#i just couldn’t think of a line for you but you’re still valid as an original five member :)))

[tojiphile]

you don't need other boys when you have him, your daddy’s best friend. he’s everything you’d ever need and more, better than all the boys—he’s a man. a good man. these are the words he croons into your ear every time he sneaks into your room late at night, slipping an arm around your waist and his cock in your eagerly waiting cunt.

it all started when you had a fight with your dad. even though your dad was hosting his own birthday party, you sulked all night. your dad didn’t try to hide his own snide comments, so why should you? you didn’t greet guests nor help out, instead choosing to use your phone, drink as much booze as you could and retire to your bedroom early.

as you lay in bed, you could still hear the reverberations of music and the boisterous laugh of middle aged men and women alike. you groaned and covered your head with a pillow, trying to drown out the noise. so when he knocked on your door, opened it when you didn’t answer, and walked in, you jumped when the weight shifted on your bed as he sat down.

“i didn’t mean to scare you,” he says kindly, lending you a smile, “you just seemed… off, today. i wanted to check in on you.”

you sit up. this man was your dad’s best friend of years. not having any kids of his own, he spoilt you rotten. he bought you all the toys and pretty dresses that your dad refused to, arguing that they were too expensive before throwing money at gambling or whatever new woman walked into his life. as you grew up, you couldn’t help but develop a soft spot for him. when you sat still and pretty during dinners and parties, nodding along like a good girl your father demanded you be, your eyes always fell on him. his charming disposition, the way he chided your father like no one else could, and the way he’d always put food on your plate first, giving you a wink as you said thank you wordlessly.

of course, when your friends would talk about dilfs, your mind would never go to your father, the deadbeat dad who provided nothing for you. instead, you would always think about him. his salt and pepper hair that he ran his calloused hands through, smile lines set on his face more defined than any wrinkles, his toned body that you would dream about, touch yourself to every night. you were suddenly conscious that you weren’t wearing a bra. nor shorts.

“i’m fine.” you pull your blanket up to cover your chest. maybe it was the six pack of beer or the cask strength whiskey, but your head was pounding, and your heart was racing. he put a large hand on your thigh. your blanket hid your bare skin from his, but his gentle touch already sent heat pooling in your lower body.

“i’m sorry about your dad,” he says, “he’s an idiot.” he rubs your thigh reassuringly, perhaps innocently unaware of what he’s doing to you, “he doesn’t know how to treat a woman. much less his perfect daughter.”

you flush. was he really saying this? he continues, “i’ve tried to tell him so many times, y’know? how amazing you are, so filial, better than so many other daughters this day and age. he keeps blaming it on your mum leaving but god, that shouldn’t be a fucking excuse.”

he’s working himself up, you can tell as his brow furrows, his arms tense. it feels good to be validated, especially when your father was so unmoving. you place a hand on his toned arm, “i’m fine, but thanks.”

“but you shouldn’t be fine!” he stands up, pacing. you internally bemoan the loss of contact, “if i was your dad, i’d never treat you this way,” he sits back down softly, brushing a stray hair behind your ear, “if you were mine, i’d take care of you.”

his flushed face is inches from yours, you can smell the whiskey on his breath and see the heat in his gaze, almost blazing. he cups your face gently, eyes studying your face before falling back to your eyes, “you’re perfect, so beautiful.” you hold his gaze, you don’t know where this is going but you don’t want this moment to end.

the moment ends when you both hear your father yell and a beer bottle break. he must have lost in a game of poker. before you can react, your father’s best friend shoots up, “i’m sorry,” he trudges towards your bedroom door, “i shouldn’t have come up.”

his hand is already on your door handle and your mouth acts before your brain can stop it, “no.” he turns to look at you.

your pull the blanket off, revealing your bare legs, nipples perky against your thin shirt, “stay.”

his breath hitches, and you can see his pants tightening. he can’t peel his eyes away from you but he manages to mutter, “it’s wrong.”

you turn your body to his, spreading your legs and placing your feet on the bed, exposing your core to him.

“please.”

whatever self control he had left seems to have evaporated at the pleading sound of your voice as he clicks your door lock into place and races over to your bed, forcing you to lie flat as he climbs on top of you, slotting himself between your spread legs, trapping you under him.

“you’re beautiful,” he whispers, leaning down to press featherlight kisses on your neck, “so beautiful.” you gasp as a hand grips your waist, running down the side of your figure.

“but this is wrong…” he tries to pull away but you stop him. “i don’t care.” you yank him by the front of his shirt, pulling all his weight on top of you as you press your lips together, running your hands down his broad back. he takes a second to react but follows your lead, he nips at your bottom lip and as you moan, he slips his tongue into your mouth.

he breaks away from the kiss, sitting up to pull off his shirt, revealing his defined abs. you let yourself feel him, reveling in the feeling. he leans back down, gaze never leaving yours but just as your lips are are about to meet, he stops. you can’t help but whine, though the sound is replaced by a gasp as a calloused hand cups you through your panties.

“you’re already soaked,” he laughs, “good girl.”

embarrassed but so unbelievably desperate, you let out a sigh, “only for you, daddy.”

he scoffs, “i know.” he pulls your panties aside, revealing your puffy pussy, “this isn’t the first time i’ve come up to your room.” he spreads you with his fingers, and you shut your eyes in anticipation, “i tried to find you last week to say goodbye but your walls are really thin. i heard you call out my name.”

the last time he was over, he must have come from the gym as his damp hair along with the tightest compression shirt you’d ever seen was enough for you to squeak out a tiny “excuse me”, before running to your room before you creamed yourself right there at the dinner table.

he slips two fingers into your greedy cunt, snapping you back to reality. he moves slowly, but his long, slender digits worked their magic, loosening you up while hitting at that spongy spot inside you. his thumb finds your clit and moves in small circles, causing your brain to short circuit. he hadn’t done much but the pleasure is insurmountable, the whole situation overwhelms you, and you find your core tightening, close. “cum for me,” he kisses down your neck, sucking near your collarbone. at his okay, you chase your release, writhing under him as his fingers continue working.

“so good for daddy,” he kisses you as you pant softly.

he slips his fingers out of your cunt and display them to you, slick and dripping. “messy girl.” you squirm as he spreads his fingers, showing off your viscous juices. he maintains eye contact with you as he takes his own digits in his mouth, sucking them clean, tasting you.

"sweet, just like you." he proclaims, booping your nose with the same finger that was just in his mouth seconds earlier. “can you take more?”

you nod. he grins, pressing a chaste kiss onto your lips. he sits up, one hand caressing your face and the other unbuckling his belt. he pulls it off in a swift motion, but before he can begin unbuttoning his pants, you move your hand to do so. "allow me," you smile up at him, puppy eyes glinting.

"someone's excited." he laughs, moving his hand to allow you to work on his buttons. his other hand, still on your face, makes its way down slowly, before his grip finally rests on your neck.

you unbutton his jeans and are faced with his grey underwear, straining from his bulge. “keep going,” he nudges you with his free hand. you pull at his waistband, allowing his cock to spring free. it’s thick, veiny, and big, bigger than any of the other boys’ you’d ever been with. tentatively, you wrap a hand around his length, causing him to hiss softly. your thumb doesn’t meet your fingers, so as you start pumping him slowly, up and down, you have to use two hands to grip him tight.

“god, you’re amazing,” he says with a sigh, giving your neck a gentle squeeze, gazing at you like you’re the most beautiful thing that’s ever crossed his sight. when you meet his eyes you can’t help but look away. still, you manage a whisper, “i- i want you.”

“say that again?” he asks, distracted by your hands working to unravel him. you flush.

“i want you…” you meet his eyes, “…in me.”

he barks out a laugh, spurred on by your boldness, “anything for you.”

he moves to stand up, shrugging off his bottoms. he moves to your bedside table and rummages around, looking for something. “any condoms?”

you shake your head. “i must have ran out. are you clean?”

he laughs. “considering you’re the first person i’ve fucked in a few years, i’d hope so.”

“good,” you hide a cheeky smile, before giving him your best puppy dog eyes, “because i really, really want daddy to give me his babies.”

with a raise of an eyebrow, he accepts the challenge. he always loves you best when you’re confident. makes him want to ruin you. he climbs back over you, spreading your thighs apart and aligning the tip of his cock with your dripping cunt.

he looks at you for your approval, and at your nod, he pushes his tip in. you gasp at the stretch, his thick cock opening you up like a present. you wanted him, no, needed him to fill you up, to make you feel so, so full.

you rut into him and he gets the hint, pushing himself deeper into you. it starts to feel painful, and you clench around him, trying to seek some relief. your fluttering walls make him feel so good, too good. he could feel himself coming close. “don’t do that!” he warns, but it comes out more as a moan.

you disobey, of course, and squeeze tighter. wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull him in deeper, causing you both to breathe in a sharp intakes of breath. any pain had evaporated into the pooling warmth in your stomach.

both of you stay in that position for a while, eyes locked. “fuck it,” he growls under his breath, grabbing onto your waist and pulling your body away from his, before snapping it back. he’s thrusting in, and pulling you off, all while his curved cock continues to hit that sweet, sweet spot that makes you see stars. you almost fall limp, but wanting to prove yourself, you start fucking yourself on his cock, lifting your hips and trying to move yourself to ease his load.

“such a good, a good girl. my good girl. my girl. my girl. mine.” he chants it like a mantra, each syllable a beat he moved along to as he fucked you silly. “who owns you?”

“you, daddy!”

he places a hand on your bare stomach and squeezes. following the curve of your body, he finds your breast. he takes your whole boob in his big hand, squeezing it so tightly it hurt. he moves to play with your nipples, rolling it around between calloused fingers, pebbling it. you moan and arch your back, allowing him to sink deeper into you.

“what a good girl you are, huh? fucking yourself on his cock. my pretty, pliant girl. ‘m gonna fill you up with my babies. wanna see your cute little stomach swell.” he lifts one of your legs, tucking it over his shoulder, allowing him to go even deeper than you thought he could. you’re squirming, trying to keep up with his relentless pounding but god it’s too much. his hand wanders your body, gripping at your tender flesh. he wants to feel you, every part of you.

just the thought makes the pooling heat in your stomach come to a boil, your toes curling, you cry out, “i’m gonna cum!” he continues fucking you, his stamina never letting up, “cum for me, my pretty girl, i’m close too.”

the pleasure is building to a climax and as he places a hand on your neck and squeezes, you feel your high washing over you, cunt convulsing over his cock. his grip doesn’t release, and black spots start to cover your vision, making you let out a shaky moan.

as he looks down at you, back arching and falling while he fucked you through your orgasm, the obscene sight of your precious body squirming under him is what takes him over the edge. he’s cumming into you, warm jets of white shooting straight into your cunt. his head empty other than his relentless thoughts, “mine, mine, mine, mine, mine.”

you both reach that peak together, gripping onto each other for dear life. when you’re all done, he presses a deep kiss on your lips and slips his softening cock out of you, rolling to lie by your side. still, greedily, he pushes his cum back into you, “take it all.”

he opens up and lets you roll into his arms. he places a gentle kiss on your forehead, and smooths out your tangled hair. you both lie there in comfortable silence, your eyes falling shut and his focused on you. soon, your breathing became even. when you fall asleep, he rolls himself out of your bed, looking down at your sleeping form, so peaceful and worry-free. he wants you to look like that always. slowly, he gets himself dressed to rejoin your dad’s party downstairs. tucking you in, he presses one final kiss on your head and whispers,

“good girl.”

GETO SUGURU, gojo satoru, zhongli, hajime iwaizumi, NANAMI KENTO, tetsuro kuroo, aki hayakawa

[chrollogy]

SFW; fluff, atsumu eats your leftovers but according to him, he has a very good reason why. inspired by my prev post but what i experienced wasn’t anything like this :(. divider: cafekitsune.

── “what part of ‘mine. don’t eat.’ do you not understand?” the question flies right into atsumu’s room the second he opened his door, sharp tone greeting him before he could even fully see your standing figure. genuinely confused, the male furrowed his brows, free hand scratching at the shaved part of his nape. and he has the audacity to look confused, you thought, head tilting to the side as the anger rose within you.

for the past few months, you’ve been roommates with atsumu—he was nothing but polite, and respectful, albeit a little rowdy at times but nothing too unmanageable. that was until two weeks ago where you had stored leftovers in the fridge at night, saving it for tomorrow’s lunch. unlucky for you, it disappeared the next morning. that was fine. okay. swallowing the unpleasant feeling that settled in your chest—maybe atsumu thought it was for him, you blame yourself for not labelling it as yours. a rookie mistake.

the second time it happened, you were beyond speechless. wanting to give atsumu the benefit of the doubt, you concluded it as a coincidence—maybe he was tired from practice, there was nothing else appetising in the fridge except your leftovers. so, again, you let it slide.

the third time, however, it was a pattern without a doubt, and you knew better than to let it slide. having to look forward to something—especially a good meal—only for it to be taken away in an instant was something you wouldn’t even wish on upon your worst enemy. though, your worst enemy was standing right before you, hand behind his head, clueless as hell. maybe you would wish it upon your worst enemy. “hm?” atsumu mirrored the tilt of your head, only spurring your annoyance further.

“my leftovers. i know you’ve been eating them, miya. we’re the only ones who live here.” you pinch the bridge of your nose, eyes screwed shut at his lack of common sense. being angry was one thing, but being both angry and hungry was a whole different discussion. “explain. i went out of my way to put a sticky note to let you know that it was mine yet you still ate it.” atsumu couldn’t help the familiar feeling blossoming in his chest—the one that occurs whenever he was in your presence.

you looked so cute all riled up. the way your brows furrowed, carving lines between your forehead or the way the corners of your lips pointed down, forming a small pout. atsumu didn’t even care that he was on the receiving end of your hangry mood. he gave you a sheepish smile, one that would’ve had your cheeks heating if it wasn’t for the situation at hand, “i’m sorry. .” his two-worded apology hung in the air, waiting to be completed.

so you stood there, arms crossed, eyes boring into his own. atsumu looked away, gaze lingering on the door hinge as if it was the most interesting piece of metal in the world. “i have a valid reason but it’s silly.” he let out an empty chuckle, hand rubbing at his nape. valid reason? what kind of reason did he have to justify him eating your leftovers? ones that you bought with your own money.

atsumu took your silence as a signal to keep going. oh god, now he really wanted the ground to swallow him whole—for the carpet beneath his feet to just split apart and let him fall into nothingness. the more atsumu scoured his mind for the right words, the more he felt like an idiot, embarrassment engulfing his every being. mind you, he wanted this to happen and now that it was playing right before his eyes, he couldn’t help but chicken out.

the sentences laced together in his mind were useless anyway when he blurted out ‘i think you’re cute’ which only deepened the creases between your brows. silence. there was about a good 10-second silence, and during the span of that, atsumu really wished he was swallowed whole. but nope, he had to face the consequences of his stupid actions.

it wasn’t because he was being a dick, no, far from that. ever since atsumu saw you walk through the shared apartment, he felt something foreign—he felt his heart skip a beat, and not in the way it would during intense rallies in a match. all atsumu knew was that he wanted to get to know you better, even if it meant getting your attention in silly little ways—although, annoying might be the better word to describe it on your end.

there was nothing but mutual respect with the bond you two shared but it was also not intimate, and atsumu craved intimacy. you’ve both remained civil ever since living with one another, giving and receiving pleasantries throughout the day, small conversations but nothing too deep. it didn’t help that you weren’t the type to make small talk, only engaging in a conversation with atsumu whenever he initiated.

so, he devised a rather smart (idiotic) plan to gain your undivided attention—to simply put it: eating your leftovers so you would notice him. atsumu mentally noted to give himself a pat on the back for mission accomplished, though, that’d have to come later since he had no backup plan for how to deal with this situation. “that’s it . . ?” he felt small under your judgement, not to mention the amusement in your tone.

atsumu would rather be on the receiving end of sakusa’s spikes than ever admit to you that he’s been craving for your attention like a lovesick puppy with its tailed tucked between its legs. alas, here he was facing the consequences, a crimson blush painted on his cheeks while animatedly explaining in complete detail of why he’s been eating your leftovers. you didn’t know whether to be upset, flattered or both.

upset because out of all ideas, atsumu thought resorting to eating your food was the best candidate. flattered because he thinks you’re cute and have been silently pining for you and your attention. both because of how silly this all sounded—the moment you came knocking on atsumu’s door, you expected a concrete explanation for his actions, not a full blown confession.

you laughed, not because of being upset nor flattered but because of how dumb the situation was. atsumu mirrored your laugh despite the gears turning in his head, trying to find a reason why you were laughing at him. “you know, you could’ve just told me about your feelings in the first place and i would have happily accepted them.” that was atsumu’s first thought but it was too easy for him (no it wasn’t, he doesn’t know how to properly talk to people he pines for.).

later in the evening, after returning from a dinner with your friends, atsumu found a singular takeaway container sitting in the fridge with a little note: for you :P <3

a few hours ago, the food would’ve been labelled as ‘mine’ to deter him from eating it but atsumu has a good assumption that he was the one labelled as yours, this time.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

For All I Care

Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist

Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Asexual!Tav, Astarion x Bard!Tav

Astarion's POV, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Fic, Astarion being bad with emotions, hints of one-sided Gale x Tav if you squint

Warning: Canon typical violence, violent thoughts toward Tav

Summary: After a fight with a hag, the rest of the party wakes up to find you still fighting for your life. Astarion feels himself at a loss, afraid and helpless in a way he has never felt before. And it's all your fault.

