#like you can see the moment i lose the thread and it's when the sex stops and the generic hiatus angst begins

[kinetic-elaboration]

January 22: Miller/Bellamy, Five

I don't know why I keep gravitating to this universe but here's more of this thing. Not sure what I'm doing with it. It's probably hit the end of the road in terms of ideas but like... we'll see. I love being repetitive.

Miller/Bellamy, S2/S3 hiatus, not-quite-500 words, ~18 minutes

Semi-explicit.

*

Miller's gotten Bellamy off four times and they've never even kissed. It's barely even sex--more like part of his lieutenant's duties or something. Stress relief, or boredom. As long as there's no romance and no intimacy, it's not cheating. He's got a man out there he wants to marry someday.

After the fifth time, Bellamy reciprocates. It's pretty obvious he's never been with another guy before: he's trying to replicate what he likes as if he's looking in a mirror, and the touch of his hand is uncertain, awkward. Still works though. Miller closes his eyes like he's somewhere else and wraps his palm around Bellamy's hand to help him and the worst part is that he can feel Bellamy's breath against his shoulder and hear the little sounds he's making, in that voice he could never mistake for anyone else.

"You don't have to, you know," Miller tells him after. His voice is still sex-rough. He's not got enough air in his lungs. "I mean, it's fine."

"Know it's fine," Bellamy says, which isn't really an answer.

No one told them that after the war would be so boring. No one told him that all the hard labor in the world--building up the camp and securing the perimeter, scavenging food, scouting--won't ever be enough to stop the bad thoughts in his head. He needs to be so fucking tired at the end of the day that he collapses on the mattress and just feels himself ache. And it's not just that Bellamy's there on the other side of that mattress, but that's part of it, and the rest is that he still loves him like a leader, he's still trying to give him loyalty or maybe thanks or maybe peace. The good kind that buzzes out the brain.

Real peace. Not Bellamy pacing at night, peering out between the slats of their window shade, watching and waiting and missing.

This feels more like infidelity than even fucking would: how he wants to call come back to bed, how he's imagining Bellamy with those Dropship girls and then with someone special on the Ark and then with him.

Every time it happens, he needs it more.

The better way of seeing it is that he's not in the aftermath of anything, that life is just like this: sometimes a fight for his survival and sometimes just the bleak ground and dustings of snow and a horizon line he cannot see. He watches the others, recovering, retreating. He tells himself that, personally, he's doing fine.

They've never kissed.

Bellamy asks him if he had someone on the Ark, meaning, someone who was yours, and he almost lets himself get choked up about it--the horizon line he cannot see. But instead he answers, "A boyfriend on Farm," and the words come out so even it was as if he didn't feel at all.

[criminal-act7]

The Worst

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Blk reader

Genre: angst and nothing but angst. Smut is just a bonus.

Summary: You left the BAU 4 years ago in pursuit of a new career. You and Spencer made the long-distance work until you couldn’t. Two months after the breakup, Spencer and you meet up for closure.

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral sex (f), fingering

Notes: it's been so long since I've written smut, so I'm kinda rusty. Low key I had Don't Smile by Sabrina carpenter in mu head now. I hope you guys enjoy!

Two days ago, everything was perfect. You had returned to D.C. to visit your old friends and colleagues at the BAU, and of course, to see your boyfriend, Spencer Reid. It had been two years since you left the BAU to study music theory in the Twin Cities, and now you were about to start teaching in Minneapolis. While you missed Spencer dearly, and he missed you, too, the long-distance visits hadn’t been enough. But this time felt different. 

Spencer surprised you with a romantic dinner, and just when you thought it couldn't get better, he proposed. You had dreamed of this moment for so long, knowing Spencer’s cautious nature meant the timing had to be just right. But when he finally asked, your answer was easy. Yes. Of course, yes.

Now, curled up in his arms on the couch, you feel the warmth of his presence, the joy of being together again. But tonight, as Spencer begins to talk about the future, you realize that your dreams may not be as aligned as you once thought.

“You’re not serious right now,” you say, disbelief threading through your voice.

“I am,” Spencer replies, his gaze steady on yours. He gently brushes his fingers across your knuckles.

“Spencer, I can’t just drop everything and move back to D.C. I just started teaching in Minnesota.”

“I know, but if we act now, we can get this amazing house—”

“Wait, what? You’ve already been looking at houses?”

He averts his eyes for a moment, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. “I found one. It’s perfect for us. There’s even a wishing well in the backyard. We’re getting married, Y/N. Why not plan for the future?”

“We got engaged two days ago! Spencer, we have time. We don’t need to rush.”

“I know,” he says, his voice softening, “but I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. Besides, we don’t know what could happen.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I get it. I used to work at the BAU, I understand. But I don’t want to give up teaching. This is something I love.”

“You don’t have to give it up,” Spencer says, leaning forward, trying to bridge the gap between you. “You could teach in D.C. or even Virginia.”

You shake your head, already knowing where this conversation is headed. “Spencer, I’m not leaving Minnesota. These kids need me. Music gives them a creative outlet. It helps keep them out of trouble.”

He pauses, his voice quiet now. “What about me?”

Your heart tightens at his words. “What about you? We text every day, we talk on the phone, and we video chat when we can.”

“It’s not the same,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing the back of your hand. 

“If you miss me so much, you could come to Minnesota,” you offer with a hopeful smile. 

“And do what? Teach?” He lets out a small laugh, but there’s no real humor in it.

“You’d make a hot professor,” you joke, trying to lighten the mood, but it doesn’t land. 

“I don’t want to teach, Y/N. That’s your dream, not mine.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m staying in Minnesota,” you reply. “This makes me happy. I’m finally doing something meaningful, something that fulfills me.”

“You were doing meaningful work before,” Spencer argues, his voice rising slightly. “You saved lives. You were a great profiler.”

“And how many lives did we lose? How many victims never got justice?” Your voice wavers. “I wasn’t happy in that life, Spencer. Not like I am now.”

He exhales, his frustration evident. “So, how do we make this work? You in Minnesota, me in D.C.?”

“I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “I thought we’d figure it out.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t just ‘figure it out.’ What, do you think we can hop on planes every weekend, or after I finish a case?”

“Well, if you didn’t have this all figured out, why did you propose?” you ask, feeling the tension rise between you.

“Because I did have it figured out!” he snaps, his voice sharp. “You’re the one who changed the plan, refusing to come with me.”

“I didn’t refuse,” you say, your tone turning defensive. “I just can’t drop my life because you want me to live yours.”

“We’re in a relationship, Y/N! You’re not single anymore. I’ve always supported you. Why can’t you do the same for me?”

“I’m not saying you haven’t supported me. But why should I give up my dream for yours?”

“Because I don’t think you’d be happy long-term!” Spencer exclaims. “You never mentioned any of this before. Then suddenly, you tell me you’re teaching in Minnesota, out of nowhere.”

You stare at him, the weight of his words settling in. “You don’t think I’d be happy?” he looks you in the eyes, his gaze starting into your soul.  

“Not in the long run. No.”

“And who’s to say I’d be happy with you?” The words slip out before you can stop them.

Spencer’s face falls, his expression pained. “What do you mean?”

“You think I’d be happy moving to D.C., working at the BAU again, getting married, having kids? That’s your plan, Spencer. Not mine.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” he says, his voice faltering. “We talked about this before we even started dating—marriage, kids, everything.”

“That was seven years ago. We’ve both changed. I’ve changed.” you pointed at yourself as you tell him the truth.  He realized that too of course the distance away from him was going to change him. 

His face hardens, hurt mixing with anger. “Then why did you say yes?”

“Because I love you, Spencer,” you say, your voice cracking. “And because I thought maybe, somehow, we could still make it work.” you cry as tears fall down your face.

“But how can we, if you’re across the country?” The silence that follows is thick, heavy. You both know the answer before it’s spoken.

“We can’t,” you whisper.

“So… that’s it? We break up?” His voice is hollow, as if he’s already accepted the outcome.

“I—I think we have to,” you say, tears stinging your eyes.

He nods slowly, his jaw tight. “Alright.” You reach for his hand, but he pulls it away gently.

“Spencer… I’m sorry.” you let out a sob trying to wipe your tears away. 

“Me too.” he says getting up to go into his room and you stayed on the couch crying as you knew he was doing the same. Neither of you wanted this outcome but you also didn't want each other to be miserable. 

