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benedictscanvas · 10 months ago

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i'd love to love you, someday - remus lupin x reader

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: it's just pining fluff with a couple pet names

a/n: hello sunflowers <3 this can be read as a part two to this, but it works on its own! i can't stop writing soft!fic right now, so if you have any requests along those lines, please do send them in. this was also technically requested by @onceuponaoneshot, I know you asked for young!Remus but i'm picturing early twenties in this!! i hope that's okay and i'm wishing you so well lovely <3

---

Remus has now kissed the top of your head three times. He’s told you that he likes you twice. He still does not think that you’re aware of the overwhelmingly massive/silly little crush he has on you.

Crush is the wrong word, but he also thinks telling someone you love them before you’re even with them is, at best, naive and, at worst, selfish. He’s not in love with you, but he knows he could be. He knows he would be if he could kiss you on the top of the head whenever he liked, if he could run the backs of his knuckles over your cheek and stare at you, really stare at you. He knows he’d be in love with you then.

He needs to get you the message about his feelings first, though, because you seem persistent in ignoring them. He’d told you he liked you more than the rest of your friends at the night market and all you’d done is start referring to him as your best friend. He’d kissed you on the crown of your head twice at that time, then kissed you on the temple during a brave parting hug a week later. Just yesterday, after he’d watched you arguing with Sirius in the pub about something that didn’t matter at all, he told you breathlessly.

“I like you so much,” he had said, watching your chest heave after all that talking you’d done, watching a drop of sweat travel down your neck because the heating in this place is always far too hot.

You had laughed as if he said something funny and then almost shoved him over in your haste to get away from him. If he didn’t know you as he does, or if he listened to his insecurities, he’d think you were trying to brush him off. But he knows you, really knows you. He knows you were as embarrassed by his words as you are in the face of almost any affection. It’s why you call him an idiot so often, with that look in your eyes that gives him so much bloody hope. It hurts his chest sometimes.

Today he’s going to tell you how he feels and you’re going to understand him. He’s decided it.

“Remus!” you greet him, with an excitement he’s never sure he’s earned. You catch him in a tight hug, arms wrapped around his shoulders, so he braves his fourth kiss to the top of your head. When you pull away, you’re beaming up at him, “It’s so good to see you.”

“You saw me yesterday, lovely,” he says, just a fact, not a complaint. You furrow your brow. It’s adorable.

“Exactly. It’s so good to see you today. Especially without people trying to ruin our bestie time.”

He’s been pretending to hate that new phrase, so he rolls his eyes at you, but you just can’t stop beaming. He’s finding it difficult not to join you.

“You mean Sirius?”

You huff at the mention of him.

“He took up so much of my time last night. About cows! Can you believe that?”

“Yes,” he says, smiling wryly at you. You and Sirius could argue about anything and despite any protests, you both enjoyed it immensely.

“Right,” you huff again, “But still. It meant not nearly enough time talking to you. And I want to hear about your week! You said there was a promotion you were thinking of going for?”

He had said that. In a group setting, where he didn’t expect anyone to ever ask about it again. He’d been threatening to go for a promotion for a few years, but never quite managing to go for it.

“I thought you’d assume I chickened out again.”

“You’ve never chickened out!” you protest, linking you arm through his as you start walking through the park you’ve met in. At some point you’ll try to remember stop for lunch, but Remus isn’t sure when, “You decided it wasn’t for you.”

“Because I was scared,” he argued but you slapped him gently on the hand instinctively.

“Stop being self-deprecating” you warn him, “I don’t enjoy it.”

And he never wants to do anything you don’t enjoy, so he stops immediately. It’s amazing the effect you can have on him. He’s going to tell you so, so soon. Very soon. Next few sentences, he thinks. But then sentences go by and you get into a rather brilliant conversation and he just can’t butt in with his own wants.

“Lily thinks he’s being stubborn but I think he just wants everything to be right for her.”

The two of you have been talking about Lily and James and their potential engagement for a few minutes now. It’s only a matter of time, but how much time is up for debate.

“He’s a romantic. It has to be perfect for her. You’d think he knows by now there’s no such thing.”

“You don’t believe in perfect?” you ask him, no longer clinging on to his arm but walking close enough that your arms brush every now and then.

“Not objective perfection, no,” he says, measuring his words carefully, “But I think something can be perfect to someone, you know? People can be perfect for each other.”

You wiggle your eyebrows at him and he knows the teasing is coming. He feels the flush creeping up his neck already.

“Like soulmates?”

Your eyes are alight with mischief.

“I suppose. If they’re not predestined. If you can choose your soulmate.”

“You think we were destined to be besties or that we chose each other then?” you say, as if it’s the most nonchalant thing in the world and you’re not implying that you might be soulmates. He feels lightheaded.

“You think we’re soulmates?”

“Answer my question, Rem! It’s a hypothetical, you love a hypothetical.”

You still look mischievous, not hypothetical, but he’ll answer you anyway.

“I don’t know how you feel, but I think I chose you as one of my favourite people. I feel very lucky you chose me back.”

He’s definitely blushing. He can feel it, even without bringing his hands to his cheeks to give it away. You’re grinning at him, and it’s making him blush more, but he also feels better. Feels like you might finally understand his meaning.

“This is why I can’t argue with you like I do Sirius,” you say, which wasn’t what he was expecting, “We agree on far too much.”

He smiles down at the ground to stop himself from barking out an altogether unattractive laugh. But it’s his chance and he’s going to take it, because he wants to so desperately.

“If my soul has a mate, I think it’s you,” he says quietly.

He’s sure his heart stutters in his chest in the brief silence that follows. You both walk a few more slow paces forwards but then you finally speak up.

“I’ve never had a person like you, all my life,” you say seriously, staring up into his face for a moment before you have to look where you’re going again and the moment he thinks is coming fades, “We must be as close as it gets, buddy.”

Buddy. His heart sinks. You are the prettiest human being in the world and the most oblivious and Remus really, really wants to fall in love with you. If only you’d let him. If only you could hear him basically declare you his potential soulmate and realise he might have some intentions towards you that weren’t very platonic.

He’s not sure if he’s chickened out or if you have, but he decides whatever moment he wanted isn’t going to arrive today. He spots a nearby cafe after a few minutes talking about his potential promotion, which he pinky promises to go for, so he’ll have to follow through.

A three hour lunch later, and another half hour walking back to your cars, and he hasn’t said another word to you about his feelings. But he’s had a lovely few hours and he thinks you have too.

"Bye, Rem. See you Wednesday?"

There's four of you going to play mini golf on Wednesday night. He hates mini golf.

"Can't wait. Bye, sweetheart."

Whatever rush he thinks he’s in fades when you kiss him on the cheek as you say goodbye. Once you’ve driven off in your car, waving to him all the way down the road, he decides that you might be working up the courage for something too, and he might need to wait until you’re both feeling brave to do something about it.

He can wait. He carries that kiss on the cheek with him the rest of the weekend and into the next week, where he puts his name down for that promotion first thing Monday.

And if it’s solely so he has something to text you about, so be it.

---

if you've gotten this far, please know i'm very grateful. really hope you enjoyed, sunflowers <3

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus x reader #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin #marauders x reader

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fayes-fics · 1 year ago

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It Had To Be You: Chapter 9 - Nobody Else Gave Me A Thrill

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: You two finally figure it all out on New Year's Eve...

artwork credit @colettebronte

Warnings: none, really… just some swearing and love confessions.

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: A multi-chapter modern rom-com retelling of When Harry Met Sally. Here we are; this is the final chapter! Both reader and Benedict finally see the truth. There will be a short, hopefully humourous epilogue to this story as well, which I will post tomorrow. Thanks to @colettebronte for betaing. I hope you have all enjoyed this fic <3

For the next few weeks, the dreary weather, the clocks changing, and the chilly nights drawing in match your sullen mood. Your argument with Benedict at the wedding made you so sad but resolute to try and put it behind you.

It's the last weekend in November when you are buying a Christmas tree that you feel the worst. Making a mess of dragging the tree back to your place alone, leaving a trail of needles behind you, you stop halfway and slump onto a doorstep. Recalling with perfect clarity how you and Benedict had bought one together from the same man the previous year, laughing carefree as you easily carried it between you. Then you drank mulled wine as you haphazardly threw on lights and ornaments, dancing to cheesy Christmas songs. It's what you miss the most—his companionship, the ease of time spent with one of your favourite people.

Just as you are wrestling the tree through your front door, exhausted, sweaty and prickled by a thousand tiny shitty needles that seem to have it out for you, your phone pings with a message.

BB: I'm sorry for how things ended at the wedding. I've been thinking about it for weeks now. Please call me. I want to talk.

Pride (and your current disastrous had-a-fight-with-a-tree-and-lost appearance) stops you from doing what you genuinely want to—picking up your phone and Facetiming him to sort it all out.

Not ready yet.

Two weeks later, it's mid-December, and you are sitting cross-legged on your living room floor with a big glass of wine, wrapping presents for friends, when your phone pings again. For a while now, almost every day, he has been sending links to Insta posts with adorable and hilarious content. Each of which you have enjoyed but couldn't bring yourself to reply to. This time, it’s a message.

BB: If you are available at the moment, please call me.

You stare at the little pop-up notification and take a gulp, a weird weight in your chest at the idea you might cave this time. Perhaps. Once you are done wrapping this gift. A few minutes later, your phone pings again.

BB: Okay, I assume no call means:

BB: (A) you can't take a call right now

BB: (B) you can, but you don't want to talk to me or

BB: (C) you desperately do want to talk to me but are trapped under something heavy

BB: If it's A or C, please call me back later, doesn't matter what time

BB: Also, if it’s C, please call 999 if you are in danger, then call me after. I don't have any heavy-lifting equipment…

You can't help but giggle at his gentle, silly humour, attempting to diffuse the tension. A large part of you wants to call; you even have the phone in your hand, but at the last minute, you rest it against your forehead with a sigh, something stopping you. Your stupid rebound fling being the biggest one, Benedict’s cutting remark about how quickly you let someone else into your bed, making your stomach roil.

Still not ready yet.

—

“Obviously, she doesn't want to speak to me,” Benedict laments, his words muffled into a scatter cushion on Kate and Anthony’s sofa.

It's the morning after they've returned from honeymoon, three days before Christmas. While they are thankful Benedict popped over with some basics to make breakfast, they could do without his melancholy—they’re much more about a ‘let’s have newlywed sex on the kitchen table’ vibe.

“What do I have to do? Get hit over the head? Be in some calamitous accident?” Benedict whines, twisting his head in aggravation as if trying to burrow himself head-first into the furniture.

‘What do we do?’ Anthony mouths to Kate, who throws her hands up defeatedly.

‘How should I know?’ she mouths back, frowning. ‘He's your brother.’

‘Your friend's fault,’ Anthony shoots back.

Kate crosses her arms and gets a look like a sour lemon, and he instantly regrets that line.

Benedict lifts his head to look up at them, and she has to stifle a giggle behind her hand at the deep red imprint of the cushion zipper on his forehead.

“If she wants to talk to me. She will call me back, right? I'm done with making an idiot of myself….” Benedict claims boldly.

You are sitting on the sofa at your childhood home early evening on Christmas Day, almost disgustingly full of Baileys (your mum's tipple of choice on this day) and Christmas pud, watching The Wrong Trousers - a family tradition - when your phone pings with a message.

It's from Benedict and your stomach vaults. You honestly thought after more than a week of silence, he had given up trying. And part of you was so sad. There is no text this time, just a video attachment. You excuse yourself to the downstairs cloakroom, taking a seat on the closed lid of the toilet, intrigued as to what it is.

The video starts with him looking directly into the camera, his handsome face filling the frame and making your stomach swoop again. Fuck, you have missed seeing it.

“Merry Christmas y/n. I hope you are having a nice time. I miss you, and I hate how we left things,” he opens honestly, “and when Bridgertons don't know what to do, we always act stupidly. It's our ‘thing’. So here, You can blame this on my genetics...”

The video cuts to black briefly and then fades into him, a huge 6ft lump, crowded behind a plastic toy piano on the floor, probably one of Daphne’s kids' toys. You instantly giggle at the ridiculous visual as he apes a maestro, closes his eyes as if about to play Chopin, and flexes his hands. Then, the tinny, electric sound of some familiar notes being played hesitantly begins. He isn't exactly a natural pianist.

“Hey, I didn't just meet you, And this is crazy,

You know my number, So call me maybe,

It's hard to feel right without you, lady

You know my number, so call me, maybe…”

You are instantly laughing. He's such an adorable, charming idiot. Sitting behind a miniature plastic piano and playing, half in earnest, half in jest. At least his voice can hold a semi-decent tune. It brings an affectionate mist to your eyes even as it continues…

“Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad

I missed you so bad; I missed you so, so bad

Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad

And you should know that, I miss you now… so, so bad….”

For the last few words, he slows down the song and looks directly down the lens pointedly.

Something in his pleading look is the straw that breaks the camel's back proverbially, and with a slight tremor in your hand, you scroll to his name and hit the FaceTime button before you can think twice about it. The sound of the tone, as it rings, feels so loud, and each crisp ‘bringggg’ makes your nerves jangle. Just as you are about to hang up, the call connects.

“I'm sorry it took me so long to answer. I had to find a private spot.” he sounds a little winded.

“Where are you?” you frown, an unfamiliar background behind him.

“My childhood bedroom. Aubrey Hall.”

“Oh my god! Show me!” You enthuse, your initial equivocation derailed by nosiness, which you decide to frame instead in your mind as mere curiosity. You never got to see it the wedding weekend for, well, reasons you don't want to dwell on right now.

He quickly flips the camera around, giving you an audio-guided tour of the room he grew up in. Dark blue walls with framed posters for his beloved Blur alongside Travis, Radiohead and Shaun of the Dead. Silly stick-on glow-in-the-dark stars on the high ceiling that are likely too high for anyone to bother getting out a ladder and peeling off. Shelves with little wooden car models he made with his dad before he died, mixed in with certificates of achievement from school, shiny brass archery trophies, and his early sketches in those cheap snap-in frames. And lastly, a collection of jagged small rocks and colourful pebbles. It makes you feel so very affectionate for little teenage Benedict.

“You are bloody adorable!” you blurt out, almost forgetting all the awkwardness from the past few weeks.

The camera flips around, and his lopsided grin fills the screen. “Thank you. I try to make a habit of it…”

You smile back and then sigh. “I’ve missed this,” you confess quietly, wistfully.

“I’ve missed this too. You. Us. Can we please be friends again? Please? I know we both have a lot of things to talk about. With that night and all… but… can we reset? I need you, Bluey. I am miserable without my best friend,” he pouts, his raw honesty making your chest ache.

It’s exactly how you feel, too. Except with a massive pang of regret that he seems to want to forget your magical night together. Sex is never like that, at least not for you—electric and addictive. Doing a reset to save your friendship feels like the most logical step. Still, it doesn’t stop the “what if” fantasies running in your head with increasing frequency, especially on a day like today—nostalgia, sentiment and overindulgence swirling in your being.