A/N: Just a gentle reminder that I have not played the game, so in terms of the exact placement on the timeline, it's a little sketchy. Just know that this is well before the events of I Want It All, and we'll call it good. And, as always, PLEASE REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS! I NEED VALIDATION TO SURVIVE!

Word Count: 6.2K

If Astarion never saw a hag again, it would be too soon. Just one was more than enough for several lifetimes. The bitch was not only a sore to look at but hit like a brick wall. Even after a full night’s sleep aided by Shadowheart’s magic, he still felt stiff all over. 

The rest of camp wasn’t much better. The sun was almost fully overhead by the time everyone stumbled out of their bed rolls. All morning banter was replaced with mumbled greetings and not so subtle groans. Even Lae’zel remained quiet, seemingly too occupied with her own discomfort to comment on the weakness of everyone else. 

Astarion counted himself grateful for that. He didn’t think he could endure a lecture on top of an aching back. 

“Here we are,” Gale said, a little too cheerfully. “I know last night's excursion was rather strenuous, but if this doesn’t cure what ails you, nothing will. No offense, Shadowheart.” 

“I would take offense, but I’m frankly too tired to care,” she countered, dryly. 

Gale gave a good natured laugh before handing her a bowl of something hot. 

The pout on her face fell away as soon as she took her first bite. The rest weren’t far behind, the low murmur of pain turning to something more pleasant. 

Astarion observed, doing his best to push down the bite on envy in his chest. He could eat, technically, but it went right through him, not even granting him the temporary relief of a full stomach. If it didn’t smell appetizing, he wouldn’t mind so much, but it did. Yet another minor torture of his existence. 

Eventually Gale did turn his gaze to him, that annoyingly persistent enthusiasm faltering.

“Do you…ah, require a refreshment?”

Deciding to have some fun, Astarion gave him his best seductive smirk.

“Very much,” he purred. “However, if you’re the one offering, I’ll pass. I’ve got someone much more appetizing in mind.”

He turned his head towards your tent, and immediately frowned. You still hadn’t made an appearance. Granted you were always one to rest in, but this was getting ridiculous. 

Gale followed his eye line, grimacing as he came to a similar conclusion. 

“Might need to hold off on that. They got it pretty rough last night.”

“I’ll go check on them,” Wyll volunteered, pouring a fresh bowl of stew. “If anything will get them out of bed, this will.” He then turned to Astarion, giving him a hard look. “Try to keep your fangs to yourself until they’ve eaten something.”

He answered with a mocking pout. “Oh mother, must I?”

Wyll didn’t raise to the bait, rolling his one good eye before making his way towards your tent. 

Something odd twisted inside Astarion. He was struck with the sudden urge to trip the man. Childish perhaps, but he just couldn’t stand that tone of altruistic condescension. He would have spoken up if Wyll hadn’t beaten him to it. He was rather partial to the idea of you and him sharing breakfast in bed. It would only be breakfast, but he wasn’t in a position to try for more. At the very least, it would be a convenient excuse to check on you himself.

Gale hadn’t been exaggerating. You had gotten the brunt of the hag’s attention, running between everyone to provide whatever aid you could. By the time you made it back to camp, you could barely stand, skipping your nightly check-ins in favor of falling straight into your tent and a soundless sleep.

This troubled him in a way he couldn’t properly explain.  It wasn’t like he needed you to tuck him in, but he had grown accustomed to your face being the last he saw before closing his eyes. He knew the others appreciated it as well. It was how you had found yourself as the leader of this merry band. You weren’t the strongest or the most powerful, you simply took the time to care.

It should have bothered him more. Gods knew he clashed with Wyll and Karlach on more than one occasion concerning their bleeding heart heroics. Perhaps it was because your heart always put the party first. You’d extend it to others, but never to the point it needlessly put them and, more importantly, him in danger. 

You just…helped, with clear eyed understanding and so little fanfare it made it easy to forget just how much you did, until the moment you couldn’t. 

He blinked hard, mentally yanking himself from wherever his mind was leading him. 

He wouldn’t feed on you today, he decided. There had to be some boar or deer around. It’d be best if they stay put another day anyhow. No need to rush into the next life or death scenario.

“Shadowheart! Gale!”

Everyone turned, to see Wyll running from your tent. The two spellcasters were up the next second, all exhaustion rushing from their bodies, readying for a fight. 

“What’s going on?” Gale asked.

“I don’t know. Something’s wrong with Tav.”

“What? How?” Shadowheart interjected. “They were fine last night. I healed them myself.”

Wyll shook his head. “That may be, but they’re not waking up.”

“We better have a look then,” Gale said, with an authority that left no room for argument. He took the lead, the two others falling quickly behind. 

Astarion stayed where he was, frozen. There was a hard twisting in his gut. He could feel the hair rise on the back of his neck as the sudden need to run shot through his veins. He recognized the symptoms; fear was an emotion he was intimately familiar with.

Before he realized what was happening, he was on his feet, taking long strides towards your tent. 

It couldn’t be as bad as Wyll was making it sound. Admittedly, you had been run rather ragged, but nothing the rest of them hadn’t felt. Perhaps he had taken one bite too many. This was nothing. You were fine. You were supposed to be fine. 

He stopped at the threshold, pushing aside the flap. 

Whatever breath he had in his lungs rushed out in an instant. 

The first thing that hit him was the smell. It clung to the inside of his nose reeking of damp sickness. Your body was drenched in sweat, your hair plastered to your forehead in soaked clumps. He swore he could feel the heat of your skin burning. Your breath came ragged as if someone had wrapped an invisible hand around your throat and was slowly choking the life out of you. He could see how your body twitched and jerked. It was taking both Shadowheart and Wyll to keep your limbs in check as Gale mumbled some enchantment over your body. 

His hand gripped hard on the fabric. He needed to take a step back. He had little experience with disease, but it was plain enough that whatever this was didn’t play by any rules he was familiar with. The survivor in him screamed to use this perfect distraction to grab whatever he could carry and run. Still, he didn’t move. 

“What’s wrong with them?” he said, his voice rough even to his ears. 

“I don’t know,” Gale admitted, clearly disturbed. “I haven’t seen anything like this before.”

“They were fine,” Shadowheart insisted. “I healed them, and they went to bed. Nothing else happened.”

“There were a lot of spells being thrown around last night. Maybe they were hit with something the rest of us weren’t,” Wyll suggested. 

“Oh Gods,” Karlach said, just behind Astarion’s shoulder. “Do you think it’s the tadpoles?”

Something heavy sunk straight into his stomach at her words. It certainly was a possibility. They all knew the symptoms, but why now? Why you? 

There was a slight rustle of movement just behind him. Lae’zel by the smell. A quick look out of the corner of his eye saw her standing just behind Karlach. Her back was stiff and her expression hardened in a way he had come to recognize. 

He never moved faster in his life. 

Before anyone could react, he ducked under Karlach’s arm, knocking Lae’zel off her feet. Her sword scattered clear of her grip, skittering into the grass. She fell with a hard thump as he used the momentum to trap her under the weight of his body and dagger at her throat. 

“Now, what were you planning to do with that,” he said, as smooth as a knife. 

Her surprise was evident, but quickly overtaken by a low growl straight from her chest. 

“Unhand me, or I will unhand you.”

“Might need the sword for that.”

“Oi! What’s going on?” Karlach said, finally turning towards the scene. 

“If it is the tadpoles, we cannot risk them turning,” Lae’zel snapped. “I am prepared to do what is necessary.” 

Red blinded Astarion’s vision, a hiss escaping his lips as they pulled back to show bared fangs.

“Necessary?”

“We don’t know that yet,” Wyll said, stepping beside Karlach. “Just think a moment. If it was the tadpoles, wouldn’t all of us have felt something by now?”

Lae’zel ignored him, her eyes turning straight to Astarion’s. Her expression lost none of its fury, but there was a coldness to it that forced an air of calm. 

“You know I’m right,” she held. 

His jaw clenched. He did know. If even one of them turned into a mind flayer the rest were bound to follow. Killing you would be the logical thing to do to preserve his own survival. Still, it wasn’t your neck he was poised to cut. 

“Nobody is killing anyone!” Wyll interjected. “Gale and Shadowheart will figure out what’s wrong with Tav. In the meantime, we are not going to do anything we would sooner regret.”

“Astarion?” Karlach said, cautiously. 

There was a long pause. He could feel their eyes burning the back of his skull, but neither stepped closer. It was easy to imagine what he looked like; half crazed, teeth bared and blade ready. Not his best moment. 

With what grace he could muster, he pulled away, quickly putting some distance between himself and Lae’zel.

She got to her feet, decidedly not reaching for her weapon as her eyes moved between the three of them. 

“They live for now,” she allowed. “But if Tav does turn, you know what we’ll have to do.”

Astarion’s spine stiffened. The dagger twitched in his hand, just in time for Karlach to step between them.

“Walk away Lae’zel,” she said, sternly. “I’m not kidding.” 

Lae’zel’s brow furrowed, her face twisting in disgust. “Tsk'va,” she cursed. “Cowards. All of you.” 

She turned then, picking up her sword before making her way back to her tent. 

Once she was a good distance away, some of the tension left Karlach’s shoulders as she pulled her attention back to him. 

“You okay?” Karlach asked.

“Well, I certainly haven’t made any new friends,” Astarion said, his voice tighter than he intended. He glanced over at Wyll. “I take it still no answers?”

Wyll gave a long sigh. “Gale said he’ll need more time to detect the exact cause. He doesn’t think it’s the tadpoles, but there’s no telling just yet. Luckily, Shadowheart was able to calm them enough to sleep. At the very least they’re no longer at risk of hurting themselves.” 

“So what do we do?” Karlach asked. 

“Wait. This isn’t something we can fight. Gale and Shadowheart will do what they can, but ultimately, this is Tav’s battle.” 

Astarion bit back a growl as red once again danced across his vision. 

Wait? That was the fabled Blade of Frontier’s brilliant plan? Hells below was everyone in this camp completely useless?! He didn’t need to be a cleric to know what was happening. He knew what dying smelled like and none of them, not a single one, could think of an actual, tangible solution besides wait?

Forget tripping the man, it was taking every single ounce of restraint to keep from strangling him. 

Draining the last of his patience, he turned on his heel, and made his way towards the treeline. 

“Where are you going?” Wyll called. 

“To go kill something,” Astarion spat. “Unless you want me to stay here and do it.” 

Wyll looked like he was going to say something that would put his neck in Astarion’s teeth, but Karlach spoke up first. 

“We’ll make sure Lae’zel keeps her distance. Don’t wander too far.”

Astarion didn’t have an answer. He just managed a tight nod before continuing out of camp and out of sight. 

He didn’t know how long he walked. He just knew that by the time he stopped the sun was much lower in the sky. The sounds of his companions deafened in the overgrowth leaving him well and truly alone. 

A shuddering breath escaped his lungs. Whatever strength in his limbs left him. He only just managed to catch himself on a tree as his hands began to shake. 

What in the nine hells had he been thinking? 

Well, that was the trick, wasn’t it? He hadn’t been thinking. Fear had been driving him and he had done as he always did when fear took over; he found a way to survive, damn anyone who got in his way. The difference was, it wasn’t his life that was in danger. When had your survival become so vital to his? 

He knew he was reliant on you to keep him safe from Cazador. You were the only one who trusted him. Without your vote of confidence, chances are he would have been left to his own devices a long time ago. He needed you alive if he were to maintain the protection of the others. And he had put that protection in direct threat by holding a knife to one of the group’s best fighters. 

He let out a frustrated groan, rubbing his face in his hands. 

Fuck, this was a disaster. He had never been particularly gifted when it came to strategy. It was difficult to anticipate consequences when he never knew what fresh hell awaited him in the morning. Compound that feeling by two hundred years and it was no wonder all his plans fell apart. 

Even if you did survive, he still had no way of guaranteeing you would stay loyal to him. All his attempts at seduction had failed.  You certainly enjoyed his company, and he was sure you gave him more attention than the others, but he didn’t know what you wanted. Every single day he waited for you to name your price and every single day you failed to answer. It was driving him to insanity.  

No wonder he had been so quick to draw his blade. Any grasp he had on safety was already hanging by an invisible thread. 

He let out a deep breath, forcing himself to calm. There was little he could control at the moment, but he could control himself. It was a new sensation, one he was still getting used to. He’d have an easier time of it once he fed. 

Blood of thinking beings was out for the moment. He’d have to settle for something big and preferably angry. There would be nothing elegant about this hunt. 

He got his wish. While he might have preferred a bear, the raging boar did well enough for his purposes.

It was an ugly kill. He didn’t just bite the beast. He tore into its neck so deeply the bones of its neck became exposed to the open air alongside bloodied muscle. His hands did the rest, ripping it fully open so the innards spilled out onto the forest floor. In the end, he didn’t even get much blood out of it, allowing the earth to become wet with carnage. 

He breathed it in, hoping it would somehow erase the smell of your convulsing body from his mind. 

It didn’t work. 

Even with fresh blood in his mouth, he could only think of your labored breaths and racing heart. The relief of sated hunger became tainted by the taste of sickness on his tongue.

He forced himself back on his feet, not bothering to wipe away the blood as he stumbled further into the forest. 

There was nothing he could do. He’d sooner drain the life from you than save it. It was baked into his nature; a disease in his own right.  

If he just had a target, something he could trick or kill, it would be different. Instead he was left to wait; useless…powerless. 

His hands clenched, his nails digging into his palms to the point of pain. 

Surely he didn’t need you so badly. If you died, he would just have to refocus his efforts on somebody else; Shadowheart perhaps, or even Gale. He wasn’t about to get sentimental now. He would survive you as he had done countless others. This wasn’t his end.

He found a deer next, performing the same ritualistic slaughter. Blood filled him. He could feel his mind becoming clear, but it wasn’t enough. He moved onto a burrow of rabbits, then a badger, and even a weasel. It was only when he caught himself seriously contemplating gutting a squirrel did he realize how futile it was. All the blood in the world couldn’t make up for his inherent weakness. 

He had grown too dependent on you. It was making him sloppy, unbalanced. Maybe you were better off dead. He would be free then. 

That was the point of this whole venture wasn’t it? To be free. Free of Cazador. Free of fear. And here he was ready to chain himself to another just because they’d shown him a bit of kindness. What was that kindness worth when the loss of it inspired a terror he'd never known before.

A fury rose within him, one he clung to like a lifeline. 

This was all your fault. You brought him to this. How could he possibly forgive you?

He let the anger fester as he took the time to clean himself up. Blood caked his hands up to his elbows with tendons stuck under his fingernails. It took several washes in a nearby stream to get it all out. He counted himself lucky his shirt had managed to escape most of the viscera. The last thing he wanted was an interrogation. 

He needn’t have worried. It was well after dark by the time he crept back to camp. All was still, in the same way a body became when holding its breath. 

He spotted Gale easily enough as he poured over some tome, his lips moving along with the words. Lae’zel and Wyll sat together, polishing their weapons without exchanging a word. Shadowheart looked to be meditating while Karlach sat next to the fire, brow furrowed while throwing the occasional stick into the flames. 

Aside from the faint scrap of stone on metal, not a sound came from any of them. 

Against his own will, his gaze turned to your tent.

It struck him then, why the quiet filled him with such dread. 

By now a steady flow of strings should be teasing the edge of his ears. You seemed convinced a half inch of fabric was enough to muffle your rehearsals. None of them bothered to correct this assumption. On more than one occasion, he found himself forgetting the book in his hand as he listened to you work out some new melody. There was something about the way you played, as if each note lifted a burden on your soul. And if the night wasn’t filled with your music, it was touched by your voice. 

You had a way of sparking conversation, sharing countless stories while encouraging the others to do the same. You knew when to listen, when to comment and just when to laugh to make the telling all the sweeter. He spent more time than he cared to admit thinking about how to pull that sound to your lips. He found it had the same effect on him as your plucking.

