn’t bring himself to confess his feelings to Rook now. Not after this mess. But he was also desperate not to be alone just yet. 

“Rook?” He called as she turned toward the door. 

She stopped and looked at him. 

“Can I ask another favor?”

She smiled. “Always.”

He smiled at that, even as he felt the heat bloom in his cheeks. “Will you play for me?”

She laughed. “Now?”

He shrugged. “If it’s a bother–”

Rook waved his words away and sat at the piano. “I did say ‘any time’.”

“You did,” he murmured. He watched, rapt, as she settled into the instrument. She played the same notes she’d hunted out that first night he’d found her in this room, but she’d obviously been practicing. Her fingers were sure as they danced across the keys, drawing the song out, coaxing it into a reverberating being with such tenderness it made him ache. 

Lucanis had attended more than his fair share of operas, had listened to live musicians countless times at parties in Villa Dellamorte and in the close intimacy of cafés. None of them compared to Rook playing for him –privately– at his request. 

He had basically zero experience with what made him… want. But in that moment, watching Rook’s hands, seeing the expression on her face shift to match the tone of the song, Lucanis’s whole body suffused with delicious heat. He always wanted Rook, in some low, background fashion. But this was different, pointed and–

Hungry, Spite hissed. 

Yes. It felt a lot like hunger. Or, a craving. He’d expected his feelings for her to diminish in the wake of his embarrassment, but instead they only seemed stronger. That she could see him like that, and still care? It made something in his chest open up, vibrating like the notes through the room. Lucanis felt uncoiled and strung tight all at once, so much so that he had to close his eyes and focus on his breathing. 

He couldn’t tell Rook how he felt now, because if he did he didn’t think he could keep from devouring her whole. That wasn’t what he wanted when they finally spoke about this… thing developing between them. He didn’t want reckless passion and possible regrets in the aftermath. He wanted them both to be sure, to have no illusions or misunderstandings. And right now he was too twisted up with his panic and Illario.

So, he took his pleasure in the music she played for him, imagined her sitting at the instrument in Villa Dellamorte’s ballroom, maybe in an elegant, backless dress that shimmered as golden as the sunset in Arlathan Forest. It was a pleasing thought, one Lucanis was more than happy to sit with for as long as Rook wanted to play.  

They would go to Minrathous tomorrow and deal with whatever news the Talons had about his cousin. And maybe, after, he could finally tell her how he truly felt. 

[verbenaa]

to eden | chapter ten

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Astarion/F! Tav 𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔: E 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 7.1k 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈:

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: Astarion throws the knife aside, uncaring where it scatters itself as it clangs against stone with a sharp sound, before he cups her paling face within his palms. 

“Rin!” It will do no good yelling in her face when she’s very much not conscious as she lays still on the ground; but he can’t seem to help it, running his thumb over her cheek as something inside him snaps with a painful twist.

It’s a very strange feeling, the one bubbling up in his chest and throat to pierce his unbeating heart through, only carnage left in its wake. 

A part of him, one long forgotten about and buried deep into the forsaken corners of his mind, recognizes it for what it is. 

Fear.

𝒶/𝓃: hello again! apologies it's taken me so long to get this out. I ended up having to split this chapter into 2 due to the length, so here is the first part! hopefully the other half (which will now be ch 11) won't take nearly as long since it's about 75% done. love you all sm and let me know what you think in the comments! kisses xoxoxo

read on ao3 | masterlist

With blurring vision, Rin can see Karlach fell the last of them from her position on the ground as blood leaks out of her at a rate that she feels should probably be alarming, though she can’t quite find the energy to be all that concerned about it at the moment.

In hindsight, it was perhaps not the brightest idea she’s ever had to send herself leaping off a rock and into a horde of enemies in an attempt to distract them from the large, whirling portal that Halsin had disappeared into.

It was probably a very stupid idea.

It worked rather well in the end, though, so Rin will consider it a success in the long run; provided she doesn’t bleed to death on the cold, hard ground before they can celebrate their victory.

But fuck, if the consequences of her actions didn’t hurt.

This was far from Rin’s first time to be stabbed—that honor went to when she was a gawky and awkward teenager, hair chopped short and dressed in overlarge clothing; and had found herself cornered in an alleyway following a foiled escape attempt after snatching several gold pieces off a tavern tabletop. 

She had earned herself a small, pocket-sized knife to the side, slid neatly between two of her ribs. The blade had been barely longer than her fingers, the metal of it brittle and cheap; and so while it had certainly hurt she can’t say it really compared to the one she’s presently dealing with.

It was a good thing, in Rin’s opinion, that she couldn’t move. 

Because if she were able to look down and see the size of the dagger sticking out of her chest, she fears it might make the pain even worse. Some things were simply better not to know, and she’s convinced this has to be one of them.

She had been able to feel it as the blade had spiked through her leather armor before piercing into her skin; pain erupting in her chest and spreading through every inch of her body, so agonizing she could barely take a breath as she had staggered back.

She managed one last spell, a shockingly well-executed thunderwave towards a group of shades off to her side—she’ll need to be thanking Gale for helping her perfect her technique on that one, she reminds herself off-handedly—before she had sank to her knees and eventually down onto the bloody dirt. 

She doubts anyone even noticed her defeat in the chaos of it all, but surely they’ll notice soon. They have to, don’t they? Wasn’t she their leader, or whatever it was they liked to call her?

In the near distance, she recognizes the booming of Halsin’s voice as it resonates through the air and though she can’t focus on his words she can make out the vague sentiment that it was done and that he had succeeded in his mission. 

Rin manages a sigh of relief, the motion inordinately painful in this position. If she had more strength she would roll herself over or perhaps even call out for help, but that seemed like an awful lot of effort at a time like this.

Where was Shadowheart, anyway? She desperately needed the cleric and her healing touch, in the event she’s even closer to death than previously assumed, a fact that was looking more and more likely by the minute.

And what a truly awful place to die this would be, so dark and with nary a beam of sunlight to be found. Perhaps her companions would give her a nice burial somewhere, at least, were she to perish in the next few minutes. 

At the pretend funeral Rin oversees in her mind, she imagines a lovely hillside with wildflowers of all colors blowing on a gentle breeze—but there aren’t any of those nearby thanks to the curse.

Utterly depressing. 

She sighs again, sending another concerning stab of pain through her form, hands gripping on nothing but air as she suffers through it with a quiet, pained whimper.

Karlach, at least, would probably cry at her funeral; she was wonderfully soft-hearted like that. Gale, too, seemed like the sobbing type; the ones who always go all teary-eyed at weddings and funerals and baby celebrations. 

Astarion would—well, actually, she doesn’t want to think about what he would do at her pretend funeral. She hopes he would mourn her in some way, but in the end he’s already lost plenty and she’s just another person and someone he hasn’t even know that long on top of that and— 

An errant thought hits her, and oh, poor Astarion. Who else would he drink from were she to perish here? She’s certain none of their current companions would willingly offer up their necks (or any other parts, for that matter) to him.

There’s a quick pattering against the earth that reverberates against her head where it lays on the trampled and singed pine needles—footsteps, she realizes a bit too slowly for her liking—and it’s as if she’d summoned him with her thoughts as a familiar set of gloved hands turn her over with less finesse than she would expect from the rogue. 

Rin bites back a sob at the motion as she finds herself settling in Astarion’s hold, her head tucked into the curve of his arm and the elf’s features carefully blank, though there’s something that looks curiously like panic sparking across his claret gaze as his eyes meet her own.

“Hardly the place to be on your back, darling,” He manages as his eyes hone in on her newest accessory, unfortunately still attached to her. Or inside her, more accurately. 

Astarion’s voice is surprisingly smooth and soothing despite the increasingly frantic look in his eyes as they dart back and forth between her face and the dagger currently embedded deep in between the leather scales of her armor.

Rin likes the sound of it, she decides. He should speak to her in such a way more often, the dulcet tone of his words nothing short of lovely.

He could probably lull her to sleep if he were to keep talking, and she vaguely considers the idea. Astarion seemed to be decidedly opposed to the idea of them resting together in any other way, but maybe he’d allow it while she’s on her potential deathbed.

A pity that it had to be that way, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, could they?  

“Apologies,” Rin winces as she speaks, another wave of pain cascading through her. “I shall try to die closer to your bedroll next time around.”

Astarion tsks, the sound of it wonderfully familiar and a hazy smile settles on her lips as she lets her lashes slowly drift shut, only for a moment.

“Oh, I think there’s life in you yet. You’re far too pretty to die, dearest.”

She’d blush if her blood weren’t busy elsewhere, namely flowing out from her chest.

Distantly, Rin notices that his words aren’t quite so soothing this time around, something that sounds an awful lot like concern tightening around the edges of them; but it’s good enough for her and will do just fine as the darkness behind her eyes begins to beckon with a siren song that she’s unsure she can resist for much longer.

She’s bleeding all over Astarion, and not in the way she knows he would prefer; the bright ruby of her blood falling in a steady stream from where the knife is buried deep in the skin below her collar, hilted into the soft flesh of her breast and mere inches from her blessedly still-beating heart.

Gods, she must look like a mess.

Rin settles further into the darkness as she finds the strength to turn her head towards Astarion’s chest, nose bumping the darkly spun armor he wears (and fits him rather beautifully, she thinks) as she takes a shuddering breath, the sound wet and heavy.

Strange, she didn’t think breathing was supposed to make that noise.

“No, no. No sleeping,” Astarion says sharply despite what she thinks must be his thumb running up and down her armor where he holds her, his touch calming even through all the layers between them. “You can rest later, but now’s not the time.”  

