#i had to keep sitting on the floor as we were leaving bc i couldn’t believe i’d just seen her irl

[revolutionzero]

JULIEN AT THE KENNEDY CENTER

[cxrsed-angel]

Key Hooks Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Fluff

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Joel repeatedly loses his keys after you suggest a key dish. He finally gets a key hook and has a suggestion of his own.

Warnings: None really. slight mention of sex, domesticated fluff. No Outbreak Au. Sarah is in college.

A/N: Just Joel based on an ad and a dream I had. Pretty sure this is my first fic with Joel that doesn't have an age difference mentioned 😭. Also, it's the first nonsmut Joel fic in a while. (also nervous bc i haven't posted in a while and I kinda hate the title but whatever)

Joel was running late, super late. He had woken up later than expected. Hit snooze on his alarm twice. Partially because you were in his bed, and he didn't want to leave you, but partially because of you again because you kept him up begging him to fuck you more, and of course, he couldn’t resist. He could never tell you no, but that resulted in him being sore and tired and missing his two alarms.

You woke up yourself when you heard him cursing and muttering to himself, loudly moving things around, frantically searching for something.

You sit up in his bed, confused by the sounds Joel is making as he searches for his keys. Looking at him, you see him shake a pair of jeans that was lying on the floor.

“What the hell are you doing? Shouldn't you be leaving?” you ask, barely awake as you look at the time on his alarm clock.

“Can't find my damn keys.” He moves, searching through the stuff on his nightstand.

“I told you you needed a key holder.” Slowly leaving the warmth of his bed to help him search for the missing keys. You look on the other nightstand but don't see them there either. You sigh, looking as Joel searches on his messy dresser.

“Where'd you leave them?” you ask mid-yawn, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. It still takes a moment to actually wake up, and you're fairly tired from last night as well.

“Don't remember, you were yanking my pants off the second I got through the door, could be anywhere.” Joel searches on the floor but still fails to find them.

You nod, remembering how desperately you needed him after he returned from work. Putting your hands on him the first chance you got.

You decide to go downstairs. You glance at the clock. 9:30 a.m. Yeah, he was already 30 minutes late for work. You get out of his bed, putting on a pair of slippers you keep at his place. You search downstairs, checking underneath mail and other documents, on counters, and in the kitchen, but nothing. Joel’s not far behind you, also searching downstairs.

“Are you sure you can't skip today? Stay home. I can skip; we can both relax at home.” You ask, joking, kind of, but you're meant with just one of his unamused glares, taking it as a no. He sighs, frustrated as the search continues.

You move to the couch, searching under the cushions, the scene of last night's activities; you figure they could’ve slipped in between the cushions.

“You know, if you had a key holder, you could’ve been out the door.” You remind him as you look around for them.

“Also could've been out the door if you didn't beg me to fuck you last night before I even had my shoes off and made me lose them in the first place.”

You nodded. He had a point. With how fast you were on him, you probably tossed his keys across the room. You reach into the couch cushions and feel the familiar shape of keys in your hand. You hold them up, jangling them to show Joel you found them. He smiles as he walks towards you to grab them, but you pull them away from his reach at the last minute.

“You will finally get a key rack. I mean, I get it. Sarah moved into her dorm, so you want the whole man cave thing and everything, but will a key rack kill you? He rolls his eyes and reaches for them, nodding.

“Yes, I’ll get a damn key rack now give them so I can go.” He reaches, grabs the keys out of your hand, and gives you a quick kiss on your lips before leaving.

A few weeks later, Joel picked you up for a date and decided to take you to a new movie. You're in his black pickup truck heading back to his house since you have a few roommates back at your apartment and just want to spend time with him alone. After a car ride of forcing Joel to listen to your favorite songs since he lost rock paper scissors you got control of the music. He pulls into his driveway, turning the car off.

“Can’t believe I spent the last 15 minutes listening to that.” He grumbles, getting out of his truck, you watch as he comes around to the passenger side to open your door. You quickly find that you’ll never be opening doors when you're with him.

You smile as you get out. “You were dancing to it. Don't think I missed that.” He rolls his eyes as he closes the truck door behind you with his right hand while his left comes to the small of your back.

“I wasn’t dancin’. You were seeing things. The truck was just moving.” He walks with you to his front door as you laugh. Knowing he was definitely dancing to the songs.

“Yea? Does the truck always move to the beat or just this once?” You giggle again as you enter his house, your second home. He’s right behind you, closing and locking his door. You're removing your shoes and getting more comfortable when you hear his keys jingle.

You bend over, taking your shoes off, not facing him, but you didn't want a repeat of a few weeks ago. “Better remember where you put them this time, old man. I don't need you tearing your place apart at 8:00 am because you can't bother getting a key dish.”

“Well, I won’t forget since they have a home now.” His words make you stand up

You look up, noticing a wooden key rack with a shelf above it and a spot for mail. You see Miller engraved in the wood. You see Joel’s set of keys on it, and you smile.

“You bought a key holder?” You stare shocked at him, never expecting that he actually would.

“No, I built a key holder with some leftover wood and got some hooks. Sarah helped me with it one weekend. It was she who told me to add the mail holder.”

You laugh, looking at it closer, admiring his work, and looking at his house with his woodwork around. The shelves, the bookcase, the CD stand—all things he made over the years.

“You know it never fails to amaze me when you show me what you make. You've made things like a dresser and a table, and you made my desk for me and added cute flowers on it.”

Joel shrugs, never been good at accepting compliments, he shakes his head as he looks at the key holder.

“It’s my job, sweetheart. Would be kinda embarrassing if I was shit at it. I’ve been building things since I was a kid with my dad. He taught me and Tommy.”

You nod, slightly rolling your eyes at his inability to accept a compliment. You move closer to him. “Yeah, I know, but it’s still cool, Joel.”

You feel his hand come to your lower back, pulling you into a kiss, and you instantly melt against him, feeling his lips on yours. His left hand joins his right on the small of your back, pulling you even closer against him. Before the kiss gets too heated, you feel his lips leaving yours.

“Wait, almost forgot.” You watch as Joel reaches into the back pocket of his Levi’s, pulling out a single key and holding it out to you. “a key cause…well, I know you mentioned your lease ending in a few weeks….and well, we've been together for a bit…. I was just thinking about you moving in. If you want. If you don’t, that’s fine. I mean, you can keep the key anyway and-“

You crack a faint smile hearing him ramble and you could tell he was nervous about asking you to move in, which was sweet. You had thought about it but assumed Joel had preferred his bachelor pad since Sarah moved into her dorm this past fall. You never thought he’d actually ask. you only mentioned your lease ending soon once on the phone. You didn’t imagine he’d remember, let alone offer you to move in.

“You want me to? Because I have a lot of shit, and Sarah just moved out. ” you smile a bit, seeing him laugh.

“it’s up to you, baby. No pressure, just offering. But half your shit is here anyway. You spend most nights here anyway, and I got half your wardrobe taking up room in my closet already.”

You nod, smiling, knowing he was 100% right. You’re still thinking about what to do when he speaks again.

“Sweetheart, I don’t need an answer right now. Relax. Just let me know, okay? My offer isn’t going anywhere.”

His deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts as he grabs your hand lightly, pulling you into his living room. You sit on the couch while he goes to the kitchen, grabbing the remote to find something to watch. A few minutes later, Joel hands you a glass filled with your favorite wine while he has a beer for himself. Moving his arm around your shoulder, he pulls closer to you, still thinking about his offer in the back of your mind.

[wanghyunjiin]

—movie night, bc.

pairing — bf!Chan x afab!reader

plot— Chris gets needy, and the movie can wait.

word count - 1.2k

content - teasing, oral (f receiving), facesitting, petnames (baby, princess)

warnings — sexual content, 18+ ONLY

Movie night was going about as well as you had thought it would.

You were in the kitchen making popcorn for the third time, your boyfriend still sprawled out on the couch. The first bowl had been devoured quickly, both of you opting to chow down on the salty snack rather than attempting to make dinner—which neither of you were very good at, so this seemed like the better idea—and the second had been flipped onto the floor when Chris fell victim to a jump scare.

You walked back into the room only to find he’d now gotten very comfortable and decided to take up the entire couch with his legs stretched out across the half you had previously been sitting on. You raised an eyebrow at the man in question, Chris now looking at you after hearing your footsteps.

“I’m glad you’re comfy, so where am I supposed to sit?” One hand resting on your hip, the other still holding the freshly popped snack.

Chris turned to lay flat on his back against the seat cushions, legs still taking up your seat. He laced his fingers behind his head and cocked an eyebrow, a small smirk now making an appearance.

“My face is pretty comfy, and this seat isn’t taken.”

He made a kissy face, and you couldn’t tell where the joke ended.

With a roll of your eyes, you walked over to the couch and tapped the side of his thigh with the back of your hand. “Very funny, move your legs so we can start the next movie.”

Sitting up now, Chris grabbed your wrist, stroking your soft skin in circles with his thumb.

“Who said I was joking?”

You froze for a second. Surely he didn’t-

Before you could finish that thought, Chris had pulled you towards him, sending the bowl of popcorn—that you still hadn’t set down for some reason—flying through the air. Now you were straddling his lap,  your hands resting on his shoulders to keep yourself upright while his had moved down to grip your waist.

“Chris! I’m not cleaning that up, you bette-“

He cut you off again, pressing his plush lips to yours firmly with a light chuckle. Thumbs now rubbing up and down over the soft skin of your hips, as his hands slid under your shirt, the warmth of them was always so comforting. Pulling you tighter against his chest, Chris deepened the kiss. His tongue trailed across your lower lip before biting it softly, earning a small moan from you. You brought your fingers up to card through his thick hair, pressing yourself against him.

Chris’ tongue pushed between your lips, taking dominance over your own. His hands slid down from your hips slowly, making their way around you and down over the soft curve of your ass. He squeezed firmly, moaning into your mouth at just how well he could feel the soft flesh through the thin sleep shorts you opted to wear—the ones that always leave him begging to fuck you—and lifted his right hand only to drop it back on your ass with a light smack.

Smirking against your mouth from the soft whimper he swallowed, Chris pulled his lips away from yours reluctantly. His eyes now dark, as they raked over your body hungrily.

“You liked that? You naughty girl.” He drawled, voice now even huskier, sending heat straight to your core.

You bit your lip, fighting the urge to quip back. Your fingers released their hold on his bleached locks and slid down over his shoulders to rest against his firm chest, curling around the soft fabric of his shirt. Rocking your hips lightly against him to relieve the ache in your core, you felt Chris growing hard beneath you, a groan parting his lips at the friction.

“Fuck baby, that feels so good…” He panted, his forehead resting against your shoulder for a moment before lifting and pressing his lips to the shell of your ear. “You wanna sit on my face, Princess? I haven’t tasted you in so long.”

Mind now clouded with lust, you nod eagerly. Eyes fixated on his now slightly swollen lips and the way his tongue poked out to drag across them, leaving them damp and glistening, your mind going straight into the gutter. You were lucky, one of Chris’ favourite things to do in bed was go down on you. He told you from the beginning that it turned him on so much just watching the way you writhed and begged for more, and you weren’t planning on turning it down any time soon.

Now with your approval, you were being pushed up towards your boyfriend’s face, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass as he brought your core to hover above him.

“You’re so wet for me baby… You soaked right through your shorts too.”

A soft chuckle escaped Chris’ lips as he dragged his nose along the damp patch between your thighs. You whimper in embarrassment at how needy you look and instinctively try to press your thighs together.

“Ah ah ahhh…” Chris tightens his grip on your thighs to hold them open for him “Don’t be shy Princess, do you want me to make you cum?”

“Y-yes, please…” You whispered, loud enough for him to just about hear you, and that was all Chris needed.

With two long, slender fingers, he pushed your shorts and panties to the side. His eyes take in your soaked pink lips hungrily, before licking a thick stripe up your slit, relishing in how sweet you tasted.

“Mmm, you taste so fucking good baby, and your pussy is so pretty.” He purrs, drinking in how fucked out you already look when he’s barely even touched you. You feel yourself getting even wetter—if it were possible—at the sight of your boyfriend under you, his plush lips already coated in your arousal.

His tongue is back against your pussy, now lapping at your swollen clit—sucking the sensitive bud between his lips—forcing a loud cry of pleasure to escape your parted lips in between heavy pants. You felt a finger join Chris’ tongue and drag through your folds, gathering your wetness to lubricate it before pushing inside you slowly.

“Shit- you’re so tight..” He mumbled, pulling his mouth away from you for a moment to take in the sight of his finger disappearing into your heat, another long digit joining the first after he felt you relax around it.

Bringing his mouth back to your sopping wet core, you felt his lips wrap around your sensitive bud once more—your eyes rolling back, and back arching with your fingers raked through his hair—as he sucked harshly, feeling you tighten around his fingers he knew you were close.

Curling his digits inside you, Chris flattened his tongue against your clit and shook his head from side to side. The new sensation brought up a familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach, whispered curses leaving your lips- repeating like a mantra as your orgasm built up.

With a final curl of his fingers brushing just the right spot inside you, your mouth opened in a silent scream of ecstasy, pleasure washing over you as your thighs trembled. You heard Chris moan deliciously, tasting your release coating his tongue, your essence drenching his lips and a small trail escaping the corner of his mouth.

He slowly pulled his fingers from you, a whimper leaving your lips at the sudden emptiness. Chris left a soft, wet kiss on your inner thigh before releasing you from his grip.

Panting softly, you looked around.

“Fuck, there’s popcorn everywhere.”

[forever1kay]

WASH DAY !!

Summary: Miles hasn’t had time to care for himself lately, so you take the time to do that for him.