Then there were the rare times, when banter dwindled and everyone became lost in their own thoughts, he could make out a song just under your breath, an unconscious hum to accompany your work. 

It brought a comfort he couldn’t describe, one he hadn’t realized he needed, until it was gone. 

With quick steps he made his way to you, slipping into your tent with not even the barest rustle of fabric.

He’d never been in your tent before. If it were any other day, he’d be taking the time to examine every inch of it, but all he could focus on was you. 

You were so still. An improvement from before, but not an especially encouraging one.  It was clear from the perfectly arranged pillows you hadn’t moved since Shadowheart put you back to sleep.  The only hint you were alive was that barest intake and outtake of breath.

His jaw tightened, his body tensing as a growing panic rose within him. 

No, this was good. You were stable, for now. He still had options, more time to plan. He didn’t have to make any decisions tonight. Best he left and waited to see what the morning would bring.

You took a sharp intake of breath, slightly deeper than before. Your eyes twitched behind your lids and then you settled.

He paused, glancing to the entrance, half expecting somebody to come rushing in.  He was surprised nobody was in here with you, or at the very least watching the door. He had slipped by without so much as a “hey you”. Any vagrant could just wander in. 

He could end it right now. All it would take was one quick slice. The picture became clear; a single surprised gasp, the smell of your blood and then…silence. Forever. 

Bile rose in his throat. He shut his eyes trying to will the image away as that new desperate terror threatened to drown him all over again.  

Damn you. Damn you to every circle of the hells! 

The gods were mocking him. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. He couldn’t just like you. No, he had to go and start caring.  

A small whimper broke through his thoughts. Your head jerked, your brows pinching in distress. 

Shadowheart. He needed to get Shadowheart, or Gale, or Wyll. Hells, she may not be able to touch you, but Karlach would undoubtedly have a better bedside manner. Besides Lae’zel he was the worst person suited for this. Gods, what was he even doing here? 

You took a sharp intake of breath, flinching away from something only you could see. 

He was on his knees the next second. 

Your body settled, but your breathing came hard and fast. At least it wasn’t rasping. 

His hands hovered over you, unsure of what to do. He had officially given up on the idea of leaving. He’d just have to improvise the rest. 

Hesitantly, he let his fingers brush across your forehead, pushing aside a few of the loose strands. You were hot to the touch, but he took comfort in the fact you weren’t sweating as you were before. Whatever had taken hold of you that morning, it seemed to have loosened its grip. 

You began to calm, a soft murmur of contentment stumbling from your lips. 

The irony was not lost on him, but it didn’t stop a part of him from melting at the sound. 

“Now that’s hardly playing fair, darling,” he whispered. “I’m trying to be angry with you.”

You didn’t answer except for a sigh as you turned your head, following his touch. 

He allowed himself to linger for a moment before placing the back of his hand against your skin to feel it properly. You really were much too warm. The relief you were expressing no doubt came more from his body temperature than his caresses. 

Slowly, he pulled away as he glanced around the small space. There had to be a water skin in here somewhere. Surely the idiots would know better than to leave you to burn yourself from the inside out. 

A soft groan caught his attention as he spun back to you. 

You shifted under the blankets, rolling back and forth as if to get loose of your cocoon. Your eyes darted quickly behind your lids. Another huff of breath and then, all at once, there you were.

“Tav?” he breathed. 

Your eyes were bleary. Your skin was sallow. Your hair was a mess. Everything around him smelled of sweat and sick. And for a moment, he swore he could feel his heart beat again. 

A hint of a smile touched the corner of your mouth, your brows rising slightly. 

“Tav? Must be pretty bad then.”

He had to laugh. It was a short, strangled thing, and just about the only thing he could do to keep the stinging in his eyes at bay.

“Worse,” he said, managing to gain some hold on himself. “Of course, it must be said, your worse is most best.” 

You huffed out a small laugh of your own, which quickly turned into a series of dry coughs. 

He straightened in alarm before quickly spotting the water skin hanging on the center pole of the tent. Thankfully it was full, allowing him to waste no time lifting your head as he guided the water into your mouth. 

As soon as the liquid met your tongue you scrambled for more, pushing yourself further up to guzzle the rest. 

“Easy,” he warned, pulling back the container. “Can’t have you choking to death after all of that.”

You gave a slight sputter, proving his point as you caught your breath.  “Sorry. Just thirsty.” 

“Clearly,” he quipped. “Do you need more?”

You averted your eyes, your expression turning suddenly sheepish. “Please?”

As tempting as it was, he decided to save his teasing for later.  It was always more fun when you could give it right back anyway. 

He lifted your head, resting it on his lap before guiding the lip of the lid back to yours. 

“Slowly this time,” he cautioned.  

Your muscles tensed with restraint, but you followed his lead, taking no more than he gave. 

He tried to ignore the tight feeling in his chest. His mind flickered to his own thirst and, for a moment, he could see his own desperation reflected in your eyes. 

Something stirred inside him; an ache he didn’t recognize. He’d do just about anything to keep that look from marring your face ever again. 

Once you’d gotten a few more mouthfuls he pulled the water skin away, setting it down on the floor beside you. 

“Thank you,” you said, your voice still a little rough, but an obvious improvement. 

“Don’t mention it,” he said. “To anyone.”

“Don’t worry, nobody would believe me anyway,” you teased. 

“Truer words.” 

Without really thinking, he let his palm rest on your forehead. He had already gotten a sense of your temperature, but the way your eyes closed as you relaxed into his touch was too good to pass up.   

“How are you feeling?” he asked. 

“Like a band of goblins decided to make a riot of my insides,” you admitted, before turning your gaze upward. “What about you?”

“Me?”

Your mouth turned in an apologetic half smile. “No offense, but you look a bit ragged. Did something happen?”

He blinked, surprised by the sudden flash of anger your question inspired. Of course he was a bit ragged. You had started this morning on the verge of death, the knowledge of which had been torturing him for near on…oh, who bloody cared how long. And yet you had the audacity to ask if something happened, as if that wasn’t enough; as if you weren’t enough.  

It must have shown on his face, as your brows furrowed in concern. 

“Astarion?”

He mentally shook himself, pushing down the emotion as best he could. 

“Don’t worry about me, darling. Let’s focus on getting you better.” 

You frowned, your lips parting as if to say something when the entrance of the tent burst open. 

“Hey, thought I heard your voice!” Karlach said, with a beaming smile. “Good to see you awake soldier. Told’em you’d bounce back, just a matter of time. Shadowheart! Gale! Tav’s awake! Astarion is with ‘em.”

Astarion prickled at the announcement. He didn’t need the entire camp knowing his business. He had decided to sneak back for a reason. Surely nobody had seen him. 

He got his answer, as Karlach turned back, lowering her voice. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “Noticed you slip in earlier. Thought I’d leave you to watch Tav, but then I heard talking and well…you know.” 

“Yes, thank you,” he clipped, hoping the note of embarrassment would be blamed on getting caught and not…other things. 

“Thanks Karlach,” you said, smoothing over any lingering tension. 

“Don’t even think about it. Few more rounds of healing and you’ll be right as rain.” She then turned her gaze to him. “You got’em?”

His brow furrowed slightly. He could say no. Gale and Shadowheart would need space to do their work. It would be the perfect excuse to walk away and try to forget any of this happened. 

He glanced down at you, your head still resting in his lap. 

You looked so fragile. It was a word he had never thought to use before when describing you. The sound of it rang with a dissonance that made his hair stand on end. Still you managed a half smile, your head tilting as silent permission to leave if he wanted. 

And what exactly would he do if he left; wait in the dark, just as helpless as before. He may not be able to do much, but he could do this. It was better than nothing. 

He turned back to Karlach, his purpose clear. “I’ve got them.”

She didn’t say anything back, simply nodding in acknowledgement before dipping out, and allowing Shadowheart and Gale to enter. 

Shadowheart immediately took a place beside you, her hands glowing with magic as she got to work. Gale, meanwhile, remained standing seemingly unsure of what to do. 

Astarion couldn’t help but notice the way the wizard’s eyes shifted awkwardly between you and him. Some petty part of him felt vindicated in staying. Apparently he had taken his designated spot. 

“Glad to see you awake,” Shadowheart said. 

“So am I, funny enough,” you said. “What happened?”

“Nasty bit of business,” Gale explained. “That hag didn’t hold anything back. Combination of cause fear, ray of sickness, a few other bits of spell work and bestowed curse to keep them all knotted together. The healing magic Shadowheart gave you last night was able to mend your physical wounds, but little else. 

“Luckily once we were able to identify the spells, I was able to untangle most of the effects and pluck that curse right out. All told, it looked much worse than it was. With the hag dead, it appears your body has been able to fight off most of the remaining effects on its own. Honestly, if you were at full capacity at the start of the fight, it likely wouldn’t have gotten as bad as it did. Much easier to recover when all your blood is inside your body.” 

Gale’s eyes flicked over to Astarion. 

His jaw clenched, knowing full well what the wizard was implying, but he wasn’t about to admit he was right. 

“I’ll keep that in mind next time I take an arrow to the shoulder,” you said, dryly. “Just don’t bleed.”

Shadowheart gave a short laugh. “Good to see your sense of humor is intact.”

Astarion and Gale broke eye contact allowing whatever argument was about to ensue to die on their lips. There were more important things to worry about. 

“What can I say, I’m a born entertainer,” you said, ruefully before turning your gaze evenly among the three of them. “I’m sorry to have caused so much trouble.” 

“No trouble at all,” Gale assured. “When compared to Karlach’s engine or my own condition, this is little more than a sniffle.” He glanced over to Shadowheart. “Anything I can do?”

“Honestly, there’s not much even I can do at this point,” she admitted. “We’ll just have to see how you feel in the morning. One of us should stay with you at least, in case something happens.”

“I’ll do it,” Astarion said, earning shocked looks from both spellcasters.  He did so particularly love the look on Gale’s face. 

“You’re sure?” Gale said, skeptically. 

He gave a nonchalant shrug. “I’m not planning to sleep much anyway. And don’t worry, I’m just as capable of yelling as anyone else in this camp. Besides, I doubt either of you are going to be much use to anyone in a few hours.”

Gale looked like he wanted to argue, but not before you spoke up.

“He has a point,” you said. “The pair of you have done enough as is. I’m feeling a lot better already. I’ll be fine.” 

“Alright,” Gale relented, with a grimace. “There’s some stew in that container there if you get hungry. See if you can keep some food down. And if they so much as twitch in their sleep–”

“I’ll handle it,” Astarion cut off with a sharpness that left no room for dispute. 

Gale appeared taken aback. So did Shadowheart for that matter, but Astarion couldn’t bring himself to care. You had in a very polite, roundabout way told them to leave. His job was to make it clear how much better that would be for everyone’s health. 

Both Gale and Shadowheart got the message, ducking out without another word. 

Astarion waited, counting down a solid minute to make sure nobody else would come barging in. Only when he was certain they were gone did he finally allow his body to relax. 

“You don’t have to stay.”

He pulled his attention back to you, his brows furrowing. 

 “I really am feeling a lot better,” you insisted. “I’ll be alright.”

His instinct was to argue. He wasn’t in the mood for any more quiet heroics from you, but something in your eyes gave him pause. 

“Do you want me to go?” he asked. 

“I…” You swallowed. The emotion in your voice was clear even from that one word. “You don’t–”

“Do you want me to go?” he repeated. 

For a long moment, you didn’t say a word. 

He waited for the predictable guilt to appear, an obvious sign of your irritating selflessness with maybe an apology thrown in on the side. There were hints of it, yes, but something else lingered, moving across your features despite your best efforts to bury it away. 

“No,” you confessed, with a yearning deeper than he felt he had any right to know. 

He thought back on what you told him, the bits and pieces you shared about your life. It was never obvious, just comments that slipped through, as if by accident. 

You didn’t know your mother. Your father was little more than a memory. You never mentioned any siblings. A flurry of names and faces filled your stories from across Faerun, but they never stayed the same between tellings. Now that he gave it proper thought, he couldn’t think of a single one of them you had named friend. 

He had to wonder how many nights you suffered through a fever alone, how many times you bandaged your own wounds and kept your own company on long nights in the middle of nowhere. 

You hadn’t given him permission to go out of the kindness of your heart. You had expected him to. You just wanted to give yourself the illusion of control over when. 

And yet, you asked him to stay. 

“Well, that settles it,” he soothed. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Your lips parted as if to say something more, but you closed it again swallowing the words back down. 

He counted himself grateful. He was liable to say any number of foolish things if you let him. 

Slowly, your eyes began to droop as sleep overcame you once more. 

As promised, he didn’t move, not daring to so much as shift your head. 

Maybe…maybe this was your price. He couldn’t be sure. He doubted he would ever be sure of anything with you, but maybe this was what you wanted; somebody to care. 

It was a dangerous notion. He had never provided anything real before. The concern he felt for you now was against his will. If he started caring for you on purpose, who knew where that might lead; the things he would be willing to do, all for you. 

He blinked the thought away. He was getting ahead of himself. A little went a long way, especially with you. Honestly, it would be almost too easy; a kind word here, a helpful hand there, and he would have you curled around his finger in no time. It wasn’t so different from what he had done before. All he needed to do was not care anymore than he already did. Nothing he couldn’t handle. He could stop any time he wanted. 

It was the thought that kept him through the night, the one he repeated to himself as he came as close to holding you as he dared. 

He had a plan now. What could possibly go wrong? 

Taglist: @bambamwolf87

[carlsangel]

TERRIFIED

carl grimes x reader

(carl comforts you during Terminus.)

tags: hurt to comfort, Terminus and mentions of The Claimers.

masterlist here!

During Terminus, you couldn’t remember a time when you felt more terrified than you were in that moment. You traveled long and far, originally you were from Woodbury. You remember being scared when you were told you’d have to move to the Prison, especially after your parents had left with the Governor one day and never returned.

You never got full answers, you heard they were attacked but not about what attacked them. You wondered about it everyday. But even in that moment, you don’t think we’re as scared as you were in the large crate marked with a big “A.” You hoped this place would be your savior, your new home.

On the walk to Terminus, you were nervous and for valid reason but Carl tried to make you feel better. He held your hand and ran his thumb over the back of it, occasionally squeezing when he noticed you breathing a bit deeper. He talked to you about a bunch of different things, a book he’d read, his old dog from before, he even asked you a ton of questions to distract you.

It worked, even though he probably was the one who needed comforting. Especially after your groups’ ordeal with the Claimers.

Right, the Claimers. The only other time you’ve been genuinely terrified.

You arrived to the wire fence surrounding Terminus. Rick asks Carl if he wanted to stick with him and he said no and he’d continue walking away with Michonne. You knew they would talk, he’s been pretty avoidant towards Michonne since that night with the Claimers. You went to walk in the opposite direction when Rick stopped you. “You’re with me.” He tells you, immediately getting to work on a dirt hole. You stood there awkwardly watching him when you realized you’d finally been alone with Rick, meaning you could gather details.

“What happened to my parents?” You inquired, not even minding the fact that it was a very blunt way to ask. It was your right to know. He looked up at you before continuing to shovel out some dirt. “We told you, they were attacked.” This made you roll your eyes. “You never told me what by. I know what kind of a world we live in, I’m not just gonna assume it was walkers.” You retort, Rick stops for a moment before you continue. “It was the Governor, wasn’t it?”

He remains still for a moment, eventually nodding while still looking at the floor. “He shot a lot of his people that day.” He explains, going back to digging the hole. Eventually the hole is big enough to stuff the duffle bag inside and he does so. He stands up and looks at you intently. “Sorry we didn’t tell you. I didn’t realize you’d be a larger part of our lives here.” He gestures to Carl, insinuating he was the reason your around. Which was entirely true.

“I just…don’t like secrets.” Rick nods and looks down at his hands as he wipes them off. “Well as long as you’re family…we won’t be keepin anythin from you.” He puts his hand on your shoulder like he tends to do to Carl. He smiles at you, and you return one as well. He goes back to the ground to cover up the bag and you walk to find Carl and Michonne. You notice they’re having a moment and you smile a little. You’re called back over as it was time to actually enter Terminus.

You enter the large factory building, noticing a woman repeating the same sentence over and over into a microphone(?) . Eventually you reveal yourselves and you’re lined up to be patted down. You’re led through what you thought would be your new home and you and Carl were both offered some food. You held the plate in your hands, looking at it curiously wondering what kind of meat it was, you wanted to assume it was venison.

Before you could ask, Rick had suddenly had a man in a headlock, causing you to drop the plate and arming yourself with the gun in your holster. You looked around and noticed everything that was familiar, the poncho, the bag, the riot gear. It was all a trap and you all fell for it. Surely you’d make it out alive, right? You always did.