But it was so tempting, what does he expect her to do? There’s a knife in her chest, her head feels funny, and he’s holding her so delicately in his arms. Going to sleep was the only logical solution at a time like this.

There’s more pounding of what Rin assumes must be footsteps and she somehow manages to catch pieces of Shadowheart and Halsin’s conversation from afar, their voices sounding far more distressed than they should be following success. 

Not a great sign, all things considered.

“Hey Soldier, you doing alright?” Karlach bends down from several paces away, trying to get a good look at her as heat still steams off of her from the battle, sweat and blood beaded upon her fiery skin in equal measure before directing her words towards Astarion. “She’s not kicked the bucket yet, has she?”

“Still here. Sorry to disappoint.” She manages a weak smile Karlach’s way as she forces her heavy, tired eyes to open. “However, I think I could do with some healing.”

Karlach smiles at her and Rin is suddenly dizzy despite not being in motion, inky black clinging to the edges of her vision as she blinks slowly in an attempt to clear the troublesome vignette encroaching upon her, its presence yet another decidedly bad sign of the state of her health.

Rin isn’t exactly sure whether its minutes or seconds that pass as she lays in Astarion’s arms, something strange in his gaze as he looks at her, but finally she feels the vibration of a final set of feet making their way towards her. 

She hears Shadowheart before she ever sees the cleric, her clear voice ringing out from beside Rin as she appears within her field of vision while she still lays tucked into Astarion’s chest. “Stay still so I can get a look at you.”

“How lucky for you that I can barely move,” Rin muses. 

The cleric only responds to her with a familiar, wry look laced with a touch of warmth before turning her attention to meet Astarion’s hard gaze, his thumb still brushing in sweeps across her arm.

“We’ve got to get the blade out before we can heal her.” Rin isn’t quite sure why Shadowheart is addressing Astarion and not her, the injured person, but she’s not in the mood to entertain the reason. “And fast. She’s losing a lot of blood.”

“Oh, you don’t say?” Astarion scoffs with a baleful roll of his eyes, tugging her infinitesimally closer to him and Rin doesn’t even mind the lance of pain because she realizes she can still smell him over the scent of battle—rosemary and brandy and earthy citrus far preferable to the fire and acrid brimstone of battle. “Did Shar herself teach you such sagely medical advice?”

“At least I have medical advice to give. Vampires aren’t known for their healing prowess last time I checked.” Shadowheart cuts an imperious look Astarion’s way, chin raised.

“Can someone please just do me the honor of removing it, then?” Rin interrupts with a heaving sigh, the effort required peculiarly difficult.

There’s a beat of silence that has her contemplating the merits of falling asleep again, and she’s fairly certain she’s willing to risk the ire of her companions for a cozy little nap at this point.

“Astarion, your hands are likely the steadiest. Can you remove it without doing extra damage?” Shadowheart queries, her tone far more serious now.

“Of course I can,” He snaps in reply before he redirects his glance back to Rin’s face, expression softening. “I’ll be gentle. Or as much as I can be.”

She would hope he would be.

Carefully, Astarion shifts her back onto the ground and Rin mourns the loss of his arms, and it’s a very unfair exchange in her opinion—she’d much rather die in the comfort of his hold than on the impersonal chill of the ground.

She whimpers when his fingers meet the handle protruding from her chest, the slight motion managing to jostle it, sending another cascade of agony through her.

“Ready, darling?” His grip on the dagger is sure as he swallows, unease swirling in his eyes as they meet her own. A terrific sign of her fate, on all accounts. “On the count of five.”

Rin manages a nod as she stares up at him with clouded, hazy eyes that she doesn’t realize only serve to alarm him even more before speaking softly, tasting blood on the syllables as they weakly leave her lips. “I trust you.”

He looks as though she’s gutted him with her words as his brow creases and eyes widen as if stricken, which is rather ironic considering she’s the one with a knife inside her and he is practically free of any sort of wounds aside from a bloodied lip and a darkened eye as far as she can tell, still just as handsome as ever.

“One, two, three–” Astarion takes a deep breath and pulls, and the last thing Rin remembers before darkness overtakes her is the look of genuine apology on Astarion’s face as a searing pain erupts in her chest, her very last thought that he’s a downright liar for not waiting until he reached the number five.

✧· · ─── ·✧· ─── · ·✧

The first thing Astarion feels when Rin loses consciousness, the handle of the dagger that had just been buried in her chest now enclosed within his palm, is sheer, illogical panic.

It rings in his ears and sets his chest aflame, and if it weren’t for his terror that she was now dead and that he was the one who had accidentally killed her in his attempt to save her life instead, he would be concerned that something was awfully and horribly wrong with him instead.

Astarion himself was no stranger to pain or injury, having bled enough over the centuries to probably fill several fountains worth of his blood; and while her injury was undoubtedly quite pressing in the nature of its severity, the blade had thankfully avoided the important bits when it had imbedded itself into her skin.

If it hadn’t, she would have already been dead by the time he had reached her. 

But the sight of it, the blood pouring from the wound in rather copious amounts, the look of agony etched across her features, and then her eyes falling shut and body going lax—it was all very dramatic of her. 

A bard, indeed, if that performance was anything to go by.

Astarion throws the knife aside, uncaring where it scatters itself as it clangs against stone with a sharp sound, before he cups her paling face within his palms. 

“Rin!” It will do no good yelling in her face when she’s very much not conscious as she lays still on the ground; but he can’t seem to help it, running his thumb over her cheek as something inside him snaps with a painful twist.

It’s a very strange feeling, the one bubbling up in his chest and throat to pierce his unbeating heart through, only carnage left in its wake. 

A part of him, one long forgotten about and buried deep into the forsaken corners of his mind, recognizes it for what it is. 

Fear. 

Astarion has known fear, of course. 

He’s spent so many years afraid, alone, and hurting—he still vividly remembers the potent fear of death as it had loomed over him and then struck all those decades ago, only for him to awaken six feet underground with a hunger he’d never known the likes of before in the pit of his stomach as he had clawed his way to what he thought was to be his freedom.

Oh, how wrong he had been.

He remembers each and every moment of fear instilled in him by Cazador with an unfortunate, visceral clarity; every trembling ounce of it as he had waited for a punishment to be handed down, for the door to slam in his face to lock him away for Gods knew how long, for whatever other horror had been divined up for him—all of them perfectly designed to break body and soul and spirit.

But he’s not quite sure he’s ever felt fear like this for someone else before.

Astarion immediately hates the feeling with every fiber of his being.

“What’s happened to her?!” He demands at Shadowheart and there’s something frantic that shakes in his voice, the sound of which he’s wholly unfamiliar with as his eyes fixate on Rin’s face, looking as though she had simply fallen into a deep sleep, though the pained furrow of her brow tells a different story.

He hates that he hates the sight of it as his thumb continues to brush foolishly across her now pale cheeks, the freckles dotting her skin in familiar clusters standing out against the pallor of her face, as if the motion would coax her back awake and ease the pain causing it somehow.

“She just fainted, Astarion.” The cleric sends him a look that he does not appreciate, and he scowls back at her in response. “She’ll be fine so long as you let me focus.”

Karlach takes a step closer behind him, the heat emanating off of her hitting him like a wave. “Aw, did she pass out? Poor Rin.” 

Normally, he wouldn’t mind the warmth from the infernal engine that churns inside her chest, but now all it does is make the cold sweat that’s beading on his skin that much more noticeable, sending an unshakable chill through him instead.

“Her pain tolerance leaves much to be desired, it seems,” Shadowheart drawls before she sighs, raising her hands in front of her and hovering them over Rin’s increasingly still body.

Too still for his liking, her chest moving up and down with only the slowest of motions. Much longer, and it would simply stop moving altogether. 

Astarion ignores the way his throat tightens at the thought, unable to swallow down the rampant terror surging through his chest.

“Can you just heal her already? Insult her to her face when she’s awake.” 

“I’m getting to it.” Shadowheart cuts a glare towards Astarion, though it doesn’t have half the bite the Sharran thinks it does. 

“Te Curo.”

Slowly, waves of glowing blue begin to emanate from Shadowheart’s palms, enveloping Rin in a familiar, soft effervescence and Astarion can imagine the feeling of it—a cooling sensation followed by the telltale itch of skin reknitting itself, the feeling vaguely uncomfortable and slightly sickening.

He’s been healed enough times to know that Shadowheart’s spell should be enough to close the wound, but the strange panic slicing at his insides seems intent to not let up despite the spell’s conclusion, that icy cerulean haze slowly evaporating from the air like the clearing of mist.

“We need to get her out of this armor, I want to make sure the wound healed fully. Karlach, since we’re so close, can you carry her back to camp?” Shadowheart queries with a glance up.

For once, Astarion agrees with the cleric though he’s not about to admit it, and only gives out a murmured affirmation in response as he counts the breaths moving Rin’s chest.

The tiefling walks up behind him and he begrudgingly stands to move out of the way for her to take his place, and he once again hates the feeling that resonates through him at having to leave her side. 

How tiring this all was beginning to be.

“Up ya go,” Karlach gathers her up as carefully as she can, and Rin looks pitifully small and slight in Karlach’s hold. “Ooh, light as a feather, isn’t she?”

“It’s because her head is mostly empty,” Astarion edges out. “It’s a wonder the worm even has anywhere to hide itself in that brain of hers.”

If she had a brain, she certainly hadn’t used it today. Her logic—provided there even was any at work—was infuriating, and anger threatens to intercede over the slowly lessening grip of fear that had taken ahold of him. 