The next morning, you woke up before Spencer. Quietly, you packed your things, your heart heavy with the weight of last night's conversation. You had booked an earlier flight back to Minnesota, hoping to slip out unnoticed, to avoid another painful confrontation. 

As you approached the front door with your bag in hand, you paused, glancing toward the bedroom—the one you had shared with him so many times before. To your surprise, Spencer was awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes red and swollen from a sleepless night.

"I thought you'd at least have the courage to say goodbye," he says, his voice low and rough. He looks just as broken as you feel, like neither of you have gotten any rest.

“Spencer…” you start, but the words don’t come. He doesn’t look at you, staring at the floor instead. Now he was angry seeing you sneaking into his room to leave the ring and some note. 

“Just… leave the ring and go. Please.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and you reach for the ring on your finger. Slowly, reluctantly, you pull it off, feeling the cool metal slide away from your skin. For a moment, you just stand there, staring at the symbol of the future you had once wanted so badly.

Tears blur your vision as you gently place the ring on the nightstand beside him. "I'm sorry," you whisper, knowing it’s not enough. Without another word, you turn and walk out the door, leaving behind the life you thought you would share. 

That was the last time you saw Spencer. The breakup was rough on both of you. No matter how much time passed, reminders of him lingered in your life. A month later, a couple of boxes from Spencer arrived at your doorstep—your things from his apartment, meticulously packed and sent back to you. It was everything you had left there, down to the smallest items. The gesture felt like a final goodbye, a clear sign that he had moved on. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same. You still had his things. A couple of his shirts, some books, and photos. They haunted you in the quiet moments when you were alone, a reminder of a future that would never be.

Your friend Cassie had advised you to collect his things and move on. “You need closure,” she told you, gently pushing you to take the steps toward healing. But you didn’t at first. You couldn’t. Then, without telling you, she set you up on a date.

His name was Scott. He was a high school English teacher, loved to read, worked out, and was just coming out of his own messy breakup. On your first date, you clicked in a way that surprised you. It felt easy with him, natural. The two of you saw each other a few times, and before long, it had been a month of dates, good conversation, and the start of something promising. But there was one problem.

Every time you went home, Spencer’s presence was still there. His shirts hanging in the closet, the photos of you two tucked in drawers, even old messages you hadn’t deleted. Sometimes you would sit in silence, imagining what his life was like now, wondering if he had moved on in the same way. You’d catch yourself thinking about texting Garcia to ask how he was, but you stopped yourself. Your former colleagues—your friends—were all still close to Spencer. You couldn’t bring yourself to reach out. Not after what happened. You figured it wasn’t your place anymore.

One evening, after a date with Scott, Cassie sat with you in your apartment, and you confessed the nagging feeling you couldn’t shake.

“I feel stuck,” you admitted, pushing Spencer’s shirt aside in your closet. “Every time I try to move on, it’s like he’s still here.”

Cassie nodded, understanding. “You need closure. Real closure. Get rid of his things, talk to him if you need to, but you can’t keep holding onto pieces of him if you want to move forward.”

Her words sunk in, and you realized she was right. So, you broke things off with Scott—kindly, letting him know it wasn’t fair to either of you while you were still processing your past. Then you sent Spencer a text, asking if the two of you could meet to talk. You weren’t sure if he would reply, or if he’d even want to. But you needed to try.

Spencer had tried to move on after the breakup. On the outside, he seemed fine—throwing himself into work, keeping busy with cases. But back at home, it hit him harder. The apartment was eerily quiet without you there. Your photos, the calendar you’d hung with important dates for the both of you, the clothes you left behind—all were reminders of a life that wasn’t his anymore.

What broke him the most was the engagement ring. He found it on the floor after you left, a painful symbol of what could have been. After a sleepless night, he called Derek to vent about it.

“You have to start moving on, man,” Derek had said over the phone. “It doesn’t have to be today, but the sooner you let go, the better you’ll feel.”

So, with Derek, J.J., and Garcia’s help, Spencer gathered all your belongings, packed them into boxes, and sent them to you. It felt like closure at the time, like he was making a step toward healing. He thought he was done with it. Done with you.

Until your text came.

At first, he didn’t recognize the number. It was a message from someone he thought he had put behind him, someone he wasn’t prepared to hear from again. The message explained that it was you, asking if you could meet up to talk.

Spencer stared at his phone for a long time. He felt his heart tighten in his chest, fear rising up. He didn’t want to see you. Getting rid of your things was one thing, but seeing your face—he couldn’t handle that. Not now, not after the progress he had made. So, he never replied.

---

Time has a strange way of healing, but also of leaving scars. Neither of you contacted the other again. A month after you sent that text, you realized you didn’t need to hear his voice to get the closure you sought. You packed up his things and put them away then, you tried to forget.

But life, as it often does, has its own plans.

Two months later, Spencer found himself heading to Minnesota. He never imagined he’d end up there, of all places, in the middle of February. You had moved on in your own way, and by then, you had nearly forgotten that you once asked to meet up. You had put the past behind you—or so you thought. But some things refuse to stay buried.

“Are you sure about this, Reid?” Morgan asks, raising an eyebrow as he leans against Spencer’s hotel door. They had just finished a case today and the team was leaving Spencer had decided to stay another day. No one needed to question why he needed to as they knew the answer.  

“Yes, I think it’s time,” Spencer replied, though his voice wavered ever so slightly.

J.J. leaned forward, her face full of concern. “Do you think it’s wise to meet with her after she contacted you two months ago?”

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No, probably not. But she said she wanted to talk, and I should at least hear her out.” J.J. exchanged a glance with Morgan, but neither of them said anything. They both knew Spencer was the kind of person who needed closure, even if it hurt. Pulling out his phone, Spencer dialed Garcia’s number. It rang twice before her familiar voice came through the line.

“You have reached your tech goddess. How may I help you today?” Garcia chirped, her usual brightness evident even over the phone.

“Garcia, can you check if Y/N has a new address?”

There was a pause. “Wait… you want to see Y/N? Are you okay, Reid?” Her voice softened with concern.

“Yes, I’m okay to meet with her,” Spencer replied, but the hesitation lingered beneath his words.

Garcia was quiet for a beat before she said, “Are you sure *she’s* okay to meet with you? I know she asked to meet you, but that was two months ago, and—”

“I know,” Spencer interrupted gently. “I’ll call her before I show up.”

Garcia let out a long breath. “Alright, if you say so. I don’t know if this is a good idea, but her address is still the same. I’ve sent it to you. Good luck, and please, be safe, okay?”

“Thank you, Garcia,” he said, appreciating her concern. 

“This is a bad idea, right?”  Morgan questioned as he watched Spencer walk out the door going off to see you. A bad feeling coming onto him.

“Oh, it is,” J.J. agreed, crossing her arms.

It was an ordinary Thursday night, or at least it started that way. You sat on your couch, a bottle of wine nearby, your laptop on your lap, grading papers turned in by your students. The TV was on in the background, playing a movie you’d seen a hundred times. The cold Minnesota winter had gifted you a snow day, so you decided to get some work done now and relax later. 

That plan was interrupted when a knock echoed through your apartment. Setting your laptop aside, you paused the movie and stood, walking to the door. When you opened it, you blinked in confusion. 

There stood Spencer Reid, bundled up against the cold, his breath visible in the frosty air.

"Reid, what are you doing here?" Your voice was flat, surprise and confusion mixing with a slight edge.

“I came to see you,” Spencer said, shifting nervously on his feet. “I know it’s been a while, but I got your text and thought… why not?”

You stared at him, brow furrowed. “Reid, that was *two months ago*.”

“I know I’m late,” he said quickly, his eyes flicking to the ground before meeting yours again. “But I just finished a case, and I thought—”

“Thought what?” you interrupted, your tone sharper than you intended. “Look, I know I texted you first, but that was then.”

Spencer’s face tightened, a flash of frustration crossing his features. “Well, I wasn’t ready to see you *then*, that’s the issue. You want what you want when you want it.”

You folded your arms, eyebrows raised. “Who doesn’t?”

The tension hung between you for a moment before Spencer sighed. “Look, I didn’t come here to fight, Y/N. Please, can we just talk?”

You paused, considering. After a long breath, you relented. “Fine, you’ve got 30 minutes.”

“Give me 15,” he bargained, his voice quieter, almost pleading.