“I would like us to be friends again,” you exhale, a lie by slight omission, drumming your fingertips on your cheek nervously to stop you from saying more.

“Wonderful! Then it is so! I can’t wait to see you again! Are you going to the New Year's party? The one Simon & Daph are hosting at the Sky Terrace? Cos if you are, I was wondering, if you don’t have a date if we could go together? We always said we would be each other's plus one if neither of us is with anyone…”

That he wants to completely reset to that world makes your heart crack. You want to scream at him, ‘No! I want to be your real date! Pick me, for real, this time!’

“I… can’t do that,” you waver, and it comes off sounding tired.

“You have a date?” It’s soft, hesitant, trepidatious.

“No…” you admit, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea to go together like that. I… I can’t be your consolation prize anymore, Benedict,” you blurt out, the hurt taking over your tongue.

The look of stunned surprise on his face makes it worse. As if he had never even seen it from that perspective.

“That’s not what I….” he begins but is interrupted by a loud door bang as it slams into the wall and a yelling voice.

“Stop fucking hiding and get your bloody arse back downstairs. You can’t miss family dinner on Christmas Day!” Colin scolds loudly offscreen.

“I’ve got to go…,” he sighs reluctantly as an arm manhandles him up and off the bed. “Merry Christmas,” he adds, belatedly realising you both forgot to say it earlier on the call.

“Whoever it is, hang up. No one is more important than family on Christmas,” Colin gripes. “That’s it, I’m taking your phone…”.

The screen is filled with random shapes and loud noises as they seem to wrestle like children. And then the call suddenly disconnects.

You sigh and tip sideways against the cold tile of your parents' cloakroom wall.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

Benedict takes stock of his surroundings. December 31st, 11:00pm, lying on his stomach on his sectional chaise, staring up at the big flatscreen on his wall.

This isn't so bad… he tries to convince himself. I've got Jools Holland’s Hootenanny - the only decent New Year's programme, some Glenfiddich and Mini Cheddars - the best snack there is…

He sighs and realises how pathetic he sounds, even in his own mind, alone in an empty flat.

The man whirls you around, and you are almost thrown straight into Kate and Anthony.

“I should never have let you drag me to this,” you grouse so only they can hear.

They both shoot you an apologetic look until you are whipped away again. This man’s dancing style is more akin to a waltzer amusement ride than anything sensual or fun. Your shoulder is already aching. It's a far cry from the surprising salsa Benedict pulled out of the bag last New Year’s Eve. And the idle thought of him has you spiralling…

“Mind if we stop?” you puff as the band finishes the song with a flourish. He’s some slick European investment banking type, and really, you couldn't give two shits about offending him, merely your ingrained politeness kicking in.

He nods and goes off to grab drinks as you stand, hands on hips, trying to gather your breath as you watch all the people moving like a mass of limbs on the crowded dancefloor as the following number begins.

Why the fuck am I here?

This is much better… Benedict rationalises to himself as he wanders down the rainy, empty East London streets not far from his Hoxton pad. Who needs to be at a big, crowded party pretending to have a good time?

He pauses outside a trendy shop on Old St, selling overpriced crap that he's not even sure what it is.

See? I can do some window shopping. He tells himself silently—clutching at anything to distract himself from the creeping sense of dread in his gut. A slow twisting knife as he thinks about you dancing the night away, ringing in the New Year with some fancy, handsome man who definitely doesn't deserve you.

What does it matter to me? We are just friends. Best friends… the only friend I ever want to see every day… the only one who truly matters….

He has thought about how to repair the damage between you so much over the last few weeks that he's exhausted himself. Really, he just wants you back. All of you, ideally, but being realistic, any part of yourself you will let back into his life. The suggestion of a reset he made on Christmas Day being his cowardly way out.

—

You are fake laughing at the banker’s story as you lean around the pillar you are backing yourself against in an attempt to secure more personal space. Glad of the heated lamps and the glass overhang to shelter from the drizzle.

“I'm going home,” you growl.

“You’ll never find an Uber,” Kate points out deadpan as you turn back around and keep faking amusement.

Just as his thoughts spiral, Benedict hears a chuckle on the other side of the road. There, a couple are laughing together, wrapped in each other's arms, kissing, looking like no one else in the world matters… and it’s like a lightning rod hits him square in the chest.

Suddenly, all he can see are images of you, fluttering like motioned-filled playing cards from above, swirling into his eyeline, then floating onto the glistening pavement around him. Vignettes of his life and where you intersect at so many pivotal moments. The day he left uni - the car ride where you bickered like an old married couple, the day he moved to Paris - your dilated pupils and hitched breath on the Eurostar when he whispered in your ear, the unerring sympathy when you heard about his divorce, the way you held his hand when you wandered after dinner somewhere (he doesn't even recall where… only that it was with you), watching movies together on FaceTime, your incredulity when he confessed to his uneventful recurring sex dream, your surprise and, yes, arousal as he led you in the salsa dance, the way you tucked so neatly into his arms haunting him. And finally, how it felt to be buried inside your gorgeous body as you clung to him, calling his name like a siren song, intimacy like he has never known, the profundity of the connection petrifying the very life out of him.

But as he stares down at his tatty old Converse, the same ones he wore the day you met, in fact, all he sees in the puddle beneath him is the simple truth he has been in denial about, possibly for a decade or more. Rippling refractions of your face - your knowing smile, bright eyes, your wonderful, happy expression…

And before his brain acknowledges it, his feet are moving….

Walking fast…

Then it’s a jog…

Then it’s a run….

.. his feet carrying him to the one place he knows with every fibre of his being he wants to be.

—

You wander as if in a daze, seemingly surrounded by nothing but couples, kissing, dancing, whispering, and it's the final straw. You spy Kate and Anthony sipping champagne together and slope over.

“I'm going,” you sigh.

“But it's almost midnight,” Anthony protests.

“Being surrounded by people kissing is just…” you shrug, melancholy creeping in like a clingy fog around your heart.

“I’ll kiss you,” Kate placates, and Anthony perks up to no end at that suggestion, nodding enthusiastically as you both roll your eyes, bemused. “Stay? Please?” she pleads, pouting and grabbing your hands.

“Thanks, Kate. But no. I have to go. Have a wonderful night,” you bid them, kissing her gently on the cheek. “Happy New Year,” you whisper as she returns the greeting.

Benedict's lungs are burning as he races down Old St towards Shoreditch, not far from where you celebrated last year. He ignores the ache in his muscles and keeps going, checking his watch to see 11:56pm and racing harder.

I need to be there at midnight!

As you walk to pick up your coat, a sight makes your heart leap into your mouth and stops you dead in your tracks.

There, rounding the top stair, casual in old faded jeans, those ancient Converse and a chunky knit jumper… is Benedict. Hair fluffy and dishevelled from the rain, out of breath and scanning the crowd desperately. As if he is seeking someone.

Then his eyes finally land on you, and your world tilts.

Oh god, is he here… for… me?!?

Then he is striding purposefully towards you, and it seems like the crowds part. His eyes blisteringly intense, like they were on that fateful night. You try to school your face, aiming for casual indignance; you probably fail spectacularly— your heart thumping wildly.

“I've been doing a lot of thinking…” he begins as he pulls up before you. “And the thing is… I love you..”

Everything grinds to a halt, and your head feels dizzy.

This must be a prank, surely?

“What?” you stutter, disbelief rocking your core.

“I love you,” he says with a simple shrug as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“Ben.. I… what do you expect me to say?” you blurt out, floored.

“How about you love me too,” he smiles a tiny fraction, and you hate it.

You hate how RIGHT he is. Your body is a total jumble of live wires, but your mind is suddenly calm. It's like the clouds of your thoughts part, and it all seems crystal clear. And yet, something in your stubborn heart won't let you admit it. Terrified what it could mean to voice it.

“Look, Ben, I know it's New Year, and I know you may be lonely tonight. But please don't do this,” you implore haltingly, tears prickling hot in the corners of your eyes, “...not like this,” you whisper, defeated.

“Okay, how about like this….” he throws his hands up. “I love that you won't admit you love me. I love that you are looking at me like you want to kill me right now. I love that my body is screaming at me cos I ran here as fast as I could.” he gestures down at his slightly shaky legs.

“Ten seconds to New Year's!!” a loud voice blares out over the speakers.

“TEN!!” the crowd chants.

“I love that we are idiots who would never admit to how in love we are.”

“NINE!”

“I love that you are my blue lobster, rare and beautiful as a diamond but a delicious soft treat under that hard as nails shell….”

“EIGHT!”

He tilts your chin to look up at him, a thumb swiping a tear you didn't even know had escaped.

“SEVEN!”

“Don't leave me out here in the wind, y/n…,” he murmurs softly.

“SIX!”

“I… I love that you never give up,” you whisper so quietly even you can barely hear it.

The smile that lights up Benedict’s face makes your whole being feel like the stars live inside your chest.

“FIVE!”

“I love that you take homemade salads on a road trip,” he smirks playfully, referring to the first day you spent together all those years ago.

“FOUR!”

“I love that you kept your amazing dance prowess under wraps,” you laugh over a stilted snuffle, everything in you fizzling.

“THREE!”

“I love that I can still smell you on my clothes after we spend the day together,” he sighs, moving in closer, your eyes hypnotised by the movement of his cupid’s bow.

“TWO!”

“I love that you came here tonight,” you admit, your hands circling his forearms as you sway slightly in unison.

“ONE!”

“I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night,” he confesses, his lips ghosting over yours now, smiling crookedly even as he speaks.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!” the crowd chants.

All around you, party poppers go off, colourful ribbons of streamers, and the sound of glasses clinking fills the air. But it’s background noise, your whole focus on each other.

Finally, your lips meet, the fireworks under your ribs matching those in the skies above, the same as it was that first time weeks ago. You melt into each other's embrace, your kiss a seal of a pact and the promise of something new and infinite.

“For the record,” he rumbles, his minty breath hot on your lips, the strains of Auld Lang Syne ringing around the rooftop. “I'm not saying this because I’m lonely and not because it’s the New Year. I came here tonight because when you finally realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start…”

“...as soon as possible,” you exhale, completing his sentence with him as he nods, grinning from ear to ear.

The drunken chorus around you gets louder; he chuckles and shakes his head. “I’ve never understood this stupid song.”

“I think it’s about remembering not to forget. Or not forgetting to remember. Or something,” you peal a laugh, knowing you are talking gibberish and not giving a damn. “Anyway, it’s about old friends,” you add pointedly, moving in for another spine-tingling, heart-melting kiss.

As you part, he cradles your jaw in his hands. “It was only ever you, y/n,” he sighs, hazy eyes burning into yours, his whisper fervent but contented into your skin. “It had to be you.”

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #it had to be you fic

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theo-raeken-appreciation · 5 months ago

Note

got any theo fic recs?

of course!!! let me pull up my faves, linking them under the cut cause it might get long (also some fics are nsfw some aren't i didnt tag them all bc by the time i realized i had been through so many already)

Theo Raeken Centric (sometimes gen/sometimes w/pairings)

Why are Werewolves Always Teens? by Everlasting_mediocrity

Crossover. In which Tony Stark is Theo Raeken’s biological father and they’re going to have to do some growing about it. Thiam. Ongoing.

i lost my heart under the bridge by infernal_gay_mess

"The Doctors said, years later, that Theo had taught them that true evil came from corrupting something truly good. What they didn’t tell him was that the best way to make someone into a monster was to convince them they already were one." Angst & Tragedy

blood is running deep, some things never sleep by likelightninginabottle

Aka theo raeken’s mid-season six hot girl summer. Introspective. Thiam.

a rose that won’t bloom by wormhusk

not theo centric, but a cute fic about stiles-scott-theo as kids and theo being scott’s first crush. thiam.

pyrrhic victory of knowing yourself by painting_ethereal

a two part series of stolen memories, theo joining the mccall pack, leaving, and choosing to come back

even in the darkest places, flowers grow by strawberxi (Tupipsie)

a theo raeken-centric fic where he grapples with his sister's birthday, and the implication that he doesn't have to do everything alone. Thiam

On Theo Raeken and Manipulation by wormhusk

Theo Raeken Did Nothing Wrong 2k23. Not A Fic/Pure Meta

Thiam

Secondary Drowning by marrowbite(wingfooted)

in which theo is a selkie.

hey i think he likes you (but honey, i do too) by fallingforboys

in which liam is oblivious and wants to help theo get a boyfriend.

Im not ready to die yet, should i pray? (i’m wasting time, haunted by the ghost of you) by petitommo

the one where theo leaves for Florida. out of necessity, not choice. voicemails, missing liam, waiting–and going home.

tell me no more secrets, i’ll tell you no more lies by likelightninginabottle

“You were attacked. It was self defense.” Theo. “Okay, but what if it wasn’t.” Liam

when oblivion is calling out your name, you always take it further than i ever can by likelightninginabottle

In which Liam is terribly high and completely smitten, Theo is allergic to emotions and totally whipped, Mason has the patience of a saint, and everybody wins, except for Stiles

when you crave someone (to be there at dawn) by likelightninginabottle

(In which, for once, Liam and Theo aren't oblivious, even if the pack very much is.) Post-Monroe, Pack in College, Thiam Being Shameless

burning bright red till the end (now you’ll be missing from the photographs by likelightninginabottle

MCD, Angst

You Missed, Dumbass by Sailorscout7

(OR 2 times Liam trying to kiss Theo ended in disaster and 1 time it mostly didn't)

a fire without a spark by lexisaurus

Liam asks are you alright? it never occurs to Theo that Liam could be asking him, too.

Commemoration, Cauterized by Ty_Winn_Roa

Meeting his parents for the first time in a decade is terrible enough without having to do it all over again. And again. And again. But Theo's never done anything halfheartedly.

Hunting Hearts by l_t_m

“My heart is missing.” Liam blinked. Theo’s way of saying ‘hello’ wasn’t encouraging.

no angels in this bleeding heart town by fallingforboys

“Please don’t make me do this,” Liam says, pleads. His jaw clenches and he squares his shoulders. Theo’s claws flick out.

Happiness is (where you are) by crier_emperor

in which theo gets a home and a hug. Angst. Getting together.

pride before a fall, wolves will keep you warm by likelightninginabottle

Liam comes out of the closet, in more ways than one. Or rather: his friends break him out. Cute, fluffy, and funny

look at the wonderful mess we made, we pick ourselves undone by likelightninginabottle

In which the supernatural does not exist. But Beacon Hills still went through a war, of which this is the aftermath. Liam and Theo pine for each other, but Liam thinks he cannot have Theo and so he dates other people. And yes. They are roommates. Mutual Pining, Jealousy, Misunderstandings.

your slightest look easily will unclose me by likelightninginabottle

Liam thinks about the people who left and how he is almost alright without them. Post-Canon.

just steps across the tower bridge by eneiryu

Guilt, injury, angst–Theo’s body is failing, and he’s hiding it from Liam. Happy Ending.