Pairing: Miles Morales x Fem!Black!Reader (Best Friends to lovers trope)

Notes: I did age up Miles slightly in this fic, he’s 17. Please be prepared for a lousy description of facial and hair care, I’m not a professional and I only know what works for me. ALSO, there’s a picture at the very end and it’s not a faceless pic bc I couldn’t find one😔

Warnings: Non-sexual nudity, breaking and entering, Miles was very crusty for a lot of this fic, slander of Jehovah’s Witnesses, profanity of course, clueless Miles, mentions of death, a few nsfw lines… let me know if I forgot anything

You had just finished detangling your hair and were three seconds away from stepping into the shower when you heard a knock at the front door. You debated answering but ultimately decided against it when you realized it was probably the Jehovah’s Witnesses for the third time today.

Stepping into the shower, you hear a thud against the floor in the other room and all you can do is pause and hope you'll be okay. A few seconds later, the bathroom door opened and all you could do was scream and grab the shower curtain for cover.

"Oh Lord!" You scream as your legs give out and force you to sit on the shower floor. "Lord, help me! I'm being attacked!”

“It's just me, Y/n/n!" Miles shouted while frantically waving his hands. “To think you’d recognize your best friend when you see him.”

You stop thrashing and peak your head out from behind the shower curtain, staring up at Miles. “Hi there!”

"Hey," He says, stooping to your level on the other side of the tub. “That was an interesting show you just put on.”

"I was going through something.” You replied, clearing your throat, “When exactly did you get back to this dimension? You smell like booty juice.”

Miles stands up and shyly scratches the back of his neck. "Yeah, about that," he starts. "I just got back and I haven't had time to shower or anything."

“Seriously? You left a week ago!" You cried out while standing up but keeping your body hidden behind the curtain. "Why didn't you go back home and take a shower?"

“Forgot my key at my friend Hobie's.”

“Of course.” Grabbing your shampoo, you sighed and started to shampoo your hair. “I’ll tell you what…”

Miles nods, waiting for you to continue.

"I'll wash your hair after I wash mine. That sound good?”

Miles hums in approval.

“Good! Go shower in my sister’s bathroom.”

"I can't just come in there with you?" He asks.

“Miles, be for real.”

"Okay, okay!" He chuckles and raises his arms in surrender. “Do I still have clothes here?"

“Of course! With how often you’re here, it’d be weird if you didn’t.”

Miles hums. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“I’ll leave your clothes outside of the door when I’m done. If you finish before me, just sit tight. It won’t kill you.”

He smiles and gives you a sincere thank you before leaving to take a shower of his own. You unexpectedly finished before him, so you made the decision to leave clean clothes outside the bathroom door for when he’s done.

You did your after-wash routine and wrapped your hair while you waited.

About 20 minutes later, he came back from the restroom wearing the clean clothes you had left for him and threw himself onto your bedroom floor.

“You ran all my momma hot water, Miles?” You asked him.

“Nah, I left some.”

You chuckled and got up, walking towards your room door. “Okay, come on.”

“Where are we going?” He asked, following closely behind you.

“To wash your hair.” You said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

He raised an eyebrow. "How does that make sense when I just got out of the shower?"

Rolling your eyes, you grab a seat from the kitchen table. "You know how to stick your head in the sink."

"My neck gets hurt that way." Miles pouts and takes the chair from you, setting it in front of the sink.

“Everyone has that problem.” You respond, gently pushing him into the chair as you experiment with the water temperature then rush to the bathroom to get the shampoo, conditioner, and treatment.

When you come back, Miles is staring blankly at you.

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I don't want my hair to be washed in the sink."

“It's either this or you wash your own hair.” You tell him. He shakes his head. “You sure? If you want your hair to be crusty, it’s up to you.”

Miles shakes his head again and takes his shirt off before leaning back in the seat and closing his eyes, wordlessly agreeing to get his hair washed in the sink.

“Alright!” You smile, starting to wash his hair.

Your arms eventually became worn out, and you briefly complained about it before choosing to sit on him.

He awkwardly cleared his throat. "What are you doing?"

"This lessens the stress on my arms."

“Oh.” He nods. "Yes, right. Okay, great. Cool.”

He suddenly started to draw shapes in your thighs with his eyes closed. You did your best to stay calm.

"How was your week?" He asked, his words starting to slur from fatigue.

“So good.”

“Yeah?” He challenged. "Tell me more about it."

Miles had stopped running his hands along your legs, but you were too busy telling him about your week-long college tour at UCF to notice.

You saw he had fallen asleep and was somewhat drooling when you reached up to rinse his hair. Before the moment was over, you immediately dried your hands and took a picture of him. After that, you washed his hair once more, rinsed it, and then used your preferred conditioner.

As soon as you were done, you cleaned your hands and tried to wake up Miles.

"Pssst,” You whispered, "I'm finished.”

"Five more minutes.” He said with his eyes still closed, gently pushing your face away.

“No, Miles.” You responded, "Come on.”

After hearing him snore in response, you reached for the sink faucet and extended it in his direction.

His eyes shot open before you could turn on the water, and he grabbed your wrist. “Alright! I’m up, I’m up.”

You pat his face and rise, placing the faucet in its proper place. “Good! Now stand up.”

“Where are we going?”

You place an oversized cotton towel on his head, grabbing his hand and pulling him behind you. “To the sofa so I can do your hair.”

“Do what to it exactly?” Miles asks, following behind you with your hand still in his.

You shrug as you sit on the sofa and set a pillow on the floor for Miles to sit on. “No idea. You have something in mind?”

Miles squishes into a comfy position between your legs. "Actually, yeah."

And after 45 minutes of Miles being tender-headed from his first set of braids, you finished.

"Calm down, you ass." You scolded. "We're finished. Go look at it.”

Miles went to look at his hair in the bathroom before excitedly running back to you and lifting you up.

"I love it!" He shouted, spinning y’all around. “How did you learn to braid like this? Thank you!”

When he became too dizzy and lost his balance, you squealed while wrapping your legs around his waist. Your back almost hit the floor, but Miles saved you by flipping over last minute.

"My bad…" He said apologetically.

After a few hours, your family came home and found you and miles sleeping on the couch. They asked you both to get up and move so that you wouldn't take up space.

You took this moment to your parents if he could stay the night and they pointed at the air mattress that you’d have to inflate for him.

About time the air mattress was inflated and the both of you laid down in your respective beds, neither of you were tired anymore.

“Miles.” You whispered.

“Y/n?” He replied.

"Wanna do a thing?” You asked, wiggling your eyebrows.

He sat up. “What thing?”

“Let me give you a facial.” You spoke, rolling over to face his bed.

Miles raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't the boy give the girl-"

You threw a pillow at him. "Nigga, not that kind of facial!"

He caught the pillow and threw it back, hitting your shiny ass forehead with it. “Then what are you talking about?”

You got up and walked toward him, reaching your hands out for his. “Cmonnnn, just trust me.”

Miles sighed and rolled his eyes, taking your hand. “Fine.”

He is then dragged into the bathroom where you force him to wash his face while you get all the supplies. Once he has finished cleaning his face, you lead him back into your room and give him a durag.

Miles sits on your bed, puts on the durag, and sends a worried glance your way.

“Don’t worry, I got this!” You reassure him, sensing his apprehension. “Now lay down.”

“Okay, okay.”

You straddle Miles when he lies down on your bed, pausing for a second before you do anything else.

“I would just like to let you know that i am not a professional and I have absolutely no clue what I’m doing.”

Miles smiles up at you. “It’s fine.”

You return his smile before picking up an under-eye mask for eye bags.

“What’s that?” He asks.

“An eye mask.” You reply.

“Where does it go?” He asks dumbly.

“Right under your eyes.” You chuckle. “Close them.”

As instructed, Miles closes his eyes. You place the eye mask under his eyes and then take the jade roller and massage the eye masks against his face.

After some time had passed, you threw the eye mask in the garbage next to your bed.

“Okay, you can open your eyes.”

Miles started to sit up. “We’re done? Already?”

“No, Miles.”

He laid back down.

“You can keep your eyes open for this one.” You told him, grabbing the lip scrub.

“What’s that one?”

“Lip scrub.” You tell him.

You take a scrub brush and generously cover it with lip scrub before placing it on Miles' lips and gently massaging it in. He stared up at the concentrated expression on your face.

About thirty seconds later, you went to get a damp towel to remove the lip scrub, but Miles beat you to it.

“This tastes good.”

“Miles no! Don’t eat it, the packaging says you could die!”

Miles gasps and shoots up, snatching the lip scrub container and knocking you to the floor in the process.

“Show me where it says that!”

“It doesn’t, I was just kidding.” You huff. “But now I should kill you myself for almost killing me.”

He shrugs. “It’s not my fault you told me I was going to have a premature teenage death.”

You roll your eyes and grab the warm rag, climbing back onto your bed. “Anyways, you can lay your head in my lap and I’ll finish this.”

Miles quickly lays down on your lap and looks up at you.

His lips are effectively damp after you wipe away the last of the lip scrub for you to be able to apply the desired lip serum. You apply a small amount, then rub it in. With a lovesick smile on his face, Miles looks up at you.

You raise an eyebrow.

“You’re so pretty.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“What?!” He counters. “I-I don’t know.”

You sigh and shake your head, applying a lip mask, then a jelly face mask, then facial serum, and lastly moisturizer on his skin.

By that point, Miles' eyes were closed, and you were unsure of whether he was asleep or not.

“Miles?” You speak softly.

“Yeah?”

“I’m all done, love.”

“Can we do another one?”

“No, sir. We cannot.”

“But I feel so relaxed.”

“We can go to sleep if you want?”

“No, let’s watch a movie.”

“Yes! I’ll go grab snacks.”

Ignoring the puzzled stares from your family, you run to the pantry to grab some snacks before returning to Miles, who had already decided on the movie.

“What did you pick?” You ask, setting the snacks down carefully onto the bed.

“Howl’s Moving Castle.” He replies, pulling out his phone and sitting at the foot of the bed. “Say cheese!”

While chuckling a little at Miles, you smile towards the camera while holding the straw's tip in your mouth.

“What are you laughing at, huh?”

“You’re adorable, Miles.”

“Thanks, I try.”

As the movie begins, you roll your eyes and set the drink down.

About halfway through the movie, Miles moves closer to you and lies in your lap, staring up at you.

You frown down at him. “You okay, Miles?”

“Yeah.” He replies, smiling a little before starting to watch the movie again.

About five minutes later, he breaks his silence by bringing up the facial you gave him earlier.

“You know, you should really try some of the lip scrub.”

“I will not eat the lip scrub that I paid money for.” You tell him, “So unless you have another way, then I won’t-“

Miles reaches out and pulls your face to his in the classic Spider-Man kiss, holding you there as long as you let him.

Six seconds later, you pull away from Miles and give him a confused look.

“I’m totally not complaining, but what was that for?”

Miles closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before looking back up at you. “I like you a lot, Y/n…”

“So your mom wasn’t trying to trick me?”

“SHE TOLD YOU I LIKE YOU?!”

“Yeah?”

“Ignore her from now on.”

“I did, that’s why we’re having this moment so late.”

“Does that mean you like me too?”

“Mhm.”

Miles smiles awkwardly. “Cool.”

You give him a pat on the cheek and resume watching the film.

He breaks the silence again a little while later.

“…That lip scrub tasted good, didn’t it?”

You giggle and peck his lips again. Before the movie was over, you both had fallen asleep.

BONUS:

The following morning when you woke up before Miles, you checked your Instagram and found a surprise waiting for you.

© forever1kay 2023 - please don’t translate, convert, copy, paraphrase, repost, or alter any of my works without my permission.

[quin-ns]

hey ! may i request some fluff with ethan landry where he thinks she’s asleep so he whispers i love you to her but she was actually awake? (can either be established relationship or not) you can decide how she reacts :))

im so glad i found your blog because you write for many of the things that i like and it honestly felt like i hit jackpot seeing your masterlist. feel free to turn down this request/change it up !!hope u are having a good day/night <3

aw well I’m happy you found me! ���

writing this as a quick drabble/ficlet bc I like the idea but can’t think of a whole fic lol- enjoy!

Whispers (Ethan Landry x Reader)

You weren’t going to the party at first, but all of your friends were going and you didn’t wanna feel left out.

Getting drunk wasn’t exactly the plan either. However, you were already getting your ass kicked by classes and you wanted to let loose.

Your friends encouraged you as they did the same, all of you keeping an eye on each other.

Except, you got a bit too far ahead and ended up having to leave your friends Tara and Mindy behind on the dance floor (aka, the frat house living room floor). You ended up on a couch nearby and closed your eyes, trying to zone out and not focus on the headache-inducing music.

Did it have to be so loud?

You felt someone sit down next to you and you heard a familiar voice ask you a question.

“You alright?”

You didn’t have to look to know it was your friend Ethan. You could tell his voice anywhere, the two of you were pretty close. You and Ethan liked a lot of the same stuff and it was easy to talk to him about pretty much anything.

You met him a while ago and coincidentally, his roommate was the brother to your friend Mindy. You all ended up hanging out in a group after realizing that.

“A little too drunk,” you admitted, your head lolling to the side. You opened yours eyes and found him watching you curiously. “And very tired.”

“If you’re tired I can walk you back to your place.”

You made a noise of disapproval.

“It’s so far off campus, I’d rather just sleep here.”

Sinking into the couch felt like a really good idea.

“My dorm isn’t that far,” Ethan suggested with a shy smile. “Chad won’t care and it’s a weekend so you don’t gotta worry about class.”

You did take him up on that offer.

“You’re so sweet,” you told him as the two of you entered his apartment. You laughed to yourself, feeling quite lightheaded. “And cute.”

Ethan smiled at that. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, but it’s a secret, so shhh,” you told him. You had a pretty huge crush on him, but you’d tried to keep it under wraps in order to maintain your friendship. But your words were coming out before you could stop them.