“You have 10 minutes," you replied, stepping aside and motioning for him to come in. "Starting now."

Spencer shifted nervously, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, snow still clinging to his shoes. You stepped aside, allowing him to enter. He walked in slowly, glancing around as if expecting something to have changed, but your apartment was much the same as it had always been—warm, cluttered with books and papers, and smelling faintly of the lavender candle you always burned.

You crossed your arms, leaning against the doorway. “Alright, ten minutes. Start talking.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. “I didn’t respond right away because… I wasn’t ready. After everything that happened, I had to figure out how to deal with it. Losing you—losing us—it messed me up more than I realized. I thought sending your things back would help me move on, but it didn’t. I needed time, and I’m sorry I didn’t answer you earlier.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I get it, Spencer. But you don’t get to just show up here months later and expect me to drop everything. I’ve been working on moving on, too.”

“I know,” he said quickly, looking down at the floor. “I’m not here to mess that up. I just… I thought if we could talk, maybe we could get some closure. Properly this time.”

“Closure?” you repeated, a touch of bitterness in your voice. “And you think showing up unannounced is the way to do that?”

He winced, realizing how it must have looked. “I didn’t plan it well, I know. But I’ve thought about you every day since the breakup. I’ve wondered if we could’ve handled things differently, if we could’ve made it work.”

You stood there, feeling your heart race. Part of you had longed for this conversation, this chance to get clarity on what had happened. But now that it was here, all it did was stir up emotions you thought you had buried.

“You think about it now?” you asked, voice quieter. “You’re the one who packed up my things and sent them back like we were just some temporary fling. That hurt, Spencer. It felt like you had already moved on.”

Spencer’s face softened, regret written in his eyes. “I didn’t mean for it to feel that way. I thought it would help you… and me."

You shook your head, pacing a bit to release the tension building inside. “I’ve been trying to move forward, Reid. I was even seeing someone And you know what? I liked him. He’s a good guy, but I couldn’t fully be with him because I kept holding on… to us.”

Spencer looked at you, his expression tightening at the mention of Scott, but he quickly pushed it aside. “I’m not asking for anything other than to talk. I don’t expect us to get back together. I just didn’t want us to leave things the way we did.”

You stopped pacing and looked at him, really looked at him, noticing the weight he carried in his eyes. “So, what do you want from this conversation, Spencer? What do you need?”

"I just wanted to talk to you to see if we could I don’t know be friends again"

"Are you serious?" you said, your voice sharp with disbelief. "I wanted it to work so badly, Spencer. I uprooted my life to try and meet you halfway, but it was like you couldn’t see that."

Spencer’s expression tightened. "I didn’t feel like you were meeting me halfway. You were building a whole new life in Minnesota, and I felt like I was barely a part of it. You didn’t tell me about your teaching job until you had already accepted it."

"I didn’t think I needed to ask your permission to follow my dreams," you shot back, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I wanted to do something for me, something that gave me purpose."

"And I get that," he said, his tone softening, "but I was supposed to be part of your life too. I felt like you were pulling away, like every decision you made was just... you choosing a life without me in it."

You sighed, the weight of his words sinking in. "I wasn’t trying to choose a life without you, Spencer. I was trying to find a life where we could both be happy. But it felt like every time I chose something for me, it meant choosing against you."

Spencer rubbed his hands over his face, clearly torn. "I wanted you to be happy too. I just... I wanted to be part of that happiness. But I didn’t know how to balance your dreams with mine."

“I know. And that’s why it didn’t work.” You shook your head, the sadness creeping back in. “We both wanted to be happy, but we didn’t know how to make that happen together.”

“So now what?” Spencer asked, his voice heavy with uncertainty.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “You came here for me. We talked it out. I’m done talking. I have your things. I can ship them out tomorrow.”

“You still have my things?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“I can’t forget you, Spencer. Unlike you did,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Spencer looked at you, his eyes pained. “That’s my girl! Still can pull the verbal punches!” he says sarcastically as he watches you disappear into the hallway. 

“I’m not your girl anymore!” you snapped, feeling a surge of frustration. As you look through your closet for Spencer’s box. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Spencer said quickly, his tone apologetic as you came back into the room. Once you find it you look at your room one last time and then you see it. That Sanrio plush Cinnamonroll, it was the first birthday gift Spencer had given you. You loved the thing and still do. 

“Here’s your things,” you said, handing him a box filled with his belongings.

He reached on top of the sealed box and grabbed the small cinnamon roll plush. “This was a birthday gift... You’re really giving this back?”

“Yeah,” you said, tears threatening to spill. “It’s the last reminder of you, Reid.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry. But whether you like it or not, we’ll always have a part of each other in our hearts,” Spencer said softly.

“I know,” you replied, trying to hold back your tears.

“And I’m never going to forget you,” Spencer added, his voice breaking.

“I know that,” you said, your own voice trembling.

“But I have to do what feels right,” Spencer said. “And so do you.”

“Yeah…” you agreed, wiping away a tear.

Without warning, Spencer stepped closer and kissed you gently. The kiss was full of unresolved feelings, the pain of the past, and the hope of what could have been. It was a goodbye you both needed, but it was also a reminder of what you once had.

As the kiss ended, you both pulled away, your eyes locked with his. The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the weight of everything unsaid and everything you both had shared.

Spencer took a deep breath, his face etched with sadness. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Spencer,” you whispered, watching as he walked out the door, taking a part of your heart with him.

Thirty minutes later, as the storm outside raged on, Spencer found himself knocking on your door again. The wind howled, and snow battered against the windows. His team had left an hour ago, and he’d been unable to reach his hotel due to the worsening weather. With nowhere else to go, he found himself back at your doorstep.

When you opened the door, Spencer’s heart sank at the sight of you still crying. His own emotions surged as he took in your tear-streaked face. Without a word, he pulled you into a fervent kiss. It was a kiss filled with all the words you both hadn’t said, all the pain you hadn’t fully expressed.

"I'm sorry-" kiss "I didn’t mean-to comeback I just- fuck" he tried to explain himself but he couldn’t stop your lips from meshing with his. This was messed up and you both knew you just didn't care. The kisses become more passionate as he pushes you against the door, grabbing your hips pinning you. Kissing down you neck as you let out a heavy sigh finally able to think.

"Spencer what are we- fuck what are we doing?" You ask as Spencer brings his hands under your  and grabs hold of your breasts. It turned him on knowing you had no bra underneath this shirt the whole time. 

Pulling up your shirt over your head he answers "what feels right" he says going back to kissing you this his tongue slides his way into your mouth. Your body wanted no need for this as you decided to speed things up Spencer had another approach. He quickly slipped his hand inside your panties, feeling how aroused you were. 

"Fuck-" He groans the tip of his fingers running against your slick folds as  you moan. "You're so wet for me" you couldn’t respond to him as he pushes his fingers inside you both groan. You move your legs wider and you need more as he pushes in deeper, your hips pushing against his hand. His fingers curl up inside you, as you start to whine. Pushing them in and out second by second driving you crazy and he didn't want anything but that. 

"Fuck I forgot how good you are at this" you let out as Spencer says nothing getting onto his knees then pulling down your shorts along with your underwear. You stared at him as he completely removed his hand from your pussy. Before he could say anything he brought one of your legs onto his shoulders before completely devouring you. Groaning at the taste of you, he missed this he missed you. The sound of your moans were music to his ears as he licked in-between your folds. Your hands going into his hair hoping he'd push his tongue into you. That was all Spencer needed; he never forgot how to please you. He knew your ticks inside and out. His pants felt so strained against his cock bust first he wanted you to cum on his tongue for him and only him.

"Ohhh god Spencer!" You cry as he pushes his tongue into you feeling it tense up inside you making your thighs clench in response. His tongue moves vertically and then wiggles slightly pulling you into this back and forth of need and desire.  The pleasure makes you feel dizzy, pulling on his hair tighter. Spencer lets out a groan sending a vibration through your very core. He licked your clit with long, slow strokes, his tongue pushing inside you as he ate you out aggressively. He used his hands to spread your lips apart, giving him better access to your pussy.

"Spence, ohhh yes! Yes!" Spencer loved how responsive you were, your hips bucking against his face as he continued to devour you. He felt your hands grip his hair tightly once again, pulling him closer. He could barely breathe, but he didn't care. He just wanted to make you come on his face.