Shots were fired and you started running. There were no thoughts going through your head other than escape. You’d recklessly shot at a man standing on a roof, somehow you’d actually hit him. His leg gave out and you could see him fall off the roof before Rick pulled you in the direction where you needed to run.

It felt like they were hunting you like animals. Upon running you’d see what looked like cages filled with human bones and blood all over the floors. You passed tons of crates with people screaming from the inside and you realized that would soon be you if you didn’t keep running. You were then cornered. Forced to drop your weapons, herded into the crate like, once again, like animals.

You were reunited with the people you saw as family. While that gave you a glimpse of hope, you still were still extremely worried. What would they do to you for shooting that man’s leg? You began to overthink when the group simultaneously decided that you would try to escape. You weren’t sure how to help, someone handed you a chunk of wood they’d cut off of the door with the pocket watch chain to shave down into a blade.

You looked over to Carl and he looked fine. How could he be acting so normal? Usually he had a front when in situations like this; he had one during the fall of the prison. What’s so different?

“What?” He noticed your staring. You shake it of and return to shaving down your wood against the ground. “It’s nothing.” You reply, your voice a tad shaky and he goes back to what he’s doing. You were warned that there were men arriving and you all began to prepare to storm through the large crate door. Then the roof opened.

Before you knew it you were huddled to the floor and you were extremely panicked, worried they’d take you first considering you shot one of their people. You felt someone grab you and you tried to resist. “It’s me, it’s me.” The person grabbing you was Carl, he took you to a corner to so you could catch your breath even with the smoke that flooded the room. He rubbed your back despite the fact that he was also coughing.

The room eventually aired out and you’d calmed down. You were now just sitting in the corner, your eyes still watery. Carl was checking up on everyone and you took a head count. They’d taken Bob, Rick, Daryl, and Glenn. Rick. You just talked to him, he just welcomed you to the family. Now he’s probably gone. Tears begin to form in your eyes, and you begin to sob quietly. Carl notices and he returns back to you, crouching down and placing his hands on your knees.

“Hey we’re gonna make it out.” He reached his hand out to your face and he gently wipes away your tears, brushing your hair behind your ear. You lift your hands up to cover your face while you sobbed and his heart begin to shatter into millions of pieces. “Cmon.” He pulled your wrists from your face and pulls your hands to his lips to place kisses on the both of them. “Just breathe okay?” He says softly, continuously kissing your hands to calm you down.

Your breath slows down and you nod. Your sobs had turned into small sniffles and you looked around to see if anyone was watching and they weren’t, thank god. “But y-your dad-” He immediately starts to shake his head. “Don’t worry about him. He’s gonna handle it. I know it.” He squeezes your hand twice and looks at you intently. “You promise?” You ask, your voice still quivering. “You know I can’t.” He responds. You give him a small okay, understanding he could never really promise anything.

“Cmon.” He smiles and stands back up, sticking his hand out to you. As soon as you go to grab his hand, boom.

Maybe you would make it out.

a/n: everyone thank mama carol for saving everyone’s asses! i hope this was okay, it honestly didn’t take me too long to write so i’m happy about that. i tried to incorporate a new sort of storyline for the reader since i feel like i use the same shit every time LMAO okay bye love u

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @evilnight07 @ilikestrawberriesandwomen

[idontplaytrack]

Not A Word

jealous! AJ Campos x fem reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, coarse language, jealous AJ(obvi😂), bit of a smutty ending

Requested? Yes / No

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Me? Jealous? Jealousy is not a word I'm familiar with.

"

“AJ! You’re out. y/n’s gonna run instead.”

“What…?” AJ looked at coach Murray, in utter disbelief. “Why?”

“Her timing’s gotten better than yours and we need to place, as you know.”

“Fine, whatever. Even though we still have plenty of time for me to train.” AJ jogged away in a huff.

You watched her leave, worried. Shit.

“Okay, y/n. Go to the starting line, you’re gonna run a few.”

“A few?”

“Yeah, a few laps to practice.” He nearly scoffs, “Go, go.”

“Alright.” You shrug, heading for the starting line as he said, then started running. The whole time, you were wondering where the heck she went off to. When you stopped for a bathroom break, you saw her sitting there by a pillar, drawing in her notebook. AJ looked up, saw you, and scooched a little further away. Sighing, you decided to leave her alone for now.

She was still there when you walked out of the bathroom. Resisting the urge to talk to her, you jogged back to the track. You didn’t see her for the rest of practice, and after practice, you couldn’t find her. You tried texting, then you tried calling. She didn’t pick up, she didn’t reply. And then her phone was switched off. “y/n? What’s wrong?” Gabi walked up behind you.

“I can’t find AJ. I tried calling and texting her but then she switched off her phone.”

“I think I have an idea for where she might be. Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

“Okay, thanks.” You followed her to her car and she drives you a park a little ways away from their house. “She’s usually by the pond sketching after a bad day. Though now, usually she goes to you, but since that isn’t the case right now, here she is.” Gabi stops to let you get off. You spot someone sitting down on the grass by the pond. “Oh, my God. Thanks, Gabs.”

“No problem. Glad I could help.”

You approached her quietly, sitting down beside her. “Hey.”

She shifts slightly, letting you know that she was aware of your presence, but she doesn’t take her earphones off. “AJ.” You repeated. “We need to talk.”

“For what?”

“About practice.” You began, lightly tugging her earphones off.

She sighs, closing her book. “AJ, Murray’s decision— I didn’t think he would pick me to go. I just ran. I- I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry about that. You improved, that’s a good thing.” AJ looks at you, then focused back on the ducks in the pond. “I just— I don’t know, I was—”

That was something she struggled with, opening up to you about her feelings. She always kept to herself. It’s always been like this and you have been trying to get her to be more open instead of trying to shoulder everything herself. Sometimes, it works, she’s okay, she talks. Other times, like right now, she just completely shuts you off and runs away. AJ doesn’t like it that you have to see her upset, you know it but you couldn’t care less if she cried in front of you. You would just hold her and let her cry it out and whatever else she needed. Did she know that? Yes she does, she just…struggles with accepting that you’re there for her.

“Jealous?”

AJ scoffs, “Me? Jealous? Jealousy is not a word I’m familiar with.”

“Babe, that’s okay, it’s a valid emotion. Okay? I will literally pull myself out of the team if it means that you get to run the race.”

“y/n, why would you do that? You’re great at it.” She answered tearfully.

“Because, it no longer makes me happy, actually. I feel more stressed than I do relaxed when I go to practice.” You admit, “I just stayed because it looks good on my record, transcript, whatever. I can see it, you love the sport. It’s what makes you feel happy, confident, recharged.”

AJ swallowed thickly, fighting the forming tears. “I’m just used to having to be the best, y/n. My Dad expects me to be the best, that if I even slip up just one time, I feel like I failed. I feel like everyone is judging me…”

————

“Baby, I- I know it’s so hard, I know your Dad’s hard on you. But it’s me…I’m here for you no matter what. For anything.” You told her, grabbing her hand, “See, look at this. This ring- it doesn’t cost much but it means the world to me because it represents the promise that we made to each other. I wear it all the time, and so do you…it’s tiny, but important. but not as important as you being there for me, me being there for you. We’ve been through some shit. But we don’t let it take us down forever. I don’t care how bad your day is, how much you need to scream or cry, run or punch someone. I will be there with you to do that with. I’m here, let me share things with you. You’re not alone— don’t just shove everything down.”

AJ chokes on a sob and then just ended up bursting into tears. You put your arms around her as she laid her head onto your chest. “It’s okay, baby. Just let it out, okay?”

“I know, you need the reassurance. You’ve told me that. So do I, sometimes. And in the event where I can’t give it to you, remember the ring. Our promise…this conversation. Please. AJ, I love you and I care about you. I want you to remember that.” By the time you finished talking, you were in tears as well. “You’re alright, honey.” You kissed the side of her head while rubbing her back. “We’re okay.”

“I’m sorry.” She sniffled, “It was wrong of me to get jealous. It wasn’t even your fault. And I just — gave you the side eye like you chose to run in the race.”

“Baby.” You chuckled, breaking away from the embrace and tilting her head by the chin, “I don’t care about that. It happened, so what? I know you, I know you didn’t mean that. I actually found that look on your face kinda funny, and very adorable actually.”

AJ laughs a little and ends up coughing, “I…I need you to know that too, I love you no matter what. No matter how shitty of a day I might have.”

“I know that, AJ. I know.” You promised, “I think I kinda know you pretty well by now.”

She blinks, licking her lips while looking at you. Something about that look in her eyes, there was like a shift in the mood almost instantaneously. AJ’s hand travels over your shoulder and down to your upper back, gently connecting your lips with her own. Somehow, you managed to push her back enough so that she’s laid on her back on the grass. AJ chuckles, “Hey. What are you doing?”

“What were you doing?” You retorted.

“Kissing you.” She answered, eyebrows raised briefly before crashing her lips onto yours again, hand roaming your back.

“AJ, do not take off my—”

She chuckles into the kiss, mumbling an ‘okay’ and the kisses don’t stop. “I love you.” She combs a hand through your hair while you now laid your head on her chest.

“I love you too, baby.” You replied, finger tracing her chest randomly.

“Maybe we should go…” She remarked, hand still massaging your scalp.

“Why?”

“It’s starting to get kinda dark, aaaand I don’t want those poor ducks to see what I’m about to do to you.”

“Oh.” You gasped, eyes looking into hers, “So we’re gonna do that now?”

“If you want to, of course.” She bit back a grin.

“Hell yeah, I want to.” You snuggled closer to her for a bit, “I also wanna just cuddle with you. This feels really nice.”

“We can do that afterwards.” AJ wiggles her brows, her fingers stopping in your hair.

“Really? Okay.” You exhaled, “Okay, let’s go.”

Once you returned with AJ to her house, she leads you up to her room, smoothly locking her door. “So, you’re sure?”

“Oh, yeah.” You confirmed, arm resting on her shoulder as you leaned in to kiss her first.

“Oh, my God.” AJ mumbles into the kiss, pulling you in by the waist.

After that, you were in the shower with her. You helped her shampoo her hair and lather the soap on her body. She does the same. You loved moments like these and she does, too. Quiet, comforting intimacy after sex. AJ randomly cups her face in her hands and presses a kiss to your cheeks then all over your face. It made you giggle, and she smiles. “You’re so cute.” AJ says while brushing the hair out of your face.

“Have you looked in the mirror, babe? You’re fucking adorable.” You held her chin, puckering up your lips and she kisses you again as expected.

“The mirror? I just did. Like, 10 minutes ago when you were trying to—”

“Let’s not.” You put a finger to her lips, “I’m too tired for another round.”

She had a tiny smirk on her face that turned into a sweet smile as she shut the water off, “Okay.”

Once you two stepped out of the shower, she quickly hands you a towel to dry yourself off with. AJ did the same then went over to her dresser to get a change of clothes- for her and for you. She got dressed in a comfy muscle tank and sport shorts, and you then put on the t-shirt and shorts she laid out for you. You climbed back into bed with her, immediately snuggling up against her with your head on her chest. “Sleepy, babe?” Her hand was on your back, the warmth comforting you,

You nodded, humming in response. “Jealousy is so hot on you, if I’m being honest.”

“Oh, is it?” She guffawed, patting your back to lull you to sleep.

“Just try not to tire me out so much all the time.” You mentioned that so casually, it made her giggle again. “Okay, beautiful.” AJ smiled to herself, “I promise. Get some rest.”

[jeannineee]

Hello, I am in love with your fics 😍😍 Can I please request Az x best friend reader, where they are flirty and have feelings for each other, but they never crossed the line… One day Y/N goes to visit him in the dungeons, they are talking and she notices the shackles behind him and few very dirty ideas crosses her mind, she keeps her poker face, but Az is the best spymaster and can see right through her. He confines her into the shackles for fun at first, but it quickly turns into something more heated 😈

Patience

Azriel x Reader

a/n: sometimes I look at the smut I write and it makes me wonder what is fundamentally wrong w me as a human. But y’all validate me LMFAOO. My requests are still open!! PART TWO TO THIS FIC

nsfw under the cut (18+ please)

“So this is where you work? It’s so bright and cheery,” you told Azriel, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Azriel grinned. “I actually redecorated recently. Livened up the place, a bit.”

You laughed in response, taking another look around the room.

The dungeons were much…cleaner than you were expecting, but given your best friend’s meticulous habits, it wasn’t too shocking.

What you did find mildly shocking, though, were the leather shackles hanging on the far wall of the room. You knew what his job consisted of, but the sight of them was worth giving him shit over.

“Kinky, Az,” you teased, folding your arms over your chest.

You silently thanked the Mother that the room was dim enough that he couldn’t see the flush of your cheeks.

He could probably hear your heartbeat, though.

The spymaster only smiled at first, tilting his head as he watched you. “Curious, y/n?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Curious? Maybe a little. Just making an observation, is all.”

Azriel leaned back against the wall to the right, still smiling. “Hm. Do your cheeks normally get this red when you’re making observations?”

You swallowed thickly, nervousness flooding your stomach. “I—uh—I was just saying…”

“Relax,” Azriel replied, taking a step towards you. “I’m only teasing you.”

He paused, his smile widening into a grin. “Wanna try them?”

Mother, spare you.

“W-What?” you sputtered, gaze flitting between your best friend and the restraints.

Azriel, somehow, remained calm as ever as he began undoing the straps of the shackles. “You said you were curious, right? Might as well try them out.”

You took a breath to calm the anticipation building within you, before replying, “If you wanted me in your bed, all you had to do was say so, Az.”

The chains on the shackles rustled against the cobblestone wall as Azriel continued his work. “This isn’t a bedroom, last time I checked. Though I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

Next time?

Azriel held the shackles in both of his hands, looking down at you. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to—“

“I’ll try them,” you declared, holding your wrists out for him.

Something like surprise flickered across Azriel’s expression, but it quickly disappeared. “So obedient,” he said in a teasing manner, but it was still enough to have heat pooling between your legs.

As he began securing the restraints around your wrists, Azriel’s touch was gentle. “If they’re too tight, or if they hurt, tell me.”

You nodded in understanding.

“I need words,” he said, in a voice that made your knees weak.

“I’ll—I’ll let you know,” you answered, pulling against the restraints a bit to test them. They kept your arms out at your sides, not allowing much mobility.

Azriel smiled, giving you a once-over, as if admiring his handiwork. “What do you think?”

“Not too tight.”

Azriel took a step closer. “Do you enjoy being in restraints, y/n?”

You couldn’t formulate a thought at first, between how close he was standing, and the fact that you were virtually helpless before him.

“Words, sweet girl,” he murmured, tracing his thumb across your jaw, your lower lip.

Your heart thrummed in your chest as you replied, “Yes. I enjoy it.”

“Do you want me to stop?” he questioned, moving his hand to your hip, running circles over it through your dress.

“No,” you answered quickly, keeping your eyes glued to his.

Azriel hummed, as if pleased with your response. “If you want me to stop at any point, say ‘red.’ Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” he praised, trailing his fingers to the slit in your dress. A low growl left his lips as he made contact with your soaking cunt.

“Is this all for me?” Azriel asked, his finger teasing your entrance.

You moaned at the sensation, hips bucking against his hand.

He roughly grasped your jaw in his other hand, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I’ve told you twice now to use your words. I won’t tell you a third time.”

“S-Sorry,” you muttered, before continuing. “Y-Yes. It’s all for you. Please, Az.”

“Please, what?” Azriel demanded, still tightly holding your jaw.

“Please touch me.”

“I’m already touching you,” he replied, running his finger through your folds.

You whimpered at his touch, your voice pleading as you continued. “I meant touch me more. I need more. Please, Az.”

Azriel tutted, releasing your jaw. His finger now grazed over your clit, but he didn’t apply any pressure. “Needy little thing, aren’t you?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but choked on a moan as he suddenly thrust his fingers into your cunt.

“I’m gonna have to teach you patience, y/n,” he whispered against your ear, slowly curling his fingers against your walls. “You can’t come until I say so.”