God, you were tired.

“Well, you’re pretty cute too,” Ethan said, then quickly changed topics when you didn’t respond right away. “You can take my bed, I’ll crash in the chair.”

He pointed towards a sad little beat up recliner.

You snorted. “No way, we can share.”

Ethan and Chad didn’t have bunk beds, so it was easy to kick off your shoes and climb into his bed. Another day you might’ve been more graceful, but it looked so comfortable and you couldn’t resist. Ethan did the same, not even changing into pajamas.

The two of you laid side by side and you tried to bite back a smile at the thought of being in bed with Ethan.

You rolled to the side, facing the wall, and closed your eyes. You were insanely exhausted and drunk, and really, really wanted to sleep.

“Goodnight, Ethan,” you mumbled to him. “And thanks for this.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he responded. There was a moment of silence where you thought he was going to say more, but he didn’t. Instead, he just said, “Goodnight.”

You started to drift off to sleep, getting comfortable. Maybe ten minutes passed and you should’ve been asleep, but you weren’t.

“Are you awake?” Ethan asked softly.

You were right on the edge of falling asleep finally and you knew if you started talking, that would never happen. Whatever he had to say, you two could talk about it tomorrow.

“I guess you are asleep… and now I’m just talking to myself.” Ethan laughed a little and you tried not to smile. “That’s okay, you need sleep. I just wanted to say… I’m glad you trust me and that I can be here for you. I like being your friend, and I—I like you, y’know?”

It was quiet for a long moment. Your breathing remained steady and you thought maybe he’d closed his eyes and drifted off.

Instead, he rolled onto his side and wrapped an arm over your body.

“I really like you, actually. Like I lot… as more than just a friend,” Ethan continued in a whisper. You could feel his heart racing against your back and you tried to not let on that you were awake. “Maybe even love you, but that’s crazy, right? We’re not even dating and I think I’m in love with you…

You really wanted to open your eyes, but you didn’t want to embarrass him. He’d just poured his heart out, it didn’t seem like the right move to surprise him.

“I’ll tell you for real someday, if I can ever get the courage to ask you out.”

You hoped that was a promise that Ethan could keep. You liked him too—a lot—and hopefully that day he’d ask you out would come soon. You really wanted to see how things would go because you had a feeling that you could be in love him too.

[romana-after-dark]

Finish the Job

Yandere!Jake Lockley x GN!reader

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Summary: After months living in a room with only Jake, Steven and Marc as company, you can't say you aren't content most of the time. Sometimes, however you make a little trouble and Jake reminds you that he is the only one who can keep you safe.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Yandere!Jake. Reader is kidnapped. Implied/referenced rape (reader 'never said no' according to jake, but rather just gave in after an unclosed amount of time bc they were lonely/manipulated. The circumstances of this are v vague but remember, if you feel like you have to, its not consent.) Jake Lockley typical violence. Referenced past abuse.

A/N: I began writing this fem reader, as most of my fics are since I am fem, but I realized there was no reason this couldn't be gender neutral. So, that's what it is. If I missed changing anything that makes it seem like reader is fem presenting, lmk and I'll edit it but I looked through this several times.

*************************

You couldn’t say the bed was uncomfortable. You couldn’t say the room was bland or boring. You couldn’t say you had nothing to do. It was a great room, actually. If you were being honest, you loved it here…

The problem was you couldn’t leave. When the man had taken you, it took a while to figure out what was going on with him; it was Steven that explained it, the DID. Honestly, maybe the mental disorder should have scared you more, but you were well versed in different disorders so it wasn’t something that phased you, rather than just made it a challenge to navigate your situation. You were given book after book after book to read, to entertain you when outside of Marc Steven and Jake’s company; it didn't matter how many you went through, you just had them. If you were feeling brave, you made requests but honestly after the boredom of the first month while you were still fighting it, you took what you could get. You were even given a laptop, although it couldn’t possibly connect to the internet, but you were writing. They didn’t even make you show them what you wrote, but Steven would often sit on the bed while you read to him your poems or short stories. You were saving your novel for when it’s finished.

Some days were better than others. 

Some days you and Steven talked for hours.

Some days you and Marc marathonned Star Wars.

Some days Jake held you so warm and so tightly you forgot they kidnapped you.

Today was not one of those days.

You were angry, you were upset, you missed your friends and you missed the outside, you wanted fresh air and you didn’t want to spread your legs for a man that took you away from everything you knew and wanted. 

“Why are you giving me so much fucking attitude today?!” Jake shouts at you, pacing the floor of your room so aggressively he had your throw rug all twisted up.

You were sat up on your bed, shouting back. “You KIDNAPPED ME, you HURT ME you RAPE ME-”

“CALLATE!” He screamed, storming towards you so fast you flinch and scramble back to the wall. “You know I don’t like when you call it that!”

A sardonic laugh. “What? Rape?”

“I never forced you! I never held you down! I never got you too drunk or high to resist-”

“YOU TOOK ME AWAY FROM EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE, WHAT OTHER OPTION DID I HAVE!”

His face is suddenly right up to yours, so close your nose brushed his briefly as he speaks in a dark, quiet voice. “I never heard you say no, mi vida”

He was right. You hadn’t. But they had worn you down, twisted your mind so much that eventually you just began… giving in.

He continued talking, his voice rumbling with the low octive “I only hurt you in the beginning, carino. Just until you began to listen. You needed it, didn’t you? Someone to take you away from everything, take care of you, feed you. Baby, we adore you, and it hurts us when you fight like this.”

Your eyes wheeled up with tears at his words. It’s true, you had become so dependent on them… you weren’t sure you could even shower alone anymore. You’d be lucky if you remembered how to toast bread. Sickeningly, a part of you liked it. You liked he cared for, pampered, adored, and fuck, worshiped. You had time to write, time to listen to music and podcasts. If you need to look up something for a book or research something from a podcast that interested you, you just asked, and the boys would monitor you. You didn’t really need anything except some goddamn freedom. What was that they said in The Handmaid’s Tale? There’s freedom too, and freedom from… They offered you freedom from, and made that clear.

“The world is dangerous, precioso. You know that as well as I do… perhaps better.” With a cocked eyebrow, Jake referenced your past trauma’s, forcing the tears to spill over. “You are too precious, too perfect to be put at risk again. Your family didn’t protect you, but I will.”

Still, you are ever-defiant, shaking your head. “N-no… you aren’t protecting me. You’re hurting me…” but even then, you couldn’t manage much conviction. You hadn’t so much as burned your tongue since Steven, Marc, and Jake took you, and he was right… the rest was just discipline. 

Jake frowned, but simple stood up. He went over to your desk, taking out a Glee notepad he’d found on ebay for you and a pen, tossing them in your direction.

“Write them down, all the names.”

You look at him confused. “W-what names?”

He stalked forward, once again close to you.

“Give me the full name of anyone who has ever hurt you or touched you without your consent.” His gaze was focused, intense. You knew he was on a mission when he looked at you like that.

“I don’t… I don’t know all their full names…”

“If you have workplace addresses, any identifying information that’s helpful. I promise you, I’ll take whatever you give me and I will find them. Every single person who has ever caused you pain.”

“What are you going to do?” You didn’t really need to ask, but you did anyway.

“You and I both know. Now write.”

The list was long, longer than any one person’s list should be. A few, you only remembered their first name so you wrote down what you knew… Jake had his ways. Still, you had some cheek in you, and when Jake looked at the paper, he frowned.

“What the fuck is this.” He smacked the paper with his hand. After the list of people who had violated or harmed you before you came here, were three names Jake recognized right away.

Jake Lockley

Steven Grant

Marc Spector

“You told me to write the names of anyone who hurt me or touched me without-” SMACK! Your head flung to the side from the backhand, and when your turned back to face him, his hand gripped your throat.

“You think this is funny, carino?” His face pressed against yours. “How do you think Marc would feel if he saw his name on that list?”

Your lip quivered at that… you didn’t want Marc to see. Marc was special to you, and Jake knew it; he often exploited your relationship with his alter for his own benefit.

“I’m sorry” You cried, apologetic.

His grip on you loosened, and he looked back at you with sympathetic eyes. Letting go, he tore the bottom three names off the paper and tucked the offenders into his pocket. “I know you are, amor. Now, you sit here pretty, and don’t worry about a damn thing for the rest of your life, si?”

It took about a month. He never left you for more than one day at a time, but he always made sure you had food and were provided for, even giving you access to the bathroom. You didn’t dare even look for an exit; they wouldn’t have left anything vulnerable, and you were on camera, you knew. It would just cause trouble.

It was after one of those such nights where you were alone that he came back to you, still somehow looking put together after being out all night. You knew he hadn’t slept. You awake to his footsteps, heavy boots on your polished hard wood floor. As you stir, a piece of paper is placed on your pillow.

Sitting up you rub your eyes. “Jake, what’s- ” But you are stopped in the middle of your sentence. Every single name is crossed out on the list you had given him. “Does… does what mean they are dead?”

He steps forward, slipping to stand between your knees and bedding over, placing his hands on your thighs. His face was intensely close to yours, dark eyes piercing yours. You lean forward, accepting him in, existing in his precise. Jake did this for you. You were safe here, none of these people could hurt you… but because they had, whether months ago or decades, it didn’t matter. They were dead because they had crossed you, because they had dared to touch what Jake Lockley laid claim to. Jake, Marc and Steven… they were where you belonged.

 “Jake Lockley finishes the job.”

**************

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @howaboutcastiel @the-fox-den @fandxmslxt69

[iheartjameshetfield]

I WROTE THAT REQUEST ABOUT JAMES EATING PUSSY AND NOW I’M THINKING OF BEING HIGHSCHOOL SWEETHEARTS WITH HIM

like, imagine you’re both doing homework or studying or wtv, you’re parents are gone and you two end up making out, which leads to him having a boner cause he keeps thinking about THAT

and he’s super embarrased bc it has never happened before and ends up in being THE first time 😝‼️

ugh like come on man be my first bf please ☹️

AHH NO CUZ THE SECOND YOUR PARENTS WOULD LEAVE, HE WOULD BE ALLLL OVER YOU

he’d be so fucking cute as he presses kisses all over your face, telling you you’re so smart n pretty and how you’re gonna ace your exams and shit. after thanking him and returning a few kisses, you eventually tell him that you both have to get back to studying, which makes him groan in annoyance but he listens to you.

you were trying to help him memorize but he couldn’t care less about studying, so you made a compromise; whenever he answers a question right, you’ll kiss him. that quickly brought his attention forward, suddenly being able to answer everything with almost no hesitation.

when he answered the lengthy question, the one that he found most difficult, you were so happy, practically jumping on top of him to smother him with kisses while you tell him you’re so proud of him, making him laugh.

you feel something against your lower stomach, and when you shuffle on top of james to see what was pokin you, james let’s out a guttural moan, causing you both to snap your heads and face each other.

“shit, i’m sorry.” his face turns red as you get off of him, he looks at anywhere but you, embarrassed since this was the first time you caught him with a boner.

you were perched on your knees in front of him while he had himself rested on his arms, sitting up and not knowing what to do in a situation like this.

“does it hurt?” you whisper after a moment, your voice barely audible as you ask your question, worried that he might laugh at you.

instead, he shrugs and then nods. “a little.”

you feel your cheeks getting hotter as he keeps gazing at you, almost seeing what thoughts are going through his head. experimentally, you bring your hand towards him, placing it on his front before giving it a soft squeeze.

“is this okay?” you ask just to be sure.

“yes. yes more than okay.” he eagerly reassures you, watching you make your move.

you start to palm him, enjoying the faces and the little panting he was making. you had never gone this far before. the most you both had done was just making out, maybe james would rest his hand between your lower back and ass since he was a little shy, but this was new for the both of you.

the wetness in between your legs had started to become too much to ignore. “do you wanna…?” you shyly mumble, hoping he’d get the hint.

you sigh of relief when he nods excitedly, immediately leaning forward to take your lips into a kiss. without disconnecting the kiss, you both shimmied back so you would be resting against the pillows and he would be on top of you.

you tug on his shirt, which makes him quickly discard it somewhere on your bedroom floor, along with his jeans. he helps you get out of your pants and shirt, but he doesn’t get the chance to admire you when you put your arm around yourself, feeling super exposed.

“we don’t have to if you don’t want to.” he reminds you.

“no i want to.” you take a deep breath and then sit up, unhooking your bra and tossing it next to the other discarded clothing items. you frown at the sight of your panties, wishing you were wearing something sexier other than a purple one with a navy blue bow and lace on the hem, but it was too late to change.

“you’re so beautiful.” james sucks in a deep breath as he takes in the sight of you and all your naked glory. he leans down to connect your lips in a sloppy kiss, kissing down your jaw, neck, and eventually your breasts.

he takes off your underwear, rubbing the sides of your upper thighs when you’re finally fully undressed. he strokes himself a couple of times before lining his tip with your heat.

“you ready?” he asks and you confirm by nodding your head, bracing your arms on his shoulders. he slowly inserts himself inside of you, wincing at the faces your making. you feel him stretching you out, more pain then pleasure but when he starts to kiss your cheeks and lips, the pain sort of fades away.

“tell me when i can move.” he says wanting you to take your time. when most of the pain settles, you nod your head, giving him the okay to start moving. he starts to thrust inside of you, the pace slow, speeding up only when you’re okay with it.

“you’re so tight.” he shuts his eyes, eyebrows fusing together as his mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, letting out a breathy moan. “feels so good.” he whimpers

he starts to hit that sweet spot inside of you, making you squirm and clench around him repeatedly. his head drops against you shoulder, biting his lips to keep him from screaming, but you can still hear his sweet moans and cries.