He considers allowing it. 

Anger was a much more palatable emotion, after all. One that he understands. 

Being angry was comfortable, easy; something that he knows all too well how to wear like an armor that he can summon up at will. He doesn’t like the way this newfound fear has settled over him, clawing up his throat to choke him and paralyze his heart even though it no longer beats.

Anger would be much preferred, in the end. 

But the anger doesn’t yet come, not really—or at least not in the way he would expect.

He can feel it burning there, a slow simmer in the depths of his chest at the sheer stupidity, the idiocy of her forgetting that she was very much mortal and therefore quite liable to injury; but a foreign sort of relief intercedes over it, taking control of and transforming his anger into something else that he doesn’t quite understand or yet have a name for as he keeps his gaze trained upon where Rin rests near motionless in Karlach’s arms. 

She might not be conscious, but she was very much alive.

And he’s damned to the hells and back for caring about that fact.

Part of him—the irritating part that seemed to be upset, of all things—wishes he were the one holding her instead.

But at the very least, out of everyone to get to carry her, Karlach was the next best option so Astarion shall allow it as he walks on beside them, his eyes on the lookout for any trouble heading their way despite the fact that they’d already walked back into the shimmering dome of Selûne’s light.

They’re bustling into Rin’s tent within minutes, Karlach settling her onto a still-unmade bedroll, the threadbare blanket kicked into a messy heap at the foot of it, yet to be pulled back up for the day.

“Right then,” Shadowheart says in a no-nonsense tone as she steps inside, briefly glancing around the tent before kneeling beside Rin’s still sleeping form. “Armor off.” 

They set to work and no one mentions Astarion’s ease at undoing her armor or the way his now-ungloved fingers know exactly where the next buckle or tie is before discarding it to the side with practiced finesse. 

Her shirt’s a bloody mess when they finally peel the scaled leathers and ruined gambeson off her form, now stained the deep, dark crimson of her own blood down the front in a ghastly splash, tainting the simple embroidery along the hem.

“Off with it.” Shadowheart gestures with a nod of her chin towards Astarion. “The shirt, I mean.” 

“You want me to take off her shirt?” He narrows his eyes at her before lowering his gaze back down to the garment in question.

“Well, you certainly have the most practice at getting her out of her clothes, do you not?” 

Astarion scoffs and rolls his eyes, but can’t exactly refute the fact. 

Nor would he want to. 

“Why, is that jealousy I detect in your voice, Shadowheart?”

It’s not escaped his knowledge that some of their companions had made their own invitations to her once upon a time—she herself had said so before she had chosen him, after all—and he can’t help the slight hint of gloating in his voice as he jeers at the cleric. 

He’d never questioned Rin as to who had, exactly, professed their interest; but he knows how they all look at her. The sight of it has certainly annoyed him enough the past few weeks.

“You’re hearing things,” Shadowheart responds sharply as she glares his way. “Now, are you doing it or am I?”

“Oh, I’ll do it,” He grumbles in defeat, though he’s not certain there was ever any sort of actual debate on his answer. 

As if he’d let anyone else undress her under his watch. Even if it was only for very valid medical reasons. 

The tunic was undeniably wet with blood, sticking to her skin as it begins to dry. His eyes flit up to Rin’s face, brow blissfully uncreased as she still sleeps on, wholly unaware of his apparent inner turmoil. 

The sight of it and the knowledge that she’s perhaps no longer in much pain sends a wave of relief through him that he didn’t realize he needed, and it’s yet another strange feeling that he’s not used to.

It’s been a long, long time since he’s even bothered to consider someone else’s well-being, and he’s unsure what to make of it. 

Caring in such a manner is crossing a line he’s had drawn for centuries, and he fears once it’s been stepped across, there will be no turning back.

“Can’t you just…rip it off her? Like they do in the books?” Karlach queries from beside him, arms crossed in front of her chest as she sways from foot to foot, her non-broken horn mere inches from snagging on the canopy.

“I would have thought that was in your particular skill set, Astarion.” Shadowheart agrees, quite unhelpfully in Astarion’s opinion, from beside him.

He was very capable of tearing off clothes when inclined to do so, thank you very much.

“Even if it is—” Astarion cuts a sharp look towards Shadowheart before continuing. “She’d burn me alive if I ripped her shirt. Without her permission, at least.” 

He knows he doesn’t need to add on the last part, but it felt necessary in order to preserve his image as a rakish, no good sort of man. Which he most definitely is, of course.

Astarion remembers the last time she threatened to burn down his tent (and him with it), and he has no intention of inciting another threatened ignis from her; or at least not for this,of all things. If he must be threatened in such a manner again, he’d rather it be for a much more enticing and scandalous reason, not because he was trying to do something as tedious as saving her damned life.

“Can you not just peek underneath it? Why must it be taken all the way off?” He demands, unable to pinpoint why, exactly, he’s so bothered by this.

It was just a shirt. And she was just another person, in the end.  

He’s lost count of how many times he’s undressed others and undressed her—the contours of her form an image he could envision in his mind and conjure the feeling of against his fingers without a second thought.

He could do it easily. In seconds, probably, even with all the blood sticking to her skin.

It would be rather uncomfortable for her to stay in her tunic like that. He can imagine the stiffness of it, knows the feeling all too well firsthand, and he shifts uncomfortably with a frown as he stares at her.

“Fine,” He relents with a groan while Karlach just watches on amused, though he doesn’t understand what she seems to find so humorous about this entire debacle. 

Astarion suddenly wishes the others weren’t here, that he wasn’t here and being forced to face the fact that she had practically died and that he seems to feel rather strongly about that fact, but he pushes the unhelpful and unnecessary chatter in his mind aside as he works her tunic off of her sleeping form instead.

It takes all of his dexterity to keep his motions soft and smooth, jostling her as little as possible until he’s finally pulled it up and over her head before bringing the fabric up to his face to examine the slash.

A clean cut through the weave and it’s really a wonder she managed to live through the battle at all. He’d have to mend it for her, later on. It wouldn’t take too long and with any luck he could return it before she’d even noticed it was gone in the first place.

The shirt may have been utterly drab and boring to the point of offense, but if he’s not careful, she’ll pick something worse next time around—Gods know the rags they’ve found so far on this journey have been downright awful.

Shadowheart leans in as he stashes the ruined tunic beside him and out of sight from the others, and she lets out a pleased hum as she checks the wound, poking at the reknitted skin with a gentle touch.

There’s a swish of fabric that has Astarion’s head swiveling towards the entrance of the tent, reflexes at the ready and hand reaching for one of the daggers at his side when none other than Gale, of all people, sticks his head inside.

“Is everything alright in here?” The wizard asks in a manner he likely thinks is helpful, when in reality it’s actually just plain irritating, at least in Astarion’s opinion. “Is anyone in need of my expertise?”

The wizard’s gaze peruses the interior of the tent, wandering from object to object as he takes in the space for what Astarion assumes must be the first time. His eyes stop, though, on the form lying in the middle of it all.

Gale of all people would not be seeing Rin’s nearly naked body if he has anything to do with it—and thankfully, he does!—so Astarion shoots a cold glare the wizard’s way as he maneuvers himself in front of her form, shielding her from the pair of wandering eyes.

“Out of here, mate. No one invited you,” Karlach sighs out at the same time as Shadowheart says cooly, “No, Gale. I seem to have things perfectly under control without your help.”

“Well, I didn’t realize this was an invite-only sort of thing. I simply wanted to check in on our fearless leader’s well-being and offer up some of my rather extensive knowledge, if needed. That’s all, nothing more.” He holds up his hands in mock-surrender, the gesture infinitely grating.

“Her well-being is very much already being taken care of,” Astarion snaps, words as cold as ice. “So go find something else to use all of your ‘expertise’ on.”

“And with that—” The wizard sends him a pointed look which Astarion merely glares back in response to. “—I shall go busy myself elsewhere. Good luck and goodbye!” 

The wizard backs out of the tent as quickly as he had peeked his head in, gone in a flash of garish purple to go do whatever the hells it was that he did when not annoying someone else. 

Good riddance.

Shadowheart releases an audible sigh as she moves to stand to her full height post unwanted interruption. “Well, she shall live another day. Once she wakes up, she’ll probably be back to her normal self and serenading us all drunk at the campfire by dinner. My work here is done.”

He looks at Rin’s sleeping face once more—still so dreamy, sweet, and unaware. 

Defenseless as a fawn. Terribly mortal. The definition of an easy target.

“I can—” Astarion starts, back stiff. “I will watch over her.”

The two women turn to him, their expressions both far too intrigued by his words for his tastes.

“Well, then, Astarion.” Shadowheart says, brow raised in skepticism. “We’ll leave her in your…capable hands.”

Karlach affords him a genuine smile as she ambles towards the exit and he swears she lets out a noise that sounds an awful lot like an ‘aw’ to Shadowheart as she ducks between the flaps, though he will not be acknowledging that at this present moment. 

The two of them share a final look—highly unnecessary, in his opinion—as they leave together, and the tent is rather abruptly very empty and very silent, the soft sound of Rin’s breathing the only noise.

He stands frozen, staring at her sleeping form—she looks so much more human in her sleep, so mortal and delicate without her sharp words to act as armor—as a barrage of thoughts hit him all at the same time, warring together against him.

He’s not even sure why he’s still here, why he even volunteered for such a thing, considering she was fine now. 

More than fine, honestly.