[dapg-otmebytheballs]

hi!!

i don’t feel right putting my opinion here as i am white and from the us so im not even close to the demographic of people you’re talking about, but i just wanted to say i like reading your posts!

now i don’t know everything that dan and/or phil has said, but i do think it’s important to realize the context

i really do wish they were going to other countries, as it does suck that they aren’t able to see everyone, but i’m also sure they have a valid reason for not, whatever that reason may be…i can’t see them deliberately avoiding other countries just cause there’s “better” options (not saying there are better options i just couldn’t think of another word hehe)

i feel very privileged to be in a place financially (barely) and geographically to see it

i don’t think it’s that outlandish to say that they’ll do something to attempt to make up to the people who couldn’t see it, but i know it won’t be as good as it should be, which isn’t fun

also, i will agree that i don’t like the arguments of other countries not accepting of gay rights, as there’s not much weight there. not only do gay people live there too, but they’ve been to japan three different times. they love it there, and while there’s other countries that are definitely worse when it comes to queer rights, gay marriage isn’t legal there and they obviously know that

jesus christ i yap so fucking much i apologize

tl;dr, i completely understand what your saying, and while calling them “racist” is a little harsh, i definitely understand that not going to other places is not ideal and wish they are able to be more inclusive to everyone

i know they’re touring cause they love it, especially dan, and that going everywhere is impossible, but that does not mean that people can’t complain about them not going over to where they live

i’m sorry this is so long, i just can not stop typing ffs

<3

Hey! So yeah again as I've said many times but feel the need to reiterate: what originally started the discussions from poc and particularly non western blogs was that they have made disparaging remarks particularly to do with tours like come to brazil type remarks and then not taken time to add on like, one line or anything somewhere about not touring in entire continents.

Also obviously we don't think they aren't visiting because they think we're lower to them or whatever, and I'd say you'd be hard pressed to find a post on my blog that says that. Seriously, try it, no implications of the sort have been made, we are just saying it's clear that they've never felt the need to makeup for past mistakes either, and then the phandom defends them each time and all of that together feels very alienating, especially when western fans talk down to us constantly and feel the need to tell us to chill out or whatever and make it out to be that the tour is the primary issue

It isn't! This isn't about the tour!!! The tour was the latest thing that sparked the discussions again because some people, especially LATAM fans who have microagressed So Often, were understandably thinking "seriously they aren't gonna say anything about it?"

And again, I will ask that you try because you'll be hard pressed to find a post on my blog where we day dnp "are racists". My previous ask to this also explains this but just because someone "isn't racist" doesn't mean that when they do racist things we don't call those things "racist behaviours". Racist microagressions are still racist even when coming from goody two shoes progressives. Please understand this and don't get defensive over the language, it's a humble request

And if I may for anyone else looking to talk with me about this in any way, please please stop bringing up the tour with me. I don't care about the tour, I promise you I do not care about the tour, you can talk with me about the other stuff but I've just said it in almost every post I've made: I Do Not Care About Them Not Touring Here, it's small fucking potatoes and it's more western fans' defensiveness and racist remarks while trying to defend them for no reason that are Far Far more of a problem racism (and orientalism) wise than DnP not talking about the tour yet, I don't carrrreee About that I care about what you all are directly saying to US which is more hurtful

I hope this clears stuff up for you and others, again, no hard feelings whatsoever, you were genuinely reaching out and I appreciate that ❤️

[pedropascallme]

What about Pedro smut with a tattooed reader and maybe a hint of body worship on both ends? No one can tell me he wouldn’t be the most giving partner. (I’m also on board for it to be Din x reader if you’re not comfy writing smut for Pedro) 💕

AN: This isn't as smutty as I was intending for it to be originally, but I'm in the middle of writing a uuuhhhhh really intense Joel smut fic so. I promise I will make up for the lack of filth in this. Still, I hope you like it!!

If he could, Pedro would live between your thighs; he’d spend every waking our between your legs, parting you with his tongue and feeling you squeeze yourself around his head, hand fisted in his hair. His hands grabbed your hips, holding you firmly down so he could continue his movements while you pulled the hair at the nap of his neck. 

“Taste so good.” He moaned into your core, the vibrations traveling through your body. He had made you cum once already, but he was desperate to make you do it again. He rutted into the mattress while he sucked on your clit, delirious with lust over the taste of you. “Please baby, gimme another.”

You arched your back, and he wrapped his lips around your clit once again, nipping and sucking at the swollen bud until he heard you gasping, felt your hand tighten in his hair and attempt to pull him off once it became too much. He couldn’t help the way he lingered, though; how he buried his nose and mouth into you before he finally brought himself up to you at face level. 

You were panting, your eyelids heavy as he began tracing a finger gently over the tattoo on your chest. He followed the curve of the linework over your breasts before switching gears and tracing a smaller one on your shoulder that fit into the sleeve you had been working on finishing for months now. 

“Felt good.” You whispered, looking up at him.

“Tasted good.” He smiled and you let out a contented hum. He pushed himself up and crawled over you, kissing your neck.

“Always taste so good,” He licked a stripe up your throat, “my perfect girl…” You sighed and brought your hands up and around him, grabbing at his back before sliding them back around to his stomach, chest, and then back to his stomach. Maybe it was corny the way you and Pedro were so passionate about each other; there was no question that the two of you were downright obsessed with the other on an emotional and physical level. There was just something that felt so right about worshipping each other, spending time and energy validating one another. 

“You always make me feel so good.” You smiled, and he put all his weight on top of you, kissing you behind your ear and using the tattoo behind your lobe as a target. “So pretty, Pedro.”

“Was thinking the same thing about you, baby.” You wrapped yourself around him, enjoying the pressure he was applying to you. “You need to get your sleeve finished. Need more shapes to trace over while you come down.”

“I’m going to. Eventually, I mean.”

“What if you just got my face tattooed really big on your elbow.”

“That would be so hot, I’m sure nobody would notice how fucked up the lines are as long as I told them it was meant to be Pedro Pascal.”

“Damn right.” He smiled wide, flipping you over so that you were lying on top of him; he squeezed you while you settled over him. 

“You make me feel so pretty.” You mumbled into his neck.

“Then I’m doing my job right.”

“Do I make you feel pretty?” You pondered aloud.

“So pretty, querida,” He chuckled, “So pretty.”

[traningdummy]

The Goth and The Jock

Dio X Male Reader

Dio was an outcast in college, always talking about how everything was bad. He was also a satanist who would always talk about it, usually when talking to his friends. Overall, a pretty weird guy for college.

Y/n on the other hand was the usual movie jock who everyone knew. He had friends all over campus, from his fellow jocks to the nerds of college. Everyone seemed to love him, most even tried to date him.

But he had his eyes on one man, the older goth man, Dio. He didn’t know why he was attracted to the man, was it his body, face, bravado? He couldn't say, maybe he was in love with just Dio as a man.

Whatever it was, Y/n couldn’t stop thinking of Dio. In all of his classes he would daydream about the man, at practice he would hope Dio would go to his games. He felt like a hopeless romantic, but he was fine with it.

Dio knew Y/n from people around the campus, they would always talk about him and his game winning stunts. Yet he never saw the man in person, maybe because he usually skipped classes to get high or smoke cigarettes with his friends.

Y/n intrigued Dio, enough so that he actually went to his classes for a while. He would try to see if he could find the jock but no luck, not in any of his classes, never saw him in the halls, and he was not going to ask when Y/n had practice.

His ego was too high for that, so he decided to find out by himself. So every morning he would get up early and head to the gym, looking for Y/n but got nothing. Then after school he would go back to the gym, yet still he couldn’t find him.

Yet his luck would lead him to finding Y/n, but in the worst way possible.

•••

It was lunch, Y/n decided to eat the campus’s lunch so he went to the cafeteria. As he was getting food, Dio came in, getting cravings after smoking some weed with his friends.

“Fuck, that sounds good.” He muttered to himself before walking to get in line, yet as he walked to the line Y/n was daydreaming and ran into him.

Food hit his black leather jacket, staining his white undershirt. Y/n gasped and the lunch room went silent. “Shit, sorry.” He mumbled and tried to clean off Dio’s jacket, he sighed and took off his jacket.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He said nonchalantly, yet Y/n was freaking out internally but tried to seem chill. “Say, aren’t you Y/n? The jock everyone talks about?” Dio asked and he nodded, everyone still staring at the two hoping for a fight.

“Yeah, are you Dio?” Y/n asked and the other man nodded.

“Man, the rumors don’t do you justice, you’re a lot hotter than they say. Here’s my number.” He said and wrote it down on Y/n’s wrist, the jock was too starstruck to even say anything so he just nodded. “Call me.” He whispered before getting into line.

After that encounter everyone began to assume the two were dating, to which Y/n was embarrassed while Dio could care less. Soon the two began to meet up, usually in the library or in one of their dorms.

Dio’s dorm reeked of weed and cigarette smoke, yet he would open his window to try and fan out the smell so Y/n’s nose wouldn’t hurt. He was grateful for it, but overall Dio’s dorm was just like he expected. His room was filled with books, most about religions, others were random things he couldn’t describe besides random.

Y/n’s room was almost the exact opposite, it always smelt of his favorite scent. His whole dorm radiated glee, which Dio enjoyed as his dorm seemed glum. Y/n’s room was filled with his accomplishments, from trophies to little medals of participation.

“Cute, it’s like you crave validation.” Dio noted and Y/n nodded, sitting down on his bed.

“Yeah, you know parents, they never give you any validation or comfort so, you look for it in other ways.” He remarked and the goth nodded, sitting down next to the jock.

“I can see that, I bet you can also see why I am the way I am.” Dio said and Y/n shook his head. “Well, my parents were what you consider the American dream. Perfect jobs, perfect home, a perfect family. But guess who came in and fucked it up.” He said and pointed to himself, Y/n laughed and nodded.

“It’s very obvious, but you have the most character.” He remarked and Dio smiled, falling back on the bed. Seeing the poster of Y/n’s favorite band on the ceiling.

“Yep, the unusual kid is usually born in the perfect family. Yet, it was my father who showed me this stuff. That is one thing I will commend them for.” He said and Y/n nodded, laying down next to Dio.

Dio looked over to Y/n, the sunset light hitting his face making him look like a dream. He never thought he would love a jock, yet here he is, falling for one. Y/n looked over to see Dio’s brown eyes staring at him, he smiled and turned to him.

“You look like you’ve seen an angel.” Y/n said and Dio nodded.

“Because I’m looking at one.” He said before holding Y/n’s face in his hands, Dio looked at him and got a nod. He leaned in and kissed the jock, he smiled and they kept kissing.

After that day they would usually be seen together, around the campus, Dio waiting for Y/n to finish practice, Y/n picking up Dio after a smoke session. They truly loved each other, and people could tell.

•••

“Y/n, do you think I’m cool?” Dio asked as he held Y/n close to his chest.

“Yeah, you’re the coolest guy I’ve met and I’ve met a lot of cool people.” Y/n responded, looking up to his boyfriend. Dio looked down and nodded, a smile on his face before he kissed the jock.

“Good, I better be.” He said and held the jock closer to him, he laughed and they basked in each other’s presence.

The two felt like the perfect pair, Dio’s dark and sarcastic humor contrasting Y/n’s bright and sweet tone. But as their relationship grew, the closer they began to thirst for each other.

Y/n would always want to see Dio naked, on his bed all spread out. Dio thinking the same, Y/n covered with hickeys, breathing fast, face red. So they decided to plan for it, both agreeing on a date.

•••

“Alright, so you want to do it after finals or before?” Y/n asked, looking through a calendar. Dio paced around Y/n’s room, trying to think about it.

“I think we should do it after, you know sex is a good way to relieve stress.” He remarked and his boyfriend nodded, getting a marker and circled the date.

“It’s official, now let’s get some sleep. We have finals to study for.” Y/n said and Dio groaned before falling into his arms, he sighed in content as he pushed his face against Y/n’s pecs.

“You know, you make the perfect pillow.” Dio said and Y/n laughed before pulling a blanket over them both.

“I know, you are always sleeping on me.” He said and the goth nodded, soon the two fell asleep in each other's hold.

Soon finals began and the two, by two mostly Y/n, were giving it their all. Studying hard and hoping to pass, and as the week passed Y/n forgot what was in store for him after the week was over.

But Dio always remembered, before he would leave his house he could cross off a day. Each day for the week he crossed off the day, till it was the day and he was excited.

•••

“Jesus, I thought I was going to have a meltdown.” Y/n complained as he and Dio walked to his dorm.

“I wouldn’t know, I got someone to take mine for me.” Dio said and his boyfriend scoffed, and opened the door for him. When he walked in Dio smiled seeing Y/n’s room was cleaner than usual.

“Yeah, I know. Wow, I cleaned my room!” Y/n said trying to mimic Dio’s voice and he laughed.

“Nice impression, do you remember what today is?” He asked, pushing Y/n against the couch. His face was red as Dio straddled on him.

“Is it our anniversary?” He questioned and the goth sighed before kissing the jock. It soon turned from love filled to lust filled, Dio began to take off Y/n’s clothes and he did the same.

Soon they were both naked, Y/n and Dio’s cocks rubbing against each other causing the two to moan and groan. Dio decided to take the lead and kissed all over Y/n’s neck, sucking and biting to leave marks all over his neck and collarbone.

“Shit Dio, I didn’t think you were the possessive type.” Y/n chuckled but groaned when Dio took his cock in his hands.

“Have to show that you belong with me.” He whispered into the jock's ear, and he began to jerk off Y/n. Going slowly at first to hear his boyfriend’s moans of his name.

“Dio, please.” He whimpered and Dio smiled, deciding to give into the whimpers and go faster. Y/n kept moaning and whimpering till he felt the knot in his stomach start to break.

But Dio stopped, letting go of his cock. Before he could complain he felt two wet fingers enter him, he gasped and his head fell on Dio’s shoulder. “D-Dio.” He whispered but was shushed by the goth.

“It’s going to be okay baby, just relax for me.” Dio said and Y/n nodded, soon getting relaxed as his fingers stretched him out. Soon he was propped against the back of the couch, Dio behind him ready to insert himself. “Are you ready?” Dio asked Y/n.

“Yes, please!” He whined and took a sharp inhale when Dio inserted his cock into him. He waited till Y/n moved his hips to start slowly thrusting, kissing all over his back and leaving even more marks.

He soon began to thrust faster and harder, hitting a bundle of nerves in Y/n that made him moan loudly. So Dio kept hitting that spot, making sure his boyfriend was satisfied. Soon, without warning, Y/n came all over his and Dio’s bodies.

“S-Shit, sorry.” Y/n whimpered but Dio kissed him softly, silencing him as he kept going.

“It’s fine baby.” He whispered and kept going, loving to see tears leave Y/n’s eyes from overstimulation. Soon, thankfully, he started to feel his release and kept thrusting into him. “I’m so close, can you hold on a little longer?” Dio asked and Y/n nodded rapidly.

Before he could cum inside of Y/n he pulled out, and came on their bodies as the jock under him had done before. He sighed and fell onto his boyfriend, who was trying to regain his breath.

“Dio?” He questioned and the both looked up, seeing Y/n’s bright smile which made him warm. “You want to shower?” He asked and Dio nodded, so Y/n, with some new found strength, lifted him and took him to the bathroom.

“Jesus.” Dio muttered and pulled himself against Y/n, before hearing the bathtub getting filled up. Y/n played with his boyfriend’s hair, and he enjoyed it as he played with it.

•••

The next morning, Y/n was slightly limping at practice. People kept asking about the hickeys on his neck, he was embarrassed. But Dio was proud of it, as he watched his boyfriend getting questioned left and right.

[givethemsmut]

Dom Mysterio x Reader

Thank you so much for the love I’ve gotten on this so far. I truly just write for myself so it’s nice to feel validated 🙌🏻

Smut

Friends to Lovers

Angst

I don’t own WWE characters, it’s all for fun

Not edited

Chapter Three | Where it all started…

3 Years Later…

Dom had made it to the big leagues, main events and Monday Night Raw. I couldn’t have been more proud of him until his story line turned my stomach into knots.

His new “Dirty Dom” heel turn had come with a new accessory named Rhea Riley. 

Not even storyline turns into the reality of dating but let’s be real: most of their time was going to be spent together with virtually no time at home. I was stupid enough to think she didn’t want him by the way she gleamed at him.

Every part of me was jealous when he called her Mami and the next day all his merch said it again for the encore. Their tension felt real but I wasn’t sure how much of it I had glorified.

I was visiting Dom for a few days, sharing hotel rooms and going to his live events even though it hurt. That was when I met Randy again, only this time he was divorced and single.

It was a welcomed distraction from every social post and monologue being about his new on screen fling. WWE had been laying it on thick and I had no idea why it was bleeding into their personal lives unlike any other time.

Dom even got scolded for posting a silly photo of us because it ruined the facade. 

I kept it from Dom the whole time I was there visiting because I hurt him enough for a life time. I deserved feeling jealous this time.

Dom rushed towards me, picking me up into his arms and spinning me around. “Did you see it? I fucking flew!” 

My arms wrapped around his neck without thinking, “You won. Congrats.”

Placing me down gently he knew something was wrong when he dragged me back to his dressing room before asking. Boxing me against the door his eyes got dark, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I lied.

“We aren’t leaving until you spill.” He still didn’t give anymore room between us than what was already there.