“james, i think i’m gonna…oh god.” you cry as you orgasm, clenching around james as he stills inside of you when you try to close your legs.

with the new added slick between your legs from your cum and the faces and pretty little moans, this tipped james over the edge, cumming along with you as he mutters curse words under his breath. once you both settle down, he pulls out of you, making you wince from the sudden emptiness.

“are you okay?” he asks, swiping away the hair that got stuck to your forehead so he could place a kiss.

“uh huh,” is all you could mutter, snuggling close to his chest. “are you?”

“never been better.” he beams, loving the feeling of you being settled against him.

tell me why i wrote a whole ass novel??

[danikamariewrites]

hello. Could you write Dorian and reader, when she has a cat that doesn't like Dorian very much because the cat wants to have reader for himself and doesn't want to share her with Dorian? And Dorian and the cat always argue?

A/n: he would be so petty with the cat LMAO

You’d bring home this black cat with big yellow eyes you found wandering Rifthold one afternoon

It was still just a kitten and you couldn’t leave it on the streets

So you brought him home, had him checked out, and bathed him

He was oddly calm for a cat (especially when it came to a bath)

You wanted to make sure he had a name before Dorain came back from his meetings and other kingly duties that day

Dorian couldn’t make you get rid of the cat if it had a name

After an hour of throwing out names he finally meowed at Echo

It was official, Echo was your sweet baby boy and Dorian couldn’t take him from you

When Dorian came back to your quarters he was shocked to see you rolling around on the floor with your new friend

“I named him already so we have to keep him!” You got out quickly

Dorian saw how happy Echo made you and he’d rather die than see you upset

He decided to embrace the fact that he was now a cat dad

But Echo wasn’t a fan of Dorian

Obviously he loved you bc you brought him home and took care of him

Echo seemed to want all of your attention and didn’t want you with Dorian at all

At first Dorian thought it was just odd animal behavior

Echo would chase him out of the bedroom in the morning and sit by your head so Dorian couldn’t kiss you goodbye

He always batted Dorians hand away from your face, he always watched Dorian when they were alone. Hell the cat even interrupted the start of some fun and left Dorian with blue balls bc you were distracted

One afternoon when Dorian came back to get you for lunch he saw you were gone

Echo perched on an armchair like he was a person staring daggers at the King

“Ok you,” he stomped over and sat in the other arm chair, “we need to have a talk. I like you but you don’t like me. I know you like her attention. It’s the best. But I need attention too. What you did last night was so uncool.”

You overheard the one sided conversation from the bathroom and didn’t dare interrupt

After that day Echo was tolerant of Dorian

He would greet him instead of chasing him out

And interrupted less

Echo was also less pissy with Dorian and vice versa but if he didn’t like something Dorian did he wouldn’t hesitate to scratch

[juggalomary]

did yall miss me. i hope you did bc im returning with a bang. anyways here’s this. warnings: mcd, child abuse. up on ao3 within a few days

A new day, a new disaster, that’s what soap would say. He was always an optimist. Never heard saying anything about how they were likely going to die on suicide missions. Even though it was so valiantly obvious. He has to be watching from his overwatch position right now.

Ghost was glad to have him on his 6. They’d been switching places more often, soap on overwatch and sniping the people trying to end his life. He never called out to him about these people. Sometimes they’d just end up dead.

He always knows it was soap though, who else could do that so accurately. Soap was the best of the best. He’s not going to let ghost die. He’s not that selfish, never was.

Soap was the best of the best, most morally sound. He held his religion above many temptations. Infil was filled with chatter most of the time, except for soap, running his thumb over rosaries and whispering to a power long forgotten by the other men.

Exfil, a shell shocked soap would sit silently, or wail for not his mother, or ghost, but for someone, god maybe, to end his suffering. He was already going to hell, that’s what a priest told him at 15. He confessed and was told his punishment.

Never repeating that confession to anyone else, in fear of rejection. At 16 he carried his older cousin's casket in between the pews of that same church. He got home and told to man up. He turned 17 and enlisted.

That led to right now, soap covering his 6 and ghost shouting for help. A bullet lodged into his spine, blood gushing from the wound. His screams would’ve revealed his position if he cared anymore. There was no way he would get out of this. He just needed to get to a position he could radio to exfil from.

The enemy must’ve heard his screaming for Johnny, there was no response from soaps end. He must’ve been comprised.

The thundering footsteps we’re getting louder needed to move.

He pulled his hands above his head, chin resting on the ground. Looking up from under his eyebrows he saw about 20 meters until cover.

Pushing his arm to unbend he grabbed for purchase on the grass. He needed to pull himself forward to get to cover. His legs proving useless he grabbed a handful of grass and pulls. It rips.

He keeps trying to pull himself forward, but with every futile grasp comes a handfull of dirt and roots. The footsteps grow louder. He can’t die like this.

He screams in pain and frustration. Johnny is comprised, he’s comprised. It’s a solo mission, he needs to call exfil there’s no price here to scoop his useless self off the floor. He could cry. He won’t cry.

He grabbed a rock and pulled himself forward a foot. That’s okay, he’ll to cover soon. He’ll stay awake, he’ll stay strong. He will not cry.

Another idea comes to mind. He pulls 2 knives from his kit and stabs one into the dirt to use as a sort of handle.

One foot at a time he drags himself to the tree line. Sitting up to access his radio he leans on a tree.

He calls laswell. He needs exfil. He needs to leave. He’s losing blood, but he can’t feel it, he’ll pull through.

His eggs were twisted in horrible ways, he didn’t feel that pain, but he also couldn’t move them. He’ll be okay, he can just rest his eyes for a few minutes. His eyes were far to tired.

Nothing from soap. Nothing from laswell, there’s no point in staying awake, he’ll wake up to the radio transmission.

His eyes fall open again.

“-nom, SIMON! COME IN!” A young woman was on the other side of his radio.

“Mom? Mom I’m scared, I don’t want you to leave me here with him again.” It seemed he was crying.

“Simon who’s there, I’m coming, we need to know where you are.”

“Mommy I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I’m in the woods mom. Please don’t let him find me. He had a bat mom.” Drearily weeping through the radio was not something that elete SAS lieutenants do. But his mom was back, he missed her so much.

She tried her damn best, especially since he was stuck with his bummy ass father. She tended to his wounds whenever she was sober. She took beatings for him when he was too young to know he’s a man and he should be taking it. She wiped his tears whenever he came crying. Somehow it wasn’t enough.

He still had his tooth knocked out, he still was given drugs before he realized what they were. He still had to see that sex worker die. He still has to kiss that snake.

Haven forgotten about that snake until right now the hissing in his ear was not of any relief. It should’ve, it would mean his radio was working. His hands were too heavy to really hit the button to turn it on though.

Tears were not allowed though. The snake was in his ear, not biting his lip, his mom was talking to him. And Johnny would be back soon.

“Ghost, Simon, do you copy.”

“Mom I’m not alone anymore”

Crunching could he heard, a dark figure approaching him. He had a pistol. He shot the gun, but the bullet shot right next to his ear. He let himself relax, foolishly.

The man in front of him was his father, but his face was skewed. One part of it was his father, and the other half was of price. The side with price reached out and told him to calm down and stay awake. Then price was gone and it was just his father.

He was screaming, not Simon, Simon would recognize who was screaming and it wasn’t himself. A blow landed on his head, he saw it but didn’t feel it. His father was standing there, his mouth was moving but he wasn’t saying anything. Then he hissed like a snake. Mouth open he saw the snake that bit him all those years ago, he started screaming for real this time.

The snaked closed is mouth and then said something in Spainish. This man was none other than a cackling manual roba. Scalpel in one hand he laughed. The scar on his ribs flared up as he was called every insult under the sun. He was told to not fear as, it would feel so nice soon.

Turning his head out of the grasp roba has on his face he was met with Vernon’s rotting skeletal face. There was dirt in his eyes, ears, mouth, nose. He was buried.

“GHOST!”

“Mom? Save me.”

“Ghost who’s with you right now.”

He opens his eyes, praying he can see at the end of this all. Scratched corneas would end his career, and his career is all that he had left.

In front of him, soap was sitting, thumbing his rosaries and mumbling a prayer. Without greeting he looks up. “Simon, I’ve missed you.”

“Ghost. I repeat, who is with you?”

“Johnny. Bye mommy, I’ll see you soon.”

With his final goodbye to the only person to truly love him, he can rest.

“Simon, I loved you too.” A Scottish lilt was the last thing he heard before the world went silent. He laid his head on the tree and closed his eyes. He hoped that Johnny was in the next 7 minutes. And price and Gaz. Maybe he can finally see them again too. Laswell will join them at some point. Then they can meet her wife. Maybe she’ll have kids after retirement.

He hoped he was happy.

-

Ghost was found 2 days later. Soaps rosary in his pocket and tear tracks running down his face wiping off the eye black.

Task force 141 was together, earthly and in spirit. Buried in the national cemetery one next to the other.

[mairitess]

ebbs and flows pt. 1 // jaya

a/n: i wrote this bc i got back into ninjago and i needed to write something for them bc i'm not caught up enough to be able to read the current fics + also on ao3 in capital letters

words: 1.5k

tags: angst, fluff, post-skybound, post s10 ninjago: masters of spinjitzu, jaya, no beta we die like kings, they r so traumatized after nadakhan, minor violence mentions from skybound, kiss kiss rated t just in case

preview:

she might’ve missed it, if she weren’t so keyed up already. “you’re my yang, nya.”

memory was clever in a cruel way. sometimes nya practically forgot what she and jay had endured, had survived. other times, though it had been years since, nadakhan’s grip was still around her wrist. memory was kind when it ebbed, cruel when it flowed. and the master of water, unfortunately, was far too familiar with ebbs and flows.

it started when she and jay were on a date downtown, a rare luxury given their line of work. they’d compulsively started window shopping, ducking into quirky stores, stealing kisses in the alleyways between. ninjago city hadn’t been quiet in so long.

“has this shop always been here?” jay asked, pointing at the large antiques sign hanging from the side of the building. “i feel like we’re always around here. why haven’t i seen it?”

nya smirked and nodded towards the restaurant next door. “maybe because you’ve been too focused on downing chen’s hand-pulled noodles to pay attention to anything else around here.”

“hey!” jay reached for her in fun, and nya twisted away, bolting to the antiques store. her laughter echoed down the street, and jay’s breath caught in his throat. no one laughed as brightly, as freely as her. his soft smile grew. no one made her laugh as brightly, as freely as him.

he was grinning wildly when he walked into the shop, nya waiting for him inside. “what?”

jay enveloped her into a hug, his arms snug around her. “i love you.”

“i love you too, jay. now look around with me! i wanna see if there’s anything interesting.” jay caught a quick kiss before pulling away, and nya’s cheeks were warm as they wandered through the store, hand in hand.

—

she saw the lamp first — not the same one, but far too close for comfort. it was rusted and dented like it had been thrown around in the wash, but the lamp’s handle curved at the bottom, whereas nadakhan’s stayed flush to the rest of the body. still, nya froze.

“nya? did you find anything?”

jay’s voice felt so distant and hazy, as if she was hearing him underwater. “honey?”

she felt his hands on either side of her face, and nya realized he was standing right in front of her. “you’re crying, nya.” he leaned in closer to look at her more directly as he wiped the tears from her cheeks. “what’s wrong?”

he followed her gaze to the shelf behind him, to the lamp sitting all on its lonesome. jay sighed then turned back to nya, resting his forehead against hers.

“look at me, nya.”

she felt like she was ripping her vigilance away as she did.

“that’s not his, i promise. and neither of us are going to touch it. we’re safe, okay? he’s gone.” 

nya didn’t remember leaving the antiques shop, or going home, or anything else that happened between seeing the lamp and ending up in jay’s bed. she was spooned against him, so jay couldn’t see she was keeping her eyes open for as long as she could — every time she blinked, she saw nadakhan and that lamp. she could feel herself dying in jay’s arms again, on the floor of nadakhan’s stolen makeshift palace. she could feel her last words trying to snake their way out, but her energy draining before jay could hear them.

jay’s arms tightened around her waist, and she jerked away from them, tearing out from his grasp. she turned, and he was staring at her, worry lines stretching across his forehead.

“do you want to talk about it?” he asked. nya was quiet, though she cuddled closer to fit her head under his chin. jay slowed his breathing, taking deeper breaths in and out — he hoped she’d match him, even if subconsciously.

he was starting to fall asleep when he heard her mumble into his chest. “you couldn’t say his name.”

—

everyone else knew about nadakhan from the murals on the wall in the courtyard, but they would never remember him, especially not the way jay and nya did. but honestly, that made it somewhat easier for nya. she could pretend everything was okay with them.

but jay was there. and it felt so careless and insensitive for him to pretend, too, when he was with her. a small part of her knew it wasn’t fair to be upset at him for that — while she was dying, he watched, and maybe that was worse. but still.

nya hadn’t spoken to jay when they were alone in days. she still came to his bed each night, but they would lie in silence, and every evening she would get further and further away from him in sleep. at this point, they were on opposite sides of the bed, and her back was to him. if he just reached out, he could hold her, but he was scared she’d jerk away again if he did, and that would hurt more than anything before. when they woke up each morning, he’d ask her if she wanted to talk about it. she’d stay silent, though sometimes she’d shake her head. then jay would say he’d talk about it whenever she was ready. it was their new routine.

she started to have nightmares the day after they’d first seen the lamp. he tried to hold her close, whisper “i love you” to her over and over again as she shook and sobbed, but she’d end up pushing him away as soon as she got up. one night, he tried not touching her at all, and her nightmare subsided easily. so he opted to just lie awake until it went away, waiting for her to still. then she’d wake up in the morning, and they’d do their routine all over again.

weeks passed, and nya had caught a cold. jay would’ve stayed home with her, but their recent villain needed all hands on deck. misako and wu promised to take care of her while jay was away, though they figured some sort of fight had transpired between the two lovers. 

usually when they had to split the team, jay and nya would kiss each other good luck. but jay stood in the doorway, quietly watching her sleep. he toyed with the yin symbol hanging around his neck. his partner, his love, was starting to feel more distant than a stranger, and every day more like a ghost. but he needed her to go to him. he was nervous about touching her and making any nightmares worse, so he opted to leave a note instead.

nya, my yang, i’ll be back soon. i love you.