"Spencer!" You screamed his name as Spencer felt your body tense, he gripped your hips tightly, holding you down as he continued to ravish your core. He felt your body convulse, your thighs quivering as you shattered against his mouth. He lapped up your juices, cleaning you up before helping you back onto your feet. He wasn't done and you weren’t either.

The two of you kiss passionately as you move to the bedroom as you both try to get Spencer’s clothes off. His vest, shoes, and belt laid in a trail towards your bedroom. When he finally gets into your bed you both couldn't help entangling your bodies together.  Both of your moans and groans fill the room as you grind against one another. Spencer knew how worked up you get when it came to clothing. He wanted to watch you squirm under him, beg him to fuck you. Maybe beg him to take you back. But you were impatient tearing his shirt as buttons flew everywhere. You then changed your positions as you sat on top of him kissing his neck and down to his chest.

He looked at you surprised as then at your body. He pictured you riding him for the last time. Admiring how pretty you look and starting picturing you crying as you reached your climax coming apart for him. Even after all this time you were still so pretty to him. Like a goddess, his goddess. If this was the last time he couldn't ruin you like he wanted to, he wanted to make love to you once last time.

Flipping you back over onto the bed he gets up and starts removing his clothes. While he does this you can't help but wonder was this right? Whatever this was, it was messy and complicated and I thought this was one night. What's going to happen tomorrow? 

"Spencer, are you sure you want this?" You ask as Spencer looks at you.

"Y/n I just had oral sex with you 5 minutes ago and you're asking me if I want this?" Your heart starts beating faster as he moves closer to the bed. That look he gave you as he slowly walked towards the bed. 

"I-I know but-" "But what baby?" You don't say anything as the grabs onto your ankles and pull you towards the edge of the bed. 

"Spencer tomorrow-" he cuts you off looking at you in the eyes, his body pressing against yours as his fingers trails down your thighs and back to your pussy. Touching your folds running circles on your clit before dipping it inside of you again. His fingers pumping in and out of your hole until he had enough.  

"Fuck tomorrow I want to make love to you tonight" he says kissing your lips once more as you let him push his cock inside you. All doubts expelling in thoughts as all you could think about Spencer putting his dick inside you. Spencer groaned softly as he slowly entered you,  he missed this he missed you. Pushing inch by inch gives you both time to readjust. Laying kisses down your neck, his hands cupping your boob's as he kisses those too. Sucking on your nipple as he thrusts inside you. 

"So good you feel so good baby" he whispers in your ear, setting a steady pace. His hips snapping against yours as he fucks you. 

"Ahh- I miss this so much" you moan out as Spencer doesn’t say anything going a little faster as he looks you "you're so fucking pretty" he groans as you run your fingers in his hair pulling him into another kiss. His hips moving faster feeling you clenching around him. Your legs wrapping around his and his hands starting to grip your hips. The bed creaking and the frame hitting the wall but you both didn't care. 

Spencer buried his head into your neck as his thrusts had  gone harder and faster. You were milking him clenching around him, you were close he knew it. He needed you to cum all over his cock. 

"Spence- Spence please!" You cry as Spencer looks up at you in awe "shhh you don't have to beg baby, I'm here" he groans as he shifts his weight and it drove you crazy.  Keeping with that angle he thrusts harder and harder making you do nothing but cry and scream his name.

"Look at me baby" you look Spencer in the eyes, something in the way that he looked sent you over the edge. You came around his cock and in a few more thrusts he couldn't take it anymore. You felt his cock twitching inside you. 

"Spencer cum for me please" Spencer tried to pull out but you quickly pulled him back in. He let out a cry as he came inside you for the first time in a long time. 

The two of you didn't stop there, you both couldn't keep your hands off each other. On your floor, the dresser, in the shower, and in your bed again. Both leaving marks and scratches behind on one another. You didn't know how tomorrow was gonna go but that was something you wanted to deal with in the morning.  

The next morning, Spencer woke up first. The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on your face as you slept beside him. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to feel happy. Being with you again, in this quiet, peaceful moment, felt right.

But then the weight of reality sank in.

Nothing had been solved. If anything, last night had made things even more complicated. The storm outside may have passed, but the one between you both still raged, unresolved. Spencer stared at the ceiling, the feeling of unease growing. 

He gently slid out of bed, careful not to wake you. As he stood by the window, staring out at the snow-covered streets, Spencer’s mind raced. How could he go back to D.C. after this? Could he even walk away again, knowing what had just happened between you.

"Good morning, pretty boy," you say, looking up at Spencer with a sleepy smile, your hair a mess. He stares at you, noticing the faint hickies on your neck and the light bruising on your chest. You seemed happy about last night, and that only made the guilt gnaw at him even more.

This couldn't work. He knew that. 

"Y/N, we need to talk," he says quietly, his voice laced with uncertainty.

You roll onto your side, propping your head up with your hand. "I know, Spencer. Look, I miss you like crazy. And I know we hooked up last night, but... give me a year or two, and I'll come back. I could teach in D.C., or Virginia—wherever. I just want to be with you."

"I can’t," Spencer interrupts, his voice tense.

Your face falls, confusion clouding your expression. "What? Why not?"

He sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Y/N, last night was... great, but I think we shouldn't have done it."

It hits you like a punch to the gut. "No," you whisper, disbelief setting in. "You're not doing this to me."

Spencer looks at you, his face pained. "I think last night was just... spur of the moment. We were both emotionally vulnerable, caught up in everything. I think the only reason you're so quick to compromise is because of the sex."

"Are you—" You sit up, fury bubbling in your chest. "You're an asshole, Spencer. You know that?" You shake your head in disbelief. 

"I want you to be happy," he says, his voice soft but firm.

You let out a bitter laugh. "That's rich."

"I'm serious. I don't want you to make a decision based on one night of meaningless sex."

"Is that how low you think of me? You think this was *meaningless* to me?" Your voice cracks as the anger mixes with hurt.

"No, it’s not that. But you love teaching here, and I don’t want you to come back for me and wake up one day realizing you’re not happy with your life. You deserve more than that." You couldn’t believe this, you couldn’t believe he was here saying this to your face. Here you thought you could make your relationship work again.  Hold onto the love you once shared. Thinking that you could compromise yet here Spencer was breaking your heart all over again.  

"Get out of my apartment," you snap, your voice cold, the betrayal clear.

"Y/N, at least understand—"

"No!" you cut him off, your eyes flashing with anger. "You said everything you needed to say last night. Now leave." He wanted to say something else, he wanted you to know that he loved you and that he was letting you go because he did. "Go!" You screamed, making him jump as you threw your pillow at him and missed. 

Spencer stands there for a moment, his eyes searching yours for any chance to explain, but the message is clear. He quickly gathers his things, his heart heavy with sadness as he walks out of the room, the door closing behind him with a final, painful thud.

[tusks-and-claws]

The Death of Peace of Mind

Miguel O’hara x female reader

Summary: "I miss the way you say my name/the way you bend, the way you break"

You think your fearless leader needs help relaxing, but another door is opened entirely

Tags/warnings: smut (18+), oneshot, fingering, blowjob, pronebone, blood, biting, unprotected sex, paralytic venom, dominant Miguel, dirty talk, God there’s so much to list : )

Word count: 3.3k 

Can also be found on Ao3 here. Please give it some love if you enjoyed ;_;

-

"I know better than this, I shouldn't be… we shouldn't be doing this."

Miguel O'Hara sat at the edge of your bed, your room softly illuminated by a candle on the bedside table. He liked the dark. His back was to you, his broad shoulders slumped forward, as you had your back against your headboard. He was still in his suit, his mask off.

"Miguel…" you said, starting this conversation again for the umpteenth time. "You have needs, too, y'know." 

He waved a hand dismissively. "What are my needs when compared to all this?" He gestured to nothing. You weren't even at HQ. You were both in your dimension. A vacation, you had said. You could never get him to leave HQ for long. "I know what happens when I try to get what I want. When I go where I don't belong."

You furrowed your brow. "But you do belong here, I invited you."

"You know exactly what I mean." He spoke quickly. Trying to expel the words as fast as possible. 

Your arms crossed over your chest as you eyed him. He'd been through a lot, yes, but what Spider hadn't? How long was he going to keep ignoring himself for the greater good? What purpose would he serve if he tore himself apart? 

"You're right," you said, finally. 

"What?" He asked, peering over his shoulder to look at you, incredulous. 