“I’m late and I’m tired. I’ll just Uber back to the hotel and meet you at the airport?” It was the last stop before we flew home for Raw next Monday. I was honestly excited to get back home and back to my routine. Less of his fake relationship thrown in my face.

Taking shelter in a dressing room, the air was thick and I couldn’t get out my words without admitting I love my best friend. Fighting my zipper Dom leaned again the doorframe to the bedroom.

He licked his lips, “You horny or something? I know we have a pact to not cross those lines again, but hermosa if you need me.” 

“Why do you call her Mami?” I bluntly asked.

“I don’t write my scenes, babe. I have zero control over that. Is that what’s wrong?”

“You called me Mami the first time we had sex,” I whispered. “Every time you said it to her…” I didn’t know how to rationalize it or even speak on it yet.

Dom’s hands skated down my sides and landed on my hips. “What happens baby? What happens when I say Mami?”

Pushing his hands off me I flooded the room, pacing lightly trying to find the words. “A lot. I’m jealous, I’m turned on, I’m confused. I don’t know what to do, Dom.”

Ripping his sweaty shirt off he followed me, dragging my hips back to his. “Dom. We can’t. I can’t.”

Dropping his hands from my body so quickly felt like a diss. “Right. I’ve heard it all before. I was good enough to fuck you the first time tho, right?”

Dom was never cruel and I couldn’t believe it as it unfolded.

“You’re my best friend.” I twisted around to face him before sitting on the couch in his dressing room. 

His hands on the back of the couch he fell into me, his knee between my legs and his mouth so close I felt the hot breath against me. “I fucked you until there was blood on my sheets. I stood by while every asshole fucked you instead of me. Fuck, mi amore, I’m still fucking my hand every night because I need you.”

“I can’t fuck you, Dom.”

His hands shoved its way between my legs and found my wet panties quickly. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t rip your wet panties off?” His hands found the strings of my thong before yanking them down my legs.

“Because you’re gonna hate me and I can’t want you until you know.”

Undoing his belt he twisted me over, on all fours and the wetness practically dropped down my inner thigh. I needed Dom so badly I didn’t care. My mouth muffled by my own forearm I couldn’t talk myself out of letting him anymore.

Shoving himself between my legs I nearly gasped, holding my breath and biting down on my own skin.

“Oh my god, Dom.” His chest caved over my back and begged me to scream. “Ohhh fuck.”

“That’s it, baby. So fucking tight. You needed this, didn’t you? so fucking wet for me.” 

I had lost my mind with him inside me, writhing in ecstasy like he knew my body better than I did when his brutal thrusts hit against my ass hard. “Dom. Dom, slower, slower.”

Taking the hint he slowed down, taking him time and punishing us both with long movements. Every time he filled me I felt myself come all over him.

“Tell me why I’m gonna hate you.”

Luckily I was saved by his team mates, the ones he fought with and was always with. “Dom we gotta do some after shots. You ready?” They all stopped dead in their tracks staring at Dom pounding me from the back. 

“Goddamnit. Get out.”

After being frozen long enough they vacated the locker room they clearly all shared.

Hiding my face on the couch I bite down on my own lips to keep from moaning too loudly. “I’m gonna come. Dominik.”

“Say my name baby. I wanna hear you moan it.” 

I could feel his hands tighten and knew he was close when I grabbed onto his hands. “I’m not on birth control. Dom, you can't.”

I had already had one abortion and couldn’t survive another. 

Making me come he pushed himself inside of me until I felt him jerk against my tightness. “Dom! I’m not on anything. I can’t get pregnant.”

Kissing my shoulder he whispered, “it’s not the worst thing in the world. Rather have a baby with my best friend than anyone else.”

Pushing him off me I panicked. “I can’t have another abortion. You don’t understand.”

Tucking himself back into his undone pants his features wrinkled. “You had an abortion? Who the fuck got you pregnant? When?”

“We were babies, Dom don’t be mad. I couldn’t tell you.” Pulling down my dress and trying so hard to not cry.

“Fucking Blaine? You almost had his kid?”

“Dom.” I said sternly, waiting for him to realize. “It wasn’t Blaine.”

Pushing his hands through his hair he stared at me pissed the fuck off. Everything about my face begged for his pity. “You fucking got pregnant? We had sex one time. How?”

The hot stream of tears ran down my face. “We didn’t use a condom, Dom. I came so many times. It was my first time too, I didn’t think I would get pregnant. Your mom promised to keep it a secret until I was ready to tell you.”

“My fucking mom kept your secret? We could have been together. You didn’t even bother telling me.”

He exploded with anger, trashing the locker room and shouting profanities. I had never seen Dom so angry before. 

Rhea, his on screen girlfriend, and his team mates came crashing through the door for a second time like they were listening outside the door but Dom didn’t care. He got so close to my face I actually winced. “You fucking got pregnant and decided not to tell me? But you’re worried if I’m fucking Rhea? You fucking got rid of our baby.”

“We were seventeen, Dom! Babies, we couldn’t have a baby. No one gets pregnant the first time they have sex.”

“But we did, didn’t we? Say it. I wanna hear you say it.” His hand clutched around my jaw, holding my gaze and forcing eye contact. “Say it.”

The tears turned into globs and scarred my face when my mouth fell open but no words came out. “Dom. Don’t.”

I flinched at the closeness when he pushed his face even further into mine. Nearly growling the words, “Fucking. Say. It.” 

“I couldn’t be a mom then. I couldn’t be a wife. We were supposed to be the people who got pregnant the first time. I’m sorry I had the abortion but it had to happen.”

His grip on my face let up and Rhea called his name. “Priest has a match, you coming?”

Shaking off our argument I finally exhaled when he followed her lead. “You’re fucking lucky. You made the wrong choice.”

Dropping down to the couch again I sobbed into my hands contemplating every big moment we had. Dom was every first, every big moment. He was my best friend and I kept the worst secret from him. I felt like a monster.

Priest and Finn appeared on the TV set to fight his dad, Rey, and Randy Orton. I watched trying to compose myself as I left the room. Everyone probably heard and I knew my cheeks would flare up red instantly. 

Making my way to the viewing area I stood in the back watching Dom frantically force his way into the match. His attempts were successful when everyone passed out except his father, Rey. Climbing into the ring, he stood in front of his dad holding a mic.

“What’s wrong? Afraid I’ve outlived the legend.” He toyed with his father like a predator. 

His dad waved his hands and Dom attacked him before dragging Finn over his body for a three count winning his stable the fight. “That’s what you get for being a deadbeat dad. Don’t fuck with my family.”

I knew where this came from when everyone backstage scrambled to plan around Dom going off script. None of this was planned and WWE just landed on a gem of a feud. Father and son against each other.

Dom breezed by me, bandana still over his face and sunglasses still on. Whatever we had been through before was about to get worse. There was no going back now. The damage was done.

Reaching out I tried to make him hear me when he put his arm around Rhea, walking away the way he knew would hurt the most. 

That night I went to the airport by myself, not seeing Dom at all. His things were still a mess around the hotel room. We had the same flight home and I dredged it entirely. Our seats were next to each other and I had no idea how we would make a flight over six hours home. 

I hadn’t seen Dom and decided he changed his flight when I boarded the flight by myself. Holding my duffle bag I slipped inside my seat, digging out my head phones and closing out the world. 

Clamping my eyes down I begged for sleep but I knew better. My racing heart wasn’t going to let up more than ever. The seat next to me wrinkled as I scrolled through playlists to find the right song when I glanced over to see Dom stretching out in our first class seats.

Picking any song I turned it up hoping he wouldn’t try to speak to me anyways. It was three hours into our flight when I finally got his attention. 

I had to scoot by him and that wasn’t going to be easy with his long legs spread out and his hat over his face. “Dom,” I nudged him a couple of times before he woke up.

“If you aren’t waking me up to get you pregnant so you can rectify this problem then I don’t want to hear it.” He crossed his arms tighter and didn’t bother to open his eyes. 

Dom wasn’t going to let up anytime soon and I had to deal with that. I just handed him a bomb before we went back home to California where we were both expected to stay with his parents. Now it felt like I had lost both Dom and the family I had.

“Then what happens, Dom? I got pregnant and what? We raise the baby as best friends? You quit the WWE? You pretend we don’t exist because as far as fans are concerned you’re with Rhea? We were young. Neither of us were ready for that kind of responsibility.” I whispered between us unlike him. 

Pushing his headphones down to his neck and sitting straighter up he finally looked at me. “Yes. Whatever we had to do. Our age, our status, my career - none of it mattered in comparison. If you were pregnant I deserved to know. After we fucked, you were a bitch. Fucking every goddamn guy who took you out, sneaking out, avoiding me, acting like nothing happened. I got you pregnant and you didn’t even bother to tell me. Now is there something you want to say?”

“You’re an asshole,” I spat out before pushing my way through his legs to go to the bathroom.

First class bathrooms were bigger, nicer but still an airplane bathroom. The knock was quiet but I ignored it. I needed time to regain composure before I had to face Dom again. Splashing water on my face carefully stepped out of the way when I realized it was Rhea and Dom flirting. 

It stung. Hell, it felt like a knife. 

Grabbing my hand he jerked me back, “just call it even.”

“You got it, Dominik.”

[an-unknown-writers-world]

Birdstrike

Summary: Hangman comes home to his on-again-off-again partner after Coyote’s G-Lock and Phoenix and Bob’s bird strike induced punch out.

Warnings: Angsty AF(sorry), with a fluffy cheeeeeesy ending - singular use of y/n

Pairing:  Jake Seresin x Reader

Characters: Mentions of Coyote, Phoenix, Bob, Rooster, and Maverick

Word Count: 1372

A/N: This is angsty with the cheesiest ending – sorry not sorry

“Jake,” You called out, hearing the door close, “Babe, is that you?”

“Yeah, doll. It’s me.” You could hear the defeat and exhaustion in his voice.

“I’m in the kitchen.”

He didn’t speak again, but you could tell by the heavy footsteps that he was headed toward you.

You weren’t expecting to see him tonight. Since his first round at Top Gun, you had been in an on-again-off-again relationship with Jake Seresin. The moment he stepped into The Hard Deck all those years ago, you knew it was all over for you. You fell in love with him. You weren’t delusional; he was a naval aviator- he wouldn’t be around long, but that wasn’t going to stop you from falling in love with him.

Jake would still visit a few times a year when he was on leave; he’d even asked you to come to his family’s ranch in Texas a few times. But you weren’t in any kind of serious relationship.

Strong hands wrapped around your waist as you stood in front of the kitchen sink. He kissed the top of your head before leaning to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Everything okay?” You asked, turning the kitchen sink off.

Jake was never this needy when he first came home. Well, not unless something horrible happened. Considering his job, it was always a possibility. But you also knew that there were many times that he couldn’t tell you what was going on.

“Just a long day,” He murmured. “And all I wanted when it was over was to see you.”

“Want me to order dinner, and you can tell me about it?” You turned in his arms to face him.

He nodded, “I think I’d like that.”

“Your usual?”

“Please.” He kissed your forehead. “I’m gonna go shower while we wait.”

You stretched up on your tiptoes and kissed him. His rough, calloused hands found their way under the hem of your shirt as he pulled you impossibly closer and deepened the kiss. That man could kiss you breathless in two seconds flat, and he enjoyed every moment of it. You broke the kiss only when the need for air became too much to ignore.

“Go shower,” You smirked. “If you don’t go now, dinner is never getting ordered.”

He laughed, kissing you chastely. “Yes, ma’am.”

########

You had agreed not to talk about the heaviness of the day until after you were both done eating and could devote all your attention to him. His phone had gone off a handful of times, all Dagger Squad members seeming to check in? It was hard to tell, but you started reading between the lines when Bradley texted you to ensure that Jake was with you and not home alone.

“Babe, I hate to ask this. But does your bad day have anything to do with the reason Bradley just texted me to make sure you weren’t alone?”

“Yes,” He let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know if I should be worried or impressed that he has your number.”

“All of Dagger Squad does.” You chuckled. “How do you think I keep track of you when you’re not here?”

“Valid point.” He turned and laid his back across the couch, his head on your lap.

“Talk to me, babe,” You ran your fingers through his hair, his eyes closed at the contact.

“I almost lost Coyote today.” He spoke softly. “He was in G-lock.”

Your heart sank. Javy was Jake’s best friend and wingman. They were practically inseparable from when they first arrived on North Island as Top Gun cadets.

When he opened his eyes, he had a thousand-yard stare, “Then Phoenix and Bob had to punch out because of birdstrike.” He continued.

“Oh, babe,” you cooed.

“This was all within minutes of each other.” He continued. “I had to sit in the Ready Room and listen to Maverick call it out over the radio. Over and over, he called out Coyote’s name just to try and pull Javy out of it.” He let out a deep breath, “He almost wasn’t in time.”

“But he was,” you reminded him.

“But what if he hadn’t been?” He questioned. “What if Phoenix or Bob weren’t able to eject in time? It’s happened before. That’s how Rooster’s dad died.”

You had heard the story of how Rooster’s dad died, as well as a few other pilots in the Top Gun program. It was heartbreaking, and every day that everyone came home was a day you were extra thankful for.

“Jake,” You spoke softly, cradling the side of his face. He turned into it and kissed the palm of your hand. “You can’t let yourself live in that thought process. Accidents happen, and you can’t keep reliving those moments. But you can keep the people you care about the most close to you and remind them every day how much you care.”

He was quiet for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. You weren’t oblivious to the fact that most people never experienced this side of him- the kind, caring, actual human side. A part of you always hoped he would share it with the rest of the world, but that wasn’t likely to happen.

“I guess I don’t do a good job at that,” He spoke so softly you weren’t sure you were supposed to hear.

“Vulnerability is courageous in its own way,” You encouraged, moving your hand to rest on his chest.

He chuckled softly. “And dangerous.”

“At times,” you nodded, smiling at him.

He reached out and grabbed your hand in his. He intertwined your fingers and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “You know that I love you, right?”

You were shocked by the concern evident in his expression, as if you may actually doubt his feelings for you.

“Jacob Seresin, I question many things in the world; but the fact that you love me is certainly not one of them.” The smile that stretched across his face could have lit up the night sky.

“After this mission, I have no idea where they’ll send me next.”

“It won’t matter. You always find your way back here.” You squeezed his hand softly.

“What if we didn’t have to worry about it?”

You looked at him with a scrunched forehead. There was no way this man was considering leaving the Navy, so what on earth could he mean.

“What if you and I never had to worry about where I was stationed. You could come with me.”

“Jake, the only way that would happen is if we were married.” You pointed out the obvious.

“I know,” He looked down at your intertwined hands. The man, confident in everything he does, finally came across a situation that made him nervous.

“Oh,” You let out a heavy breath, completely caught off guard by the direction of the conversation.

“I always knew that this was what I wanted, to marry you.” He spoke again, “I honestly thought I’d ask in a different way. Probably at the beach or back at home on the ranch. But I’ve wanted to ask you for a while now.”

You already knew the answer to his unasked question. It was always going to be yes. “You haven’t asked me a question, Jake.”

He laughed and rolled off the couch before kneeling in front of you. You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“Will you (y/f/n) (y/l/n) marry me?” The tone in his voice and the smile on his face were more confident than a moment ago. He knew the answer. You would haven’t have pushed him to ask the question if you were going to say no.

A giggle escaped your lips as you nodded your head, cheeks hurting from smiling so wide. You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, and kissed him.

He pulled back, still smiling down at you. “You haven’t answered my question.”

You rolled your eyes, still smiling, as he turned your statement around on you.

“Yes, a million times, yes.”

He smiled, thrilled with your answer and satisfied he could turn your sarcastic response back on you. He closed the distance between the two of you and kissed you breathlessly.

A/N: If you’ve made it this far - thank you so so so much for reading! My Masterlist can be found here. All work is also available on AO3      

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 23

Hey, guys! This story is back, baby! And is the start of the four chapters that are all one run on chapter basically. You'll see why at the end of this chapter I held off until I got the resolution written.

I still have some room on the tag list but not much, only six slots. So once it fills up, that's it, I will take no more requests for the list once it hits fifty.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12 Pt 13 Pt 14 Pt 15 Pt 16 Pt 17 Pt 18 Pt 19 Pt 20 Pt 21 Meta Pt 22

****

There wasn’t time for Eddie to see Steve and Wayne before the show, well for any of them to see their loved ones before the show, really.

Eddie’s knee was bouncing as hard as it was when he played in front of Steve for the first time.

They had all met Metallica at the sound check and had hit off, much to everyone’s surprise. But they had their own pre-show rituals and Corroded Coffin had theirs.

“Fuck,” Jeff said, coming back from the bathroom. “I think I’ve thrown up more times tonight than I did that time we all thought it would fun to main line tequila shots for two hours straight.”