—

nya could not tell him — she would not tell him. guilt slashed at her chest every morning she woke up, her throat dry and caked tears streaking from the corners of her eyes. but she had to tell misako and wu when she woke them up screaming in the middle of the night, the first time anyone else had heard her nightmares.

“nya?” misako rushed in first to see nya shot up in bed, gasping for air. misako put the back of her hand on nya’s forehead. “you’re burning.”

there was a small tub of water and a washcloth on the side table next to her bed, and misako wet and wrung the towel before leaning nya back gently and placing the rag on her forehead. nya’s eyes were still wide open, and she didn’t have to look to ask —

“where’s jay?”

wu walked in, staff in hand. “jay is with the other ninjas. they needed more help. i thought you knew…” he trailed off, seeing the note next to her. nya grabbed it, and as she read it, started crying harder.

“i’ve been so horrible to jay,” she said, stuttering. “and i can’t even tell him what’s wrong.”

misako held nya’s hand, squeezing it lightly. “then maybe it’ll help if you tell us first.”

—

every time nya fell asleep, she’d find herself in her almost-wedding to nadakhan. then she would get shot, and she’d lie on the floor. when she was first getting these nightmares, she could feel jay holding her again, just as he did the first time. but that made the dreams a little too real — she needed some sense they were just dreams. she would kick him away, and he’d disappear, and she could breathe again. eventually, she stopped imagining jay holding her, and as she lay on the floor, she knew it wasn’t real because it was playing out differently from what was real, and she was able to move on.

but how could she tell jay, that now, whenever he hugged her, she felt like she was dying?

xx

part 2 here

[kaisarionn]

💐 i love your energy it’s so good and it’s just what this dying app needs! Can I plz plz plz request the ghouletts (kinda platonic idk just friendly way) with a ghoulette reader (if you don’t do that normal fem reader is fine) and they are having ���problems” with their period ever since they were summoned onto earth. And they NEED to see a doctor but they are scared and uncomfortable bc yk, period talk with doctor is EH. But they comfort them and all that shit. Sorry I just think there is no reason to hide problems with periods if you have them, pray for me

A/n: I agree with this! I’ve had some issues with period problems to the point that I needed a doctor and medicine, it’s the worst. Luckily I’m doing better and I hope you are too! Thank you for the request!

Word count: 783. Angst with comfort. Fem!ghoulette reader. (Tw for mention of periods, though nothing graphic) (I couldn’t find an image with more than two ghoulettes)

Cuddle puddle 🩵

You had been dealing with it by yourself for a while, being far too embarrassed to bring it up to anyone, especially since you were new, but you couldn’t hide it for long due to how badly it affected you.

For one week a month you were practically inconsolable and would hardly leave your room and the ghoulettes immediately noticed this.

They tried to talk to you, but you always go nervous and avoided the topic altogether, until today. Your period was hitting you particularly hard and the ghoulettes were determined to take care of you, which leads to now.

There was a soft knock at the door, but you were in too much pain to get up, luckily the door was unlocked since you rushed to your bed after trying to get some food. Sunshine opens the door and all four ghoulettes come in with various looks of concern upon seeing you curled up on your bed, you looked way worse than they had imagined. “W-what are you all doing here?” You look at them a little embarrassed, not wanting anyone around while you felt so horrible.

It was already hard trying to keep it together long enough to get food without crying, but now you had four ghoulettes in your room while you looked and felt like a mess. “Honey..” Cirrus says softly, shutting the door behind them and coming to sit down in the bed next to you. “Why are you all curled up?” Sunshine sits on the floor next to you, cumulus sits in a nearby chair with Aurora in her lap since there wasn’t much furniture to sit on.

“I feel sick..” You mumble, trying not to tear up from how bad you feel, which was getting harder and harder. “Well we brought you some stuff!” Sunshine nearly yells, but tamps down her enthusiasm when she remembers how bad you feel. “Yeah, we got you food, medicine, a personal heating pad.” Aurora giggles softly, pointing to Sunshine who the ghoulettes often curled up with when they were cold.

“We can leave if you want, we just want to make sure you’re okay first.” Cumulus adds on, holding up an actual heating pad incase you do want them to leave. You start to sniffle softly, a combination of happy tears from feeling so cared for, and overwhelmed tears since your cramps were killing you. “T-thank you..” The ghoulettes take this as their cue to curl around you to comfort and take care of you. Sunshine pulls you into her arms and placing her hand on your pelvis, warming them up to ease your pain.

The others get comfortable around you however they can, wanting to practically cocoon you with their bodies. “Now what’s wrong?” Cirrus knows it’s your period, they all do as they’ve had similar experiences, but she’s trying to get to the bottom of the issue.

“E-ever since I was summoned here my period has been all messed up and nothing helps like it used to!” You bury your face into a pillow, trying to hide your tears. Cumulus gently rubs your back, trying to soothe you as best they can. “Aw sugar.. why haven’t you gone to the doctor? I’m sure they can help.”

You lightly shake your head at the mention of doctors, and they can tell you seem a bit nervous about it. “I don’t like them.. a-and this stuff is so embarrassing..” Aurora scoots around a little bit, trying to get a bit closer to you. “I know doctors are scary, but we can go with you! Cirrus takes me to my appointments, she makes them less scary.”

Cirrus smiles and gently brushes your hair out of your face. “I would be happy to take you, we all would. Doctors don’t have to be scary dear.. and this shouldn’t be embarrassing. We all have to deal with this.” Cumulus grabs out the jar of cookie dough she brought you, offering it out, which you promptly took with a smile. “We’ll always help you out sugar.”

Sunshine opens the jar for you with a soft smile, before going back to kneading at your stomach. “Yeah! Always.” You giggle softly and take a bite of cookie dough with a smile. “You girls are the best.”

[whatacaitastrophe]

Is It Over Now - Chapter 9

Previous Chapter

Chapter Song Inspiration: "BLENDER" - 5 Seconds of Summer

Chapter Warnings: mystra (bc all my homies hate mystra)

Spotify Playlist: Here

Chapter Notes: if you have read this fic, liked it, reblogged it, or left comments THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart. keep the comments coming bc i love hearing your feedback (and like tinkerbell, i need applause to live). also, if you feel so called to support me in other ways, here is a link to all my other socials, including my twitch channel, "all my homies hate mystra" merch i created (lol), and a donation link <3

Chapter 9: I Guess Only The Stars Would Know The Truth

“You know, you two are really something.” Wyll scolds Astarion and Gale like they are his children. “I asked you for one night of peace so we didn’t embarrass ourselves in front of the most important people in The Gate, but your bloody egos just couldn’t let it go until after the ball was over.”

Just as Wyll predicted, the moment the fight broke out, someone with a badge classifying them as press, covering the ball for The Baldur’s Mouth Gazette, was all over the scene, furiously taking notes, interviewing dignitaries who’d been nearby when the fight began, and trying to get quotes from The Heroes of The Gate regarding what happened. None of them spoke, of course, namely because Halsin and Wyll were too busy pulling Astarion and Gale apart and dragging them out of the ballroom to speak, and the rest were too busy rushing after them. 

Neither of the men sitting in lounge chairs with cuts and bruises on their faces look the slightest bit apologetic to Fallon, and presently, she doesn’t know which of them she’s angrier with. Gale, for purposefully riling Astarion, or Astarion for keeping it from her that he not only went to see Gale but that Gale was the person who gave him the information about Velrea. 

Right now, she’s leaning towards being angrier with Astarion. Knowing he’d kept such a massive secret from her…it didn’t sit well with Fallon. Yes, she’d been in an absolute state when Astarion returned to Baldur’s Gate, but he’s been living with her, sleeping in her bed, for a month. They spent nearly every hour of the day together. The vampire had plenty of chances to come clean about how he knew about the coven in Velrea, or where he’d gotten the book with information about Asha to begin with, but he remained silent. 

The decision to keep that information close to his chest felt like something the person Astarion was when they met would have done. Astarion withheld important information for the sake of self-preservation. The way Astarion reacted to Gale outing his secret is the only confirmation Fallon needs to support her theory. She feels used. Betrayed. 

Gale and Astarion both remain silent, not even bothering to deny they’d embarrassed them all by acting this way, and Wyll just scoffs. “You both need to go,” The Blade of Avernus declares, and he turns to Fallon. “Fallon you are, of course, welcome to stay. However, I understand if you don’t want to be here anymore, if not simply to avoid the press. Feel free to use the portal over there to get you back to the Lower City by The Elfsong.”

Fallon nods. Wyll is correct: she does not want to be there anymore, and not just because the press will be all over her. She needs to speak to Gale. She needs to speak to Astarion, too, but that is guaranteed to be a much shorter conversation. Wyll and the rest of her companions leave Fallon alone with the two halves of her heart to return to the ball, and Fallon glowers at the men in front of her. “You’re idiots. The both of you.” 

“If we’re going to be lectured some more, can we please at least go back to The Elfsong where there’s good wine?” Astarion asks dryly, glaring at Gale.

“Gale, do you mind giving us a moment? You can go on ahead to The Elfsong, if you wish. I’m in the suite on the second floor. Devlon, at the bar, will let you in.”

To his credit, Gale says nothing as he stands to leave, and only shoots Astarion a smug smirk; as if he already knows Astarion is in more trouble than he is in this present moment. 

As soon as Gale is gone, Astarion’s icy facade fades and he’s on his feet, crossing the room towards Fallon. “Fallon, I can–”

“Don’t,” Fallon cuts him off, raising her hand in front of her in warning to keep his distance. She takes a step back. “How could you, Astarion? How could you keep that from me?” her voice is barely above a whisper and hurt shines in her eyes. 

“I was going to tell you, I swear.” Astarion defends, a pleading look in his eyes.

“So why didn’t you? It’s not like you haven’t had the time, or we haven’t seen each other,” Fallon demands, her voice rising slightly. “You lied to me. I trusted you.”

Astarion huffs. “I didn’t lie to you, darling, I just…didn’t tell you everything.”

Fallon laughs sharply. “Oh, and that makes it better somehow? I’ve spent a year wondering what happened to him, where he’d gone, if he’s okay, and you come back here without even bothering to mention you’d seen him?”

“Fallon, you were a mess when I got back. You had a gods-damned panic attack after dreaming about him the first night I spent here. Less than four days ago, you almost had another panic attack after Shadowheart said his fucking name. So don’t stand there and tell me you could have fucking handled knowing I’d seen him.” He snaps at her. 

Fallon stands up a little straighter, squaring her shoulders as she frowns at the vampire. “But it’s not just that you’d seen him, Astarion. Gale said you sought him out . That’s different than just keeping it from me that you happened to run into him somewhere. You sought him out, he gave you a very vital piece of information, and you kept all of that from me.” Heat pools in her eyes as she stares at Astarion, daring him to deny it. 

“Okay fine, yes, I tracked him down intentionally, but–” Astarion starts to argue. 

“That’s all I needed to hear,” Fallon glares. “Gale is a lot of things, and he hurt me, but at least he never lied about it.” 

“I didn’t–”

“Stop, just. Stop. I think it would be best if you do not return with me to the suite. I need to speak to Gale, and I don’t think I can have the conversation I need to have with him if you’re there. You bring out the worst in each other, and it won’t be productive,” Tears are forming in the corners of her eyes and she swallows thickly, her throat feels like sandpaper. “Actually, I think it would be best if you don’t come back to the suite tonight at all, because I can barely fucking look at you.”

Astarion stares at her like she just staked him in the heart. “Fallon, I– I’m sorry.” 

“Be sorry all you like, but I’m not ready to forgive you and it’s going to take more than an apology to earn my trust back.” Fallon strides across the room towards the portal.

“When you fuck him, be sure to at least change the sheets before I come back, darling. I’d rather not have to live with his stench lingering in the air.” Astarion’s icy words hit Fallon like a knife and she whirls around to face the vampire.

“I’m sorry, what the fuck did you just say to me?” Fallon snaps, fury building in her gut. 

“Please, don’t act like you don’t want me there because it won’t be productive. Your love has returned to you, and you’d like to reunite with him privately .” Astarion sneers, and Fallon feels like he just slapped her across the face. 

“I changed my mind. Don’t come back at all. I’ll have Shadowheart bring you your things tomorrow,” Fallon says coldly as a single tear slides down her cheek. “Have a nice life, Astarion.”

Without another word, Fallon enters the portal and disappears. Astarion picks up a wooden chair and throws it at the wall. The chair shatters into tiny pieces, and Astarion kicks another. “FUCK!” He yells. 

The suite is quiet when Fallon enters, and for a moment she wonders if Gale decided not to show up. She moves deeper within and finds him sitting in the same armchair Astarion prefers, reading a book from the shelf that Fallon recognizes but can’t remember the name of. 

Gale senses her presence and when he looks up from his book, he smiles at her. “There you are, my love!” He looks around behind her. “No Astarion?” He’s still smug after their fight and he doesn’t bother to hide it. 

“Astarion won’t be joining us. I thought it best we speak alone,” Fallon confirms as she fully enters the sitting room, glaring at Gale as she kicks off her shoes and sits down on the couch. “You’re a right fucking prick for antagonizing him like that, you know.” 