"You're right," you repeated. "You can leave."

"I… well. I suppose I can leave. Do you… want me to?"

You suppressed a smile. "I don't really care," you lied. 

"You…?" He turned around at that, hands on the bed as he swiveled his torso to meet your eyes. "You can't be serious. I- I made the effort to make sure Jess could cover me so we could come here, I… it's a huge waste of time. You see that, don't you?" 

"I guess so." It was hard for you to break eye contact with him, but you managed to do it, and stared pointedly out the window. 

"You 'guess,' I can't-" he rubbed his face with his hands. "You're so frustrating, I can't read you, you-" 

Your face broke, betraying you, a smirk cracking your façade.

He narrowed his eyes, fully turning around now, bringing his knees up onto the bed to crawl to you. His claws came out, and they pulled at the threads of your comforter, threatening to tear holes. "Is this what you want? You want to make me mad?" 

You blushed as he made his way to you, his sudden intensity stirring you into silence. 

"Well?" He asked. "Suddenly so quiet." He reached you now, looming over you with both hands on the headboard on either side of you, his muscular thighs straddling your legs. His huge frame took up your whole vision, his presence overwhelming your heightened senses. Heat was radiating from his body. His scent washed over you. He was all clean musk and warmth and something deeper, something primal. It played to your baser mind, telling you to lose control and give in. 

You swallowed. "You have no need to stay here." You weren't done teasing him just yet. 

"But you have need, hm?" He looked down to study your form, releasing his hands from the headboard to touch the hem of your shirt. "Don't you?"

You held your breath, nodding.

"Say it." His tone was casual. Flippant.

Your breath left you as your lips parted to speak, the words far from you as your brain grew foggy. He always liked to hear you admit how much you wanted it, how much you wanted him. And he always asked you when he knew you'd struggle to form a response. 

"Yes." It was the only thing your brain made abundantly clear. Yes. Yes, you have needs. Yes, in this moment, he was one of them. 

"Yes what?"

How cruel. Under his gaze for this long, intense and bloodshot, you grew more flustered and delirious. 

"Yes, Miguel, I have need of you." You impressed yourself with the eloquence of your reply. 

"Oh? Oh, do you?" His hands finally moved again, snaking under the bottom of your shirt, the fabric of his suit keeping your skin from touching his. "That's kind of selfish of you, isn't it?"

You nodded, biting your bottom lip and closing your eyes as his hands moved to firmly hold the sides of your waist, thumbs stroking soft skin. He was being careful to not scratch you. Though his claws were retractable, you noticed throughout your encounters that he had a hard time keeping them hidden when his passions were running high. But part of you didn't care if he marked you up. Part of you wanted to keep something from him. Something more than awkward passing glances and intimate encounters that were few and far between. 

"M-Miguel?"

"Mm? What is it?"

"You don't need to be gentle, y’know."

His gaze flicked to meet yours as he raised an eyebrow. He seemed amused. 

"It's just that," for some reason, you felt the need to elaborate. "I'm strong, too. I can handle it. You've been so stressed."

"So… you want me to use you?" His voice was low and level. 

Use. The word sent a shock up your spine. He could see the emotions flashing across your face, the thoughts of him, of what he might do to you. Was this safe? Could he control himself? He'd have to. You'd just have to trust him. 

You released a breath you hadn't noticed you were holding, meeting him in his bloodshot eyes. "Yes. Please."

He grinned, bearing his pearly fangs in the flickering candlelight. The fog in your head grew thicker at the sight of them. Would he bite you with them? How would they feel against your skin? How would they feel piercing you? Would it hurt? Would it-

The feeling of his bare forefinger, claw retracted, gently teasing your slit quickly shut you up. When did he move his hand under the hem of your shorts? You were so deep within your own clouded thoughts, you hadn't even noticed. He caressed you there before carefully plunging his finger into your heat. The feeling was immediately maddening. You bit your lip to keep yourself from asking for more, for another finger, for his mouth, for his- no. You were following his pace. This was what you wanted, yes, but it was mostly for him. You somehow knew that he needed this more than you did, though he'd never admit it.

The whole time, he kept his reddened eyes on your face, studying every reaction. "You're wet, you're so wet…." His voice was quiet. "So, this is what does it for you, huh?" He pumped his finger at a steady pace. You could hear the wet sounds he elicited with his efforts. You braced yourself on his hulking shoulders, preparing for him to quicken at any moment. But he was agonizingly slow. His free hand gripped the headboard above you as he leaned down to whisper into your ear. "Me, your leader, using you." There was that word again. You lightly arched your back into him upon hearing it, trying to keep yourself calm for now. Falling apart could come later. "I try so hard to hold it all together. But you… you threaten me. The looks you give me, your smiles, your smell, estoy cachondo, fuck." Your eyes widened. He only spoke Spanish when his emotions were heightened. He was unraveling. 

Good.

He slipped his digit out from inside of you and circled your clit with a slick fingertip. The feeling was intense and electric, and even though you were still half-pinned by his muscular thighs, your upper body curled into him. "Seeing you like this…" he swallowed, his heartbeat quickening. "Rendering you helpless… It's revenge for how you make me feel when you look at me the way you do. If I can make you feel half of that… that might be enough. You're going to come for me. Feel what I feel." 

You nodded fervently, unable to speak under his attention, his words, his touch. That delicious, warm feeling was building up and coiling in your core as he kept expertly circling your clit, until the coil finally snapped and you came, lifting up off of the bed and throwing your arms around his neck as you whimpered. Miguel continued as you rode it out, reveling in the newfound wetness that came with your orgasm, until you finally settled down, your heart still thumping in your chest. You released your hold of him, your arms weak, your gaze heavy. He seemed to match your labored breathing, his chest rising and falling in time with yours. You had hardly even touched him and he seemed as much of a mess as you were. 

He stared at you like that for a brief moment, seemingly awestruck at your reaction to this newly opened door. 

"God, I need… I need your mouth around my cock." He flipped unceremoniously off of you to lay on his back at your side. "Come here." Before you had time to react, he had a hand on your head, guiding you downward. Despite the forceful movement, he fondly scratched at your scalp with bare fingers, his hand shaking just enough for you to notice. You positioned yourself so your head rested on his hard abdominals while you admired the display he brought you down to see. His hard cock pushed against his nearly metallic suit. The sheen of the fabric left almost nothing to the imagination. You could see his thick shaft, prominent veins like rivers flowing over a landscape, all leading up to the bulbous head. He twitched eagerly as he sighed, trying to calm his heart. 

You reached your hand up to touch Miguel through his suit, and his reaction was bodily. He hissed a breath in through clenched teeth. You played with his hard length, running the flat of your palm up and down the underside of his shaft, until he couldn't take it anymore. He seemed to be able to dismiss parts of his suit at will, and he did just that, creating an opening so he could spring free. It was always an impressive sight, sizable and thick. His golden skin slightly red with anticipation at the head of his cock, soft dark waves of short hair at the base. Reaching up, you gently held it. You couldn't quite wrap your whole hand around it. He exhaled at your touch, skin on skin. The hand he had in your hair gently pushed your head until your waiting lips met the tip of his cock, and you accepted it, closing your mouth around it.

Miguel threw his head back, slamming it against the headboard and shaking the two of you on the bed. The sound startled you, but you knew the headboard would've taken more damage than Miguel. He gave no indication that he was hurt, and so you kept going, sucking on the tip of his cock and being as noisy as possible so it would overwhelm that heightened hearing of his. And overwhelm it did. The soft, wet heat of your mouth was nearly too much for him. And as you started to take him deeper, he reached his arms up and behind him, taking the headboard into a vice grip. You could hear the wood splintering. 

That should've worried you, you should've cared about your furniture being destroyed. But you didn't. You couldn't, not with Miguel O'Hara melting underneath you. He could destroy a thousand bed frames. So long as you could touch him, could hear him moaning, could watch him as he barely held his composure. This would always be worth it. 

You took him further into your mouth, humming around his length at the pleasant,  full feeling. You were slow, holding him there, savoring the taste of him and the weight of him on your tongue.

"M-move-" he croaked.

You turned your gaze towards his face, raising an eyebrow. He was straining. Muscles bulging, chest heaving, fangs displayed in clenched teeth. You could see the prominent cracks in the wood.

"Move your shocking head, amor."