She was alive, which is what matters. She doesn’t really need someone to just watch her sleep, for Gods sake.

But he’s compelled to stay by some unknown force that he relents to despite the blaring in his head telling him to leave and get out while he still could. Nothing good could come from being this near to her sleeping form, for who knows what that ever-present traitorous voice will tell him to do. 

Likely something sweet—a sickening thought, as always.

Astarion shifts from foot to foot, unsure of what quite to do with himself. He’s never really been much of a caretaker, so to speak. 

The opposite of one, really. 

But Rin, for all her lack of consciousness, seems settled enough; her lovely face clear of any discomfort despite the speckles of drying blood scattered across her cheek and neck as her chest rises and falls in a slow, even rhythm. 

With unsure hands, he reaches out and tugs the blanket at her feet, pulling it up until it rests underneath her chin, covering her nakedness and guarding her from the ever-present chill of the curse that hovers around them. 

His bare hand brushes against her neck by accident, her skin soft but still just a touch too chilled and he’s quick to yank it back, flexing his fingers before balling them up into a fist as his stare becomes harder the longer he fixates on her sleeping face.

Astarion, unfortunately, remembers watching her go down in unnervingly stark detail. 

He hadn’t seen her jump off that rock and into the chaos, otherwise he would have done more, done something at the very least, to cover her. 

But he did see it when that dagger hit her, a warning immediately going off in his head as he had noted exactly where the blade had been directed. It was a kill shot, certainly, and frankly he’s surprised that the cultist who threw it had managed such precise aim. 

In his mind, he could still hear the startled gasp that left her lips as the knife had hit and she had fallen to her knees, sending off a final spell before collapsing into the dirt.

It was the least he could do, in the end, to show the cultist what precise aim actually looked like.

An arrow to the throat, perfectly placed to cut through the windpipe, was all it took to down his new number one target and though he unfortunately did not get the opportunity to watch them suffocate—he had more important things to deal with—he knows that at the very least it was an appropriately miserable way to die.

He had feared the worst when he had finally reached her; fully expecting to turn her over and see those vibrant green eyes he liked so much staring blankly ahead, devoid of life, and her chest frozen on her final breath. 

Discovering her still alive, though hurt, was a much better outcome. 

Rin even still possessed the wherewithal to respond to him with some semblance of her usual irreverence and it had taken all of his self-control to not do something rash like profess his relief at the sound of her voice and the life still held within it.

Still, she managed to have the last laugh in the end, those damned words of hers clanging around in his head regardless whether he wishes them to or not.

‘I trust you.’ 

Gods. She may as well have staked him in the heart with that little sentence, for he doesn’t deserve her trust. 

Not after the way he’s been playing her like a fool for weeks and months now—he forgets which it is sometimes, the days and nights of their exploring and killing blending into one another; the only moments that stand out to him those that feature her in the center of them recently, the number of which seem to be increasing by the day and if he’s not careful she will be the only thing on his mind, her name and face a constantly repeating banner in his thoughts.

Although at this point, he’s not so certain he isn’t actually playing himself as well.

He must be set on his own demise, clearly, to harbor such…feelings toward her, even if he doesn’t—and won’t—admit the existence of them to himself most of the time.

What is he supposed to do with such useless things, anyway? He indulges in her enough as it is, any more will only put him at a level of risk he can’t afford.

With a sigh, he steps away from her figure, blanket securely pulled up around her to preserve her warmth and preferred modesty, a quirk about her he finds to be so very entertaining with how quickly and with such great enthusiasm she seems to shed her clothing for him. 

As it were, she wasn’t keen to show terribly much of her pretty skin—a loss for humanity at large, in his opinion, as she looks very lovely wearing very little; but a win for him, as he gets to enjoy the sight all on his own with no one else the wiser of the beauty she keeps hidden beneath those drab tunics of hers. 

Comfortable, she calls them. He scoffs at the idea.

No wonder she never made much money as a bard. Perhaps if she indulged in some of the more risqué fashions he’d seen others don over the years, she would have been more successful at her art.

With little else to do he resigns himself to waiting, though he isn’t quite sure what for. For her to awaken from her slumber, perhaps? It would invite a rather awful amount of questions, though, were he to be present at such a moment. 

Questions he is unwilling to answer.

So, Astarion doesn’t count the time as it passes and simply busies himself with a variety of other things instead. Time, he has found, can be quite strange when one finds themselves immortal and so he has gotten rather good, if he may say so himself, at filling the minutes and hours as they leisurely pass around him.

He pays half-attention to the errant thoughts that swirl in his head as he cleans the sharp edges of his many blades—though he avoids the ones that center too intensely around Rin, for now.

He looks at her makeshift vanity and at the only makeup she apparently possessed in an attempt to decipher why, precisely, he always seems to find her lips to be so enchanting— he finds a pretty rose colored balm that he knows can be used on both lips and cheeks, however the discovery does little to solve his mystery.

He uncorks the almost empty bottle of perfumed oil she uses to sniff at it for himself, another foray into his prior investigation—it smells so much better on her than it does in the bottle, but he isn’t quite sure why or how that is, and again leaves him with more questions than answers.

He stares at the single stalk of purple foxglove she had somehow procured and placed into a small decanter to act as the singular decoration in her tent and he counts every bell-shaped flower—he’s impressed she managed to find a living plant in a place so cursed, even if it is still poisonous in the end, but it adds a certain warmth to her tent that feels so very her he can barely stand it.

He’s flipping through one of the books she has stacked in a corner—The Druid Who Daredaccording to the worn and broken spine, the decidedly indecent contents on several dog-eared pages of which he will definitely not be forgetting about—when he comes across something hidden in between two thin pages.

It’s nothing unusual, especially in her tent, just an innocuous piece of parchment folded thrice. 

The same way she happens to fold all of her letters.

Astarion’s brow quirks as he takes a glance back at Rin, still snuggled peacefully in her blanket and none the wiser.

He shouldn’t. He knows better. 

Most people don’t read other people’s personal letters, especially when said person is something like a lover, even if their situation is somewhat complicated.

But Astarion considers himself to be infinitely worse than most people and can’t help the curiosity that fills him when he sees what looks an awful lot like his name written many times over in dark ink bleeding through the thin vellum.

He’s seconds from reaching into the book, intent on grabbing the slip of parchment to open and read it, careful and covert, when he hears the soft rustling of movement behind him. 

Astarion slams the book shut as if it had grown teeth and threatened to eat him, setting it back onto the stack where he had found it lightning-quick as he turns back around, expecting to be heavily berated to when he inevitably meets what he assumes will be a very angry bard.

When he does turn, however, he’s greeted instead by the sight of Rin not yet fully awake, only just stirring with soft groan and her back arching in a stretch, head tossing to the side.

Luck, it appeared, is on his side today. 

In more ways than one.

Despite his apparent good luck, however, he’s now faced with the issue of leaving. Because he certainly can’t be found in her tent standing over her like some guardian angel.

How could he possibly explain to her that he’s been watching over her like some nurse, caring for her like he has any right to—even if only by watching her from afar.

He doesn’t have the words to explain himself and so he will not. 

But he doesn’t plan on being too far away tonight, either way. Someone needs to keep an eye on her in the event something happens. He doesn’t know what that something might be, but his point still stands. It may as well be him to take on the job.

And so, Astarion grabs his gloves along with her ripped, bloodied blouse and flees with every ounce of stealth at his disposal, sneaking out of her tent just as Rin’s eyes begin to flutter open.

[joels-darlin]

Flashbacks

Pairings: post-outbreak!Joel Miller x reader

Warnings: death, angst, hurt, sadness, mentions of blood, severe injuries, mentions of anxiety, mentions of panic attacks, nightmares, flashbacks, traumatic memories.

Summary:  Flashback: An involuntary recurrent memory in which the individual has a sudden but powerful re-experiencing of a past event.

Joel’s body might be present but his mind never is, especially after the loss of his everything.

Word count: 1752

Author Note: Well I am back and yes it's with another sad one - sorry. This fic was quite the ride. What started out as a post-golf reader POV fic suddenly got turned on its head. One day my brain decided to go: “But what if the tables were turned and it was Joel on the other end”, then this was born.

Also, I have never done this before but if anyone wants an insight to what I listen to whist writing these types of fics see below, might make an angst playlist soon.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Playlist: If Today Was Your Last Day - Nickelback Savin’ Me - Nickelback Through the Ghost - Shinedown If You Only Knew - Shinedown In The Stars - Benson Boone Life Goes On - Ed Sheeran (ft. Luke Combs) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thankyou all <3 Read on AO3!

The heat of the sun on Joel’s skin awoke him from a deep slumber, peeking it’s way into the room through that gap in the curtains. The one he had been meaning to fix for months. Groaning at the intrusion he shifted. Untangling his body from the sheets of what is now just his bed, sitting upright, a sharp tweaking sensation in his lower back crying out at the sudden movement. The night shift on Patrol was torture but as much as Joel hated doing it, it was the only way to avoid the nightmares that flooded his brain when he slept.