 Gale quickly moves to sit next to her on the couch. His expression changes from smug to apologetic. “I know, dearest, but you needed to know. The moment I arrived, I saw the look on his face and the look on yours…I knew he hadn’t been honest with you.” 

“You couldn’t have waited until we weren’t in fucking public anymore?” Fallon folds her arms across her chest. 

“Admittedly, my jealousy got the best of me, and while I won’t apologize for telling you his secret, I will apologize for the manner in which I went about it; and have every intention of apologizing to Wyll and his father tomorrow.” 

Fallon’s body language softens. Well, at least Gale was sorry. “You’ve done a lot of apologizing in the last two hours.”

“And I know I have much more to apologize for. Truly, I am deeply sorry for abandoning you in the way I did. Just as I told you that day on the docks, I had every intention of returning to you the moment I ascended to godhood, but Mystra got the better of me once again.”

Of course fucking Mystra had something to do with Gale’s failure to return. Fallon honestly could have assumed as much, seeing as Gale originally intended to use the power of The Crown to challenge her, but hearing him say it? It just made everything worse. Fallon stares at Gale for a moment, letting him suffer in silence like she’d done for the last year of her life. 

“I’m going to let you explain yourself, because I loved you for a very long time and I deserve a gods-damned explanation, but please don’t mistake my willingness to listen for forgiveness,” She warns him. “Not yet, anyway.” 

Gale’s face falls slightly. “Loved.” 

Fallon looks at him in confusion. “What?”

“You said loved. Past tense. As in you no longer love me in the way you used to.”

“Gale–”

“No, I understand. I suppose that was to be expected, given the state in which I left things; but I do hope that my tale will perhaps shed some much needed light on the situation, and also provide me with the opportunity to earn your love again,” He reaches over and takes her hand, squeezing it gently. “Because I can assure you, despite my absence, there has not been a single moment where I stopped loving you.” 

Six months ago, hells perhaps even a month ago, the words coming out of Gale’s mouth were ones Fallon only dreamt of hearing. Months ago, she would have immediately fallen into his arms and forgiven him, no explanation needed. Only now she has more self-respect than that. Her guard is up and Gale is still on thin ice.

“Best get on with it then, yeah?” She tells him, removing her hand from his. Relief floods Gale’s face.

“Thank you, Fallon. It means…everything to me that you’re even willing to hear me out,” the look on his face is one she’s seen before– like he would kiss her if he thought she would let him. “It all starts right after I found the final piece of the crown…”

There he stood, at the gates to Elysium. The Crown of Karsus was in pieces, still, but that was only because Gale wanted Mystra to watch him take his power back by re-forging it in front of her. The path through Elysium was all too familiar to Gale, though the time he spent here with his goddess felt like an entire lifetime ago. So much had changed. Gale had changed. He’d met Fallon, the woman who showed him what true and unconditional love looked like. He’s been gone for far too long, and he knows it. After seeing Astarion, Gale knows now that he was a fool for not asking Fallon to accompany him to search for the pieces. Ascending to godhood will be the most monumental thing to ever happen to him, and the one person he wants to share it with isn’t here.

Gale does even make it to the part of Elysium where Mystra resides before she appears to him. “Gale of Waterdeep,” she greets with a smile on her face. “You’ve returned to me; and you have The Crown of Karsus with you. I can sense its power hidden away in your pack.” 

“I did as you asked Mystra, but I’ve come to the decision that I’m not going to return it to you. I’m going to reforge it, become a God, and finally be your equal.” Even as he speaks the words, Gale can feel the ripples of the Karsite weave around him, responding to the call. He can also feel Mystra’s fury through the True Weave. 

“You are a fool, Gale of Waterdeep. A human fool who will never learn from his mistakes. I was prepared to remove the orb from your chest, restore you to your former power, and be my Chosen once again in exchange for The Crown, yet you are so bold as to believe you deserve more? So pathetically human, indeed.” 

Gale feels the mixture of humiliation and fury bubbling within him. This whole ordeal was another one of Mystra’s tests, and he’d failed. Again. If Gale thought he could outright kill the Goddess, he would. “You’re the fool, Mystra, for not believing in me. For not believing in all the good having a human ascend to godhood could do for the world, for all of existence. I’ve been to the hells and back. I deserve this.”

“Another perfect example of how foolishly human you are, to think you deserve something that was never yours to take. I should smite you where you stand.” She threatens, and the sky above them rumbles. 

“Then strike me down, Mystra. The orb is still in my chest, after all, so killing me would destroy you and all of Elysium as you know it.” Deep down, Gale knows it’s not the best idea to taunt a goddess, especially one threatening to kill him, but he also knows Mystra. She values her own immortality too much to waste it on destroying him. Not only that, but if she truly intended to kill him, she’d have done so already. “You’re hesitating.” He dares her again.

“There is…another way. For you and I to both get what we desire,” Of course she had something else up her sleeve. Nothing was ever easy with his goddess, so why would it be now. “But know this, Gale of Waterdeep, the bargain I am about to offer is the last you’ll receive. Deny me, and not only will I take The Crown from you by force, but I will take away your connection to The Weave altogether. You will never be able to contact me or use The Weave to manipulate magic ever again.”

Gale stares at Mystra in disbelief, as her so-called “bargain” doesn’t exactly feel like one. Still, he is in no place to deny her before hearing what she has to say. “Go on.” 

“Being a deity is much harder than you seem to think it is, Gale of Waterdeep, and as you are now, you are not ready. So, my offer is thus: You will return The Crown of Karsus to me so I may destroy it once and for all. In exchange, I will grant you demi-godhood, to start. You will remain a demi-god under my mentorship, and you will live here in Elysium with me– as my Chosen and my lover once more– until such time I deem you ready for all the power and responsibility that is required of becoming a god. These are my terms, and they are final.” 

Yes, this bargain is absolutely not a bargain whatsoever. It’s a conniving trick from a scorned ex-lover, jealous that he moved on and found happiness elsewhere. 

For that is what Mystra is truly asking of him: choose between the godhood he has been working towards his entire life and the woman he once claimed to love more than Mystra herself. 

“You tricked me.” He glowers, and Mystra simply smiles at him. 

“Is it a trick if we both get what we want, in the end?” She muses, turning her attention to her fingernails. 

“Not everything we want…” Gale mutters. He loses either way, and Gale was not prepared to make such a decision today. How did he not see something like this coming? He should have, and it boils his blood that he was not better prepared. Gale’s mind immediately goes to Fallon, and the information Astarion shared with him just days earlier. If he doesn’t go back to her… “Must you take out your anger with me on Fallon? She does not deserve this.”

The sky rumbles again. “The elf will survive, for I have seen her through your eyes. Soon enough her life will go on, and you will be able to watch over her from here. Keep her safe. Someday, you can even make her your own Chosen, if that is what you so choose. However, as I told you, my bargain is final. There is no negotiating. You either accept or you do not. Make your choice.”

Gale’s mind turns over and over again, trying to weigh his options and find some sort of….loophole or something, anything that would not hurt the woman he loves. However, Mystra is right. From here, he can watch over her and protect her. As a truly mortal human man…he can offer her nothing. Not only can he offer her nothing, but losing his connection to The Weave and to magic altogether? The thought makes him sick to his stomach. Gale scrunches his eyes shut and inhales deeply. He exhales in an extended sigh. When he opens his eyes again he looks directly to Mystra.

“I accept your bargain.”

Chapter List

[fandomfluffandfuck]

sliding into your asks once again to bring you this gifset and the thoughts i had as a result:

i'm thinking ransom drysdale x reader where the reader pegs the shit out of him. like, he’s just whining and whimpering and drooling. he cums so hard bc the strap is so big and he 'can’t take it' but he wants ‘more, please’ and ends up going limp in her arms bc of how good it feels. he might even pass out a little and later wakes up to her stroking his dick with her warm hands.

and he’s like ‘oh my god, i cant cum anymore, stop’ and she just sits on his dick with a smile and starts using his cock like a toy, saying ‘you’re not being a very good boy right now, hugh’ and shoves her fingers in his mouth. 'you can't tell me to stop. have you forgotten who's in charge here?'

she says ‘if you let me use your cock i’ll let you cum’ and ransom, thinking with his dick which is throbbing quite painfully inside her, shakes his head vehemently.

‘oh? so you don’t want to cum?” he says no bc at the time he's feeling really sensitive and so fucking naked and like he's a live wire - so she simply tells him, ‘okay.’ and takes her fingers out of his mouth so she can lean down to lick the drool from his parted lips and jaw.

‘but if you cum without my permission im locking your dick in a cage and you won’t be able to so much as get hard until i decide you can. is that clear, baby?”

ransom shakes his head again, ‘fuck- no! I want to cum, i don't think i can hold it, it was hurting but now it hurts good! Please, please don't put the cage on me, please keep fucking me it feels amazing-’ 

‘ah, ah- weren’t you the one who said you didn't want to come?’ and she keeps fucking him and her hips move in a way he’s utterly obsessed with and she cums on his dick without even looking at him, using him for his cock only, taking her pleasure and leaving ransom to sob and beg and whine and cry under her because it hurts so bad - ‘please, you’re so beautiful, please let me cum, please, i need it so bad, you cant- you cant, i’ve been so good!’ - but she ignores him, letting her orgasm wash through her and made more intense by the way ransom twitches desperately inside her as her pussy grows wet with cum.

The sounds are obscene but they’re done now, and the reader curls up on top of ransoms chest, feeling it heave underneath her and the way he tenses up as her pussy drags against his cock and tightens up. She’s got him on the edge and she doesn’t even know, too caught up in how good and sated she feels from her orgasm. ‘You were so good, baby’ she says, and kisses his mouth filthily whilst rolling her hips subconsciously, ‘such a good boy’ as her lips trail down his neck because he’s so pretty, down to his flushed chest and biting at his nipples. A flood of something warm spreads inside her and she realises, with a wicked gleam in her eye, that ransom just came.

‘did you just cum?’ she asks, and he blinks hard, grunting underneath her and nodding desperately. ‘i'm sorry, i'm sorry, please don’t put the cage on me - i didn’t mean to! I swear, you just- you were kissing me like that and moving your hips and it just felt so good, i couldn’t help it!’

she’s not one to go back on her word, though, and after a few minutes of shushing and letting her boy calm down, she’s getting up and cleaning them up with some wipes and a cloth, pulling on a big shirt and kneeling beside ransoms quivering body.

‘here we go…’ she puts on the cage and locks it, putting the key in its box and tossing it on the floor next to the bed. ‘Sleep well, baby’ she says, tucking ransom close to her chest and spooning him until they fall asleep.

-

if i had time i'd make this a full fledged fic but i do not :(, so i decided to share my thoughts with you and your blog instead so you can tell me what you think! 🫶

Uhhhhhh

No thoughts.

Congrats, you've scrambled my brain 😮‍💨😮‍💨🥴

I am imagining the fucking mess that Ransom would be vividly and you--

Just

You added ✨️women✨️ which means that these thoughts are too much. No processing. Only an italicized oh.

The pure filth that is Ransom crying and begging for her to stop because her cock is too big inside him, stretching him so much that it aches, yet... at the same time, Ransom absolutely doesn't want it to stop.

There's no way in hell he's going to use his safeword.

No, he wants more. He's rich, spoiled, and greedy. He needs this. He needs more. He's a fucking size queen. He will cry and squirm and moan until he's unraveling and need more. He will beg for mercy without meaning it. Well, he does want mercy, she might murder him like this, if she keeps going, but he wouldn't dream of stopping.

"Mor', mmm, ah, mmngh! M-more. Please! More!" I can hear his pathetic moaning from here.

The fact that he cums again from kissing and that little bit of praise is spot 👏🏻 fucking 👏🏻 on 👏🏻 . And you know she was kissing him. He's wrecked. There is not a single thought bouncing around in his melted brain. So, there's no way in hell he's putting himself together enough to kiss back.

No.

He's getting off on the way that her tight, unbearably wet pussy is clenching around him, claiming his cock for herself, and the way she's claiming his mouth. She's kissing him, bruisingly so. Grabbing his chin and keeping them mouth to mouth, even as Ransom pants and gasps and moans into her mouth. Even when she stops possessively taking his mouth and instead slowly draaaggs her hand down his flushed throat toward his hard, peaked nipples. He's fucking getting off on it. On her staking her claim. Him. Staking her claim on him.

Just a flick of his hard nipple, and Ransom is jolting with a choked, "a-ah!"

It's over for him the second her lush mouth is on his skin. Grazing his nipple with her teeth and chasing the sweet flare of pain with pure pleasure, her tongue hot and wet and good against his tits.

Oh, God.

How's he not supposed to cum? Especially when she, under her breath, almost to herself, murmurs, her voice all husky and sensual, "there's my good boy. Pretty boy. Look at you."

Ransom throbs.

He cries.

He cums.

JesusfuckingChrist.

It's so good he feels it in his teeth.

But, yeah, the moment it's over--she doesn't even have to ruin his orgasm--he's upset. He didn't mean to! He's just--

He didn't--

He didn't think! He couldn't think! He just, just had to! He's sorry! He's wailing a little, he knows he is, but he's upset. And he can't help himself. She can, though, she can calm him down and get him comfortable enough to accept that, yeah, he needs this. He needs his punishment. It centers him. It's what makes this work. Get the cage.

In conclusion:

Yes.

I fucking love this idea. Thank you for sharing! I will be coming back to this later and picturing Ransom being tamed by a domme again. Soon.

[vileviale]

Miguel x Reader Fanfic! (Pt. 1 of 2)

I tried to incorporate the female gaze as much as I could while also trying to stay true to Miguel’s cold and moody personality. Hopefully, I still showed that the characters love each other, however. Idk. Lemme know what you think! I haven’t made a short story in YEARS, and I’ve certainly never made a fanfic before. Also, I interpreted the drug he injects himself with in ATSV as a depressant instead of a stimulant but looking back it’s probably the latter. Also I used they/them pronouns so anyone can read it. And no, I’m not telling you the plot bc ITS A SECRET

Tw: nothing explicit, just fluff I think is the word, but there is gore, blood, violence, mentions of death, and all that good stuff

Word count: like 2500-3000 I think?