His hands came down to tangle with your hair, grabbing handfuls so he could move your head for you. You happily let him, and he bobbed you up and down on his shaft as you opened your throat to him. 

"Oh, fuck, yes… that's it. Good girl. You're- you're taking me so fucking well." 

Your eyes started rolling into the back of your head fondly. Good girl. He'd never called you that before. You'd be good for him. You'd be so good. 

The sounds coming from you were the very definition of lewd, as were the strands of thick saliva that connected you to him. You closed your eyes, continuing to breathe through your nose, when you felt something prick your scalp. His claws. In and out, in and out. He was struggling to keep control of them.

"Ay, coño, I can't fucking do this." His voice barely a whisper. "You're gonna," he paused, swallowing. "You're gonna make me lose control, you know that?" Despite his words, he kept going, kept moving your head, even started to thrust his hips up to fuck your throat more thoroughly. His moans turned into what could only be described as growls, and the sound of them hit you like an electric shock, making you want him even more. If that were even possible. 

His claws kept scraping you, threatening to fully unsheath. But Miguel never let them. He finally let your head go, bringing his hands up to his face and rubbing it in exhaustion. You stayed on his cock for a moment longer, carefully lifting your head away and disconnecting from him with a wet pop.

He groaned to himself through his hands. 

"Miguel…? You alright?"

"No." He finally said, "no, I'm fucking not."

You cocked your head in surprise at the response, opening your mouth to question him further until you were cut off by him quickly grabbing you and positioning you underneath him. He was pinning your legs again, but you were faced down this time, your cheeks pressed against the soft sheets as he pushed you into the mattress. He finally let his claws out, and with one swift movement, tore your shorts and panties into ribbons. In that moment, you were glad he couldn't see your face. You were grinning like an idiot. Finally. You're finally seeing the side of him that you always knew was there. That you desperately wanted him to let out. Your previous encounters had been tame compared to this. He'd been holding back. 

"Because now," he grabbed your waist with both of his large hands, holding firm. "Now I know that you like being treated like a little fucktoy. I know that you'll be good for me and that you'll listen. What a rarity." He started to line up the tip of his cock with your entrance. "And if I thought you took up too much space in my head already, well-" he chuckled, pushing his tip into your pussy. "I'll never have peace of mind again."

He thrusted into you, and you were immediately seeing stars. With each pump, he took himself nearly all the way out of your warmth before plunging all the way back in. You could feel every delicious, hot inch of him. So deep and so filling. He fucked you into the mattress so thoroughly and so hard that you were convinced a crater was forming underneath the both of you. You felt the sharp points of his claws pricking your skin but not quite puncturing you. Your head swam as you grew dizzy. 

He released your waist, left hand steadying himself on the low headboard, which was bound to break again. His right arm snuck up underneath your right arm, reaching around your collarbone to grab at your left shoulder, pulling you up so you were close into him. His chest was flush with your back. You reached up to hold onto that arm for dear life, as he brought his mouth down to your ear. 

"Wanna bite you so bad, amor," he growled. "You smell so shocking good. Drivin' me up a fucking wall."

"Do it," you said, your voice strained.

"Wh-what?" His pace wavered. "You can't mean that."

"I- fuck- I do. Bite me, Miguel. Please."

"Are you," he exhaled a shaky breath. "Are you sure? It's a paralytic venom. I've- I've used it on Spiders before and we can withstand it a bit, but, shit… I need you to know what you're getting into." 

"Do it," you said again. 

His entire body shook against you. "Unbelievable…." His voice sounded reverent. "Hold on tight."

You listened, gripping his arm harder, shutting your eyes. His mouth came down to meet the crook of your neck. He inhaled, letting your scent wash over him, before carefully sinking his fangs into your skin. The pain was sharp and fast, and was quickly replaced with a wave of warmth and laxity. Your muscles loosened, allowing him to easily pull you in even closer. He moaned against you, his thrusts quickening, his cock feeling like it was hitting your cervix. With every smack of his skin against yours, he buried himself to the hilt. That incredible, intense feeling was building within you again, deep inside your core.

"Fuck," he hissed into your skin, releasing his jaws and lapping at the light trickle of crimson blood. "Good girl, good girl, I've got you."

He held you and didn't let go, caging you against his huge form, fucking you until that feeling turned into a huge sunburst that sent spots across your vision. Your body trembled involuntarily as you clenched around his cock. 

"Yes," he encouraged, "yes, come for me. Give it all to me. I've got you, bebé."

You smiled against the venom, and he was right, it wasn't too potent in your system. It was just enough to comfortably loosen your muscles. You came down from your high as he kept pumping into you, his pace merciless. His body started to shake again, his right hand's grip on your left shoulder tightening. 

“Too much for me to handle,” he rasped. “I’m gonna come… gonna come inside you.”

“Yes,” you croaked, finding your voice and gaining back enough control of your muscles to push yourself up into him. 

His tempo stuttered as he slammed his hips into you, curling against you as he came. His cock twitched inside of you, spilling hot seed in thick spurts. He held you there for a long while, savoring the feeling of being inside you, like he knew he'd miss the warmth once it was gone. Despite what he wanted, he let go of you and flipped onto his back beside you, placing a hand over his heart as his chest heaved. He closed his eyes, trying to compose himself. Silently reaching for you, he pulled you in so you could rest against his chest, your head rising and falling with each heavy breath he took. He stroked your hair as you stared up at him, his face glowing in the yellow shine of candlelight. 

"That…" he started to say, then stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I…. I needed that." 

You smiled, nuzzling into him. "Thank you." 

"You're thanking me?" He asked, laughing at how ridiculous it sounded. 

"Yeah," you said. "I feel like I finally saw Miguel tonight. Not Spider-Man. But Miguel. And I really like him." 

He rolled his eyes but still smiled, petting your head until you fell asleep on him.

[delopsia]

Thot for you.

You’re not sure how it started but you and Rhett figure out he rides best when he doesn’t come for a day or two before rides. He makes it far on the circuit so pretty soon it turns into a week or more and he’s a hot, needy mess. He wins (of course) and cries when he finally gets to come.

Eeek! I thought I answered this, but I must've forgotten to save my draft 😔

The way that this is like...Rhett's own personal heaven and hell, all at the same time. He's scoring higher than he ever has, consistently dominating the scoreboards and earning rounds upon rounds of applause, but also, he's losing his damn mind.

It was cute when the deal was, "No sex 48 hours before the rodeo." He could handle that. Between work and sleep, he hardly even noticed, but now the finals are creeping around the corner, and you haven't let him cum for nearly two and a half weeks now.

Rhett's never really thought of himself as being obsessed with sex or anything of that realm, but fuck, he can't quit thinking about it. Sits there rethinking his life choices when he wakes up hard in the morning, catches himself idly palming at the bulge in his jeans while he's resting in the pasture.

Everything is reminding him of the one thing that he wants, and you're. Not. Helping. Wearing those damned shorts that flatter your thighs, sitting in his lap, kissing his neck, innocently riling him up, and never doing anything about it.

Of course, he could succumb to the urge in his lower belly and touch himself, but he already knows that you'd figure it out if he did so. He's already in this deep. So he keeps clinging to that last thread of sanity until the moment he's climbed on the back of that multi-thousand-pound animal.

The rush of turning around and seeing his name jump up to the #1 slot was enough to distract him from it for an hour or two. Adrenaline and disbelief blind him from thinking about anything that isn't related to winning the rodeo.

You're not sure when he broke.

All you know is that you were stopping at the house to wash up before going back out to see his friends when, all of a sudden, he started fussing. Batting his pretty eyes at you, whining for his reward, so damn eager that he trips over his own words.

"I, I want...want—" He's cut short by your finger, pressing against his lips, big, dark eyes downright shimmering as he looks at you.

He's so pretty once you get him in bed. Unbuttoned flannel pooling at his sides, chest heaving, head rolling back and forth as your hand works him. Slow, tight strokes that pull noise after noise out of his throat, pitchy and broken apart by babbles of your name.

"Please, please, please!" He hiccups, squeezing his eyes shut, a stray tear rolling down his flushed cheek. "Wanna cum!"

"You can, dummy," you breathe. "You won, didn't you?"

His head bobs up and down with a nod. "Mhm."

You wish that you had brought a camera into the bedroom because the sight of his orgasm washing over him is one you never want to forget. Back arching off the bed, head thrashing as he cums with a sharp cry, grunting with every rope of cum that paints your hand.