Use and abuse me ‘til I’m gone by THENINTH09

5 times Liam makes Theo bleed and the one time (two times) he doesn’t.

don’t you hear me howling, babe? by THENINTH09

Theo and Liam in Theo’s truck, after Gabe and the hospital. NSFW

Iron and Copper by TheOceanIsMyInkwell

Or: A witch grants Theo's wish to turn human for a day and be loved for who he is. Liam shows him just what that wish might look like.

drove him underground by justt_ppeachy

Liam and Theo, but they are Orpheus & Eurydice retold. It always ends the same.

so cruelly you kissed me by wormhusk

A series of two one-shots, one with liam realizing his feelings for theo and the second on theo

this love is difficult, but it’s real by wormhusk

a two part series of oneshots with thiam secretly dating, liam telling the pack, it not going well, and the aftermath

all sunny days are on by wormhusk

Remember the hunger games au? This is an alice in borderland au. A lot of people will die but not thiam. incomplete

the smell of smoke would hang around this long by wormhusk

theo quits smoking

and in ever crowd, it's you i'm looking for by fallingforboys

in which theo is unfortunately very attractive and needs a fake boyfriend at a party--and oh look, liam is right there

Thiam Fics That Are Part of This One Orphaned Series So I Have Put Them Together

this is why they shouldn’t kill off the main guy by wormhusk

a first-kiss fic with theo angst and liam bullying theo into staying with him instead of his truck

and i remember thinking by wormhusk

a fic exploring the theo train track theory AKA where they talk about a past suicide attempt

Oh i love it and i hate it at the same time

Established Thiam, Theo gets his wisdom teeth removed.

256,000

The one where Liam calculates how many times Theo died down in Hell and has a panic attack.

cut it out then restart by wormhusk

Theo has a bad day and gives into old habits. Angst. Self-harm

argumentative antithetical dream girl

it’s a pwp but I'm including it because it's the same ‘verse

i just wanna stay in that lavender haze by wormhusk

thiam get high and and play the 36 questions that lead to love and then have sex about it

and i wouldn’t marry me either

Liam has a plan to propose to his boyfriend. Theo thinks Liam is acting cagey

fighting in only your army

The skinwalkers want Theo back. No one reacts well.

are there still beautiful things

a witch’s curse makes Liam hate the one he loves most–his fiance. Angst.

i know my pain is such an imposition

the boys finally get to go on their honeymoon. so of course it goes wrong.

long live the look on your face by wormhusk

Theo and Liam go to build-a-bear

he was sunshine i was midnight rain by wormhusk

Liam does a 30-day love challenge

Sceo

Shall I sleep within your bed by voices_in_my_head

In which Theo wasn't expecting to be rescued

fake my heart by LuthienKenobi

In which Theo is captured and a femme fatale all in one

gonna make you a believer by queerebrum

in which the battle is over, the Anuk Ite defeated, and Scott McCall can finally see things clearly–things like how he has been pretending he is not in love with Theo Raeken

Expelliaramus! by tabbytabbytabby

Gryffindor Scott and Slytherin Theo are secretly dating.

Sons of Monsters and Monster Sons by TheOceanIsMyInkwell

“i think,” theo says slowly, “my father tried to kill me when i was seven.” Sceo+Thiam, bc Theo is terribly in love with them both. Child Abuse Mention, as well as Mentions of sexual assault done to Theo by his Father. Theo did NOT have a happy loving childhood.

Unbreakable Heaven by tabbytabbytabby

Theo thinks he and Scott are FWBs while Scott thinks they are dating. Theo starts pulling away once he realizes he has feelings for Scott. Scott wonders what he did to make his boyfriend distant.

our hands dirtied by the other’s desire; i will declare my love with a slaughter by clementinecalls

When they lay in the grass and stare at the stars, Scott runs his thumb over Theo’s wrist. Feeling his pulse steady under his touch. He thinks about the sun in comparison to Theo. He thinks about how he was Icarus and he loved Theo just as he loved the sun — too close, too much.

Homeless Theo/Theo + Pack

Too Afraid to Follow Through by dangerouscoffeetheorist

for your melissa & theo needs, and theo being forced to join the pack against his will.

wither under the iridescent glow of the sun, moon, and stars by fallingforboys

Theo digs the bullets out himself, using them to cauterize the wounds, and the air around him becomes hot and a little sticky with the smell of his flesh burning, but he ignores it.

He ignores it and saves himself, because that’s all he knows how to do. He saves himself because he knows that no one else would bother trying. (He’s wrong.) Thiam but mostly pack focused

Heart coming up my throat, think I’m getting worse at breathing by Multifandom_damnnation

Jordan Parrish & Theo. Thiam

murphy’s golden rule: whoever has the gold makes the law by game_ender

Coach Finstock & Theo. In which Theo gets adopted by the Coach. Thiam

Vanlife Style! by onyxthroughtheages

In which Alec and Theo are bffs, Theo was raised in the sewers and so learns about TikTok scandals and instafame through Google, and mentions Liam in almost every TikTok he ever makes.

built a ship in the morning but the hull’s worn through by eneiryu

in which theo makes a deal with the pack: after Monroe, he gets to walk away. Thiam

waves on the ocean for the wavering kind by eneiryu

a two parter series. part one is where Theo leaves Beacon Hills with exactly the same things he came into it with: his truck, a duffel bag full of clothes, and the permanent taste of blood and grave dirt in his mouth. part two is argent’s pov. thiam

Fics That Deserve a Category of Their Own

You only feel one emotion at a time by likelightninginabottle

Theo doesn't feel pain. It makes him reckless. The pack doesn't notice, until they do. Incomplete. Pack Dynamics. Thiam. Theo’s Past, Theo’s Present, and Hopefully, Theo’s Future.

Take my heart (and put it somewhere safe) by not_carrying_on

The one where Theo reluctantly helps the pack capture Monroe, deals with the aftermath of his upbringing with the Dread Doctors, saves the lives of not so few people (despite the will to deny it until his dying breath), practically adopts Alec and pulls his head out of his ass.

#theo raeken #scott mccall #teen wolf #sceo #thiam #fic recs #answered asks #anon ask #this isnt everything ofc and one of these fics are mine #but it got too long lol #NONE**#NONE* of these fics are mine #prone to updates!

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graciereadshannigram · 4 months ago

Text

hey fam, my spreadsheet is FINALLY up to date so i am FINALLY getting back to the monthly rec lists! here's the cream of the crop from August :)

as a reminder: the ingredients for a five star rating typically (but not always!!) include some combination of a.) believable characterizations of both Hannibal and Will, b.) compelling plot and/or character arcs, and c.) high quality smut.

that being said, my judgment of the aforementioned ingredients is powered almost exclusively by vibes and as such, is incredibly subjective.

you can find past recs below:

February March April May June July

and if you have any recs of your own for me, PLEASE SHARE.

without further ado, let's go!

Teach Me a Lesson (Already Learned) by whenitstarted

Word Count: 3142 Summary: Will being married to Molly and cheating on her with Hannibal.

Literally just PWP because I wanted to scratch the cheating itch.

Just Thought You Should Know by EarthsickWithoutYou

Word Count: 22370 Summary: Two years after marrying Molly, Will is restless and unhappy, unable to stop thinking about Hannibal and missing his incarcerated cannibal despite all the reasons why he knows it's wrong. One night, things come to a head when Hannibal finds a way to call him. A series of sensual phone encounters begs the question of how long Will can possibly resist the desire which Hannibal so expertly cultivates.

Oh this one was GOOD. I love anything that happens in the three years Will is with Molly. The angst, the porn, chefs kiss.

More Myself Than I Am by StratsWrote

Word Count: 9176 Summary: Everyone has a soulmate. Someone they will connect with on such an intimate level that they are like one mind in two bodies. It comes on the cusp of adulthood, a shared link between two minds. It will start with feelings, emotions shared across the connection. Some people claim senses; smell and sound. Those who are thoroughly, intensely intertwined can claim to send their very thoughts towards each other, although it’s generally considered bad luck to use the connection to find each other sooner than you are meant to.It is a wonderful thing, to know that no matter who you are or what you’ve done, somebody out there will understand you. Or at least, it’s supposed to be.

Soulmate AU! Hannibal absolutely hating the bond at first felt very on brand and this was just very good.

coyote chewing on a cigarette by antiheroblake

Word Count: 5145 Summary: hannibal wants someone to care for him until he’s bequeathed his family fortune, but he doesn’t want to deal with the near-elderly perverts his friend calls their “sugar daddy”. that’s when he sets his sites on the sullen and newly rich will graham

okay if you aren't reading this series, what are you doing?? every. single. installment. is a five star!!!

No It Don't Come Easy by nobetterlove

Word Count: 10759 Summary: Will had the good sense to blush then, both Hannibal’s words and his previous actions making his heart pound hard in his chest. “Actually, uh – “ Will started, his hand reaching back to rub along his suddenly stiff neck. “I told him I was seeing someone.” Blue eyes looked up slowly, Will more than curious as to what Hannibal’s reaction would be. “Well, that’s – “ Hannibal tried to say but was cut off by Will speaking again. “I said it was you. Or implied it, at least.” There was a moment of silence where Hannibal didn’t blink or look away or even breath. Maroon eyes took Will in with shocking efficiency – he felt like Hannibal was everywhere in that moment, surrounding him in all ways possible. “You told Jack Crawford that you were seeing me.” Or: a Hannigram fake dating AU

i'm a whore for a fake dating fic, y'all know who i am.

Oddbodies by toffeecape

Word Count: 72714 Summary: Will is an off-brand sentinel. Hannibal is a reputable guide. What could go wrong?

i knew nothing about Sentinel AUs before reading this one, but i found it was perfectly well explained within the fic! and wow this was SO well done! it fits so well into canon and was just a treat to read.

This Isn't Rapture by moistdrippings

Word Count: 7467 Summary: Will wakes with a fever, and Hannibal prescribes some unconventional treatments.

yeah, just gonna drop this one here.

stink in the nostrils by murdertrout

Word Count: 49137 Summary: Secret Omega Hannibal is not pleased that he has imprinted on Will Graham. He avenges himself on his biology by getting Will Graham put behind bars. But when Will figures out what he’s been hiding and tampers with his suppressants, triggering his first heat, they both get more than they bargained for. Alternate S2b if it were entirely A/B/O porn.

LOVED THIS.

A Most Gentle Death by mokuyoubi

Word Count: 8956 Summary: “What is that?” Will asks tightly.“A blend of benzodiazepines and barbiturates,” Hannibal says. “It will render one unconscious, immobile, and largely insensate.”Will stares at the syringe in shocked disbelief. The shame and embarrassment are still present, but have taken a backseat to dry-mouthed, hopeless longing. Hannibal turns the syringe end on end between his fingers. “Would you like me to administer it to myself?” he asks.

there is something so satisfying about Hannibal not being phased by pretty much anything that Will wants.

A Wolf in the Night by itsbeautiful

Word Count: 3857 Summary: “Leave them on…” Will rumbled, grabbing hair and pushed a head down his stomach. “…and suck my cock.”Hannibal looked up with a dark stare and a head tilt, struggling to catch his breath. “No ‘please?’”“I know…I don’t need to ask, politely or otherwise, to get what I want from you now.”Red eyes glittered with hunger, tongue flicking out to taste the power left on lips.“Isn’t that what you wanted, Doctor Lecter? For me to take what I want from you.”

i'm pretty sure i just love anything this author writes, wow. you don't technically need to have read Transcendent Suffering, but it'll make more sense if you have.

When It Clicks by summerisblue

Word Count: 29838 Summary: Will and Hannibal have been spending a lot of time together lately.Because they’re friends, Will likes to reason. Will likes to tell Hannibal that too, just to clarify. Hannibal might be more than a little frustrated.

this one really hit my "oblivious sugar baby Will Graham" button. i love him so much.

Your Ex by murdertrout

Word Count: 3810 Summary: “What was your last relationship like?”“Uh,” Will says. “Intense.”“Good intense or bad intense?”“Yes,” Will says.“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want,” Molly says, “but I just want you to know you can.”In retrospect, this is a mistake.--We usually assume that Will clammed up about his past when he was with Molly. But what if actually Will tells Molly way, way, way too much about his relationship with Hannibal?Or, the one where Will starts talking about his “ex" and doesn't stop.

i love when Will is an idiot. this fic was just silly and perfect.

Ball Toss by raiast

Word Count: 22307 Summary: The carnival AU no one asked for. Hannibal accompanies Alana to a carnival and meets one Will Graham, whose game booth is less than above board. Hannibal does not approve.

YES YES YES. i really loved this dark Will!!

Pushing Comfort by lurid_erotic_intimacy (virtuous_contract)

Word Count: 14559 Summary: Habitually, Hannibal keeps his steps quiet as he makes his way to Will’s upper floor. It’s probably nothing out of the ordinary that has kept Will from making their morning session (not a session, a conversation). Still, it’s best to know for certain.Or: Will starts missing his appointments. Hannibal is happy to investigate why. Can be read as a canon-insert. A quite sweet and kink-flavoured getting together story.

this was sweeter than i would have expected it to be based on the tags, but mmmm this hit the right buttons for me!

a world of hurt by divinetheatre

Word Count: 7213 Summary: Will takes it slow, pausing between the strikes to let Hannibal work through the sensations, patient — for now. In time, when Hannibal’s self control wavers, and his knees start to kiss one another after every spanking, Will will pin him open and punish him for that too. Relentlessly.

well, we learn new things about ourselves every single day, right?

i know who you are by divinetheatre

Word Count: 14125 Summary: Will turned again as though the turmoil in Hannibal’s heart had clamored loud enough for him to hear. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. What Hannibal might’ve said, the last thing he could’ve admitted to Will, did not pass his lips. Will strode to him and grasping Hannibal’s face in both hands, kissed him. Deep and hot with passion that did not surprise Hannibal but overwhelmed him. He’d known it would be this way, but he had never been prepared. Not entirely.

Vulnerable Hannibal and Will being the most tender understanding human? Give me moreeeeeeeee.

a sort of madness by divinetheatre

Word Count: 5239 Summary: He chose me.The euphoric mantra echoes through his mind as he drags the panties down Hannibal’s long, slim legs. They open for him. The slick heat betwixt dampens the coverlet for him. What happens to Hannibal’s body after this is because of him.

i had to stop and remember to breathe multiple times during this fic so. do what you will with that information.

Secretary by FragileTeacup

Word Count: 77469 Summary: Will Graham needs a job. Since quitting the FBI, he’s been adrift for months, broken and lost; chasing a desire he doesn’t understand in increasingly destructive ways. What he needs is stability, direction, something to help put his life back in order and quiet the buzzing in his head. A chance encounter with the classifieds might just give him exactly what he needs. Secretary Wanted.Dr. H. Lecter. Psychiatric private practice.Typing and good manners essential.Must follow direction.

THE secretary AU. need i say more??

Layover by raiast

Word Count: 16978 Summary: When Hannibal misses his connecting flight to DC he is forced to obtain a hotel room for the evening. When the last remaining room is seemingly double-booked he realizes that the adult thing to do is generously offer to share the space. And if the other man in need of lodging happens to be a seemingly disheveled, ill-mannered and altogether beautiful stranger, well, that's just fine.