Taking a moment to compose he breathed in, sharpness of the icy January air biting at his nostrils, pushing slowly back out through his mouth, This is what his routine consisted of now, practicing the breathing exercises learnt from a book scavenged whilst out on Patrol. Mornings were not always like this. Joel let his mind wander back briefly to a just a few mere months ago. ~

The warm heat of the summer enveloped the room as you lay in a tangle of limbs under the sheets, head in spot that was most comfortable; the crook of Joel’s neck. Joel felt you lean in slightly pressing your cheek against the warm and soft skin there, you were clearly having a moment to take everything in. These were the moments you both enjoyed the most. Catching him off guard it was the softness of your lips on this skin peppering light kisses on any areas you could reach. He loved this. The actions making his whole body vibrate with a deep chuckle, moving his hands to caress over your skin with feather light touches. There was no other feeling in the world that could match it, the feeling of being happy and loved. Something he hadn’t experienced in a very long time. This was home for the next few hours. The two of you completely spent, losing count of how many times and the various ways he had made you come undone in the small hours of the morning. ~

Joel regrets swapping patrol shifts with you that day, all because he had come down with the flu and needed some extra rest - he was old now these illnesses took longer to recover from. But he swears everyday that he can still feel it on his skin; the faint touches of your last kiss, the tickle of your breath against his ear. Unknowing that would be the last ‘I love you’ to leave your soft lips. The sound of your voice was always like music to his ears.

But from the minute his eyes close and he succumbs to the darkness the film reel starts; like his own personal cinema. The nightmares more bad compared to good, it’s not very often he gets to relive the happy memories shared with you. One particular memory has been kicking around in his dreams for the last few days. ~

Joel was confused when he woke, taking a minute to survey the surroundings. He was still in bed, the migraine now gone but the flu-ish like symptoms still knocking around; leaving his chest heavy and his nose still clogged like a few hours ago. Except this time there was an extra symptom, a swirling pit in his stomach. Straightaway he knew this wasn’t nausea related to his current condition, it was different, something felt very wrong. He had suffered with anxiety before after he lost Sarah. This felt…similar. The booming sound of banging on his front door stopped the thoughts in their tracks, the glass of the windows in his bedroom vibrating slightly at the force. Whoever was at the door wanted his attention and now. He was still dressed in his grey plaid pyjamas bottoms and worn nightshirt as he jumped out of bed, forgoing his slippers and heading barefoot downstairs to the commotion. Joel recognised the voice on the other side; his brother Tommy.

What was he doing back from patrol so early?

“JOEL…” Tommy’s voice bellowed through the thickness of the wooden door “…open this door NOW”

His hand made contact with the cool metal of the handle, yanking it open with force, nearly knocking himself over the in the process. Only to be greeted by his stricken, pale looking younger brother over the other side of the threshold.

It was quiet for a few moments; like both brothers had no idea what to say. Eyes locked on each other, sounds of the birds chirping in the distance and Tommy’s heavy breathing - he had clearly run here.

“Joel…its….” ”Spit it out Tommy”

What he wasn’t prepared for was the whisper of your name leaving his brothers lips, heart leaping out of his chest at the sound.

The sight that greeted him in the Medical Centre was one that will live in him forever; deeply woven into every fibre of his being. Your lifeless body on the metal table. Clothes torn to shreds, any patches of skin peeking through littered with a mixture of deep purple bruises. He left the worst til last - your face. Once beautiful and so full of life; now unrecognisable. They had beaten you to death. A mixture of anger and sadness bubbling up in his chest and all he could do was drop to his knees and sob, your cold, swollen hand intertwined with his. He wasn’t there to protect you.

Joel doesn’t remember leaving that room. He just knows he didn’t want to. But all he remembers is waking up in in bed the next day. Eyes landing on the empty space on the other side; all the memories coming flooding back in a instant, like a knife to the heart. ~

The house is eerily quiet, creaking of Joel’s bare feet against the old wood echoing off the cracked walls with each step as he heads down the stairs.

Jackson was a place he now considered home, nothing like the home back in Austin, but you made it home for him. It’s the place you had met and started planning a life together - even with the circumstances. From the moment he laid eyes on you across the commune there was something special about you. Any room you entered you brought the sunshine with you - your smile and positivity bouncing off every surface like a beam of light. Except now that he had lost you the four walls of home now felt dark and vacant.

Coffee was something you had both shared a love for. Often scavenging peculiar trinkets or necessities whilst out on patrol that you could trade at the market for the best coffee beans Jackson offered. On the off days from patrol Joel would often wake to the aroma of freshly ground beans wafting through the house. In the kitchen a fresh pot of filtered coffee on the side waiting, his mug neatly placed next to it. An that’s where he was headed right now, straight to what you used to refer to as the ‘the coffee shop’ - it was a running joke between you both.

Except this morning he opened the cupboard to find your favourite mug staring right back at him; he doesn’t remember leaving it there. It was the one he had scavenged whilst out doing one of the trails with Tommy. The early days, when the two of you had not long admitted feelings for each other after months of yearning and pining. He knew your birthday was coming up and wanted a special gift. Then he found the mug, buried at the back of one of the cupboards of a random cabin they had discovered just south of the checkpoint. Joel knew the moment he laid eyes on it that you would love it. The white porcelain mug, chipped and scratched in places but well loved, two giraffes embezzled on the front. Your favourite animal. It stayed in his house, taking place right next to his owl mug. Which not long after became your home also.

Joel was leaning against the counter, coffee mug in hand, his eyes glancing briefly over to the small circular table & chairs in the centre of the room. The memories of those mornings together coming flooding back. ~

These were the moments Joel cherished the most; when it was just the two of you.

Summer mornings spent at the kitchen table sat across from each other, windows wide open, enjoying the light breeze flowing into the room. Watching as you lift the mug of steaming hot coffee to your lips, parting them slightly to take the first sip of ‘nectar’ - you had always called coffee that, for as long as Joel can remember. He can never help the small smile spreading across his lips, something that just happens when with you. A feeble attempt at trying to cover it up by taking a sip from his own mug. It was too late you had caught him, flashing a toothy grin from across the table. God he loved you.

Then the cold Winter months came, opting for the comfort of the couch over the table. Joel remembers being frozen to the bone, eager to shower and slip into the warmth of bed. But as he crossed the threshold the sight that greeted him was one he couldn’t ignore. There you were perched on the claimed side of the couch; coffee mug in one hand, book in the other. Clearly engaged in whatever was on the page - knowing your terrible taste in books probably some soppy romance again. No words needed to be exchanged, just a small smile at each other as he slipped into the seat next to you. Forgoing the choice of coffee after a long patrol nightshift. He was happy here just being in your presence. Like his own personal brand of caffeine. ~

A chirping of birds in the garden brings Joel back to the present. Lifting his free hand to rub his temples, a frustrated sigh leaving his lips. Sometimes the memories are so vivid he swears you are still here.

Draining the last of his coffee and turning to throw the cup in the sink with a loud clang - making a mental note to deal with that later. Joel grabbed his backpack off the hook, heading out the front door in search of Tommy - he would have some useless job for him to do. Today he needed distractions, the storm was incoming and fast. It was only a matter of time.

[ogtarotreader]

Hello fellow tarot reader, 2nd tarot reader over here. I deleted my account after I received quite a few anon asks with not so nice things to say. Regardless, I’ve done a reading. Let me know what you see and what you think.

Current energy check on 🍀 & 🦈 

Defences will definitely come down for both of them, there is more vulnerability especially on 🍀’s side and no more trying to save face by putting up walls. The masculine energy from her end has taken a turn, she’s leaning more into her emotions. She’s still struggling with them but she’s allowing herself to feel more regarding her situation with 🦈. This is huge.

Her struggle is still admitting how she truly feels for him. On some days she’ll acknowledge it but on most days she will deny it, she doesn’t feel it’s right given her current relationship status. 🍀 is a stickler for “rules” when you’re officially with someone. “It’s not right I feel this way, I’m with someone else.” Yet, she knows she can’t deny the truth, as hiding is starting to tire her.

They’ve been putting in the effort individually during the time apart. They still need more time and some work but the needed work is growing steadily, dare I say even beautifully. 

Patience is key. I’m getting 2nd or 3rd quarter of the year. A conversation will start and it will be the catalyst of the discussion they need to have. I’m getting a surprise meeting. Any events they’re obligated to attend might make them withdraw more, surprisingly more for him. He could have attended the Golden Globes. One location, one time and one place. Neither of them know the other one’s attending. But it will put them in the space that will make them address what needs to be addressed.

A fresh start. More things to discover between them and they definitely have the renewed energy and understanding for one another for it. They know each other well enough before but it will get deeper. I’m getting “wow, I haven’t seen this side of you before,” with a lot of curious and excited energy.

A lot of sparks, a very long honeymoon period. Lots of laughter. She’s gonna get some icks from him but it’s addressed with playfulness and a cheeky eyeroll as if to say “I can’t stand you,” but he is irresistible to her. He loves that she gets annoyed. A lot of their (new) dynamic and why it works is a result of their time apart. 

Checking on energy of 🎤 and 🐍 in regards to their relationships with 🍀&🦈 

🎤 is really clinging on and doing what he can to keep the relationship. It’s kind of working and 🍀 is giving him a chance. She finds it kind of odd that he’s suddenly more invested and is acting more like a boyfriend

🍀 is recognising that they’re not as aligned as before or as aligned as she thought they were. She’s beginning to address that she also pushed for this to work. For a while she thought they were going to work but 🍀 is slowly seeing she can’t really run away from what she truly feels. 🍀 does love 🎤 but she isn’t inlove with him. It’s being revealed that what she feels for him isn’t really what she thought she wanted. 

Are they breaking up? Yes, soon in the sense that he didn’t see it coming, neither did she but also it will take awhile as she manages to gain the strength to walk away and be the one to end the relationship. End of the year is the limit.

You might ask how it fits into the timeline above with 2nd or 3rd quarter but 🍀 and 🦈 won’t jump straight into a relationship just like that. They’re still picking up the pieces of their friendship, which they will.