It's one of those orgasms that take him a moment to come down from, and when he does, his bones have been replaced with jelly. Lazily blinking at you with that dumb, crooked smile, grumbling when you ask if he still wants to go out. It's probably the only rodeo night where he's asleep before 1AM, but come morning, he'll be waking you up bright and early for a round two, three, and four.

You hardly get anything productive done that week.

[chixkencxrry]

What of Loss do Children Know

Summary: This a small drabble about Miguel's girlfriend being worried after seeing him injured. (Miguel x Fem!Reader) (CW: NOT PROOFED, mentions of sex, angst, mentions of death.)

***

It was a slow, easy morning until you saw it. You had been excited at the sight of your vigilante boyfriend in your bed.

The yellow sunlight falling on the perfect outlines of Miguel’s face. You furrowed your brow as you watched him; there was a gash on his cheek that wasn’t there yesterday afternoon when he left. Sure, it was already healing but it looked painful. You’d finished off your night shift, and peeled your uniform off. Heading for a shower when you saw him — Miguel looked exhausted. Had it not been for the rise and fall of his chest, you might have thought he was dead. Turning away, you showered and dressed, you couldn’t stop yourself from joining him on the bed.

He moved in an instant. Heavy eyes pulling open to look at you. You tried to keep your face neutral. Tried not to cry at the aches settling into his bones, the creak of pain as he turned to you.

“You look like shit.” You said without preamble, fingers on his jaw as you looked at him carefully. “What happened?”

Miguel sighed. “Fight went bad. The usual.”

“This isn’t fucking usual, Miguel.” Tear choked your words. You hand fell to his collarbone, sliding doing to his chest. Rise. Fall. Rise. “I’m so scared. So scared every time you come back to me like this.”

“Hey, hey.” He sat up, holding your shoulders as you wept. “I’m right here. It’s just a side effect of the job.”

You sneered, shaking his hold and turning your back to him. “The job? Why does it have to be your job? Why do you have to almost kill yourself every night to save the world?”

“Babe, you aren’t making this easy.”

“Easy? What’s easy about seeing the man you love be battered?”

“I have to do this. I’m sorry but I can’t let things go wrong when I have the power to stop them.”

You knew he was right but didn’t want him to be the one. What if one night he didn’t come back to you? Standing, you grabbed your pillow and went to the living room. Miguel called after you but you slammed the bedroom door shut with your hip. Tears burning your eyes, you threw your pillow onto the couch and laid down head first, the cushion muffling your tears.

Miguel saved lives. But who would be there to save him if something went wrong? God, you didn’t want to lose him.

Moments pass, and soon you felt the heavy press of Miguel against your back, pushing you into the couch. You turned your head, eyes on the plain grey of the chair. Your fingers wiped your eyes and you sniffled. “Do you know what would happen if I lost you? I would lose my mind, Miguel.”

His nose brushed along your back. Lips feathering kisses on your bare skin until it meant the spaghetti strap of your tank top. “You’re not going to lose me. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that. You can’t.”

He relented; “You’re right. I can’t. But I can try.”

Miguel’s fingers threaded with yours. His breathe, warm and sweet kissed your skin. Your heartbeat slowed. You felt pressure leaving your neck, relaxing your muscles as he pressed himself to you.

“I’m sorry for freaking out.” You whispered.

“No. You’re right…I…couldn’t lose you either if the roles were reversed.”

You hummed, wiggling beneath him. “Baby, you’re kind of heavy.”

Miguel laughed, then friend his hips into your ass, morning wood making a steely appearance. “Brat.”

“Mhmm. You better do something about it then.” You teased, rubbing your ass along his length. Miguel circled his arms around you and turned your body to face him. The pain of the earlier morning disappeared as the two of you fell into each other, lovers braided and dancing as the yellow light filled the room. Gripping each other as tightly as possible, solid and whole in each other's arms. Each refusing to let go of the other.

It was slow, randy and filled with whispers of promises that could not be fulfilled. Don't let me go, you both seemed to scream into the other. Nails clawing, teeth dragging -- don't let me go. You made liars out of the other in your love.

Like all things made by humans, love would crumble. Whether by nature or force. No promise was stronger than that.

masterlist

[deathblacksmoke]

you’ve got a pretty way about you

pairing: noah sebastian x fem reader

cw: oral sex (f receiving), fingering, masturbation (m)

taglist: @concretenoah / @ladyveronikawrites / @lma1986 / @monotoniscreaming

if you would like to be tagged, please let me know :)

author’s note: just a tiny little sexy little drabble. @concretenoah started this brainrot and has been helping me brainstorm for weeks. it has been haunting our text thread. i want it gone from me. from our silly little brains to yours, y’all enjoy 🤍

title from “drown me out” by pity sex.

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

“Is all this for me?” Noah asks, running his fingers gently down your slit and through your wetness.

You feel small and loved as he watches, his eyes glazed over as he admires you. You’ll never get used to the way it makes your skin burn.

You sigh when he presses a finger against your clit before running it back down and he chuckles, looking up at you.

“There she is.” Noah says, resting his head against your thigh with a smile. The heat radiating off his cheeks onto your bare skin makes you ache for him. “I asked you a question, baby. Is all this for me?”

You gasp at the feeling of his breath ghosting over you, raising your head off the pillow briefly to look down at him and nod. You know he prefers when you use your words but he lets it slide this time, placing a kiss to the inside of your thigh.

When he fingers through your folds again, it makes you shiver. His index and middle finger gently spread you open and he gasps, focused on the way they glisten with you. You almost want to close your legs and crawl away, shy under his gaze.

The thoughts leave you when his tongue dips between your folds, barely licking inside. He’s always so slow, so delicate with it. It makes your tummy flip, being the center of his attention like this.

“So pretty.” He says, awestruck, not looking at your face but focused on your center still. Your cheeks heat as you sink deeper into the mattress, letting yourself get lost in the feeling when he licks over you again, more insistent, sucking your clit into his mouth.

The feeling consumes you. You’ve been wet and needy for him since the moment he closed the bedroom door and pinned you against it. You’ve been vibrating with want, unable to settle, since the moment he laid you down and covered your body with his.

The sight of him between your legs sets you on fucking fire. You cry out when he moans against you, slipping two of his fingers inside.

The practiced ease with which he fingers you always has you seeing stars. You struggle to catch your breath as he curls his fingers, rubbing insistently against that spot inside you that makes you gasp and grind your hips down into his hand and his mouth.

His face is buried like he wants to drown in you. And sometimes you think maybe he does, with the way he gets lost in it, groaning as he licks between your folds, long fingers rubbing against that spot like getting you there is the only thing he’s ever wanted.

And you’re getting there. You’re so close and when you look between your legs, you see him rutting his hips against the mattress, chasing his own end, moaning and gasping.

You tangle your fingers through his hair, riding his face before squeezing your eyes shut and allowing yourself to completely lose yourself in it.

“Noah,” you whine as you cum, gasping before yanking at his hair, pulling his face up to kiss you once you’re too sensitive. “Let me see you cum, baby.”

He groans into your mouth, and you feel the shift as he takes his cock out of his pants but doesn’t stop kissing you for a moment.

When he straightens up, his hand is moving over himself so frantically you can tell he’s close. Your eyes glaze over with need, to see him finish and to hear him when he does.

He gasps out your name and hunches forward as you feel his cum paint the skin of your belly, the sound and the sight making you dizzy.

“Thank you.” He whispers into your mouth before kissing you thoroughly.

“No, thank you.” You respond, happy and sated.

[k3yreviewer25]

WOE ARO CTUBBO FICLET BE UPON YE

fair warning, this contains referenced / implied sex, so take that into consideration 👍

(planning on adding more to this eventually but I'm busy with gift exchange stuff rn so this is it for now)

There were a lot of moments in Tubbo's life when he asked himself, "How did it come to this?"

Jolting awake on his cot in Pogtopia, face still searing and hot to the touch.

Staring down from the top of a wall as his best friend was dragged away from their home.

Staring up at a tower that stretched too far up to see the top, a tower that meant that his best friend was really and truly gone.

Blinking back to awareness on an elevator descending into the depths of a mountain.

Hovering a shaky hand over a button. The button. Their final solution.

But this was the first time it wasn't just a moment. There was no urgency, no threat cutting short his thoughts. He could give himself the time he needed to contemplate, to trace back every thread that had led him here.