ONLY ONE BED ONLY ONE BED. alternate first meeting AU that i adored.

Scent of a Woman by Devereauxs_Disease

Word Count: 4860 Summary: After the fall, Will assumed he and Hannibal would progress to a romantic relationship. So when Hannibal comes home smelling of fancy perfume, Will is...distressed. How do serial killers handle jealousy and romantic confessions? Not well, y'all...NOT WELL.

they're both so stupid and i love them. Hannibal's behavior had me cracking up because of course he would behave this way.

Will Graham Had a Secret by hannigramsarah (WrightworthSarah)

Word Count: 4442 Summary: Will Graham has a somewhat slutty past. What happens when he meets Hannibal Lecter and discovers his proclivities may not be as secret as he might have hoped?

this was lovely.

Something Borrowed by BelladonnaWyck

Word Count: 11206 Summary: “What’s wrong with your green card?” Will can’t hope to stop the words from tumbling forth - didn’t even know they were about to spill from his mouth when he opened it - and his cheeks flush when he realizes how intrusive and presumptuous that question is.

Hannibal is Hannibal and they are perfet. i need more green card proposals STAT.

Touch by raiast

Word Count: 10902 Summary: From the kinkmeme prompt:"Going into an intense heat, Will volunteers to be shared and passed around by a group of Alphas. Hannibal finds out. Does he stop it from even happening? Sneak in and sign in to join the group?"What happens when an Omega with a voyeurism kink signs up for a Public Heat and his possessive Alpha psychiatrist applies for a volunteer position? Hint: lots of knotting, lots of come, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of bloodshed.

FERAL WILL GRAHAM. i really don't think i need to say more.

put your aching teeth to good use, my dear by wormsin

Word Count: 10516 Summary: alternate a/b/o ending to Fromage. when Will sees Hannibal in his office, bloody but alive, he goes into a feral rut. Hannibal tries to pacify him.

again, feral Will Graham just hits all the right buttons.

Tender by McRibFarewellTour

Word Count: 5117 Summary: "Will loved the violence, of course he did, but he loved Hannibal more, and he wanted there to be a clear distinction between the two. He wanted proof that Hannibal loved him, Will Graham, not anyone else who could be convinced to empathize with a serial killer. He didn’t want to push Hannibal against a wall, he wanted to hold and be held by him."A defense of seeking gentleness in a world of violence.

OUCH. in the best way possible, big ouch.

Husband Under Contract by house_of_lantis

Word Count: 49685 Summary: Count Hannibal Lecter has always enjoyed his bachelorhood and freedom, preferring to live a life as an established gentleman and lord of his estate. But Hannibal finds himself married and the last thing he wants is a clingy, tedious spouse who expects romance and to take advantage of Hannibal’s wealth and social status. Will Graham couldn’t care less about the arranged marriage as long as he can keep his job and keep his dogs. He’s amused by Hannibal’s attempts to manipulate him; and when he finally gets Hannibal in bed, he thanks him for a good time and returns to his own suite. What will Hannibal do when he realizes that he’s completely in love with his husband? And can Will ever see past their marriage contract to sharing a real life of love and passion?

An incredible royalty (kind of?) AU. i love how Will just does not give a fuck about upsetting Hannibal, much to the horror of the house staff.

pretty words from a silver tongue by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 3595 Summary: Will’s hookups (as few and far in between as they are) always end the same; deliberate distance between bodies and a cold, empty bed come morning. No one ever stays the night.

touch starved and vulnerable Will??? sign me UP.

i could love you with my eyes closed by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 2276 Summary: In Will Graham's three and a half decades on this planet, no one has ever made him feel like this.or, Hannibal is a little TOO good in bed, leaving his boy a little... emotional.

relatable content.

Night Calls and Liquid Courage by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 4249 Summary: "How much did you drink, Will?”“All of it.”“All of it, hm? That certainly is a lot.” _________________ Beverly Katz hand-delivers a very flirty, very drunk Will Graham to Hannibal's doorstep in the middle of the night. Drunken confessions and lots of cuddling ensue.

fluffy goodness, what more could ya want?

your touch is my safety by feralwillgrhm

Word Count: 4183 Summary: Will had been touch-starved for a while, but he didn't realise how much he craved it until Hannibal came into his life and initiated touch between them repeatedly. It left him wanting more and trembling at night in bed, but he never knew how to tell Hannibal. That was until he finally cracked. Or: 5 times Hannibal touched Will and he barely kept things together, and 1 time he gave in.

this was so sweet and tender!!

I called your name ‘til the fever broke by omnilegent

Word Count: 4363 Summary: Hannibal tilted his head in that cat-like way of his and said, apropos of nothing, ‘I believe you are experiencing touch deprivation, Will.’Will was not in the fucking mood.‘I touch myself plenty, doctor.’ He snapped, realising what that sounded like after he was already committed to saying it and ultimately not really caring. He couldn’t be bothered for all this dancing around half truths via metaphors today.———Hannibal offers Will a helping hand in relieving his touch deprivation…

can y'all tell i was on a "touch starved Will Graham" kick? that's all this is.

the fire went wild (the flames went higher) by antiheroblake

Word Count: 15359 Summary: will takes hannibal out to make up for the shoes he didn’t get, but when hannibal tries to show his appreciation (and how poorly he can behave), will decides to show him something new

show me the places where the others gave you scars by madeofbees

Word Count: 4957 Summary: Will has a bad time at a bad scene; Hannibal helps.Or: if Will has such a strong empathy response to horror and violence, what would happen if Hannibal immersed him in pleasure?

can y'all imagine if this is what Hannibal had done from the start? jesus christ.

Heal Your Wolf(hound) Well by devotional_doldrums

Word Count: 53396 Summary: From a distance, Hannibal enjoys heightening Will’s sickness. But confronted with the injured man lying in his hospital bed… Hannibal’s not so sure he enjoys it, anymore. Chicken soup (for the serial killer’s soul).

i love getting to see Hannibal actively regret his choices. 10/10.

Crystalline by DruidGurl (DaoistDruid)

Word Count: 59216 Summary: Stripper!Hannibal AU (sort of) The proprietor of a successful restaurant, Hannibal (who may or may not be a serial killer and definitely WAS an exotic dancer in his youth) is coerced by an old acquaintance to take a job dancing at a bachelor party. When he shows up, he realizes a mistake has been made, but he also realizes something far more interesting: the groom to be is hotter than Mt. Vesuvius. Circumstance and intent lead the boys where it always should: into bed. A lot.

GIVE ME ALL OF THE CHEATING FICS PLEASE. Everything in this fic was top tier. Hannibal as a dancer? Hell yes. The dirty talk? Yes. The fucking all night long marathon sex sessions? YES. Will being an absolute SLUT for Hannibal??? YES PLEASE GOD.

all i want is you by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 8892 Summary: We should do something tomorrow."Did you have anything in mind?“It’s your birthday.”Ah, he wishes it were so simple. If Hannibal were to wish for anything, it would be Will Graham underneath him, gasping, moaning, whispering his name while he placed claiming bites on his beautiful, porcelain throat. Such an image is so lovely… and so achingly far away. There is nothing wrong with wishing for it, but if it is a boundary that is never crossed, Hannibal can live with it. He can live this quiet, friendly, occasionally bloody life they live simply as friends if it means he continues to have it.That does not mean Hannibal won’t settle for his second favorite. (It isn’t really settling though; their shared hunts are the greatest adventures he’s ever had.)“Well, there is that dreadful Senor Pérez down at the docks…” _________________ A year after the fall. Hannibal and Will are friends and partners in crime, but nothing more. Hannibal is... fine with that. He is content having Will in any way that he is allowed if it means Will stays.Today is Hannibal's birthday. Will surprised him with a kiss.

This made me want to tear up in a good way. It is so TENDER. God, they are so soft and I love them.

le bel homme sans merci by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 7481 Summary: “La Belle Dame Sans Merci.” Will recites breathlessly.Hannibal lets out a pleased hum. “The painting is a rather whimsical rendition of the muse. Keats’ poem depicts a wretched end for the knight where he awakens alone in the field, abandoned by the love of his life, whereas Dicksee’s work focuses on the maiden’s affection and the knight’s surrender to his own heart. Everything he knows and feels, it all changes when he sees her for the first time." _________________ Hannibal leaves his sketchbook in Will's car. He can't stop himself from looking inside, from wanting to know, but he never expected every drawing to be of him.

Hannibal "accidentally" leaving his sketchbook in the car where Will will absolutely find it? Chefs kiss. THEY'RE IN LOVE.

Whiskey Lullaby by thisisthefamilybusiness

Word Count: 1943 Summary: Hannibal Lecter only gives one apology in his entire life, and it is to the man he never meant to kill, the one he murdered not with violence, not with a knife, not as the Chesapeake Ripper, but with assumptions and carelessness and arrogance, to Will Graham. (Fill for the following prompt on HannibalKink: "Alone on the Water-esque fic? "Will you miss me, Hannibal?" "Until the end of my days, William." For those not in the Sherlock fandom, it's basically a deathfic. You can do it with cancer, like AotW, or AIDS, Will's encephalitis....anything you want. Even maybe Hannibal killing Will and these are their last words? Just. Please. Hurt me.")

OUUUGGGHHHH. Thank you, Serri. Will dies because he's HIV+ and Hannibal didn't know and let the encephalitis get so bad that Will got full blown AIDS. Ouch.

Guidance by jonnimir

Word Count: 3511 Summary: Kinktober Day 30: Gagging + Swallowing.Will acts out at a party, and Hannibal helps him calm down by keeping his mouth otherwise occupied.

Will going into subspace!!! I do love a good cockwarming fic. (also this might be what i need when i'm throwing up an attitude shhhh...)

#gracie reads hannigram #hannigram #hannigram fics #hannigram fic recs #will graham #hannibal lecter #murder husbands #nbc hannibal #hannibal #mads mikkelsen #hugh dancy #hannigram fic

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lxmbr · 1 year ago

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so ive written out a crap ton of fanfic ideas..for you to try

i genuinely don't know if I'm okay. wtf is wrong with me omg lmao

ALL OF THESE PEOPLE ARE BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL WRITERS GO LOOK AT THEIR BLOGS!!

these are all Nijisanji En, mainly the boys. If it has the checkmark it doesnt mean u cant do it! if you really like it i'd still love to see it.

‼️🩷THE LINKS OF THE FANFICS I PUT ARE NOT MINE. I TAKE ZERO CREDIT. THEYRE JUST THE VERSIONS AND FICS OTHER PEOPLE HAVE DONE. IF THEYRE YOUR FANFICS, PLEASE DM FOR REMOVAL I WILL 100% TAKE THEM DOWN!! 🩷‼️

I AM NOT WRITING SMUT!! im sorry i do not feel comfortable writing smut in detail, thats just me..of course i will write suggestive things but i will not be writing smut! please refrain from requesting the smutty stuff..understand that i will ignore it.

hear me out on a lot of these okay 🥹. ive been saving them up for like a month or so now. not all of these are for everyone. if you see one you dont like, ignore it. someone else will probably do it

TAKE CREATIVE LIBERTYY!!

🔞: nsfw/smut

☁️: sfw/fluff

⭐: crack/silly

💔: angst/sad

💭: headcannons/reactions

💌: one shots

✔️: been done/I've seen one like it

‼️: in progress/im writing this!!

all gn reader and most are established relationship! and you can keep mysta, yugo, and nina in there! (although there won't be much NijiEn Girls)

⚠️IF YOU USE ANY OF THESE IDEAS, PLEASE TAG ME⚠️ not all of these are ones ive requested, again some ive just seen that happen to be similar to the idea

🔞💭Luxiem/Iluna/Noctyx seeing you in a cosplay of a character they really like/a sexy costume

☁️💭Luxiem hcs treating you on your period

fanfix - not mine!

fanfic - not mine!

☁️🔞💭Luxiem reactions(?) to you dancing competitively (for ex: kpop dances)

⭐💌☁️💭ike eveland reacting to you using some Swedish words he taught you in a sentence. (could be a curse word, a color, or a simple word to point out something. ex: balloon! or in Swedish, ballong!)

⭐☁️💌💭Noctyx hcs you crying over something silly (for ex: you lost your keys or the cat looked at you in a weird way)

☁️⭐💭💌NijiEn foreign: them reacting to you learning their native language! ‼️

☁️🔞💭Luxiems reaction to you proposing to them before they could to you

janes fanfic!

🔞💌Sitting on Vox's lap while he does his asmr steam

⭐☁️ 💌You and Ike eveland as geese (inspired by the untitled goose game stream)

☁️🔞💌When you meet meixul for the first time‼️

🔞💌💭Luxiem reacting to you touching yourself in their clothes

🔞💭💌 NijiEn boys reacting to you dry humping them

💭💌☁️ Luxiem when you fall asleep on them

🔞💭☁️ Luxiem when you have baby fever ✔️

fanfic - not mine!

💌☁️⭐ Luxiem when you want to do their hair

💭🔞💌☁️ NijiEn Boys/Merryweather/Shxtou with their puppygirl ✔️

fanfic - not mine!

☁️💭💔 Luxiem comforting you after a fight with your parents/gaurdians

🔞💌 Luxiem's favorite dirty talk

🔞💌☁️💭 Luxiems wedding night with you ✔️

fanfic - not mine!

💌☁️⭐💭 Luxiem when shu accidentally turns you into a baby for a day ✔️

fanfic - not mine!

💭💌🔞 Luxiem when you wear lingerie for them

🔞💌☁️💭⭐ NijiEn (whoever) getting high🍃 with them!

💭☁️💌🔞 Luxiem/Noctyx when they're jealous

💌🔞☁️💭 Ike eveland, feeding into his yandere tendencies (for ex: offering him to put a tracking device on you. basically just a super willing reader that encourages his unhealthy actions and urges)

🔞💌💭 The names you call Luxiem/Noctyx/iluna in bed‼️

💭☁️💌⭐ When you're luxiems oshi/vtuber crush and you guys collab for the first time‼️

💌💭☁️🔞 Luxiem when the other members purposely flirt with you to piss the other member off (for ex: ike likes u/ur dating ike, and the other members purposefully flirt with you to make him mad. and so on for the other members) ‼️

⭐☁️💭💌🔞 Luxiem coming home to you and your child (or your young cousin or little sibling. like 5 yrs old or smn) to you listening/singing/rapping to their part in hope in the dark or jazz on the clock

☁️💭⭐💌🔞 Luxiem reacting to a partner loud in bed ✔️

fanfic - not mine!