You never liked it when Miguel was “at work”.

In your defense, it was impossible not to worry when you imagined him out in whatever universe, fighting something that could take his life at any moment. A few hours ago, you’d been sitting comfortably in your favorite chair, typing away at an email that was turning out to be quite complicated. But the clicking of your keys stopped when Miguel explained that Lila had discovered a Lizard variant in the wrong universe, and he needed to put it back in its own. Before he could leave, you grabbed his hand, so much larger compared to your own. It felt dry and rough as you held it.

You let out a sigh. “I know I can’t force you to stay here.”

“C’mon, are we doing this again? Don’t stress about it,” he persisted. “I’m gonna be fine.”

That wasn’t exactly the case. The nature of his work meant Miguel always came back with at least a few scrapes and bruises. But it was pointless to argue. His job was essential for keeping the multiverse together, and no amount of bickering could change that. 

“Just be safe out there, okay?”

 He rolled his eyes. “I’ve heard that far too many times.”

“You’re my boyfriend. It’s my job to worry about you.” You forced a small smile.

“Don’t. It’ll take two seconds, trust me,” he insisted, pecking your forehead and letting go of your hand. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay any longer.” He tapped his dimension-jumping watch, and a portal of dizzying oranges and blues appeared. “See you as soon as I get back.”

“Love you!”, you called after him before he could step inside. He froze for a second, then turned and mumbled with a soft grin: “Love you too.” He still wasn’t used to people telling him that. 

You watched Miguel walk through the portal until it suddenly whirled out of existence. Turning your head back to your computer, you tried to finish the rest of your work, but your mind was blank and distant. It always was when he left.

Four hours had gone by since then. Four hours too long. That pesky email had been sent, and you had straightened up the house out of stress. Now you were back in your chair, fidgeting with your necklace and constantly checking the time on your watch. Each time you did, your heart seemed to twist into a tighter knot. Eventually, the tension was too great. You jumped up to grab your suit, but then just as quickly sat back down.

‘Grow up,’ you thought to yourself. ‘He’s a big boy; he can handle it himself. Besides, I’d probably get in the way.’ People had called you a strong fighter, even for a Spider-variant, but you knew yourself well enough that your constant protection of Miguel would only lengthen the fight. That was something that couldn’t be risked. The longer the variant was out of his universe, the greater chances of it breaking canon. Besides, if Miguel needed help, Lila could always call on Jess, Ben, or other Spiders. 

Almost as soon as you sat back down, Lila appeared above your watch. You interjected before she could speak.

“Is Miguel okay? Has he come back yet?”

She winced. “He’s back… but he isn’t looking too good. That’s why I’m calling you.”

You felt like the floor had been pulled from under you. “What? What’s wrong?”

“The variant was a lot stronger than he realized. I called Jess for backup, but by the time she came, it had already landed a few strikes. The Lizard’s contained now, but Miguel’s pretty scratched up.”

“What do you mean by ‘scratched up’? How hurt is he?”

“He has several gashes. They’re deep, but haven’t hurt anything vital. The main problem right now is blood loss. He fought injured for a while before we got the chance to put gauze on, and it shows. He told me not to tell anyone about this, especially you.” She rolled her eyes. “You know how he is.”

“Ugh, of course he did. Where is he right now?”

“We’re at his place; just me and him. He actually told Jess to leave after she helped him in. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised, though. I’m trying to convince him to ask for help so it looks better when I tell him I already did, buuuut it’s not working out too great.”

“Keep trying. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” You rushed to your room to grab your suit. “Did you call 911?”

“I told Jess to get Dr. Parker as she was leaving. I thought the ambulance lights would be too much on his eyes, especially in his condition, and I’ve seen Doc patch up worse in places far more hostile.”

“Still, I’d want him in a hospital, just to be safe. But thank you, Lila. If there are any updates on his health, let me know. I’ll see you soon.” She nodded and vanished.

You changed into your spider suit, activated your watch, and rushed through the portal to Nueva York. After passing through it, you jumped out swiftly, swinging as fast as you could from building to building. The Lobby felt more crowded than ever as you tried to weave your way between countless spider variants. When you got to his house, you found Miguel, back turned, sitting in the center of the floor and breathing heavily. One of his hands was holding red-stained gauze on his shoulder, the other on his leg. Blood ran down his arm until it dripped at the crook of his elbow. It was painful to see him this way. Just looking at the blood made your heart ache. 

As you moved closer, you heard Miguel and Lila’s raised voices. You closed the door behind you without a sound and eavesdropped into their conversation.

“For the last time Lila, I’m not calling anyone. I can stitch these myself.” Miguel grunted as he tried to stand up. But as soon as he put weight on his shoulder, he collapsed. “Later on.”

Lila crossed her arms. “Mhm, tell yourself that. And I know you’ve never picked up a needle and thread in your life. Just look- Oh!” Lila caught you out of the corner of her eye and turned to face you. “You got here quick.” Miguel spun around and faced you with a shocked expression, then quickly turned irritable again. “Lila!” he berated. He looked pale, and you could see the weariness in his eyes.

“Sorry, Mr. I-can-do-everything-myself. But I thought your partner might want to, y’know, check on you? Juuuust in case you die or something.”

Miguel looked down and furrowed his brows. “That’s not gonna happen. I’m fine; everything’s under control.” 

Lila threw her hands up and turned to you. “You see what I have to deal with?” 

You knelt down next to Miguel. “Honey, you’re hurt. Bad. Dr. Parker’s on his way, but I’d really like to see you in a hospital.”

“No. I just- I really need to be left alone right now.” Miguel glanced around agitatedly. His muscles were tense, and he breathed rapidly. You gave him a puzzled look. For a man who was stoic 24/7, this wasn’t normal behavior, even if he was hurt. “Please, just go,” he pleaded. “You’re gonna make things worse.”

“And just how would I make things worse? I don’t know who convinced you that ‘manning up’ is refusing help until you die, but I’m not leaving you like this.”

Your spidey senses suddenly tingled. You looked around, but there was no one besides Miguel, Lila, and you. Instinctively, you reached out and pulled Miguel close. “Something strange is- “

“GET AWAY FROM ME!”, he roared. You flipped backward, landing several feet away from Miguel in a crouched, defensive pose. He curled from you, baring his dagger-like fangs, and snarled. His irises glowed like embers, and his claws grated the ground. For a moment, the separation between human and animal was indistinctive. But just as suddenly as it became vague, his eyes darkened to a calmer shade of red, and his muscles loosened. Guilt washed over his face.“Oh my god I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know what came over me. Are you alright?”

“What the fuck was that?!” you yelled as you rose. There was a burning sensation on your arm, and you looked down. Beneath your suit’s torn sleeve were five gashes, shallow and nearly bloodless, but still painful. “I’m fine,” you snapped, turning your body to hide your arm. It wasn’t the only thing hurting. Inside, your heart raced with adrenaline, and you clutched your hands hard to keep them from trembling. ‘The last thing I want is Miguel to see me scared,’ you thought. ‘Two can play the I-have-no-feelings-but-rage game.’ 

 “How long’s it been since his last injection?”, you asked Lila, who had hidden on your shoulder.

“16.7 hours,” she grimaced. “I told him he should take it before we tried to capture the variant, but he refused. Usually I wouldn’t let him, but he had the audacity to shut me down. I figured out how to reboot later and woke up in the middle of him fighting. Somehow,” she sighed, “Lila finds a way.”

Miguel interjected. “That was-“ 

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it,” you interrupted before he could protest. He looked down and turned slightly red. Whether it was with anger or embarrassment was unclear. “Where’s the depressant?”, you demanded. 

“In my center drawer.” He pointed to his desk. “There should be several.”

You jumped over him and landed lightly in front of the desk. Pulling the drawer open, you immediately found the green vials rolling inside, along with the injection gun, and inserted the closest one into it. “Catch!”, you called as you tossed the gun towards Miguel. Right now, it was too risky to simply hand it to him. Miguel grabbed it mid-air and slammed it into his arm. He flinched, but quickly relaxed again, even more than before.

“It’s okay now.” His soft eyes, back to their normal shade of brown, beckoned you to come. “I’m okay now.”

You ran over and wrapped your arms around him, which was almost impossible to do given his size. Hot, angry tears silently ran down your face. Miguel melted into you as the raise and lowering of his chest started to slow. As you embraced, you noticed Lila standing on the floor, mouthing “You good?” silently to you. She gave a thumbs up, thumbs sideways, and a thumbs down, indicating you to choose one. You gave her a thumbs sideways back. She nodded. “Imma go in ‘sleep mode’,” she whispered. “I’ll still keep an eye on Miguel’s vitals, but I’ll essentially be ‘gone’. It’ll give you guys some time to talk.”

“Thank you,” you whispered back. Lila smiled, raised a peace sign, and disappeared.

“I’m so sorry,” Miguel breathed as you let go of him. “I wasn’t myself; I would never intentionally hurt you.” He looked up at your reddened eyes, and his face suddenly grew full of concern. “Querida, por favor no llores.” He gently, like a moth’s wing, wiped the tears from your cheeks with the back of his hand.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” you confessed with a small, wavering laugh. “I guess I just got startled. I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“You shouldn’t have. Listen: you have every reason to be upset right now.” He lifted your chin with his thumb. “I know I just told you not to cry, but if you need to, go ahead.”

You looked at the ground and smiled, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. “Ok. Thank you,” your stammered. You took a moment to slow your breathing. “Can you- explain what just happened? If you can.”

“I don’t want to make any excuses, but if it will make you feel better, I’ll try.” His eyes searched the ground. “When I got injured, I couldn’t tell the drug was wearing off, though looking back it couldn’t be more obvious. I felt so- afraid. And vulnerable even. I don’t know why, but I had this idea in my head that everyone was trying to hurt me. And when you grabbed me, my first instinct was to protect myself.” He finally looked up and into your eyes.  “The worst part was I didn’t see you as… you. I just saw a threat.”

“Miguel, it’s really okay, trust me,” you persisted. “But… promise me to never lose control like that again. Not just for me, but for everyone’s sake.”

“Of course, love. I promise. I should’ve listened to Lila and taken the drug much earlier.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He paused. “I didn’t want it to lessen my strength before I captured the variant. I wanted to be as prepared as possible. Not that it helped anyway,” he complained, looking at his hurt leg. “I thought I had enough time to inject the serum afterward, but capturing the variant was... rough, and I came back much later than I anticipated.” He looked down, and his eyes suddenly grew wide. “Your arm! Did I- Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you persisted. “It’s barely even bleeding anymore, see? It’s high time I designed a better suit anyways.”

“Are you sure? I’m so sorry I- “

“Shuuuush”, you hushed him. “It’s nothing. I don’t want you to worry about what happened anymore, okay?”

“You’re my partner. It’s my job to worry about you.” He gave a weak smile.

You laughed. “Touché. But really, you barely broke skin. The suit did most of its job.” 

“Ok. I just- I wanna make sure it’s 100 percent fine.”

“I’m sure, I’m sure.”

“Alright.”

You thought hard for a moment. “If we could find a way to separate the depressant’s physical effects from its mental ones, we could change their concentrations to keep your strength, but save your mind.”

“That could work,” Miguel replied. He furrowed his brows in thought. “Or we could add another mental depressant to it. That would be much easier than separating its components.” He slapped his forehead. “Should’ve thought of that ages ago. It’s gonna take a minute to find the right neural inhibitor, but it’s worth the trouble.” You gave him a look. “What?”, he asked.

“Sometimes I forget that you’re a nerd too,” you laughed. “Big guys like you aren’t supposed to know what ‘neural inhibitor’ means.”

“So I’m supposed to be an idiot then?”

You shrugged. “It’d suit you better.”

“Y’know, I really needed that. Thanks,” he sneered lightheartedly. “You should be thankful that my heads a little fuzzy, otherwise I would’ve come up with an incredibly brutal comeback.”

“Riiight, right. Wait. How fuzzy are we talking?”

[trauma-aquarium]

Okay brace yourselves, folks, this is the story of how I discovered owls living in my stove exhaust thingy on the upper floor and how I saved them from death by the hands (claws) of crows, and they became my guardians.

It all started when I was in my backyard and by chance, saw an owl peeking at me from the exhaust outlet on the upper floor.

Sorry for the low quality I had to zoom a lot from my sorry excuse of a phone. 

Anyways, this is mommy owl and she had given birth to a lot of noisy kids which we could hear and smell (fowl smell) from the kitchen, and it was really hard to go to the upper floor without wanting to throw up. My father insisted we call someone and get the owls out and leave them in a yard or something.

What my father didn’t know was that me and my elder brother are softies when it comes to birds (he’s a softie for birds, i’m a softie for all animal-kind). So this man comes and after much struggle and a screeching mother (and a possible father), we manage to take out the owls.

And as you can see, they were very angry. These are the kids, mind you.

Anyways, me, the only one in the family with actual empathy for animals (and less empathy for humans bc why) and a brain that works when it comes to their care, I took these little owls to the balcony, quite close to the exhaust outlet you just saw, hoping their parents would come and maybe take them or whatever. Only then I realized that the parents themselves were smol, and couldn’t quite possibly take them anywhere. So here they are, in my balcony, defenseless, especially during the day.

And they were FIVE OWL BABIES. I was suddenly a single mother at the age of 20. 

Anyways, I pet them, they try to bite me and I’m okay with that, my softie brother also gets scared easily so he just watches me do my thing- that being making them feel comfortable and safe, providing food which they didn’t quite eat bc babies. 