🐍 feels that there was no payoff with 🦈, not only did it do nothing for her career, she came out of it feeling unloved and unappreciated as one would in a relationship where the other person (in this case, 🦈) isn’t really that invested and is confused themselves

She was kind of putting up a delusion that it’s a temporary thing but she knows deep down that it isn’t, he won’t change and the public perception won’t be in her favour. Overall, she’s embarrassed.

🦈’s seeing that they weren’t going to work after all. He feels like it was such a misstep. Currently, he doesn’t have a good opinion of her. “She’s not who I thought she was.”

They’re broken up.

For 🦈 and 🍀 (main things this year)

Will not get together as a couple

Important decision to be made

Next year will be better

Some time away together (rest from public eye)

Yessss. I love when our readings link up with similar interpretations. This is so spot on and near identical to what I see. you just break it down more. lovely and thank you for taking the time to read. I know its a lot of energy.

below is my yearly reading i recently did for those who need a recap. uncanny.

JAW AND AYO YEARLY READ

[livingformintyoongi]

happy 300!!! congrats author!!!! you deserve it. i want to participate in the 300 celebration activity, so 🍁, bf!yoongi x fem reader, nsfw. thank uu

a/n: Hi, anon! How are you? I hope very well ^^ I'm very sorry for the delay in getting your request done, I was very busy with college and then I had a writer's block (which was mostly limited to smut lol). Thank you so much for making the request and for your nice words, I hope you can read this and it's to your liking <3 I'd love to know what you think (if you're still hanging around these parts). Taglist: @thunderg @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @superbbananananana @drpepperobsessed @themwordsblog @taekritimin123 @bluecloudss @yooglefics @tan-veee Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Boyfriend Yoongi who: Has a slight obsession with your thighs-or legs in general. You took a breath, feeling every inch of your body ignite and quiver as you felt Yoongi's lips against your knee, moving closer and closer to your center. You could feel his eyes fixed on your face, even though yours were tightly closed due to the pleasure he was making you feel with his kisses, although being honest, he might not do more than look at you and you would already be crossing your legs in order to calm your cravings for him a little. “Why are you closing your eyes, sweetheart?” he whispered against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, using his tongue to draw a transparent path to the fold of your underwear. You had to swallow the moan of surprise that almost escaped your lips. “I-I'm sorry, it's just... god, it's been a long time since we last did this,” you heard a hoarse chuckle come from him, and almost instantly you felt a squeeze on your thighs, his big hands pulling you until you were completely under him. “You're right, it's been a while since the last time...I wonder what it will feel like to get my cock inside you after so many months.”

Boyfriend Yoongi who: He loves to use vulgar language with you while you're in the bedroom. You clung to the sheets you had been lying on since you and Yoongi got home that night; it had all happened so fast that you hadn't even noticed at what point he had lifted your dress up to your waist to get a perfect view of his cock going in and out of your pussy. You could see through your eyelashes how his gaze was fixed on that middle point between the two of you, where both were finally becoming one. His tongue ran softly over his lower lip before he turned his gaze back to you. His body moved closer to yours, close enough that you could feel his warmth on yours and his breath collide with yours. His lips moved to your ear, and he whispered next to it, “Ah, my little slut, you look so good under me... so fucked, so breathless... it’s like you’ve been waiting for me to fuck you into oblivion since the moment we met, though, wasn’t it?” he let out an almost inaudible laugh, asserting himself on your hips to penetrate deeper inside you. Had it not been for him covering your mouth, you would have screamed right then and there, “I couldn't expect more from you, you really are a slut,” he kissed and nibbled on the bare skin of your collarbone, enjoying the feel of your burning skin against his tongue, “but it's okay, I like you just like that.”

Boyfriend Yoongi who: He likes to keep control even when you're riding him. You rested your hands on his chest, feeling his cock go deep inside you. This may not be Yoongi's favorite position, but he wouldn't complain either, not when he has you on top of him, being a quivering, flailing mess, letting out moans every time he lifts his hips to meet yours, plus, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't turned on by watching your tits bounce; this position gave him a perfect view of you, that he'd never deny. “Shit, are you close already, so soon?” he teased softly, clinging to your hips hard enough to leave some mark the next morning. It's not like either of you cared much at the moment. He raised an eyebrow as he saw that you couldn't even adequately answer his question, even if he already knew the answer; he could feel your walls tightening around him, as your thighs began to shake harder and harder, and as your movements became more and more disorganized. He brought his hands up until they were just below your ribs, pressing you down so you couldn't move. He couldn't help but grin like an idiot as he heard you claim breathlessly, “Who told you you could cum?” you brushed your hair away from your face, looking up at him with pursed lips, “Come on, don't be an idiot, Yoongi, that's the third time you've made me-” you squealed loudly as you felt an all too well timed thrust from him. You hated how well he knew your body. “Shut that pretty mouth and calm down, we'll start again.”

Boyfriend Yoongi who: He would spend most of the time with his tongue against your pussy. You pulled on Yoongi's hair with all the strength your hands could offer. Your toes clenched and your back stayed hunched as you moaned -screamed- as if your life depended on it. Having Yoongi's mouth between your legs was an addiction you didn't know you had until this moment. Tears began to stream down your face the moment pleasure and pain merged to give you that pinch that made everything inside you squirm. “You're so wet...I didn't know you liked my tongue so much” he murmured against your pussy, letting out a sigh on it, setting all your nerves on edge almost instantly. He knew what he was doing, you could see it in his bright eyes and his shit-eating grin. “So cute” he ran his tongue up and down your slit until he reached your clit, wrapping it between his lips and pulling on it with just enough force to make the knot inside you tighten twice as much as it already was. “Yoongi... please...” you moaned softly, whimpering like a little girl who had just had a piece of candy taken away from her; if he kept teasing you like this your body wasn't going to take it, “Please what?" he asked with a mocking tone, barely pressing your entrance with his flexible muscle, “Please, please, just... put your fucking tongue in at once”, you rolled your eyes as you heard him say something about your vulgar vocabulary, as if he had the right to claim you for that; still you couldn't say anything to him, how to do it when his tongue was deep inside your pussy, pressing the right places, moving at the speed that made your whole being turn to jelly? You went back to pulling his hair, inwardly grateful for the talent your boyfriend had with his tongue. Being a rapper definitely had its advantages.

Boyfriend Yoongi who: He loves to leave marks on very exposed areas of your body. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to catch your lost breath. Your whole body seemed to burn and ache, that kind of pain that actually felt satisfying, that managed to take you to the stars at least for a few seconds. “Ugh, I can't feel my legs” you muttered, chuckling. You could feel Yoongi running his hands over the bare skin of your waist, the rough fingertips of his fingers felt good against your skin. You liked that post-sex moment when you both simply caressed each other with no intention of fucking again. Or at least you thought that was his intention until you felt his teeth bite into your neck. “Yoongi! What the hell?” you looked at him with wide eyes, your mouth opening slightly as you felt the lingering sting on your neck. “Sorry, it looked too clean” he muttered with that shit-eating grin he knew made your legs shake. You wanted to punch his beautiful fucking face.

Masterlist.

[cakerybakery]

Ohh, Lucifer could be doing nude shoot and sees that Adam can’t stop staring. Even getting in trouble for being distracted.

The photographer is at the end of his rope. Why does Adam have to be having his gay crisis now? He sends Adam off to cool off but if he doesn’t get his head in game, so to speak, Adam’s going to have to go. He doesn’t want to offend Lucifer by having his assistant gawking at him.

But Lucifer calls for a break and says he’ll talk to Adam before sauntered after Adam before anyone can stop him. The people that know Lucifer just shake their heads, Lucifer’s going to eat the kid alive.

Lucifer adores attention. The photographer thinks Lucifer might tell Adam off or maybe he’ll be kind. Everyone else knows Adam is going to come back with his balls drained and walking lightly.

He finds Adam, hooks his arm around Adam’s and pulls him into Lucifer’s dressing room. He still hasn’t put clothing on, not even a robe.

Adam can’t concentrate. Lucifer’s getting hard as he manhandles Adam towards the make up table. He’s pressed against Adam and Adam is getting more and more flustered.

Lucifer tells him to wait there and he’ll put something on. But Lucifer is slow. Teasing. Making sure Adam gets a good look at him.

Adam is watching Lucifer’s hard cock bob as he moves, Lucifer leans back. “Quite the sight, I know.”

“Huh?” Adam looks up, having missed what Lucifer said.

Lucifer loves having that effect on people, but he needs Adam to be able to focus for a minute, so he slips on a robe.

“So what’s your name, honey?” Lucifer slotted himself between Adam’s legs and reached up to finger the collar of Adam’s shirt.

“A-Adam, sir?”

“No sirs here. Well,” Lucifer ground himself against Adam’s hardness. “I guess that’s not true. But you know what I mean.”

He went up on the tips of his toes. Adam was a big boy wasn’t he?

“We’re quite the pair, Adam. Lucifer and Adam, sitting in an apple tree, K” he kissed Adam in a teasing peck. “I.” Kiss. “S.” Kiss. “S.” Kiss. “I.” Kiss. “N.” Kiss. “G.” He kissed Adam good and long, grinding them together and making Adam moan for more.

Soon Adam was bent over the dressing table and moaning he could see his own red faced reflection as Lucifer worked his virginity ass open. In a matter of hours he’d gone from ‘he’s hot!’ To ‘oh no, he’s hot! Why do I find him hot?’ To ‘oh god, I need his dick in me!’