💌☁️💭🔞 Luxiem reacting to the cliche porn situation - u getting stuck in something (for ex...the washing machine lmfao) ✔️

🔞💭☁️💌⭐ Luxiem reacting to calling them senpai

🔞💭☁️💌 Luxiem when their cat!girl purrs at their affection

💭💌☁️⭐ Luxiem reacting to you having lepidoptraphobia (self insert oop)

☁️⭐💭💌 when Luxiem tells you the latest gossip

🔞💭💌 Luxiem getting aroused at the sight of your blood

I'll be adding more just try to keep up! pls post your questions ill answer them, again pretty please tag me..id LOVE to see your takes on these. ill try to update as much as possible :)

do you guys think i should write some of my own? I'd be down to write a couple..pls let me know 🥹

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slayersweek · 2 months ago

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2024 SLAYERS SECRET SANTA INFO AND SIGNUP FORM:

Hello! Please read over the following before signing up. Thank you!

What ‘Secret Santa’ Means: You create a fanwork, and you’ll receive one in return. Everyone who wishes to participate will provide prompts that they’d like to see completed, and another participant will be assigned their prompts and will complete one of those prompts (which one is completed is up to the person they’re assigned to).

When you submit your prompts, you are welcome (and encouraged) to tell me anything you are uncomfortable with or don’t wish to do (pairings, genre, rating, etc), that way the prompts you’re given are something you’re comfortable writing/drawing.

Rules and Regulations:

1) Watch this tumblr! If you do not have a tumblr yourself, please put it in your bookmarks and remind yourself to check it often.

2) Can I ask for ____? You can ask for whatever you want- rating, genre, etc. However, please keep in mind that if you’re asking for something super unusual, you might want to provide some broader prompts as well.

3) How long do I have to signup? Signups will end on Saturday, November 30, 2024. That is all month to sign up!!

4) When is the deadline? Please have your piece completed and posted by Friday, January 31, 2025. You can post your gift anytime starting from Wednesday, December 25, 2024.

5) How do I post it? Post it in your own tumblr and link it to us or tag us (@slayersweek) so we can reblog it over here. You may link to where your fanwork is posted off tumblr (to livejournal, dreamwidth, ff.net, ao3, deviantart, etc) in your post.

6) How long does fic have to be? At least eight hundred words. It doesn’t need to be super-long of course, but we want everyone to get something that’s more than drabble length.

7) Are there any extra requirements for the art? It can be done in any medium (digital, colored pencil, copic, sketch, etc). Just remember that this is a gift for someone, so make sure it’s a completed piece!

8) Can I do fancomics? Yes. Absolutely.

9) What if I need to drop out? Then I would ask you to please let me know as soon as possible (and before the December 25th deadline) so we can arrange a pitch hitter for you. Failure to notify me will ban you from future events.

10) What is a pitch hitter? If someone has to drop out, I’d still like their giftee to get a gift. A pitch hitter is someone who is willing to do a second fanwork in order to make sure no one goes without a gift.

11) What type of prompts should I give? Prompts can be anything from something vague like “Lina, Gourry, Amelia, and Zelgadis exchange gifts,” “Sylphiel and Martina go to the beach” to something specific like “I’d like to see a fic where Lina and Gourry are pulled into an undersea world. The two end up facing an ancient source of magic, and they must team up with many witch and wizard allies. I’d like if it featured Lina/Gourry and Zelgadis/Amelia, and if possible… some Filia/Valgaav? A happy ending, please!” You must submit a minimum of three prompts or I cannot fairly give your requests to your Santa.

Please make them more than a characters name. It does not have to be Christmas themed and you do not have to be detailed, but give people something to work with!

12) I have another question! Then please ask it via our askbox (anon asks are enabled).

Okay, I’m ready to signup! Please copy and paste the below form and submit it to the SlayersWeek inbox to sign up.

GIVING: Tumblr Username: Email or Alternate Contact: Specialty (Fanfic or Fanart- If you can do both, you may list both): Highest Rating You’ll Work With: Will Not Work With (Any characters, pairings, genres, scenarios, you won’t do): RECEIVING: Do Not Want (Any characters, pairings, ratings, genres, scenarios, etc you don’t want to receive): Do You Prefer fic, art, or no preference?: Three Prompts: 1) 2) 3) Can you pitch hit if someone drops out?:

Please SUBMIT your completed form HERE. If you have any further questions, you can direct them to this blog HERE, or to my personal HERE.

#the slayers #slayers #slayers secret santa #do not the rules have changed slightly #you HAVE to give 3 prompts (or more)#no less than 3 #and please make sure every prompt is more than just a character name

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mushiewrites · 7 months ago

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Just A Little Bit

well....it's certainly been a minute, hasn't it

but what better way to come back than lee!George week??? If you didn't know (or sleep under a rock), @wishitweresummer is hosting a lee!george week, perfectly named lee!GeorgeSummer (make sure to use that as the hashtag if you contribute)! if you click this link, you can find out all the details about the upcoming week! I got to do my own lee!george week last May and it was the most incredible thing, I honestly am so excited to see what everyone does!

okay, anyway, we're starting off with day 1 - first time!

this idea came to me randomly at 5:30 this morning when I saw a random text post, and it gave me the biggest shot of inspiration, and FINALLY cured my writers block! so much so that I...wrote a pretty long one. ha ha...whoops. aaaanyway, thank you to summer for hosting this awesome week and for cheering me on while you watched me destroy george in the ending, and thank you to my partner in crime @awkwardtickleetoo for listening to me whine about writers block for months, and for supporting me through it all AND reading this before it was posted. couldn't have done this without you both, thank you so much <3

OKAY I promise I'm done rambling, please enjoy the fic! :D

(lee!George / ler!Dream / ler!Sapnap : 4.5K words)

“Dream! Come on, I have to show you something!”

Dream rolled his eyes as Sapnap called him from downstairs for the fifth time in under a minute, chuckling to himself at how impatient he could be. Despite being annoyed, he was also incredibly intrigued, and so he saved the video he had been editing before standing up to go see what all the fuss was about. On his short walk to the end of the hallway, he could hear George squealing and protesting, though he couldn’t make out what was being said.

“What is so important that it couldn’t wait until I finished the video?” Dream called as he reached the thin railing at the top of the steps, clasping his hands around it and leaning forward to find where the two boys were. However, his eyes nearly popped out of his head as he took in the unexpected scene below him.

In the living room was Sapnap, straddling a very squirmy George on the couch. George was screaming and thrashing around while Sapnap was beside himself with laughter through it all. They continued to fight as Dream quickly made his way down the steps, almost losing his balance as he refused to take his eyes off the two as he descended.

“What are you doing-“ Dream’s question was cut off by a squeal from George, who was throwing his body around so violently it looked as if Sapnap was riding a bull.

“DREAM! STOP HIM!”

“Well, what is he-“ Again, Dream’s question was cut off by a scream, this time coming from Sapnap. George had attempted to knee him between the legs, and Sapnap had barely stopped it before it was too late.

“Well now you’re really fucked, aren’t you, George?” Sapnap leaned down close to his face, invading his space with a wide smirk as George’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. He shook his head from side to side frantically, spewing out apologies and practically pleading for his life.

“No! No nohoho no! P-Please! Sapnap, come on!” George pleaded through nervous giggles as he continued to kick and squirm, attempting to escape the smaller boy in any way he could. But Sapnap held his own on George’s waist, clamping his thighs tighter together and giggling triumphantly when it effectively lessened the squirming.

“Can someone just tell me what’s going on?” Dream spoke up awkwardly, now standing at the end of the couch, unsure of what to do. Sapnap and George immediately looked towards the voice, almost as if they forgot the other was there in the first place.

“Oh, right! So, our best buddy Georgie here is- MHF!” George had successfully slapped a hand over Sapnap’s mouth, preventing him from sharing the information with their third party. Sapnap raised an eyebrow down at George, and no more than a second later Sapnap’s hands lowered onto his ribs. The hand over his mouth immediately dropped as George brought his arms to his sides, pressing them tightly against his body as he threw his head back, eyes screwed shut in what seemed to be agony.

“George are you-“

“Oh don’t worry, he’s fine! He just doesn’t want you to find out about his little secret.” Sapnap cut him off once again, causing Dream to run a hand through his messy curls in frustration.

“Shut UP, Snapmap!” George hissed from below Sapnap, articulating the dreaded nickname as he reached both hands up to try and cover his mouth again. Unfortunately for George, Sapnap’s strength was too much for him, and his wrists were scooped up into a tight hold.

“If he doesn’t want me to know, it’s okay!” Dream blurted out quickly, seeing how panicked George was becoming. Sapnap shook his head as he chuckled, looking down at George with wiggling eyebrows before he turned his attention back to the blonde.

“No, it’s nothing like that.” Sapnap started, his chuckles turning into bright giggles as George struggled harder than he had before to break free. The older boy let out a scream, trying to talk over Sapnap, which in turn only made him more keen on exposing him. George continued to scream every time Sapnap attempted to even open his mouth, and finally fed up with the boy, he placed his hand harshly over George’s mouth. When the noise was finally muffled, Sapnap flashed Dream the biggest smile he had ever seen in their time living together.

“The big secret is that our little friend here…” Sapnap raised his eyebrows as his mouth hung open, pausing for dramatic effect to make Dream laugh. “Is extremely, devastatingly, ticklish.”

Dream felt his jaw drop slightly as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, no doubt looking like a lost puppy as his two friends watched his reaction. George whined behind Sapnap’s hand, squealing when Sapnap released his previously held wrist in favor of roughly squeezing his cheek. The pinching hand was quickly slapped away, but Sapnap made sure to keep his other pressed tightly over George’s mouth. Dream made his way over to where they were on the couch, standing over them and shrugging his shoulders at the two.

“…Really? That’s it?” Dream questioned, not understanding what the huge deal was.

“No, like, Dream. You have to see it. It’s kind of insane how ticklish he is.” Sapnap explained, giggling as George began screaming behind his hand again. Dream looked down at George, purely out of curiosity, and was surprised when the brunette immediately turned his head to face the couch cushions. He chewed on his bottom lip as he turned his gaze to Sapnap, questioning the action, but it went ignored.

“I’m serious! You need to see it! No, wait. Actually, you need to experience it. You need to tickle him, Dream!” Sapnap exclaimed, giggling again when George tried to buck his hips up to make Sapnap lose his balance.

“No, come on Sap, I can see he doesn’t like it.” Dream spoke softly, craning his neck slightly as he leaned his body forward to try and get a glimpse of George. This only made him lean into the cushions more, now trapping Sapnap’s hand between his mouth and the couch.

“No no, don’t mind him! He’s fine, Dream! Just scribble your fingers here!” Sapnap poked at George’s lower tummy twice, making George jolt underneath him and causing Dream to jump back at the panicked action.

“Sapnap, no, we don’t have to-“ Dream tried again, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot, watching as George fought for his life underneath the youngest boy. Sapnap finally removed his hand from over George’s mouth, successfully opening the floodgates to his screams and frantic laughter. George kept his forehead pressed against the cushions, leaving room for him to continue yelling as he blindly battled with Sapnap’s hands that were actively trying to render his own useless.

“It’s fine! He loves it!” Sapnap countered through bubbly giggles, his voice growing louder to drown out George’s girlish screams as he finally managed to wrangle the small wrists down against the couch.

Dream crossed his arms and tapped his fingers against his elbows in thought, trying to find the words to make Sapnap stop, when George finally turned his head away from the couch. This left room for the two to finally make eye contact. It was brief, only lasting a few seconds before George turned back towards the couch, but Dream knew immediately what was really going on. It wasn’t that George was uncomfortable like he had initially thought; it wasn’t because he hated it.

Dream was incredibly familiar with George’s tells. Like how his nose would scrunch up whenever he tried a new food he didn’t like. The way George would mess with his hair whenever he got tired, always tangling small strands around his pointer finger without a thought. Dream knew that whenever George would stomp down the steps to steer clear of him until he satisfied his inner hunger-beast.

And he definitely recognized this particular George.

The deep red in his cheeks. The glassy eyes. The continuous whining through his protests that seemed never ending. Dream knew what this really was. George was simply embarrassed.

Realizing this, Dream felt all the tension in his shoulders melt away, finally allowing his arms to drop and a smile to form over his face. He took a step forward, his knees lightly pressing into the seat cushions as he leaned his upper body over George. Already anticipating he would hide further into the couch, Dream brought a hand up to lean on the back of the couch to steady himself and used his free hand to run through George’s hair. Dream’s smile widened when George let out a high pitched whine at the feeling, angry at his body for betraying him as he leaned into the touch.

“Someone’s embarrassed.” Dream stated nonchalantly, sending George into another round of loud protests that had Sapnap in near stitches. Hearing both boys giggle only made George’s blush spread, and he quickly hid his face back into the cushion as his face continued to rise in temperature.

“Awh, is wittle Georgie embawassed?” Sapnap teased, squeezing his wrists a few times playfully to make George struggle against him more. To his surprise, George wasn’t fighting back nearly as hard anymore. Dream was still scratching lightly at his scalp, and the longer it went on the more Sapnap felt George relax beneath him. Slowly, Sapnap released George’s hands, silently observing as the wrists stayed pressed to the couch despite not being held down anymore.

“You’re both idiots.” George mumbled quietly into the fabric, bringing his left hand up to cover his ear and the visible side of his face to hide his own smile. Sapnap reached out to grab onto his wrist, ready to pull it back down, but Dream stopped him before he could. Sapnap met his eyes in confusion, only to have his features soften a few seconds later when he understood the silent agreement Dream was trying to make.

“Oh, come on, George. I can tell you love this. Just let it happen.” Dream suggested, receiving a high pitched growl in response. His hand never wavered from carding through George’s hair as he slowly brought himself down into a kneeling position, therefore freeing up the hand he was using to balance himself against the couch. He brought the hand down the front of the cushion slowly, allowing George time to stop him if he wanted to.

But he didn’t. Just like Dream expected.

“If you need me to stop, just tell me, okay?” George’s nod was almost missed, and would’ve been if Dream hadn’t been watching the blush slowly spread onto his ears. The tips of them were beginning to turn a deep shade of red, and Dream wondered if his cheeks were the same hue. He quickly dispelled the curiosity though, not wanting to make George shy away while in this very vulnerable position.

“Mh mhhm.” Sapnap and Dream exchanged a quick glance to see if the other had caught what George said, but unfortunately neither did. Sapnap sat back on his heels, providing George more space to breathe as Dream did the same. The only touch left on George was the hand steadily scratching, with Dream’s fingertips lightly resting against the seat cushion next to his torso.

“What was that, baby?” Sapnap tried to be as soft as possible, understanding the importance of keeping his tone neutral so as to not spook George.

“My…my hands.”

“What about them?” Dream spoke next, leaning a little closer in to hear the muffled speech.

“I just. I can’t keep them down once you start.” He practically whispered, bringing his other hand up to cover his face completely as he spoke. Dream moved his hand from the couch to rest it against George’s bicep closest to him, rubbing soothingly over the shirt sleeve with his thumb.

“That’s okay, angel, if you need to stop me you can.” He reassured George, carding a little more harshly through his hair as a playful gesture with his gentle words.