Everyone winced in sympathy. That was a bad time for everyone all around.

“Who would have thought that after years of hard work,” Brian said, “that we would be opening for Metallica? Holy shit, this is our lives!”

Jeff smiled, looking a little less green around the gills. “Mandy said that if I waited for us to be ready, we would never take that chance,” he said, rubbing his hands on his pants. “And she’s right. We’ll never get a chance like this ever again.”

Gareth chewed on his thumb, gnawing at it worryingly. Eddie got up and put his arm around their youngest member. “Hey, this isn’t us selling out. This isn’t us giving up our dedicated following. This is us testing the waters to see if this is something we would enjoy doing.” He kissed the top of Gareth’s head. “We won’t know if we prefer smalls gigs at the Nightmare Hole over stadiums, if we haven’t played stadiums, okay?”

Gareth nodded. “I’m just being ridiculous.”

Jeff came over sat down on the other side of him. “No you’re not. It’s a valid concern. But Eddie’s right, too. How do you know you prefer intimate sessions over roaring crowds if you’ve never played to those roaring crowds?”

Gareth sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”

Brian tilted his head. “It’s the sound, isn’t it?”

All three other members turned to him. Gareth’s jaw dropped. He opened and closed his mouth several times trying to refute Brian’s claim, but found he couldn’t.

Jeff twisted in his seat to look at Gareth a little better. “Loud noises bother you?”

“Gare-bear...” Eddie said softly. “Why didn’t you say something?”

Gareth blushed and looked at his hands, picking at the skin around his nails. He shrugged. “I never thought about it. Until Bri said something, I didn’t even realize that might be why.”

Brian had been digging in his bag while they talked and chose that moment to brandish his find. “Tada!” He waved the noise canceling headphones around like a flag. “Wear these!”

Gareth stood up and gingerly took them from Brian and help them tenderly. He looked up Brian like he was a god damned hero.

Brian tapped on them. “Just plug them into little sound device they gave us and bam! No more sound. Or at least very little.”

Gareth fell on his friend giving him the biggest hug. Brian hugged him back fiercely.

“I just want to make sure you have fun out there, okay?” he whispered.

Gareth nodded.

There was a knock on the door and a stage manager poked his head in.

“Five minutes guys.”

Gareth straightened up and composed himself as his friends strapped on their instruments.

They all filed out but Gareth hung back for a moment. Eddie turned and smiled at him.

“Come on,” he said fondly, holding out his hand. “Let’s go make some noise.”

Gareth laughed. “Hell yeah!”

*

Steve was showed to the VIP box where a lot of people were already there. Some of them he knew like Gethin and Miranda. Wayne, too. Most of them were complete strangers and suddenly he felt like he didn’t belong here.

Everyone else here was family. Steve wasn’t even a boyfriend. Not yet anyway. They had barely kissed the once before this landed on their laps. Eddie even had to cancel his tattoo appointment for today. That’s how new this all was.

He took a step back. Then two. He was about to turn and run when Miranda spotted him.

“Steve!” she called out, making every head turn his direction.

Which did not help his feelings inadequacy in the slightest.

She leapt to her feet and dragged him over to sit between her and Wayne.

“I’ll introduce you all after,” she said. “So glad you could make it. Jeff was saying he was worried you wouldn’t be able to because of work.”

Steve blushed. Which meant Eddie had been terrified. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything.”

She raised an eyebrow and twisted around to look him in the eye. “You sure? Because it looked like you were going to bolt to me.”

Steve shook his head. “I would have found somewhere else to watch them. But I don’t belong here with family and the significant others. I’m just...me.”

Miranda slumped down in her seat with a sigh. “Steve, of course you belong here. Eddie only had two people in the whole world he wanted to see him open for one of the biggest metal bands in the world. And you’re sitting next to other one.”

Steve looked over at Wayne who chuckled.

“Do we have to tie you down, Steve?” he asked fondly.

Steve shook his head. “No, sir. I’ll be good.”

Wayne hummed. “Glad to hear it. Now quiet down. My boy is about to play.”

Steve smiled for the first time since arriving at the arena.

The house lights went down and the stage lights went up. Steve leaned forward, elbows on his knees, chin propped up on his fists. Eddie was always beautiful to behold, but fuck. Like this, under the spotlights? He was incandescent.

Eddie leaned into the microphone and introduced his band to the audience.

“We don’t usually play other people’s music, but we got permission to do this one,” Eddie said. He nodded to Brian, who grinned.

Corroded Coffin’s bassist began to play, the first few notes in and the crowd went apeshit. Completely crazy. Steve turned to Miranda. “Shit. I think I know this one. It’s Master of Puppets, right? From Metallica?”

Miranda nodded. “Damn straight it is.”

Steve was on his feet screaming in an instant. Everyone was cheering and having a good time. Maybe he shouldn’t be here, but until someone said something, he was going to cheer Eddie on the loudest. He loved his metal boyfriend with all his heart.

*

Eddie stumbled off the stage covered in sweat and higher then he’d ever been on weed. The rest of the band was jumping and screaming too. There was no greater feeling in the world.

They got better than front row seats to Metallica as they watched from backstage.

Even after thirty-five years they still knew how to bring the house to their knees.

They celebrated with the band for a bit before their families were ushered in. Eddie had even cleared it with the band for Dustin and his friends to come meet them but only for five minutes.

Dustin and Mike were freaking out, but Will hung back, still shy. But Lars came over and talked to him for a minute and that really made Will’s day. Hell, his entire year if he was being honest.

They all filed out leaving the ten family members alone with the boys of Corroded Coffin. Gareth’s parents and twin were fawning over him calling him brave and saying how proud they were of him breaking out of his comfort zone.

Jeff’s dad and Mandy’s mom were huddled over in the corner with the couple, just hugging each other tight. No words needed.

Brian had his sister and Cecil and his sister chatting excitedly, hands waving about as they broke down their favorite moments of the concert.

Eddie picked Steve up and whirled him around kissing him soundly on the lips. “Baby, did you see us out there?”

Wayne chuckled. “Oh just him and about thirty thousand other people.”

Eddie kissed him on the cheek fiercely. “I’ve never felt anything like it! It was so amazing.”

“You were amazing, Eds,” Steve said. “All of you were. It’s you guys were made for that stage.”

Eddie kissed him again. “I’m so glad you were able to make it! I was worried that you wouldn’t be able to come.”

Steve kissed the side of Eddie’s mouth tenderly. “Well you see I had a cancellation this afternoon, so I was able to shift my schedule to accommodate my boyfriend opening for Metallica.”

Eddie blushed. “I’m sorry I had to cancel, baby.”

“I’m not mad, sunshine,” Steve assured him. “I’m happy for you.”

They kissed again.

Wayne waved Steve off so that he could hug Eddie. “I’m proud of you. Now don’t be getting too famous to see me, you hear?”

Eddie’s eyes welled up and his pressed his lips together. “I would never. I promise. I’ll always come to you, I swear it.”

Soon it was time to pack it all up and hit the road for home.

Everyone said their goodbyes and they all parted ways. With Eddie promising to stop by the shop tomorrow to reschedule his appointment.

Steve was beaming. High off the euphoria of watching Eddie live out his dream. He had never felt like this about anyone before and he couldn’t wait to tell everyone about how awesome Eddie did and how the crowd went wild for their music.

*

He really should have seen it coming. He should have been prepared. But he wasn’t.

Eddie didn’t come into the shop that day, because he called instead. Metallica had offered to let them opening for them for the rest of their tour. For the next two weeks, Corroded Coffin would be going on the road with one the world’s biggest metal bands.

And leaving Steve behind.

He fought hard to be happy for his boyfriend. But everything between them was too new. Too tender.

They didn’t even get to say goodbye in person and Steve was left with that feeling of not being good enough.

For anyone.

****

Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@bookworm0690 @chaosgremlinmunson @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @aizawa-emma @yikes-a-bee @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @archermightbegay @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @oldwitcheshat @nightmareglitter @tinyplanet95 @novelnovella @jonesn4coffee

[ollypopwrites]

if you're still taking requests, can you write a fic where Gale has a cold and the others have to take care of him and cook instead 🥺

Anon I've been working on this for so long! My actual partner got very sick and then we had a move and then a weekend wedding getaway -- it's been hectic. But I've got about 3k words of Gale being doted on for you.

A Wizard in Need

Pairings: Mostly gen but also Bloodweave

Rating: M (language mostly)

CW: chronic illness, common colds, self-worth issues, slight body-horror imagery.

Read on Ao3

His whole body shook with the sudden heat, limbs beginning to jerk and shift, and hot liquid pouring out of his mouth, his nose, his eyes — damn, even his ears. Their time has run out, he realized, as his insides churned and changed, the pain unbearable as his bones broke beneath the skin. Soon he would be no more than another thrall, moving to the whims of some Elder Brain and without his own to think for himself. 

But the hunger of the orb swelled beyond anything else he could comprehend. The transformation could not even offer a reprieve. His last dreadful act as his own person is the orbs' imminent final stand – a deafening roar numbed his body to the pain and everything went white. 

Gale shot up suddenly in his bedroll, a strangled cry becoming a hacking cough, as he gasped for breath. His camp clothes were soaked with sweat, he felt them sticking  to his too warm body.  His hands felt at his face, the familiar scratch of his beard, his nose and lips were all present — no tentacles. Gale shuddered in relief, catching his breath. 

But Gods, he still felt terrible. Feverish, his mind in a haze and his head feeling as if it were stuffed full of cotton. 

There was a rustle at the flap of his tent and he saw the slight glow of red eyes. The rest of Astarion’s face was  backlit by the fire outside, hiding most of it in shadow. Gale felt too unsteady to be sure but he thought the perfect lines of his companion’s face were creased in concern before he schooled them back to his usual half-lidded stare. 

“Thought the tadpole might have finally had its way,” he said quietly. 

“For a moment there, I did as well,” Gale breathed a sigh. 

“It’s the orb, isn’t it?”

Gale rubbed at his chest. It ached, surely, as it always did. But the hunger clawing beneath his skin was more of a background feeling rather than whatever this was. 

“No, not this time,” he replied. “It’s-“  he sneezed abruptly, several times in a row, and afterward his entire head throbbed.

“Oh, darling,” Astarion seemed half-amused. “I believe you have a  common cold.”

“That’s — “ 

Preposterous, and above all else annoying. They had tadpoles in their heads threatening to change them every day, a cult on their heels, he had an orb of netherese magic stuffed in his chest and now he had a trifling bug which made him feel like his entire head was about to burst. 

“Inconvenient.” Gale finished lamely. 

“Will you survive?” Astarion asked sarcastically. 

Too ill to even pretend to be jovial, Gale rolled his eyes and started getting out of his bedroll. “I just need some tea and a quick wash up.” 

When he tried to stand, however, the world began to spin. With a quickness that did nothing to help his dizziness, Astarion leapt forward into the tent, keeping him from falling sideways. He helped Gale down, seemed to hesitate with his hand out and then pressed it on the wizard’s sweaty forehead. His hand was shockingly and soothingly cool. Gale couldn’t help but sigh at the feeling. 

“You’re scorching.” Astarion noted. 

“I question the validity of your knowledge on the matter,” Gale sniffled. “You’re freezing.”

“Vampire,” Astarion gestured to himself as if he had forgotten. “But I know a flush when I see one, and yours is decidedly not one of debauchery.”

There was a clever remark somewhere he could retort with, just on the edge of flirting, but all Gale could think of was crawling back to his bedroll. He grabbed his waterskin, taking heavy pulls to soothe the scratching in his throat. After which he found no energy to do much else.

“Rest,” he muttered. “I need rest.” 

Astarion said nothing as Gale flopped back into his bedroll. He should tell him to bugger off, Astarion was on watch after all, but he didn’t send him away. The vampire sat still, unnaturally so as he always did, before grabbing his waterskin and walking out of the tent. 

Gale shifted between consciousness, exhaustion taking over but a fit of coughing or sneezing kept him from fully submitting. He felt more than heard Astarion come back, placing his waterskin by his hand again and a cool wet cloth pressed against his forehead. It could have been the fever and the ever changing state of his wakefulness but Gale was certain Astarion kept taking the cloth and cooling it between his hands before placing it back on his forehead. 

As if he had shifted through time itself, Gale woke up what felt like moments later. Except there were birds singing outside his tent rather than the tune of crickets. Sunlight didn’t quite pierce the cloth of his tent but it lit it up from the outside, and he could hear everyone moving around camp. 

He still felt dreadful. Blindly reaching for his water he found it full, and drank as much as he could before slumping back. For a while he tried to use his considerable willpower to sit up, get dressed and greet the next day of horrors which awaited them. But he simply did not want to. 

Just as he was about to force himself up, just outside his tent he heard, “Gale? Are you awake?” From Shadowheart. 

“Yes,” he croaked. 

“May I come in?”

“Yes.” 

There was the slightest frown as she peered in first. “Astarion says you have the plague.”

Gale didn’t even have the energy to roll his eyes. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Just a fever,” he tried to assure her. “A bit of rest and it’ll pass, I’m sure.

“Sk’va it’s the transformation,” Lae’zel hissed just outside. “We should give the wizard an honorable death before it takes hold.”

Gale wanted to remind her that an honorable death would mean a decidedly unhonorable explosion which would wipe out their entire camp and beyond, but Wyll spoke up before he could.

“It’s a cold, Lae’zel,” Wyll said. “Nothing some hearty broth and rest can’t fix.”

Everyone seemed to be standing just outside of his tent. Out of view but definitely not out of hearing range. 

“If he is cold we have extra blankets,” Lae’zel said firmly. ��Why do we waste our time with broth?”

“No,” Karlach said, “a cold, mate. A bug.”

“Then smash the bug.” 

“It’s not a real bug,” Wyll explained. “It’s a turn of phrase. Gale’s ill, with a common and mostly harmless sickness.”

“Tch’k.”

Sometimes Gale wondered if Lae’zel’s ignorance to Faerunian turns of phrase was merely a bit she was fully committed to. He couldn’t help but breathe out a small laugh but that triggered a coughing fit that stole his breath and shredded his throat.

Shadowheart gently pushed him down with a hand on his shoulder. “I’m more a battle healer, less a medicine woman,” she frowned. “Are you hungry? Wyll’s starting a bone broth but we have porridge.”

“Porridge sounds lovely,” Gale attempted a smile. 

“I’m on it!” Karlach yelled and he heard the heavy stomps of her boots trail off. 

“Halsin went to find some herbs for a tea he thinks may help,” Shadowheart told him. 

That was rather kind of Halsin to go out of his way. Gale thought for a moment he should try to make an attempt to tough it out. They did have very important things to do, after all. But as he woke with the ever present pain of the orb on top of feeling so dreadfully, he was not sure he could stand on his own two feet for long. Typical. Washed up, burdensome old man that he was: he would be the one to get ill on the road. He wasted valuable magical items, was  a constant threat of blowing them off the face of Faerûn and was now too sickly to move. 

He offered what he hoped was a convincing smile. “When Halsin returns, have him leave the herbs with the supplies, I’ll fetch myself a cup later.”

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow. “If you’re sure.”

“Quite sure.” 

“Astarion filled your waterskin, drink it,” she said blandly, then disappeared from the tent. 

“We’ll leave you to rest,” Wyll said through the cloth. “Shout if you need anything.”

It was quiet for a bit, the unintelligible murmur of everyone about camp and the birdsong outside would have been comforting if he didn’t feel so dreadful. He closed his eyes, and focused on his breath, trying to ignore the fact that his nose was too stopped. Heavy thumping footsteps and a flood of warmth in the tent alerted him to Karlach before she even said anything. 

“Delivery!” She boomed. “I warmed it up for you. One benefit of being a walking inferno.” She clanked on the metal in her chest. 

“Thank you, Karlach,” he said. 

“Of course, bomb buddies gotta stick together,” she gave a toothy grin. 

“Karlach let him rest,” Shadowheart called. 

“Oops, sorry,” she smiled sheepishly. “Shout if you need anything, yeah?”

Gale nodded. Bomb buddies. He wished he had her exuberance in the face of certain death. After she was gone, he willed himself to eat and had a mind to try and get up to wash his plate, but politeness would have to wait in the face of the dizziness he felt. He drank down some of the water and laid back, trying to breathe again. His chest ached. His fingers rubbed around the mark of the orb, not doing much to aid in the pain but now a habit more than anything. 

It was quiet, almost peaceful. Until suddenly his body wrought out a coughing fit so powerful he thought he may vomit. Suddenly the orb throbbed, his entire body seemed to vibrate and then — he woke up again. Still coughing. A cold, firm hand pulled him to sit, shocking him slightly at the unannounced presence. 