There was a feeling of completeness as Lucifer seated himself fully in Adam.

Lucifer’s soft eyes and gentle smile looking at him in the mirror. Lucifer half whispered, “you’re beautiful.”

Adam flushed harder. No one had called him beautiful before. Handsome on occasion. But not for a while.

It was slow and gentle, Lucifer making sure Adam was comfortable, until he came in Lucifer’s hand, then Lucifer picked up the pace. Adam toes curled in his shoes, he wished he had claws to dig into the dress so he could hold on better as Lucifer assaulted his prostate and made him cum again. Lucifer tensed, pushing in as deep as he could, and came.

Lucifer chucked the condom out and cleaned them up as Adam’s legs shook and he huffed.

Helping Adam to the small couch, Lucifer had him lay down and rest. Lucifer kissed his nose.

“Come out with me later?” He asked.

Usually, Lucifer just fucked whoever was fawning over him, soaked up the attention, and went back to work. But he liked this one. It was silly. He didn’t know anything about Adam. But that didn’t stop the desire to learn about him.

Adam was feeling a bit better after a few minutes and they returned to work. It stopped Adam’s staring, because now he’d blush and try to focus on work.

Guy was done for the shoot and everything was put away. Adam wasn’t sure how he was supposed to go to a party with Lucifer. They didn’t exchange numbers, he wasn’t told the address.

He resigned himself to the idea that he was used for a quick lay and Lucifer didn’t invite out him for real when an arm wrapped around his.

“All done, Beautiful?” Lucifer batted his eyes up at Adam and lead them out of the studio. “Who cares? Let’s go. If your boss says anything.” Lucifer flipped a card out and tucked it into Adam t-shirt pocket. “Tell him I stole you. And to call the number to check. Better put it in your contacts, Adam. I don’t want you losing my personal number.”

In the limo, Lucifer was all over him. By the time he was pulled out of the car, he could feel the faint pink lipstick Lucifer wore covering his neck and face. Lucifer dragged him around the party, cuddled close and talked his ear off, not that Adam got more than a few words at a time. It was a whirlwind of fancy people, fancy foods, and fancy drinks that no one actually seemed to drink.

By the time Lucifer was inputting Adam’s number into his phone, kissing him goodnight at his door, and Adam was left alone in his apartment to sink to the floor in exhaustion, it was nearly three am and he had to work in the morning.

Lucifer texted him sporadically over the rest of the week. Photos of meals, bored emojis as he worked, sexy pictures that left Adam cumming.

He sent texts back.

A fancy croissant and fresh fruit picture from Lucifer got back a bowl of sugary cereal. Adam sent jokes he knew whenever Lucifer was bored and smiled as he got laughing emojis back. Lucifer in a lacy pair of underwear got a blurry photo of Adam’s dick as he’d drop the photo trying to get a good angle and it accidentally sent as he was trying to keep the phone from hitting the floor.

Lucifer didn’t stop at the texts. There were dates. A fancy restaurant where Adam discovered he was allergic to lobster. Lucifer sat with him in the hospital.

A fancy boat party, where Adam discovered he got sea sick. They spent the rest of the evening eating fish and chips from a greasy place open late by the wharf, sitting on a bench and making out between fries, as the water slashed on the rocks.

“So, maybe no more water adventures?” Lucifer teased as he dragged Adam out to a work party.

He could agree more. Land seemed the place for him.

Lucifer dressed him in something nice, but not too nice. “We don’t want people to think you thought too much about what to wear.”

“You’ve been digging in my closet for two hours.” Adam chuckled from the bed. His backside still a little sore from the pounding he took a couple hours earlier.

“I’m a model, darling. It’s my job to look good. You’re my lover, your job is to look like I dressed you.”

“So I need to look too good to have dressed myself, but using the clothing I already have?”

Lucifer fussed as he dressed Adam. “Of course. If I start dressing you in new things, they’ll think you’re a gold digger or a boy toy.”

“What do you want them to think?” Adam asked. They’d been screwing and going on dates, but what were they?

“That you’re my boyfriend.”

Adam flushed. He had a boyfriend. “Oh, good.”

Lucifer pulled him into a kiss and started working on a second round. “You’re clean?” He asked suddenly.

“I showered before you got here.”

“No. I mean. Can I fuck you without a condom?”

Adam didn’t think he could turn redder. Lucifer wanted to… that felt like a bigger step than being boyfriends.

“It’s just.” Lucifer swallowed hard and Adam hadn’t seen Lucifer be anything other than confident. “I want to mark my territory. Make your ass drip for the party.”

Lucifer fiddled with Adam’s collar. “I kept finding dates in the coat closet with someone else at these things.”

“You think I’m a whore that’ll let anyone fuck me in a dressing room?” Adam asked.

Gasping sharply, Lucifer shook his head. “NO! I just…” he saw Adam’s teasing smile. “Oh fuck you.”

“Please do. If it’ll make you feel better.” Adam kissed Lucifer’s forehead. “Make my leak all night. And when the party’s over, put my ass in the air and fill it again.”

Half sitting up, Adam could make out with Lucifer as Lucifer fucked him raw. It excited him and made him sad. He wanted to feel Lucifer’s cum in him but he hated that Lucifer was scared Adam would cheat on him due to past experiences.

“I do great work, if I say so myself.” Lucifer pulled his cock out of Adam and pushed his fingers in. Rubbing Adam’s prostate, making Adam’s limp cock jump and Adam squirm. “What do you think? Think I can get one more out of you?”

“Probably not.” Adam groaned with the over stimulation. “I haven’t cum this much in one day since I was a teenager.” He squirmed halfheartedly trying to get away. “You fucked me raw, Lu. In more ways than one. Quite frankly, I’m not even sure I’ll be able to get it up after the party for you. Might have to settle for just plowing my ass while my dick takes a break.”

Lucifer was pleased. He was keeping Adam. They’d marry in the fall when the golds of Adam’s eyes would sparkle the most, adopt a dozen kids, and he’d fuck Adam’s tight ass every night until they were old and gray and Lucifer died of a heart attack mid plow.

He settling on clothing for Adam and swept his giant of a boyfriend off to the party of the year.

Trying to appear like a jealous lover Lucifer let Adam go alone to the food table. He enjoyed watching Adam’s slight pussyfooting after being screwed.

Lucifer kept telling himself it was too soon to ask Adam to move in, but he was busy daydreaming about Adam on their wedding night, maybe he could get Adam to wear lacy lingerie, when Lilith came up to him.

He was pulled out of his daydream by her talking to him but he could barely hear her over the music.

“What?” He asked tersely. She was one of the ex he’d found in the coat room with someone else. Lucifer almost felt bad for the guy.

Couldn’t have been easy thinking you were going to get to fuck a beautiful woman at a fancy party only to be found with a strap-on in your ass by that beautiful woman’s finance and have her laugh and tell the finance that it didn’t count as cheating because she talked you into taking it up the ass and she had no intentions of letting you fuck her.

If Lucifer was a man eater, it was only because he learned it from Lilith.

Before he knew it her lips were on his. He barely backed up a step, his thoughts were on what Adam would think, when there was a blur as a fist connected to the side of Lilith’s face.

“He’s mine, whore.” Adam towered over Lilith and Lucifer needed to fuck his boyfriend right now.

Adam grabbed him by the waist and Lucifer felt his feet being lifted off the ground as he was hoisted over Adam’s shoulder and carried out of the party.

“You okay.” Adam asked once they were in the quiet of the night air and put him down. “I saw her kiss you. Did she hurt you?”

“I’m very good.” Lucifer was going to make love to this man all night. “My hero.”

Adam flushed and tried to brush it off. “You were in trouble. No big.”

“Very big.” Lucifer leaned against Adam, hugging him tight. “And I’ve got something very big for you.”

The limo pulled up. Adam wasn’t sure if the guy was just waiting or if Lucifer called it at some point. But Lucifer got Adam into the limo and dropped to his knees. He pulled Adam’s cock out and blew him.

He didn’t think he had another load in him, but Lucifer deep throated him like a champ. The tongue swirled around the head of his cock before Lucifer would take him to the root again. Over and over until Adam came.

His pants were torn off and Lucifer didn’t waste time, just buried himself to the hilt. Luckily Adam was still loose and wet from the fucking he’d been given only an hour and half ago.

Lucifer had Adam’s legs in the air and his ass on the edge of the seat as he was fucked hard and fast. “Call me yours!” Lucifer insisted.

“Mine!” Adam choked out as his prostate was assaulted. “You’re mine!”

“Fucking rights I am. All yours. And you’re mine!”

“Yes! Yours. Claim me.”

That was all Lucifer needed to hear to cum in his beautiful giant of a man.

He kissed Adam, refusing to pull out untill he had to. “Be mine forever? Marry me?”

Adam snorted and laughed. “Bit too soon for that. Let’s make it to a month at least.”

“Fine. But I’ll ask then and I’ll ask at six months, and a year, and ten years, and fifty years. I’ll ask until we’re on our deathbeds. Until you say yes.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” Adam squeezed the cock still in him. “Cause you’re cramping my legs.”

Lucifer sighed overly dramatically and let Adam go so he could put his legs down and do up his pants.

Once done he cuddled into Adam’s side. “We’re going to have so many babies.”

“I’ve always wanted to be a stay at home dad.” Adam teased. “Better keep bringing home the bacon, Lu. Need to keep your husband pretty and the kids fed.”

His looks wouldn’t last Lucifer forever. Maybe it was time to switch to more behind the scenes work. Maybe come out with his own fashion line. He had plenty of ideas.