“Well…it’s not that I want to. I just…can’t help it.” George let his voice trail off into a whisper, obviously embarrassed about his confession. He quickly tried to twist his body away from the two, but was stopped by Dream’s sudden grip on his arm. The older boy whimpered, allowing himself to be returned to his position on his back, facing the ceiling. His hands were still clamped tightly over his face, a poor attempt at blocking the two from seeing his blush. Dream and Sapnap just about cooed audibly at that, but stopped themselves before they ruined the calm atmosphere they were currently in.

“Do you want me to hold your wrists down for you?” Dream asked. George slowly spread his fingers apart, meeting Dream’s eyes before speaking.

“No, not you! Sapnap!” He barked, closing the gaps in his fingers when the two laughed at his outburst. “You think I want Sapnap to do that to me? He’ll kill me!” Sapnap sat up on his knees with a hand thrown over his heart like he had just been shot, offended by George’s accusation.

“To be fair, he does have a point, Sap.” George giggled quietly at the comment, causing Sapnap to poke timidly into his lower ribs with both pointer fingers. Dream watched as George’s body jerked to the side, amazed at how such a tiny touch could produce such a reaction.

“See! I told you he was bad!” Sapnap playfully slapped Dream’s shoulder when he noticed him looking, further proving the point he was previously attempting to make.

“Shut up!” George screeched from behind his hands, moving them up his face slightly until he was able to lightly grip some of his hair that draped over his forehead. Dream shot one last warning glare Sapnap’s way before he turned back to George, delicately gripping his wrists and moving them slowly towards Sapnap; slow enough that George could stop it if he wanted to.

But again, he didn’t. And again, it was exactly what Dream had expected.

Sapnap took George’s wrists, moving them down until his hands rested against the couch on either side of his thighs. Dream sat up further, crowding a little more into George’s space in order to place both hands on either side of his ribcage. He looked down at George, searching for any sign that he wanted this to stop, that he was uncomfortable, too nervous, but Dream found none. And so, he lifted his hands from the couch and let them touch down onto George’s body, not moving them yet, but resting so he could get used to the feeling at his own pace.

“Fuck!” George cried out when he felt Dream’s fingers press against his lowest set of ribs, throwing himself upwards as his back arched into the sky against his will. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face into the couch again, embarrassed by his own reactions.

“I didn’t even do anything yet, George.” Dream snorted.

“I-I know but, like, I know you’re gonna!” George whined, throwing his head back when Dream poked his cheek to get him to return his head straight so they could see him. He kept his eyes closed, refusing to look at either of them but still obeying Dream’s quiet request anyway.

“It’s alright, Georgie. It’s just a little tickling.” Sapnap teased, vibrating George’s wrists softly into the couch as he spoke. George giggled at that, followed by a deep exhale he didn’t realize he’d been holding in. And after that much needed release, his nerves were finally calming down.

“I know, I know. But it’s still, like..y’know, flustering or whatever.” George grumbled, peeking out of one eye to see what the two were up to. Just as he decided to do that, though, Dream poked gently up his ribs, directly up to the highest ones, stopping there when George shrieked in response.

“Plehehease please please! No!” His laughter was louder now that Dream was focused on such a tiny, hypersensitive spot, unable to hold it in any longer. Sapnap giggled along with George as he made sure to keep the squirmy boy down, leaning forward slightly to put more of his weight into restraining George.

“You’re okay, George. Like Sap said, it’s just a little bit of tickling, right?” It was Dream’s turn to tease him, relishing in the feeling of being the one to make George react like this. He pressed two of his fingers into both sides of his upper ribs, rubbing slightly to see what George would do.

“FUCK NOHOHOHO!” George was howling at that, the sound of heavy thudding coming from behind Sapnap as George drummed his legs against the couch as he thrashed. Dream wished he could whip out his phone and snap a picture of Sapnap, who looked as if he’d just found a goldmine. Technically, it was Dream who found it, but Sapnap’s reaction was just as good as George’s was.

“Are you doing okay?” Dream asked loud enough for George to hear over his own laughter. He saw a slight nod but decided to pause entirely to make sure, not wanting to overwhelm George.

“Yehehes, I’m okay, just…please, you hahave to move!” George pleaded as he let his head lull to the side, breathing heavily through his nose as he recovered from the mini tickle attack. Dream rolled his eyes as he watched George’s chest heave up and down dramatically, still surprised at the intense reactions such little tickling was causing.

“Okay, giggly boy, I hear you loud and clear,” Dream began, lifting his hands up and wiggling his fingers over George’s torso. “How about…here?”

“Wh- NO!” George’s protest came too late as Dream tapped his fingers gently over his lower tummy, kneading gently into it and giggling softly to himself when George squealed in response. He felt his finger catch on the edge of his bellybutton, making George’s laughter jump an octave. Dream ran his fingers over the spot directly under it, back and forth, over and over, until eventually deciding to spider them out towards his hips. Sapnap bounced as George attempted to buck his hips into the air, squealing when Dream’s thumbs found his hip bones and rubbed into them roughly.

“Oh, there’s good, huh?” Dream commented, looking up to Sapnap for confirmation while George was busy laughing under his fingers.

“Definitely a good spot. I like to get there when he’s being annoying.” Sapnap answered, laughing when Dream tweaked his hip bones again, causing George to squeal through his hysterics. He noted the spot in his mind and continued his ticklish journey to the spots that made George laugh the hardest. His squeezing migrated up to his sides, eyes widening when George suddenly twisted his whole body away from Dream. Sapnap used his knee to press into George’s hip, trapping his waist down against the couch so Dream could continue tickling up his sides. Dream tested the spot further, letting his hands dip under George’s shirt to skitter cold fingertips along the warm skin.

“Dohohon’t! Plehease!” George begged as Dream’s fingers continued their venture, making sure to knead over each and every rib as they climbed higher and higher. Sapnap watched in awe as George squeezed his eyes shut tighter, a few stray tears collecting together at the outer corners of his eyes as he continued to laugh himself silly.

“Please? But I have to! You wanted this, remember?” Dream reminded him, using two fingers on each side to act as if his fingers were actually walking up his ribcage. George squirmed from side to side, as much as he could with Sapnap’s full weight practically holding him in place.

“‘H-Hold my hands Sapnap! Dream, don’t tickle me too much pwetty pwease!’” Sapnap mocked, breaking out into his own laughter when George let out what could only be described as a lion cub’s roar trying to cover up Sapnap’s teases.

“Stohop, idiot!” George pleaded through his laughter, kicking harder against the couch as he tried to expel the ticklish energy that was coursing through him.

“Awh, Dweam, I think the pretty kitty is angwy!” Sapnap pretended to pout, sticking his bottom lip out as much as he could as he looked at Dream for fake sympathy. Dream gasped at the comment, feigning surprise at George’s complaints.

“The pretty kitty is angry?” Dream stopped tickling for a moment, removing his hands from under George’s shirt and bringing one up to rest under his chin as he pretended to think over his options. “Well, I think I have just the thing to help with that!”

“Wait, no, nonono!” George cried out, throwing himself forward to try and counteract Sapnap’s weight to knock him off balance, but all he accomplished was giving Sapnap more of a reason to make him suffer.

“You wanna play it like that, baby boy? Okay, I can do that.” Sapnap spoke flatly, stopping his moments for a second before throwing himself further over George, flinging his arms up and over his head, pressing his wrists deep into the cushions as George begged and apologized profusely under him.

“Noho NO! I’m sorry! I’m sohoho sorry!” George tried to talk his way out of his impending doom, but it fell onto deaf ears as Sapnap leaned forward slightly, dragging his wrists up further until George’s arms were practically straight up over his head. The position had him completely stretched out, not only extending the area of his torso, but more importantly, leaving a very vulnerable opening under his arms.

“Sorry won’t cut it, George. We want you to be happy! We can’t have our little kitty angry, now, can we?” Dream spoke over the screaming, ignoring the many apologies and threats that were now being thrown their way. “You leave us no choice, pretty boy.” With that, Dream lunged forward, letting his fingers dance under George’s arms with speed and precision that only a ballerina could possess.

It was an understatement to claim that George lost his mind.

George screamed out, high pitched and desperate as Dream’s fingers made circles under his arms, zoning in on the very centers. His laughter was hysterical, having no choice but to lay there and take whatever tickles Dream decided to make him endure. There was a brief pause, just to let George take in a quick gasp of air, and then Dream was back to the torment.

“Surely it can’t be that bad, George.” Sapnap chortled, watching as the small body below him writhed in ticklish agony. Dream took this opportunity to shove his hands inside of George’s shirt sleeves, using his two pointer fingers to gently scribble at the outer parts of his armpits, watching for every tiny jump and twitch from George as he did.

“Yeah, I’m sure I could be doing something much worse,” Dream smirked, looking up at Sapnap with raised eyebrows as he began to spider all ten of his fingers under George’s arms. “Something like this, right? That’s worse?”

“Wh-wait, wa-AHAHAHAIT! NOHOHO!” George was full on shrieking now, squirming and thrashing and throwing his body every which way to try and escape the torturous feeling. As Dream continued the tickling, George quickly lost his ability to speak, just blurting out little half pleads here and there whenever he got a second to breathe. His head was titled so far back the two thought he might snap it off if he leaned it back any farther. The tears that had been clinging to his eyelashes finally fell, rapidly descending down each side of his cheeks, right over his ears, that were burning hot from all the laughing.

“Okay I think- woah! What- Sapnap!”

Just as Dream had noticed the tears and decided to put an end to George’s torment, Sapnap had other ideas. He let go of George’s wrists, allowing him to fling them down, nearly decapitating Dream in the process, in favor of reaching behind him to squeeze the inner part of George’s thighs. His laughter refused to go any higher, and so it went silent as he pounded his fists against Sapnap’s own thighs.

“Okay, Sap, that’s enough. We’re not trying to kill him!” Dream reached behind Sapnap, quickly putting an end to Sapnap’s vice-like grip on George’s thighs. Sapnap rolled his eyes with an overexaggerated sigh, annoyed that his fun was ruined before it even got started.

“I guess you’re right.” Sapnap pouted again as he climbed off of George, picking up his legs and placing them over his own thighs as Sapnap sat on the couch next to him. He rubbed at the sore muscles, giggling when bubbly laughter exploded from George at the action.

“Y-You were supposed tohoho be nihihice!” George weakly pointed a finger in Dream’s direction, causing the two boys to laugh along with him when he pointed the complete opposite way of Dream, his eyes still closed as he took in quick gasps through the leftover giggles to try and steady his breathing. Dream slid his arms under George’s torso, picking him up and maneuvering a very limp George into his lap as he climbed up onto the couch next to Sapnap. He draped George’s back over his thighs, using his arm as a headrest for George.

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s just hard not to get carried away when I’m tickling someone this cute.” Dream smiled down at him, bringing his thumbs up to rub the tears away from under George’s eyes. A moment later, George’s eyes fluttered open, his hands coming up to rub his knuckles harshly into them as he got used to the light again.

“Yeah, yeah. Remember that when I get you both back, later.” George threatened, giggling up at the two when they exchanged nervous glances. “Yeah, that’s right. And don’t think you both will team up on me again. You’re both too smart for that. You’ll turn on each other, just wait.”

Sapnap and Dream turned towards each other, smiles slowly fading into determined looks. Suddenly George was on his back on the floor as they both scrambled to run out of the living room, trailing each other up the steps, shouting threats and cursing each other as they made their way to their respective rooms, slamming the doors behind them. Not even a second later, George heard his phone vibrating like crazy on the couch cushions above him. He picked up his phone, smirking when he had messages from both boys, detailing each other’s weaknesses and vowing to make amends with him to take the other one down. George giggled to himself, standing up and walking over to where Patches had been sitting on the other end of the couch, snuggling up with her.

He had them exactly where he wanted them.

(you can find this fic on ao3 here!)

#lee!george #ler!dream #ler!sapnap #ahhh this was so much fun to write ): <3 #mushie fics #mcyt tickle #my stuff #lee!GeorgeSummer

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softpascalito · 1 year ago

Text

Pedro Pascal Kinktober Day Nineteen

Brushing Teeth - Joel Miller/F!Reader

Summary: Grief is cruel and just because you and Joel live in the safe haven that is the Jackson community it does not mean you're immune to it.

Possibly the saddest (but also kinda best) thing I have written so far.

Relationships: Joel Miller x F!Reader

WC: 2400

Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Established Relationship, jackson era, No use of y/n, Crying, past trauma, Survivor Guilt, Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Tooth Brushing, This is like seriously sad pls beware, Author has already scheduled a therapist appointment

AO3 LINK

notes: a huge thank you to my beta babes maria and aura for reading this a month in advance. i love you both so much.

this is a really, really sad fic. it's likely not gonna go the way you think. please continue with caution <3

_________________________________________

Circles

He died just after sunrise.

It had been supposed to be a simple shift, guarding the perimeter from one of the high posts along the fence that stretched around Jackson. The wood had been icy, slippery. There had been a railing. But when his heart had failed and he had collapsed to the ground, slipping over it like an ice rink, it hadn't been able to stop his body from falling.

There was nothing that could have been done. He had been old, older than most. Even with modern medicine, his condition would have caught up to him sooner or later.

Fate had decided on sooner.

Word hadn't reached Joel before he had left for patrol and so he had spent the day clearing Infected and checking the lookouts, unaware of the tragedy that had, for once, struck within the very borders of home. It wasn't until he came back in the early evening, that he noticed something was off.

There were no children bustling around on the playground, no adults studying the notice boards to see which movie was on tonight or who offered guitar lessons. Curtains were drawn shut. It was quiet.

The somber look on Tommy's face, who was waiting for Joel at the stables, was enough to send him into a panic.

Where is she? Where is she? Where is she?

Tommy must have seen it coming because he had already raised his hands, as if surrendering to his brother, ”They're both fine.” Joel nodded solemnly as Tommy explained, repeating the events of the day in a few words.

He could live with that. As long as it wasn 't Ellie. Or you. Never you.

Ellie had spent the day with you, trying to look after you, doing the best she could. She was waiting in the large armchair in the living room, as close to the front door as she physically could.

Joel practically barges in, his gaze quickly checking the adjacent rooms. When he sees Ellie, he immediately relaxes a bit, knowing that at least someone has been here. Someone who kept watch.

“How is she?” He asks, disregarding any need for a greeting towards the teenager. She doesn't seem to mind, instead hopping up from the seat and walking with him, the pair quickly moving through the hallway.

“I gave her some food. I don't think she ate any of it. She wouldn't talk to me either. I'm sorry, Joel, I-'' He quickly shakes his head. He'll take care of Ellie, reassure her that she did a good job, which he undoubtedly knows she did. But Ellie is not the person in this house who needs him the most right now. Ellie is not the person who lost someone today.

“Later, okay?” Joel demands softly. His voice carries an underlying, stern tone that he rarely uses anymore. In other circumstances, Ellie would get mad at him, but she understands. He is in survival mode. He is making sure the people he loves are still there. He is scared.

Joel remembers your form that he had left behind this morning. Still in bed, sleepy, only reluctantly pressing a small kiss to his lips, the sweet promise of a few more minutes of sleep too tempting to ignore. He remembers the night before, the bubbly, talkative personality you usually have, that is a just little too much for him sometimes.