But then I had to be on guard duty because of the damned crows who came in groups (freaking murder of crows) and tried to attack/literally murder or eat alive the poor babies. And I was having none of that.

In the hot month of May, I was on day duty scaring off crows and praying the mother would return at night. Oh, and she did. Probably cursed at me for wrecking her home (sorry but it was inevitable) and shouted at me to leave, and I did, fearing what tomorrow held.

But tomorrow was the same.

So the mother and the possible dad disappeared during the days, but the babies were active (somewhat) probably because of all the noise me and the crows made. I did my thing- petted them, gave them water, played with them if they felt like it. They gave me rashes but I was okay.

Days passed, and the owls were entering pre-teens (judging by how they started rebelling and fighting with each other) and finally came out of the little tub on their own. I felt so proud. Now they had the whole balcony all to themselves (and me, of course). And they were scared of me no more. I would help them in and out of the tub if they wanted. 

They would sleep near the stairs and I’d caress their heads and they’d give me a smile (no i didn’t imagine that). And the crows would come and they would get scared for a second and look like this:

Yellow eyes. So cute.

Anyways, the mother owl and I had an understanding now too. Where she previously used to scare me when sunset approached and screech at me, she would now simply come and sit at one of the wires in front of my house and watch me pet her children and say NOTHING. And then I would wave at her and go inside and she would come and feed her children. She wasn’t all that bad. And the possible father would guard or something- I could see them from downstairs if I walked in front of my house.

This whole ordeal lasted for two months before the kids were finally old enough to fly, and I may have cried happy tears. I thought it was over now- they would move away and we’d never see each other again. But then-

I saw this from my window, my room being downstairs (don’t mind the wires, it was to keep robbers out bc robbers suddenly decided our housing society was a good place to collect money from). So everyday sunset, I’d draw my curtains apart and they would come and sit right outside my window (look at how grown they are!) and we’d screech at each other which was our love language.

So whenever I went out for a walk, there would be 5 kids and sometimes, their mommy, my guardians now. They would walk with me (fly with me, actually.) They would jump from wire to wire and occasionally, when they didn’t feel shy, they would scoop really low, circle around me and go back.

Yes. I was their Disney Princess, and I fucking felt like it too.

I called them ‘my owl friends’. I’d go out at night, look around and say ‘my owl friends, where y’all at?’ and they would come, making weird owl noises, circle around me and walk with me.

It was truly magical, and though I’m a huge cat person, I wouldn’t mind living with owls (even though they’re extremely smelly sometimes and want to eat me sometimes bc meat).

Here’s a last cute picture of my owl besties

I love them so much. I moved houses (only like three streets away but the owls couldn’t have known... could they?) and had to leave them behind, but here’s where a plot twist happens.

I think they might have put in a good word about me in the owl community, because the owls- different ones- occasionally come by. And they only come to ME.

Like this one time I was in the front yard of my house and two owls paid a visit.

Or this one time I was walking in the park in front of my house and two owls circled around me, ignoring my mom and little brother, and sat on a tree, watching me the whole time.

Either I’m a Disney Princess or these owls are planning some weird shit. Whatever it is, I’m in for it.

[missmonsters2]

today I feel awful... idk my insecurities are taking over me and I just want to curl into a ball and cry. maybe it's my hormones maybe the fact that I weighted myself and found out I gained weight (I can't fit into my jeans 😭) and the fact that I saw my sister in a tight skin dress looking perfect while I'm in my pj's just destroyed my confidence. I need something angsty to read to make me forget about my sad, miserable lffe right now. would you be down in writing sth angsty with nat maybe? you don't have to though. it's fine either way. I really appreciate all of your work and I keep reading on repeat whenever I'm feeling down. makes me cheer up. thank you, van ❤️

It's like we're the same person because I also went to visit my sister recently and my sister has gotten her life together and is living her best hot girl bod while I...let's not go there.

I just want you to know that you're hot as fuck and a body is just a body that we can change with time and effort. We're lit rally in this together. This time next year, we will be rocking the body that makes up happy and we'll be healthy!!! 💘💘

But I will still give you nat angst...but with a happy ending bc I said you deserve a HEA!!

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The Withers of Springtime Bloom

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spring is a time of blooming and when things come back to life. You can't help but notice things that may be causing your relationship with Natasha to wither.

Warnings: self-esteem issues, insecurities about body, relationship with working out and food, seasonal depression. angst with HEA.

Count: 2.1k~

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You're not sure when things changed.

Things change so slowly after all.

Without you noticing, things change and change and change until one day, you do notice.

You notice that Natasha has become quieter, somber.

You notice the lack of date nights and affectionate touches.

You notice that you've let yourself go a little.

You're standing in front of the mirror, staring at your body with a frown. You've gained weight since dating Natasha, but relationship weight gain was normal, wasn't it?

But you remember how Natasha was just as fit as she was before she met you. Sure, she was a superhero, and you were a regular civilian; there was no reason for you to train long hours as Natasha did.

Still...

You turn to the side and peer at yourself in the mirror again.

You can't help but wonder...were you becoming less attractive to her?

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It had been the beginning of fall when you met Natasha. You loved the season of change and when things turned into warm colors before withering away for winter to come.

Natasha had come like a blessing, and in the winter, she was just warm as the colors of fall. Instead of withering away, she bloomed and invested that warmth in your relationship with her.

Despite always being an early riser to work out, weekends were the days she stayed in bed with you just a little longer. There had been so many breakfasts, lunch, and dinner dates. You found yourself moving things around or neglecting to work around her busy schedule.

Perhaps that was when things began to change. Eating out so often and forgoing working out to spend time with Natasha was what led to this.

Spring has arrived, and things are coming back to life. Yet somehow, your relationship with Natasha was withering away.

"Hey," you greet her as you come home, shopping bags in hand. You bought some more clothes when things felt like they didn't fit comfortably anymore. The experience had been upsetting for you, and you didn't end up buying too much, telling yourself you didn't want to spend too much when you were going to lose the weight.

Natasha was working in her office, peering down over reports, and barely acknowledged you other than with a hum.

"Long day?" You ask her as you put your things away and walk over to her.

"Yeah," Natasha sighed. "Trying to get these reports done since Maria needs them tomorrow."

That had been Natasha's excuse for spending long hours in her office every night for the last two weeks.

You place your hand on Natasha's shoulder with a reassuring squeeze, but she leans to the side as if to readjust herself, but still away from your touch.

The sting immediately comes, but you try to push it down, so it doesn't hurt as bad.

"Right," you say hoarsely, but Natasha stares on at the reports. "I'm just going to get ready for bed. It's been a long day and all. Let me know if you need anything."

Natasha gives you a nod as you leave the room. You feel awkward as you lie in the bed you share with her. You wonder if you're taking up too much space.

There's a pang of something as you try to curl yourself to be smaller and only distantly realizing you've skipped dinner before you fall asleep.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You fall back onto the mat, chest heaving and your lungs burning.

It's been a while since you've worked out, and now you're definitely paying for it with how unfit you are.

The gym is moderately empty with the hour it is. You hate going to a public gym because it always feels like someone is staring, but it's better for strangers to stare than working out at the Compound for people you know to stare at you.

The rational part of you knows that you should just talk to Natasha, but the emotional side of you whispers that you won't like what Natasha has to say, that she might even end it before you've had a chance to change yourself.

When weeks pass, and you weigh yourself again, you almost start crying because you've only lost a couple of pounds.

It's normal, you know it is. You're losing weight at a normal rate, but it's not enough. You know fast weight loss wouldn't make sense for your body but you also feel you don't have half a year to go back to your normal weight.

You sit on the bathroom floor for hours, debating what to do when you hear a quiet knock.

"Sweetheart, are you in there?" Natasha's muffled voice comes through.

You wipe at your eyes furiously as you stand up.

"Y-Yeah," you answer back. "I'm just in the tub soaking."

There's a moment of silence through the door before Natasha answers back, "Alright. Enjoy yourself. Did you want me to order anything specific for dinner?"

"No, it's okay," you tell her. "You order anything you want. I already ate on my way home." You think about the chicken salad you've been eating for the past two weeks and almost sigh.

Natasha answered that she just came back to see if you've eaten, but she actually had to head back to the Compound. You were Natasha shuffling around before leaving through the front door, and you let out the breath you were holding.

You actually take a long, hot shower before putting on sweats and a big hoodie.

The truth was, you were hungry. The chicken salad was okay on the way home, but it had been a couple of hours since.

You knew starving yourself wasn't the answer, so you went into the kitchen to see if you could find something healthy to hold you over until you could go to bed.

But you can't find anything in the fridge except for Natasha's leftovers from whatever she ordered the day before. You can't find anything except frozen pizzas and microwavable foods.

You check the calories on the back and let out a frustrated sigh. Checking your watch, you realize it's too late in the evening to go grocery shopping because, by the time you get there, stores will have closed.

You slump down on the floor, leaning against the cabinets as you let out a pathetic whimper while your eyes became hot with tears.

You miss Natasha. You want Natasha holding you and telling you it would be okay. But you couldn't have that until you were back to what you were when you met her.

The front door suddenly opens.

"Have you seen my—sweetheart?" Natasha started to call before she noticed you sitting on the floor. "What's wrong?"

You use your sleeve to wipe at your eyes as you sit up straight.

"Nothing," you sniffle before you start to stand. "I just stubbed my toe against the edge of the kitchen island. What were you looking for? USB? You left it next to the bedside."

Natasha stares at your back, hair still wet as she takes in your attire.

"It's a little hot to be wearing a hoodie and sweats, isn't it?" Natasha asks softly. "Doesn't seem like you turned on the aircon in here."

You keep walking, but Natasha starts to follow you.

"'m cold," you say quietly so she can't hear the tremble in your voice.

"Are you feeling sick?" Natasha asks with concern as you sit down on the couch, turning on the TV. You pull the blanket over you as if to make your point.

"No," you tell her because you don't want her to worry. "Just cold after a bath."

Natasha sets her things down before she takes a seat next to you. Even in the low lighting, she can see your eyes rimmed red and dampness of them.

You're refusing to look at her as you have your knees drawn up to your chest and stare stubbornly at the TV screen.

Then she hears it.

Your stomach grumbles.

"Are you hungry, sweetheart?" Natasha asks softly again. "We can just order food and stay in tonight."

Your cheeks grow hot. "Don't you have to be at the Compound?"

You don't mean to snap at her, but you can't help but feel embarrassed.

Natasha remains quiet for a moment, quickly thinking over the last few weeks before she feels guilt trickle in.

She doesn't remember the last time she ate with you—doesn't remember the last time she saw you eat.

"Sweetheart," she calls you gently again, and you bristle at the tone. "Is there something wrong?"

The fragile dam you've built to keep the weeks of compiling emotions at bay breaks, and you're hurtling down the stream over the waterfall.

"Are you not in love with me anymore?" You choke out as you begin to cry.

You can't even register to feel horrified at your breakdown because you just need to know.

"I know...I know my body has changed since we first met and I've gained weight but I really am trying to lose it. I just—I feel like you're avoiding me. At first, I thought things at work have been really stressful for you, and I wanted to give you space but you're gone all the time. You're gone even when you're here."

Natasha can barely understand anything you've said after hearing you say the first part. Her breath hitches painfully in the back of her throat, and she legitimately feels appalled at herself.

She starts to say something, but you keep going.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to make this about me because if you're going through something then I want to support and be there for you. But I can't help but feel like you're grossed out by me. I mean—I feel grossed out when I look at myself. I feel like I'm taking up so much space—"

Natasha cuts you off abruptly, pulling off the blanket as she pulls at you until you're in her lap.

"Nat—"

"You're not gross and this is not about the weight you have or have not gained. You hear me?" Natasha says forcefully as she holds you close to her, hand over your thigh to keep you against her.

"God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry if I've been making you feel like you're not attractive me," Natasha's eyes well up as your tears wet her shoulder. "You're literally still the most gorgeous person I've ever met and you're always going to be that to me."

Natasha's hand at your waist dips underneath your hoodie, her fingers trailing up your back as she sighs at your warmth. "I should've told you, but the springtime is just really hard for me. It's odd because it's a time for things to come back to life but some of the worst things have happened to me during the spring and things blooming makes me think about things that aren't coming back. I think it's also just a little bit of seasonal depression too. I'm just the rare percentage that gets it in the spring."

The explanation makes your body sag with relief because while you feel so horrible that there is a reason Natasha doesn't like spring, she's not falling out of love with you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize that I was hurting you," Natasha apologizes again. "I didn't mean to be so distant but I didn't want to bring your mood down as well, which is why I've been working so much to keep busy."

"It's okay," you muttered as your turn your head, forehead pressed against her neck. "I'm sorry spring is depressing for you."

Natasha merely hushes you as she kisses the side of your head.

You begin to feel awkward, thinking about how you must be heavy on her and try to move, but Natasha doesn't let you.

"Sweetheart, I don't know how to convince you that you're perfect to me," Natasha says so seriously as she forces you to look at her. "If you want to lose weight because that is what you want, then I support you. But I need you to understand that I love you no matter what. I don't care either way because you're so fucking lovely to me always. Do you understand?"

Timidly, you reply, "Okay. Thank you."

Natasha presses her lips against yours in a long kiss before she pulls back.

"Now, I'm going to ask again. Are you hungry? We can order in and watch that new show on Netflix I heard was pretty good from Wanda."

You feel lighter. You think you might still want to work out because that would make you happy, but you don't feel the rush like you did just a couple of hours ago.

"Yeah," you say shyly. "But maybe something not so heavy?"

Natasha nods as she presses another kiss into your cheek as she helps you settle onto the couch right beside her to grab her phone.

"Anything to make you bloom."