“It’s a deal.”

Model AU

Lucifer is a model and Adam works with the photographer.

I don't know how they get to get together but they go on a few dates before Adams ex shows up and is curious about Lucifer, she gets closer and at a party she kisses Lucifer. Adam isn't far away but he gets possessive and doesn't want anyone touching his boyfriend!!

[onthewaytosomewhere]

the wip-iest of days

so after a bit of delay - i.e. distraction in the another wip variety i'm back in my southern philanthropy words.

thanks ever so much (dr, alex) @theprinceandagcd & @typicalopposite for the early wednesday tag! 💚

words and lots of tags under the cut

“I have it on good authority that anyone from Texas can be a cowboy with the right attire, though that drawl of yours makes me think you wouldn’t need the clothes for it.”

“I have a friend that used to say that every Texan was one cowboy hat or flannel away from singing ‘Home on the Range.’” Percy cocks his head, and Liam elaborates, “It’s an old song we all had to learn to sing in grade school and all about ‘that cowboy life’”

“Yeah, I’m somewhat familiar with the song …” Percy trails off, and Liam seizes the opportunity to get them back on track; after all, he was promised to be allowed to play the part of the broncing buck. His fingers make quick work of undoing Percy’s fly, and he follows as Percy stands back on the floor at the side of the bed and assists Lian in pushing the not-quite-leather pants to the floor.

Liam is curious about how they can be both leather but also something else he can’t place, and he is about to ask when he realizes Pez is standing in front of him in nothing but a thong. They leave nothing to the imagination, clinging to his uncut cock, and Liam slides his finger along them, sliding one under the waistband and exposing the tip of Percy’s cock. He leans in and licks at the exposed tip, tonguing the foreskin still clinging to the head. He watches as it slides down to rest just under the tip and tongues at the frenulum there on the underside of what might be the prettiest cock he’s ever seen, and he hasn’t even seen it all. He hooks a finger in the silky thong, tugging it down to expose the rest of the cock, he really wants to get his mouth around.

💚💚no-presssure, tag ur it to @adreamareads @agame-writes @anincompletelist @bitbybitwrites @blueeyedgrlwrites

@dragonflylady77 @duchessdepolignaca03 @england-would-fall @firenati0n @firstsprinces

@forever-fixating @getmehighonmagic @henryspearl @heysweetheart-writes @hgejfmw-hgejhsf

@inell @inexplicablymine @itsmaybitheway @jellibuns @jmagnabo92

@junebugclaremontdiaz @kiwiana-writes @littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @mikibwrites

@msmarvleouswinchester @nocoastposts @piratefalls @priincebutt @softboynick

@sophie1973 @sparklepocalypse @stellarm @suseagull04 @tailsbeth-writes

@taste-thewaste @thedramasummer @thesleepyskipper @thinkof-england @tinyarmedtrex

@wordsofhoneydew @yrsacdfox @indestructibleheart @everwitch-magicks

@cricketnationrise @orchidscript @cha-melodius

@captainjunglegym @eusuntgratie @bigassbowlingballhead @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @oxfordslutphase

[deoidesign]

Return date for my webcomic, Time and Time Again!

It's been set for a while but sometimes they change the date without warning, so I'll keep you updated if anything changes!

I'm extremely proud of the work I've been doing on it, I can't wait to share everything!

See you then!

[bacchuschucklefuck]

caps from comic Im doing

[morgansmornings]

“I do understand the significance of your uniform. However, it reeks of horse, sweat, and God only knows what else.” She said carefully draping the collection of his clothing over her arm. Glancing at him over her shoulder she leveled him with an unimpressed look. “Have a scrap of faith that I am not going to do anything further than clean it and hang it to dry.” 

Though the fact that she would be hiding the damn thing in her own closet was a fact that he didn’t need to know. At least not for a while. 

“Remember you said that in the morning.” Jayden said, leaving him to settle into bed. 

Once she was certain that he would not be waking anytime soon she followed through with her mental plan. 

Step 1: Getting the uniform cleaned and hidden. Which she accomplished by relying on her skills. Hanging it up on separate hangers in the shower. Her will bending the fabric to release every molecule of contamination to fall to the floor of the shower. Even going so far as to reinforce the material so it was essentially as it was when it was first made. If not a little softer. Maybe making it a touch easier to move in. The same with the rest of the clothing hse hid in the coat initially. Setting the entire outfit into a garment preservation bag instead of one of her suits. Hiding it in her closet where she would have to think much of it. 

Step 2: She risked a larger bit of attention by following Beth’s instructions. Getting the essential medications at the correct doses. She would feel bad later if this got her sister in trouble. Coming back to her apartment through the same linen closet door she left in. She risked a bit more by slowing time to a near unmoving crawl. Slipping into the room and apologising the entire time as she gave him the vaccines. Pulling the sweats down just enough to get to the very top of his backside. He might be sore in the morning, but she would rather that than him keeling over in the dead of the night. Setting his clothing back she let his side as she had when she entered. Resumming time just as the door closed. 

Step 3: She went to fetch the scroll so she could work at it between babysitting a man from the legitimate past. Working a deal with Jenna for the familiar to guard the only means of escape that he would have access to. The front door. 

When all was said and done she followed her standard nightly routine. Setting up the coffee pot to brew in the morning. Taking her own shower after rinsing the grime from her earlier cleaning. Changing into an actual nightgown for Ben’s sake rather than her own.  She wasn’t happy about it, thought it was a small price to pay for some peace. A light skin care process, as it was too late for an in depth one. Emailing her staff that she was closing the shop for a while, though assuring them that they would still get paid until she opened for business again. 

~~*~~*~~

When she finally woke again it was well into the early morning hours. Quite a bit after she would normally be up and at it for the day. She followed her natural rhythm. Getting up, skipping the shower as she had taken one before bed. Grabbing a nearly oversized long robe she made her way down to the kitchen. Getting a cup of coffee and a cheese danish she had made the day before for breakfast. Rolling out her yoga mat, she finished her thirty minutes with a sluggish air. The events of the night before, still fresh in her mind.

Finally she changed into one of her looser skirts and blouse. It wasn’t the standard Ben would be used to but it was as close as she was getting. Unable to help herself she started on making breakfast. As was usual when she felt stressed, she made more than she needed to. Eggs, pancakes, toast from the same loaf she served him the evening before. Sausage patties and links, and bacon. Jams and preserves followed suit. For herself she had peach danish with her third cup of coffee, setting a fresh pot to brew for her unplanned guest. She was nearly done setting the table when she heard him call out. 

“I’m out here. Breakfast is ready.” 

“I didn’t know what you would want so I made a small spread.”

"No men of fine breeding, clearly," Benjamin muttered under his breath, only to wince. "I'm sorry, ah...that was uncouth. Perhaps these...these rags are considered the best of the best in your village."

To his surprise, Jayden informed him that his shirt was on backwards. Although a faint pink dusted his cheeks, he inwardly knew the garment would look and feel ridiculous either way, so with a clipped little nod, he affirmed, "I'll see that it's fixed...once you leave."

She turned down the bedding, and set a tray with a glass of strange-looking water. It appeared frosted, which he supposed wasn't so strange -- winters could be cold -- only, the indoors were presently not freezing, so his mind boggled at how it could appear so frightfully chilled.

Jayden reached for his uniform, and on impulse, he leapt up with a frantic, "No!"

Meeting her gaze, humility once more flooded through Benjamin's face, and he apologized, "I'm sorry, I...I did not mean to shout. It's just...my uniform is important, and a representation of His Excellency. I can't lose nor damage it."

Jayden remained unfazed. “Drink the water and rest well, Major. I will tell you more about this… problem that we seem to have found ourselves in.”

He blinked at the simple command, but nodded. She was a remarkable woman. Strange, but arguably the bravest and calmest he'd ever encountered.

"Thank you, Miss Morgan. I'm forever in your debt." With a weakened smile, he took the water off the tray and took a generous swallow. It tasted odd and a little unpleasant, but he hadn't realized how horribly dry his mouth had gotten, so with renewed verve, he tilted his head back and downed over half the glass.

He remembered very little afterwards.

--

The next morning (or at least, he presumed it was morning), Benjamin awoke bleary-eyed and a little delirious. For a long moment, he genuinely couldn't remember where he was. It wasn't until he focused on the strange sounds and even stranger garments all but constricting his torso that he rocketed up in bed, breathing hard and glancing around him for a sign that this was a dream -- please, God, please let this be a dream!

Staggering out of bed, Benjamin ran a hand over his face and squinted through the harsh sunlight, a few stray locks of hair masking his eyes as he moved about in search of his hostess.

"Miss Morgan?" he called, attempting to remain calm. "Miss Morgan, are you home?"

[fjordfolk]

there's something to be said about this trend of doing prelim hip screening on very young dogs and freaking out when they look kinda meh

there's a whole bunch of other somethings to be said about vets apparently bringing up FHO as an option based on those prelims??

[iknowwhereyousleepatnight]

almost january which means it's almost st sebastian's feast day which means it's almost light yagami's death day which means it's almost february which means it's almost valentine's day which means im six months behind on all of my projects

[benevolenterrancy]

Do any NieYao (or general 3zun) shippers follow me? I've been tossing around the idea of a nieyao fic but I'm getting tripped up by timeline shit because good lord JGY's life is a nightmare... is there anyone who wouldn't mind either:

a) chatting with me about timeline/canon stuff to help me get sorted

b) sending me recs of their favourite nieyao fics 👀 for, uh, strictly research related purposes for sure for sure