“Easy,” Astarion said simply. “Breathe.”

Gale closed his eyes, catching his breath. He still felt horrible. Astarion placed his waterskin in his hand, helping him lift it to his lips and drink some down. It was a heavenly sensation, the cool liquid soothing his throat and slaking the dry raw feeling from the cough. 

The day had changed into evening, not quite late enough to engulf his tent in darkness but enough that his gaze had to adjust to the low light. 

“Halsin made tea,” Astarion commented. “I’ll have Karlach warm it up for you. Wyll’s broth for you should be done soon, took me ages to find something big enough to boil down.”

Gale shook his head. “We need to make for the mountain pass,” he said, his voice sounding foreign to his own self. Raspy and nasal. “You all should have sent a scouting party, not wasted time playing nurse.”

“Now is that any way to thank us?” Astarion simpered dramatically. “Lae’zel and Karlach found a path to the crèche, once you're done lazing about we will all head there to see if her little device works. When it inevitably fails, we will head to the Underdark at Halsin’s behest.” He tilted his head, not unlike a curious cat, Gale noted. “We can’t do that without our resident wizard, now can we? Who else will I bother on the road?”

“There’s plenty of people to bother in camp, if you must.”

“They’re not as fun as you.”

Gale was grateful for the fever. It could easily be the reason he suddenly felt his cheeks heat up if Astarion noticed. Without saying anything, Astarion held out the water again. Gale peered past him as he took a drink to a mirror he had in the corner of the camp. It was strange to see Astarion in front of him and not in the reflection. If Gale didn’t know better he’d think him a hallucination, a result of the illness that made Gale’s own reflection have the sunken in look he saw. 

“You should clear off,” Gale muttered. “The last thing we need is for illness to spread through the camp.”

“I haven’t been ill in nearly 200 years, Gale.” Astarion waved him off. “But if you want me to leave, I won’t stay where I’m not wanted.”

Gale didn’t want him to leave, but he was on his way out anyway. Not much later he returned with a piping hot cup of tea. It was not a pleasurable mixture, slightly sour and earthy, the only reprieve from the flavor was the sweetness of honey in the aftertaste. He was not going to doubt Halsin’s knowledge, nor did he want to appear ungrateful. 

Astarion never left. Halsin came in, broad body taking up so much room in his tent he couldn’t even see Astarion behind him. He offered him more tea, some kind words and another cold cloth before leaving. Thankfully Astarion didn’t seem to want to chat, he simply thumbed through a book and lounged on some pillows. Every so often he would cool the wet cloth for Gale, or run to fetch some more water.

Wyll came in with broth and some bread. Gale found it in himself to sit up long enough to eat and let the others check in on him. The Blade of the Frontiers made quite a decent bone broth; he’d said the cook at the Ravenguard estate had taught him the recipe after many days spent sick in his youth. Lae’zel had grabbed his face and inspected it, as if looking for some errant tentacle that had escaped everyone’s notice. She gave one of her low growling hums out and told him he needed to rest, as if he had been trying to sprint the length of the lake the entire day. The healers had offered teas and potions to help him sleep.

Karlach had shyly offered her beloved bear Clive to sit with him since she couldn’t without burning his tent down. It was sweet, and childlike of her to do so, but he appreciated it more than he would have imagined. It seemed no one had realized just how much he was weighing them down. Perhaps they just didn’t want to mention it.

His chest ached. 

“Do you need a magic item?”

“What?”

“You’re rubbing the mark.” 

Gale immediately stopped, having started the pointless effort to soothe the pain without thinking. “No, I’m alright.”

“Don’t be stoic,” Astsrion said. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“What does suit me, in your esteemed opinion, Astsrion?” Gale couldn’t keep the slight lilt of sarcasm out of his tone despite himself. 

“An unfevered flush, I’d imagine,” Astsrion replied immediately. “Does it hurt terribly?”

“It always does,” Gale replied, his raspy voice tired and defeated.

“Drink your tea,” Astarion simply said. “Halsin says it’ll help you sleep. Probably tastes like dirt, though. I don’t envy you.”

Gale took a sip, shuddering at the flavor. “It is…earthy,” he conceded. “But the effort is appreciated.”

Astarion’s lips twitched into a smile. 

“Astarion,” Gale began cautiously, “why are you still here?”

Astarion looked at him for a long moment, eyes rounding out as he seemed to think. “Someone has to make sure you’re still breathing.”

“It’s a cold,” Gale said, “I’m not at risk of falling over dead just yet.”

“With those grey hairs you can't be too sure.”

“Oh,” Gale breathed out a soft laugh, “you certainly know how to keep me humble, don’t you? And while I’m ill? Your bedside manner could use some practice.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m here, isn’t it?” Astarion smirked. 

“Happy to assist,” Gale replied. “Word of advice, don’t mention dying to your ailing patient, it doesn’t inspire much comfort.”

It was quiet for a bit as Gale drank the tea down as quickly as he could. It was not a pleasant taste, and he wanted to be done with it as soon as possible. He gently stretched after setting the cup aside, his back stiff from laying all day and shoulders wound up from tensing them in his sleep. Gods, he wanted to bathe and sleep but he felt the energy draining from him. Halsin’s concoction was working quickly to lure him into a gentle sleep. 

“Say what you will about the flavor,” Gale yawned, blinking blearily. “Halsin’s skills as an apothecary are quite impressive.”

“I’ll pass your compliments along.”

“Without embezzling, if you please.”

Another quiet moment as Gale laid back, ready to let sleep wash over him. He was used to Astarion’s presence now, not sure what the real point of it was, but it kept the worst of the anxious thoughts at bay. And it was a comfort, Gale tried not to linger too long on that, but it was nice to have him there. 

“Everyone offered to care for you, you know,” Astarion said without preamble. “No one complained. Except me, of course, but I’d rather bring mine directly.”

Gale frowned at the ceiling of his tent, unsure what brought that comment on.

“Burdensome is debatable, darling, I’m hardly one to cast judgment about dietary needs,” Astarion tried to hide behind a casual tone, “but washed up is a bit harsh,”

“The tadpoles.” Gale winced in realization.

“Little blighters,” Astarion agreed. “We’re in this together, Gale. Whether we like it or not. We’d all take the bleeding heart kindness you’d offer any of us without blinking,” he tilted his head a bit, “it’s only right that you accept ours.”

That seemed like flawed logic; Gale was, with few exceptions, the most volatile besides Karlach. Even having him with them was expensive and dangerous. But his thoughts could not linger too long on it, as Halsin’s tea had his mind slipping towards blissful rest. The last thing he felt was the gentle coolness of a hand on his forehead, and the soft whisper of Astarion’s voice. 

“Sleep tight, darling. We’ve got you.”

Thank you for reading!

[lowcosmic]

—— jealousy, jealousy . pt . 2 ; kokichi ouma

— 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : you and kokichi make up from the fight.

— 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : small angst, fluff

— 𝐜𝐰 : look at pt. 1

— 𝐚/𝐧 : read pt. 1 for more context

kokichi, back at his dorm, silently cried. he fucked up.

he felt so many emotions at once - the most apparent being guilt.

he ruined a perfectly fine relationship. until he had to overreact and blew up at you.

all those memories now meant nothing, especially if you two were never going to be back together again.

all because of him.

you probably hated him. as much as kokichi just wanted to run back to your dorm and apologize and bring things back to normal, he couldn’t.

you said that you never wanted to see his face again.

and besides … he broke out for a reason. a valid reason.

… but was it really all that valid?

no, kokichi didn’t have a right to say what he said. in his eyes, he was a monster. you could never love him the same after what happened.

he cried more and clutched the fabric over his chest, curling up.

real tears. not those fake ones that he’d usually project.

kokichi decided that he wouldn’t blame you anymore if you ever got with shuichi after this. you deserved someone better, not someone who hid his emotions frequently any called his lover ugly.

this was it, wasn’t it? kokichi sighed. he wasn’t going to give up that easily yet. not until he conveyed a proper apology to you.

and that apology appeared around a week later in your locker. it was a sort of formal note.

Dear Y/n,

I know that you don’t want anything to do with me at the moment, but please at least finish this note. I don’t have an excuse for what I did, I have to admit it was wrong.

I didn’t know what I was thinking. Maybe I thought that everything would stop and that you’d forgive me by the next day after I said that, but clearly it was one of those times where I didn’t think anything through.

I never lied all those times I told you you were beautiful. That’ll never change no matter how many years go by. You’ll always be the only one, and I swear that’s not a lie. When saying those things, the thought of it being untrue never crossed my mind.

I love you, and even if you’re over me I still want to apologize for all the times I was insensitive or made you more insecure. You deserve someone better, and I hope whoever you find will treat you better than I did.

From, Kokichi.

you stared at the note for a couple more seconds before putting it in your pocket discreetly.

you figured that Kokichi wouldn’t want anyone to see this, since he’s always been so uptight about showing weakness to others.

everyone … except for you on most occasions.

you started your search for him.

after a couple of minutes, you went to his dorm room. knocking on the door, you heard the faint shuffle of someone … falling off of their couch? most likely kokichi.

he came out a few seconds afterwards, looking disheveled as ever. it’d made sense, after the fight he’d skipped school that week.

he had major eyebags, and he seemed sort of disconnected.

kokichi …

you pulled him in for a hug, closing the door behind you.

kokichi's reaction was immediate. he wrapped his arms around you like you were his last resource to help him live.

“ we all have those moments, kokichi. ” you murmured.

“ i went too far, ” he muttered back, “ you didn’t deserve that. ”

“ i said some stuff before that that you didn’t deserve either, you know that, right? ” you countered.

“ but mine crossed the line. ” kokichi buried his head below your collarbone.

you stroked his back. “ i still love you. ”

“ you’re crazy. ”

“ it’s a quality trait i appreciate. ”

he kissed your neck chastely. “ i love you too. ”

“ let’s make sure that never changes. ”

and then you both made out the end.

bonus:

“ wait who the heck put the note in my locker if you were isolating yourself for the whole week ”

“ you’ll never know ~ * cackles * ”

please don’t repost , translate , or claim my works as your own.

[iboatedhere]

Thank you @henryspearl @suseagull04 @orchidscript @cha-melodius @lemonlyman-dotcom & @jmagnabo92 for the tags!

I hit the lower limit for my @aroyallybigbangrwrb fic this week!

--

It takes him almost forty five minutes to go less than three miles but he doesn’t mind it. He sits with his head against the window and watches the city pass in jilted starts and stops, his breathing getting easier and deeper the further he gets from home.

The shelter is packed, but it’s easy to spot Henry behind a long row of tables, scooping steamed corn and carrots onto plates. 

He smiles warmly at everyone who steps in front of him, dressed in an orange volunteer shirt, a red apron, and a hairnet. 

Alex feels like a complete fucking asshole standing there in his designer leather jacket and hundred dollar shoes. 

He thinks about cutting and running, but then Henry lifts his head and spots him, pinning him in place with a smile. 

Alex tries to smile back, but whatever he manages to do with his face must be worrying because Henry’s smile fades and he tilts his head with concern.

Alex really wants to run now but his feet carry him forward instead of away and soon he’s standing in front of Henry.

“Are you all right?” 

“I’m fine.”

Henry raises his brows.

“Seriously, I’m good,” Alex tells him. “Just put me to work.”

Henry looks him over then nods. “Go see Donna,” he says, “she’ll tell you where to go.”

Donna, the recreational coordinator who takes Thanksgiving very seriously if her pilgrim hat and light-up turkey necklace are anything to go by, throws an apron and a hairnet at him and sets him up at the beginning of the line, handing out rolls and prepackaged pads of butter.

It helps to take his mind off things. Having something to do with his hands and people to talk to. 

When the line ends Donna pushes a full plate of food into his hands and tells him to enjoy. 

He finds an open seat and doesn’t look up when Henry sits down across from him with his own plate.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Alex says. 

“I didn’t say that you had to.”

“I know, but the way that you’re looking at me….”

“How do you know how I’m looking at you? Is it projected in your cranberry sauce?”

Alex heaves a sigh and lifts his head to meet Henry’s ocean blue eyes. 

“You’re looking at me like that.”

“I’m afraid it’s just the way my face looks.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem.” He pokes at his food then groans. “I left,” he admits. “My parents had been at each other's throats all night and then June got into it with them and I couldn’t take it so I left.”

“That seems like a valid response.”

Alex scoffs. “How? I left my home.” He taps his finger against the table. “I ran away like a little kid. I’m thirty three years old.”

“And I still think it was a very mature thing to do. You were in a situation that made you uncomfortable and instead of engaging or making things worse for yourself or others you left. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“You really are best friends with Dr. Okonjo, aren’t you?”

“The bestest,” Dr. Okonjo says, appearing at Henry’s side as if he’s been summoned. He’s stolen Donna’s turkey necklace—or maybe he has his own—and his hair is a rich auburn, perfect for fall. “What are we talking about?” 

“How you’ve rubbed off on Henry.”

“Never,” Dr. Okonjo, says brightly, “but I do try to be a good influence and please, Alexander, if we’re going to be friends we’ll need to drop the formalities. Call me Percy, darling, or better yet, Pez.”

“Then call me, Alex, please. Alexander is reserved for my mother.”

“And how is your mother?” Pez asks. “Your lovely sister mentioned that all your parents were in town for the holiday.”

“They were alive last I knew. Slight chance my sister has killed them by now. Maybe she let my step dad survive or maybe she thought it would be better to leave no witnesses. She and Nora might be on the run.”

“How exciting,” Pez says without missing a beat and Alex laughs. “I assume you came here to have plausible deniability of any wrongdoing.” 

“Yeah, that sounds a lot better than just running away.”

“At least you only crossed town to get away from your family and not the Atlantic,” he says with a significant look toward Henry who rolls his eyes.

“As I was telling Alex, sometimes the mature thing to do is leave.”

“Indeed,” Pez agrees. “It’s important to take care of yourself. No guilt, love.”

“Just the dread of having to face them again.”

“That can be difficult,” Pez says, suddenly serious. “And you can’t hide from it forever. If you ever need to talk, my door is always open.”

“Thanks,” Alex tells him, feeling overwhelmed by the support. “That means a lot.”

“Anytime,” Pez answers easily while Henry presses his knee against Alex’s beneath the table. 

--

Tagging: @lightningboltreader @liminalmemories21 @porcelainmortal @fullsunsets @sunshinestrand @maxbegone @oxfordslutphase @inexplicablymine @anincompletelist @accol-fics @youcancallmekathyp @bitbybitwrites @cricketnationrise

[butchcarmy]

trans carmy. TRANS CARMY. Just. (Falls to my knees) listen to me. It just makes sense

It starts with him growing up an awkward kid, the outcast. I feel like he felt different than others in a way he couldn’t place which is so trans of him. I mean also his cptsd which is a big part of his character for me but that’s another gigantic post.

There are physical aspects that really add to this well. For one, he’s a short king. So trans of him. Another thing is his staple trans masc fit. White t shirt and jeans give him gender euphoria and he is sticking to that. Also the little chain…. Not universal ofc but my fellow transmascs and I love a good chain. Even him being muscular asf is so trans, like bulking up when you go on testosterone bc it’s so much easier to is so real.

AND HIS TATTOOS. UGH. The tattoos are a layered thing. It makes me think about that awful head chef carmy worked under. The lines I’m thinking about are when he’s saying to carmy like, “you think you’re so tough, you’re worthless, you have those tattoos so you can feel like you’re tough but you’re nothing”. I think the tattoos are epic but also an extension of how he expresses his gender. it validates his masculinity for him.

He’s really eager to prove his masculinity to the world, particularly to the culinary world. I mean masculinity in the sense that he wants to prove that he’s man enough, that he’s made himself into a man that’s just as good as the cis men around him. I think there’d be a ton of pressure to feel like he’s up to par, especially in a super competitive field with a lot of men.

It’s even in his name. Carmen. Carmy. The way it’s masculine and feminine, the way he might’ve been born as Carmen and just decided to keep it that way. The way he goes primarily by a chosen name, even if it is just a nickname.

I feel like it even adds layers to his relationship with Michael, too. I see Carmy, who feels isolated from his peers for being trans (and just different in general), and Michael being one of the only people to really affirm who he is. Carmy and Mike were best friends. I have no doubt that Carmy really felt secure around him, which is why the betrayal of not letting him work at the restaurant hurt even more than it already did. Why Mike’s death would be even harder for Carmy to stomach.

His transness is why Carmy is the black sheep of his family. Why he doesn’t come home. Why his relationship with his mother is strained. Of course, I think this is all primarily because he has a dysfunctional family and lots of trauma, but it still adds to my vision.

Anyway I could go on but these are the main point. I just think Carmy is transmasc as hell