Your world had changed in just a few hours, a few minutes. And he hadn't been here.

Why had he not been here?

“Are you okay?” Ellie asks hesitantly and only then Joel realizes that he's stopped in the middle of the hallway. He continues his steps.

“Why wouldn't I be?” Ellie gives a shrug next to him but Joel barely notices, still too caught up in his thoughts.

He needs to see you. See that you are fine, just like Tommy had promised. Not truly fine, maybe, but alive. Breathing.

As they reach the old, wooden staircase, Ellie stops, taking in Joels gaze, that to her, still seems miles away, ”She wouldn't leave the bed. I barely recognized her.”

Joel just nods, his worry growing with every word. His grip on the banister tightens slightly, knuckles turning white.

“Go see her,” Ellie whispers and gently nudges him.

“Right.” That finally gets Joel to move again, his voice a little higher than usual and trembling slightly. Ellie knows he is close to crying. She presses her fist into his back a little harder and he nods again before he hurries up the stairs two steps at a time.

It's not until he reaches the end of the landing, until he is two steps away from the bedroom door that he slows down. Once again, uncertainty takes over his body. What does he say? Do? He's not equipped to handle this, he's not good with emotions, much less sad ones.

He's not sure what happens. An instinct takes over, steering his body steadily towards the door and pulling his fingers towards the brass handle. Maybe it's some old, parental instinct from before the outbreak, that he still carries buried in the back of his mind. Either way, he sends a silent, thankful prayer that it's there, that it allows him to continue putting one foot in front of the other despite having no idea how to.

The wooden door creaks slightly as he pushes it open. It's a familiar sound, more comforting than unnerving.

Joel is greeted by cold and darkness. He shivers as he steps into the room:'' Jesus Christ.” He mutters under his breath. He doesn't have to wait until his eyes adjust to the light. He can find his way in the darkness.

He quickly turns the radiator higher, another familiar noise flaring up. Familiar is good. Familiar is safe.

He doesn't want to turn on the big light but he finds the switch for the small lamp in the corner and finally, he can take in the scene before him. His gaze is immediately caught by the bed in the middle of the room.

Whenever he goes out on patrol and you get the bed to yourself, you make use of his absence by occupying the entire bed, sprawling yourself out in the middle of the worn-out mattress. More than once, he had to physically fight you if he wanted his side of the bed back.

Now, however, you aren't in your usual position. You are curled up, tucked into the far corner of the bed, blankets and pillows wrapped around what Joel can only assume to be your body, some of them resting against the headboard.

It almost looks like you are trying to protect yourself, shield yourself from the grief that is knocking on the door downstairs, that is coming the same way he just has, slipping into the dark, cold room. A nest, to fend off the grief. Joel knows it wont work. He has tried.

A few of your limbs poke out from holes in the fortress of pillows and blankets and Joel softens slightly as his gaze wanders over them. He suddenly wants to run again, but he is afraid it'll startle you so instead, he approaches slowly, softly, like one may approach a wounded animal.

The bed dips slightly beside you as he sits down, his strong arms immediately wandering under the covers, searching for you. He finds the fabric of a shirt first, and then there's skin. Soft, gentle skin and he wants to cry with the familiarity of it. Looking down, he isn't surprised to see the shirt he had discarded last night, his favorite green flannel, now wrapped around your trembling body.

The thoughts come back. A small body, wrapped in a flannel shirt. He has seen it often enough to fill several lifetimes. He doesn't mind it anymore.

He knows it's a lie. He does mind it.

They had wrapped Sarah in flannel.

He can still see her. Still see the shirt, stained with blood. There had been so much blood.

Joel thinks about his daughter, his everything, his whole world, taken from him, wrapped in a shirt and buried in a backyard under a tree somewhere in Texas.

Joel knows he can't have these thoughts right now. He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs until they feel like they're bursting. He pushes the thoughts away. Later.

His right arm finds your hair and you finally make a noise, whimpering softly at finally, finally having him here with you.

The blanket is gently pulled to the side, allowing Joel to see your face. Your hair is messy, your cheeks tear-streaked, eyes red and puffy from crying. You look like you have just been through hell.

Joel reminds himself you probably have.

His insides clench as he pushes down his own tears. And then you open your mouth.

“It was supposed to be my shift.”

That's all it takes. He hates himself because he's supposed to be there for you, he's supposed to be strong. But the fear is stronger, the knowledge that he could've lost you today gripping him again and not letting him breathe.

He leans forward in an attempt to hide his tears, his face, his own sorrow and you break too, shamelessly sobbing into his chest. You stay entangled like this, bodies pressed tightly together, you crying loudly and him crying silently. It feels like a long time. Your voice becomes hoarse but the sobs wont stop. You're not sure they ever will.

Joel moves, eventually, kneeling down on the floor so that his face is level with yours and he can study your face. His hands remain on your skin, not once breaking contact. He rubs small circles into your skin, caressing every part of you he can reach.

Nothing can touch you as long as he does.

“Gonna help you a bit. That alright, darlin'?” He mumbles softly. Your answer comes automatically, the same one you've given Ellie throughout the day, ''I'm not hungry.”

“I know you ain't,” Joel mumbles. He lets it slide:” But we should clean you up. Just a bit.” He promises as he leans forward and kisses your cheek. You don't struggle as he picks you up more carefully than ever, hoisting you onto his hips and wrapping his arms around your legs to keep you upright against his chest. It's almost like being carried by a father.

Joel takes you into the bathroom, sitting you down on the counter. There is a bald patch on the wall where a mirror used to be until he gave it to Ellie. He always gives.

Patiently, he waits until the water is lukewarm and then begins wiping your face with a washcloth. You probably smell but you can't bring yourself to care and neither does Joel.

He moves on to your hair, untying the knot that once resembled some sort of hairstyle and brushing through it with his fingers for a moment before tying it back again. His movements are so gentle, so smooth. You watch as he grabs your toothbrush, gently wetting it and putting some toothpaste on, his left hand all the while remaining on your thigh.

Joel gently nudges the toothbrush against your mouth and you dutifully open up, allowing him to start brushing your teeth, still as gentle as he can.

He can feel the sadness again, threatening to overwhelm him. He brushes in small circles.

The last time he had done this was with Sarah. She was eight. She had been sick then, caught a stomach bug at soccer camp and thrown up for days. Joel had dragged his mattress to her room, sleeping beside her.

He moves on to the other side of your mouth. More circles.

Sarah had vomited on him, in the middle of the night, staining both the carpet and his pants. He hadn't batted an eye, just stripped the beds and taken her to the bathroom to clean her up. All he had needed was for her to feel better. And if him enduring it would lessen her suffering, he would have chosen it time and time again.

He doesn't say this. He thinks he may, some day. But not anytime soon.

Circles. Joel brushes in circles.

When he's done, he holds a cup to your lips and you lean sideward, spitting into the sink. He is still caressing your thigh, a constant, reassuring touch. He brings his other hand up to your face, using his thumb to wipe the last bit of toothpaste off the corner of your mouth.

“Let's get back to bed, hm?” You don't trust your voice again yet so you just nod and sniffle a bit. As he picks you up again, you feel another wave, a nauseous wave of grief coming down on you. You think he feels it too because he grips you a little tighter. You start crying again.

You return to the mess of pillows and blankets that still cover half the bed. But now he is there with you. His too large frame under the covers next to you, watching with sad, brown eyes as you curl up against him. He pats your hair, leans down and gently presses a kiss to your forehead. It has been ages.

The small streak of light that falls through a hole in the blankets reflects in his broken watch for a split moment. He looks down at it, the motion so familiar still. And he knows. He knows how you feel.

“Get some rest, babygirl,” he whispers. He'll do right by you. He won't let you go through the things he did. You close your eyes, taking in his smell, his warmth. It feels different now.

It could've been her. It could've been her. Thank god it wasn't her.

You're still in his arms, you're still here, still breathing, chest falling and rising in a semi-steady rhythm. He makes the choice in that moment. Or, he realizes it. He feels like he has made it a long time ago.

He will endure it. He will endure everything if it just takes away a little of your grief, of your pain.

He doesn't need to say it. It's an unspoken truth.

Joel Miller will be there.

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everybodyshusband · 2 years ago

Text

let the tides carry you back to me

dewdrop & rain (the band ghost)

general audiences | gen. | 3.8k | age regression, little!dew, caregiver!rain, hurt/comfort, NON-SEXUAL heat, baths, reading aloud

snippet and ao3 link under the cut !!

quick little disclaimer: this is written as a completely sfw fic, and nothing is explicitly mentioned or described, but given that it is about someone going through a heat, there are a couple mentions of things in here that mightn't be super comfy for littles or regressors !!

and before i forget: a massive thank you to @royalchachi and @strangeferrum for bouncing a few ideas around with me about this wip way back at the start of june <3

“Can– can we do the bubbles? Please?” Dew twists his hands in his shirt as he speaks. “I– I like the bubbles…”

Rain smiles at him, forever in awe of just how sweet Dew is. “Of course you can have a bubble bath, baby.” They press another kiss to the fire ghoul’s face—his overly warm forehead this time—and rub a thumb over each of Dew’s cheeks lovingly. “Well done for remembering your manners, too. You’re so polite, little one!”

They don’t mention to Dew that they were planning on running a bubble bath anyway; partly because the little ghoul adores bubble baths, and he deserves something that makes him happy right now, but mostly so Dew won’t catch a glimpse of himself underneath the water and get even more uncomfortable than he already is.

“I like saying please,” Dew states simply, struggling to wrap his tongue around the L sound of the word. “I’s nice.”

At that, Rain wants nothing more than to wrap the little ghoul in a tight hug, but they know if they move him in the wrong direction he’ll feel even worse, and they can’t have that. Instead, they help Dew climb off of their lap and stand up, holding a hand out for the fire ghoul to hold. “Let’s get a bath running for you, alright, darling?”

“Uh huh…” Dew stands up from the bed on shaky legs and takes a few small, uncertain steps forward, grippingly tightly onto Rain’s hand.

“Yeah, that’s it, Dew. C’mon, we’ll walk slowly, it’s okay.” Rain guides Dew slowly towards the bathroom, pausing every time the fire ghoul’s legs get too wobbly and he has to stop. “You’re doing such a good job, darling,” they tell him. “You’re being very brave, I’m so proud of you.”

Dew smiles at the praise, but his face doesn’t light up like it usually does, which prompts Rain to gently nudge him along and seat him on the floor next to the bath.

“Can you wait nice and patiently while I get the bath ready, Dew?”

“Mhmm,” he nods. “Can be… pay-tent for you, Rainy.”

Rain praises him for being so well-behaved and busies themselves with filling the bath, making sure to pour Dew’s favourite bubble bath in as they do so. They help the fire ghoul step out of his clothes as they wait for the bath to fill up, taking in the sheen of sweat covering Dew’s body and making mental note of the other places they’ll have to wipe down with a washcloth. Once Dew is undressed, Rain runs a reassuring hand up and down the fire ghoul’s arm as he shivers in the cold bathroom. “I know, darling, I know,” they soothe. “The bath still needs to fill up a bit more, but if you’re too cold I can help you in now. Is that what you want?”

“Yeah, p’ease. ‘M cold…”

“Alright, sundew. Let’s get you nice and clean, darling.” They take Dew’s hand and help him step into the bath, making sure he doesn’t slip on the wet porcelain of the tub as he takes a seat.

The fire ghoul giggles as soon as he feels the bubbles tickling his skin, a wide grin spreading over his face as he seemingly forgets the predicament he’s found himself in. Rain smiles too, listening to Dew mess around with the bubbles as they open the bathroom cabinets to find soap and a cloth. They turn back around to see Dew scooping up the bubbles in his hands, using the still-running tap to rinse them off and giggling as the bubbles dissolve and run down his arms.

[read the rest on ao3 !!]

#dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #i will continue pushing my aussie mountain agenda onto the public with no remorse :)#husband stop basing your fics off of your life experiences challenge: impossible skdfhjdskf #husband writes #regressed ghouls

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nekoannie-chan · 4 months ago

Text

Tension

Title: Tension.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Brock Rumlow X Reader.

Word count: 296 words.

Square: 1 “Forced to strip.”

Rating: Mature.

Summary: You’re in Brock’s trap.

Major Tags: Forced nudity.

Additional tags: This is my entry for the @fandom-free-bingo Valentine edition.

Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate my work myself) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. Please let me know if you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @Smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @Harrysthiccthighss @Marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @Here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard @rogersbarber

You were standing next to Brock Rumlow in an abandoned building, both of you covered in dust.

You'd just confronted him; you needed to know the truth before.

“Are you okay?” asks Brock in his gravelly voice, his breathing still labored as he tries to see through the darkness.

“Yeah, just a little banged up, but nothing serious,” you replied.

“We need to find a safe place until we get picked up,” he says, breaking the awkward silence.

You follow him through the building, a part of you afraid of him, but at the same time you can't help but be drawn to him.

“We need a distraction,” he muttered, pulling a cigarette from his vest pocket.

“You shouldn't smoke in here,” you tell him, though you don't really care.

“We all have our vices.”

You lean against the opposite wall, watching him as he smokes silently.

“What's on your mind?” He asks suddenly, his eyes fixed on you.

“Not much,” you lie. “I'm just tired.”

“You don't fool me. I know you better than that.” Brock leans forward, stubbing his cigarette out against the ground. His eyes don't leave yours as he speaks. “You're right. Tonight has been different. But it's not just the mission.”

“What are you doing?” you question.

“What I should have done a long time ago,” Brock replies in a whisper before leaning towards you.

And that's when you realize it had all been a trap if only you had realized it earlier...

Brock's hands land on your waist, pulling you to him, and he begins to remove your clothes as he whispers that he noticed how you were flirting with Steve. You try to stop him from undressing you further, but there's nothing to be done.

Nobody plays with Brock.

#valentine's edition #fandom free bingo #brock rumlow x reader

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tenpintsofsundrop · 1 year ago

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Reader refused to sleep in her and Spencer’s apartment when he was arrested. She let their son and daughter sleep over at JJ’s house. She slept on the couch in Aaron’s office- when she slept. When they finally got him out they only made it to their SUV before they made up for lost time.

TLDR; Please don't just copy/paste the same requests and send them to a bunch of different fanfiction writers.

Okay so I don't really know how to go about saying this because I don't want to shame anyone or make them feel bad. Especially not people who have followed me for a long time and admire my writing.

When I first read this, I thought that it seemed oddly familiar to me.

So I tried looking in the Spencer x reader tags and I couldn't see the fic I had previously scrolled by.

So I copy/pasted this prompt into google, and I found a fic that I know was from a different author (because the one I scrolled by had a Spencer pfp and this one had a Steve Harrington pfp) that was from all the way back in 2021. And they had even answered a different request like one of the ones you copy/pasted to me.

Also: I don't have the links to those exact fics because I was just randomly scrolling through the mobile browser tumblr on my phone (and like I said, one of them I couldn't find but I know I saw it the other day) - but if you have seen those fics or know those writers, please go show their fics some love! I bet they worked hard on those requests and they deserve a lot of love for their fics.

I haven't stated this anywhere in my request rules, because I never felt the need to, but there is a certain etiquette around sending requests to fanfiction writers. And because I am old school fandom, I thought that I would never have to outright explain that kind of etiquette. Stuff like: a request is a request, not an order. Don't hound an author to get your requests finished. A request is more like a collaboration on an idea than it is a command to action.

And I think one of the etiquette bits around sending requests is that you shouldn't send the same exact requests word for word to a bunch of different fanfiction writers because it seems rude.

When you send someone a req, it's because you're saying "hey, I really like your writing! I like your style, the way you write these characters. I have an idea in my head for this fandom and because I admire your talent, I think that you could do it best." It's like going to a bakery because you think that they have the best chocolate chip cookies. A lot of places make chocolate chip cookies, but that one bakery makes them in a way that you think is the best.

Sending the exact same copy/pasted request to multiple writers sends multiple covert messages.

1) The person who did it the first time didn't do it up to your standards.

I have had requests filled before. It's rare that I request fanfiction, but when I have and someone has answered it, it has made me feel insanely special. And I treasure those fics (unfortunately a lot of the ones I reqd are on dead platforms now) and I go back and reread them over and over again.

So when you send a request to someone and they actually take the time to write out a whole fic answering it, and then you copy/paste that exact same request to another fanfic author - you are basically saying that the first person (in this case, at least two people with ^^^ this prompt) didn't do it correctly. That their fanfiction for your request wasn't up to your standards and you need to see it done again by someone else in a different way.

If that wasn't the case, you would simply treasure the original fanfiction that answered the request, reread it over and over again, and then go back to that original author with more different requests when they have their reqs open.

2) You are saying that you are too impatient to wait for your request to be finished.

I have seen times where someone copy/pastes the same request in different authors inboxes within the same week, basically just seeing who will finish the fanfiction first. Which is ... very annoying. If you enjoy an author's work and respect their time, then you will wait patiently for them to finish writing your request.

For me personally - I don't finish all requests. Which brings me to my third point.

3) Write it yourself.

If you are so passionate about this idea that you feel the need to see it written by different fanfiction authors multiple times, then please, write it yourself. All the details will be satisfying and exactly as you imagined them in your head.

There has been multiple times in my life when I have had a good idea for a fic and I have been so tired, and I considered taking that idea to another writer's inbox, but I knew that they wouldn't write it exactly as it was in my head - because HELLO - we are all individual artists with our own unique visions. So I just wrote it myself and wrote all the details as I imagined them and I was so much happier.

And that's how I grew my talent as a fic writer. By practicing writing my own ideas instead of just waiting for someone else to feed me the fanfiction I want. And now, whenever I want a hyper specific fanfiction that is not in the tags - I just write it.

But like PLEASE understand that fanfiction writers are not "content creators". We are not some big corporations like Netflix that has so much time and energy to pour into making this stuff - we are human. And it hurts to see you just feeding the exact same ideas to everyone else, because it means you don't value our work as individuals.

(Idk what I'm gonna do with the rest of the stuff in my inbox that you obviously sent. One of them really appealed me so idk.)

Anyway - Sundrop out ☀️💧

#anonymous #sundrop answers #requests #requesting #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you

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hexedwinchester · 6 months ago

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[TW!] (Only if you're comfortable with it, ofc) Can I have reader struggling with (you choose) an ED or SH, and Sam comforts them

hi Twigger-Warning noni!

First of all, thank you for your patience while I did some research on how to proceed with this. Haven't done a lot of SH themed work, so I tried my best to read about it and hopefully i did okay.

Hope you don't mind that I have gone with fem!reader struggling with SH for this. You can read the whole fic down below or follow this link to my Ao3 dashboard where this is published.

I have done another work a few months back that focuses on Sam who SHs. If you are interested in reading that, I have added the link it as well at the very end.

Lastly, thank you for sending this prompt! If you like it, please do let me know!

Happy Reading! ☺️

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Always Keep Fighting

"Get off me!" You try to wriggle out of Dean's grip as he grabs you from behind and lifts you off the cold bunker floor.

The knife in your hand is useless because somehow he manages to crisscross your hands in front of you and lock them in place.

"Stop it!" He growls as he takes you away to another room. You kick your legs in the air, trying to make this difficult for him, hoping it connects with his family jewels. But he is a lot more stronger than you and this kicking isn't helping.

"Dean!" That soft voice calls just as Dean throws you in an empty room and locks the door behind.

You remember it clear as the day: the first time you heard Sam's voice, like a beacon of hope, a choir of angels singing. There was a certain melody to his voice, the hushed tone filled with nothing but warmth and safety. Straining hard against the piercing light, you opened your eyes to mere slits to put a face this angelic voice.

"Dean!" He called. "I think I found someone."

Someone, probably whoever Dean was, responded something but the ringing in your ears made it hard to comprehend the other voice or its words.

"Hey, hey.. miss?" The voice seemed to be talking to you.

You blinked several times, the face before you changing from blurred shape to sharp features that were perfectly sculpted. A statue from Greek mural had come to life. Cautiously, he reached for you but you recoiled away.

Whoever or whatever he was, he was too perfect which meant he was one of them. They blended like humans but they were different. Faster, stronger, more agile than anyone else you knew of. But the three most obvious things that set them apart from humans were: they never aged, they had longer, sharper teeth and they fed on blood.

In your dazed state you realised he was speaking to you. Instead of grabbing you, he offered his hand, larger than most. He cared enough to ask for your permission to touch you as if he knew what it meant to lose autonomy over oneself. "My name is Sam. I'm here to save you." Sam. Simple as that. "Take my hand."

Now, huddled up on the empty bed, you can hear the brothers fighting on the other side of the door.

"You locked her up?" Sam asks, anger seeping through his otherwise gentle voice.

How is this different than before? You are still locked. Dean can barely look at you and when he does, it's with a look of skepticism, like you are going to stab him in his sleep.

"She was standing outside your room with a freakin' knife, Sam!" Dean hollers. "What was I supposed to do?"

"When has confining someone between four walls ever helped? You know better than that."

The shadows under the door move closer. "I'm not going to apologise for saving your ass, Sam."

The other shadow is shoved back. "You never did."

The first shadow moves away. From the heavy footfalls, you know it's Dean's. Being in captivity for over a decade you learn to complete the pictures based on small cues like these.

The door rattles. You jump to your feet and scurry to the door locking it. He tries again but the lock holds. "Y/n," he calls you, his voice a honeyed whisper. "Can you open the door, please?"

"Go away!" You slide down against the door. You don't want Sam in here. You don't want him to look at you with pity, the way Dean does sometimes. Not when you are at your worst.

You hold the knife up, enthralled by the sharp edge glinting golden in the yellow light falling from the little overhead lamp.

"Whatever you are thinking of doing, don't." He pleads.

How does he-? You know you should feel angry, the way Dean just locked you up like a caged animal, like those vile men who fed on your blood for years. Yet, you don't. You want to feel something, whether it's anger or sadness or disappointment, it doesn't matter. But the numbness clings to you like your own soul, all consuming, leaving no room for other emotions.

Blocking Sam's pleas, you focus on the knife. It takes a moment to roll Sam's sweater up your arms. And tuck it over the crook of your elbow. Under this light, the scars stand out like a grotesque tapestry, a gruesome reminder of your past. Your hand moves on its own dragging the knife across your forearm in a quick swipe.

The cut is not deep to be fatal, just enough to sting, to burn. Blood beads over the thin, red line growing from a tiny red dots to large bubbles until the surface tension breaks and it spills down your arm.

Pain.

The only thing you have felt in years and there's a purity in that.

"Y/n?" Sam's voice is urgent, his knocking insistent. "Whatever you think you are doing, that's not the answer."

Tears blur your eyes but the bite of the metal feels good against your skin. Switching the blade to the other hand, you roughly draw up the sleeve of your right arm. Pressing down the blood stained edge, you pull it sharply across of your arm, hissing as the skin breaks, blood welling up through the cut.

"You don't know anything!" You croak, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak.

"I know you are hurting yourself", he says, "I saw the blood on the clothes and the scars on your hands."

Why does he have to be observant? "Go! Away!"

"Please, please, I'm begging you. Nothing good comes out of suffering. Open the door. Talk to me."

In a twisted way, the pain, the blood, helped you forget the miserable life you lived since you were abducted by the vampire. Once you started, it was hard to stop and nothing but exhaustion put an end to it.

But right now, Sam's voice is a huge distraction and though you don't want to admit to yourself, it is a welcomed distraction. His voice is compelling but not like Victor's was. He doesn't demand anything of you.

Shakily, you rise up, the sleeves dropping over your skinny arms and back to your wrists. Leaning your head on the door, you take a deep breath and then unlock it. Your feet drag you back to the cot and you slump over it. Drawing your legs to your chest, you rest your cheek on your knees.

The knob rattles again, opening with a quiet click. Your face is turned away from the door, but your eyes follow the light from the corridor falling on the floor. Sam's silhouette blocks most of the light, growing bigger as he enters the room.

In three long strides he is standing by the bed. You look up from his black pajama-clad thighs to his worried face. He sits next to you, the bed dipping and groaning under his weight.

You watch as he forces a smile; one that doesn't quite reach his eyes and is purely for your benefit. His fingers circle your wrists. Eyes trained on yours, he waits for your permission again. Blinking once, you let him know it's okay.

Slowly, he unfolds your arms, making no attempt to pry the bloody knife from your hand. The blood stains have left darker spots on the otherwise navy blue sweater. Taking your empty hand in his, he pushes the sleeve back. Being careful not to touch you, he exposes the bleeding cut.

Embarrassed, you snatch your hand back. Sam sighs. Then his eyes fall onto the bloody knife again. He doesn't look scared and it makes you wonder what someone like him must have seen to not flinch at the sight of a deranged woman with a blood stained knife?

"Stay put, I'll be right back." He requests and leaves the room. It surprises you. Most people, humans and vampires alike, their first instinct is to snatch away every sharp thing from you. So when Sam doesn't make a move to yank the knife away, it leaves you stunned.

He returns soon and if that is because of his long legs carrying him faster everywhere or because his room is literally three rooms down the hallway, you can't tell for sure.

When he flicks on the switch, bathing the room in a bright light, your raise your arms to your eyes, squinting against the harshness.

"Sorry," mumbles, "Need the lights for this." He hold a small white box with a red cross on the top.

Settling in the same spot, he takes your hand again. This time there is no resistance from you. "This might sting a little." He warns as he dabs alcohol soaked cotton on the cut. You hiss, your thin, long fingers curling into a tight fist.

"Sorry," he apologies again, wiping the blood clean from the cut. He repeats the same thing with your other arm. Then, inspecting both cuts, he smiles, "you don't need stitches."

You don't know if that's a good or a bad thing. The alcohol burns but it's a soothing sensation, one that keeps you wanting for more, because pain is better than the numb, emptiness that threatens to envelope you.

"Hey, talk to me." He urges as he reaches for the antiseptic cream. Truth is, you want to but you don't know how. When you don't answer, he tries a different angle. "Why were you outside my room with that?"

You think about his question, watching him spread the cream with a gentleness you never knew of. "I-I wasn't going to hurt you."

He nods, brushing away the strand of hair that falls into his eyes. "I know. That's not what I meant."

"I have these feelings, urges to-to do something to-"

"-feel something other than the overwhelming emptiness?" He finishes, both your sentence and applying the cream.

"How?" You manage a poor response because you can't bring yourself to ask what ailed his soul so much that he knows how you feel.

Sam stops in the middle of unrolling a gauze. His eyebrows scrunch up, revealing the folds on his forehead. "The life we lead, me and my brother, it doesn't come without consequences, you know."

He begins to wrap the gauze over your wounds, somehow his touch is a mere whisper. "When the only thing you have felt is pain for years and years, you get used to it. It serves as a reminder of life. Without it, you feel numb, almost dead."

Unshed tears blur your vision. Sam put your pain into words. The wetness on your cheeks as the tears fall is an alien feeling because the last time you cried was when Victor first bit your arm, relishing the taste of your blood. It was then that he announced to his nest he would keep you as his blood slave.

As Sam moves on to your other arm, you wipe your tears with your now bandaged hand. He looks up, a sorrowful expression crossing his face.

"Were you a -?" You can't bring yourself to say the word 'cutter'. You try again and fail, "Did you -?"

Again, he nods. You take a moment to observe his arms but they are free of scars unlike yours that are peppered with bite marks and criss cross cuts. Maybe he was more careful about where he cut. You would be too with an overprotective brother like Dean. The thin, gray tee shirt reveals nothing but the strong muscles underneath.

"Do you mind if I take that?" He asks pointing at the knife.

You grip it tighter instead. His eyes are locked on the weapon but he makes no move to take it. "It only escalates from here and you won't realise when you go from shallow cuts to important veins." He says as he thumbs the jagged scar on your left wrist.

"It was horrible." You mutter.

He shakes his head, squinting his eyes but doesn't speak.

"The pain, the venom. The smell of my blood. I thought, I thought I was going to die there." Your chest feels heavy as the emotional floodgates open. "And after some weeks, I accepted dying there because death was better. Then Vic-" the name brings a bitter taste to your mouth, "then he tasted my blood and decided to keep me. That was somehow even worse."

Sam closes his brown-green eyes briefly, as if trying to conceal his anger from you.

"I felt used, abused and then it stopped. I-I couldn't feel a damn thing. For a minute, having my emotions turned off felt good." More tears flow down your face. You wipe them off hastily but others take their place. "Then nothing. I felt cold, like I was drowning in despair. I needed to feel something, anything!" You almost scream.

"That was the first time?" You know what he means by that question. When Victor came to feed on you, you tried to fight him off, yanking that golden cross off his neck in the tangle of punches. He slapped you and flung you across the room. Blinded by the crashing pain in the back of your head, you curled onto your side. Somehow, hitting your head felt good, the pain that came with it felt good. The points of the cross dug into your palm. You crushed it harder until it pierced your skin, filling your hand with blood. You would rather let it go to waste than feed that monster.

You don't feel comfortable sharing that with Sam yet, afraid he might judge you. To your surprise, he doesn't push you more on the topic. "I'm here when you are ready to talk more."

"Take this." You hand him the knife you have been holding in an iron grip for the last one hour.

Surprised but visibly relieved, he takes it from you. "Y/n, this will be your battle. One that you have to fight. I'm here when you need me and I know this won't happen overnight, but promise me you'll try. Don't let the war you have been fighting for the last decade go in vain."

"Thanks, Sam." You crawl over to him and wrap your arms around his shoulder.

He hugs you tight. Kissing the top of your head, he mumbles, "always keep fighting."

"Always." You promise to try.

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Here's the link to Sam SH fic:

#tumblr asks #fanfic request #tumblr prompt #Spn fanfic #ao3 writers #ao3 fanfic #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #reader insert #Self harm #Trigger Warnings apply #sam girl #inbox ask #ask me anything #happy reading

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