To sitting in bed, so late that it was looping around to being early, watching the steady rise and fall of Ranboo's chest as they sleep.

He can't pinpoint exactly when this moment had become inevitable. Was it when Ranboo had put a tentative hand on Tubbo's thigh? Or when Tubbo had messaged them to come over in the first place? Maybe it hadn't even started here. Maybe it'd started in whatever timeline they'd first met. Maybe this had just been an accumulation of every moment they'd shared in all those previous timelines. Some kind of magnet drawing them back to each over and over again.

Ranboo had asked him once if he believed in soulmates, in another timeline. Pretty similar circumstances to where they were now. Ranboo's eyes had been glazed over and their breath choppy as they wheezed out the question, and Tubbo had been too exhausted to think about it properly.

"Yeah, sure, I reckon so." He didn't, not in the slightest, but it wasn't like it was a real question. Just one of those ones that people asked when they were playing at being romantic. If there was one thing Tubbo was great at, it was playing along. "What about you?"

"I do now." Tubbo couldn't help giggling. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing, you're just- you're really cute, dude."

Then it was Ranboo's turn to laugh breathlessly. "You're really just gonna call me 'dude' after that?"

"Oh, sorry sweetie." The pet name felt awkward in his mouth. He hoped Ranboo hadn't sensed that. "My pookie poo."

"Okay, maybe we can workshop that a little bit."

"Mm-hm." Not now, though. Now was the time for sleeping. Tubbo rolled over to rest his head on Ranboo's chest, right next to a scar that ran down the center of it. He'd been there for that one, watched as Ranboo lost their second life to a sword bursting through their back. And now they were both here. Together and safe, even though that always seemed an impossible dream on this server.

And it was, in the end. That timeline had been reset, just like so many before and after it. Ranboo doesn't have that scar now. They've only lost one life and it'd been to an arrow. The scar from it shines faintly on their throat, nearly hidden by the marks Tubbo had left on it.

This won't end like last time. It has to last. Dream XD was sealed away. They'd broken out of the loop. Things are finally beginning to settle into a sense of normalcy, even if some of the pieces are missing. If Tubbo has to go through losing and forgetting everyone and everything he knows all over again, he'll go crazy.

And all things considered, it isn't the worst timeline they could've ended on. He and Ranboo have both only lost a single life. Tommy, through some miracle, still has all three of his lives. Nobody's unearthed the Egg yet. There's no big villains or conflicts looming on the horizon.

It's a starting point. Albeit an imperfect one, but still. They can figure it out.

"Tubbo?" He startles, eyes flicking up to meet Ranboo's. How long have they been awake? "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just not really tired tonight." He doesn't need to bother Ranboo with the rest of it. "You can go back to sleep."

Of course Ranboo doesn't do that, because they're too much of a sweetheart for their own good. They sit up, the blanket slipping down to bunch around their hips, and Tubbo doesn't even bother with trying to be subtle about staring.

"A copper for your thoughts?"

Tubbo opens his mouth. Immediately snaps it shut again.

He could lie again. Tell Ranboo that it's nothing serious. Tell them that it's nothing a distraction wouldn't fix. It's a constant across the timelines that the two of them lie to each other, or at the very least omit some truths.

"Do you still believe in soulmates?" It falls out of his mouth before he can catch it.

"Um, yeah, I- I guess so." Ranboo rests their cheek on their palm, tail waving idly behind them. "Why do you ask?"

Tubbo shrugs. "I dunno. Just been thinking about it recently. You know, about all the other timelines, I guess. Like free will and all that."

"Oh, that's, um, some heavy stuff for four in the morning."

"Good thing I'm buff as hell then," Tubbo grins, flexing a bicep at Ranboo. "You wouldn't even believe how heavy my thoughts can get."

Only after he says it does he realize how close that is to an admission. It sounds like how Tommy talks about his own issues. Maybe he's starting to rub off on Tubbo. Next thing you know, Tubbo'll be going to therapy too.

Scooting a little closer, Ranboo presses a kiss to his arm. "Well, hey, if those thoughts ever, you know, get too heavy, I can help lighten the load."

They're teetering on the edge of something here, something more sincere and emotional than Tubbo has the bandwidth for at the moment. "You saying you wanna take my load, bossman? Cause there's still a couple hours before sunrise."

The flush that instantly spreads on Ranboo's face makes the redirection so, so worth it. "N-no, I mean- Well, yeah- I mean, if you want to-"

He cuts himself short as Tubbo slips a hand under the blanket. "Mm-hm?"

With a full body shudder and a deep sigh, Ranboo drapes himself over Tubbo's shoulder. "Mm-hm…"

Tubbo grins and pushes them down.

[twoidiotwriters1]

let me see you -Gilbert Blythe xFem!reader

Request: @ghostlyaccurate [...]maybe they recently had a baby, and reader is a little self cautious abt her body, and maybe she's overthinking abt herself and some tooth rotting soft smut occurs because Gilbert loves her regardless of what she looks like... Words: 1,324 Warnings: 18+ content, oral sex (fem receiving), mentions of pregnancy Twoidiots Masterlist

You're getting ready for bed after another blessed long day, as it has become your habit, you undress facing the wall instead of the mirror.

You've come to terms with the fact that your body might take a while before it goes back to its former figure, that if it ever does, and so you take each layer of fabric without paying much attention to yourself.

It's been three months and a half since you had your beautiful baby, but you still fear any sudden movements will affect your recovery, even if Gilbert insists that your body is ready to keep up with your normal speed.

As if summoned by your thoughts, Gilbert silently knocks on the door and then steps inside once your quiet voice allows him to come in. His eyes are immediately drawn to your figure, a small yet appreciative smile on his face as he approaches with open arms.

"We should rest," you turn quickly, escaping his embrace like you've done for the past two weeks.

"Y/N," he says reproachfully, his brow furrowing with disappointment. "Have I done something wrong?"

"Of course not," you sit on your side of the bed, kicking off your slippers and lifting a foot to rub it. "But we should rest, we don't know for how long will the baby let us sleep tonight, and you have work tomorrow."

Gilbert untucks his shirt, still frowning. "You won't let me touch you, don't think I don't notice."

"Don't be silly, Gilbert," you huff, turning to pull down the covers and sneak underneath them.

"Y/N Blythe," he scowls. "Look at me." He approaches your side of the bed and gets on one knee, gently touching your forearm. He observes you carefully for a moment before continuing to speak. "Is this about your recovery again?"

"No," you huff again, then wrinkle your nose. "Not quite."

Gilbert nods, gaze a bit absent as he thinks of what to say next. He gets up to sit beside you. "Is it about your body figure?" Before you can protest he hurries to explain. "I heard Diana and you when she came to visit you—she was telling you how hard it was to look at herself because she'd lost her juvenile body, and you said you knew what she meant."

You stare at your hands, clasped together and fidgeting with the lace in your nightgown. "Some nights I feel like I've aged decades in just a few months. And then I look at you, and you're still same old Gilbert running up and down the stairs, picking me up, rushing out and about. I feel inadequate."

"That's preposterous," he exclaims in disapproval. "I could not imagine a world in which you do not suit me, Y/N. My beautiful wife, there is not a day since we discovered you were having a baby that I have not felt awe and infatuation."

He leans in, reaching to caress your jawline with utmost reverence. You tilt your head into his touch, holding his hand in place with a gentle grip. "You haven't seen me since I had our baby, my body isn't as it was..."

"We were never going to stay the same, dearest," he mutters. "Even if no children had come, our bodies would've lost strength and volume with time. Wrinkles would come, our hair would lose color..." He runs his thumb over your cheek. "I didn't marry a body, I married to our love."

Gilbert shifts closer and presses a soft kiss to your temple. "I married your heart," he kisses your cheek, "your laughter..." his lips brush lower, reaching the soft skin under your ear, "your soul..."

His lips find your neck and press firm, loving kisses on the spot. His hand travels from your cheek to the back of your head, softly threading in the fine locks of hair he finds.

"Let me see you, dearest," he breathes, gently pushing you back. "You have no reason to fear."

His free hand moves up to the lace in your nightgown and expertly tugs on the bow, undoing the wrapping without looking and sneaking his palm underneath it, caressing your soft, sensitive chest with a featherlight touch.

"There you are," he smiles against your skin.

You close your eyes and press your head against the pillow, his head slipping from under your head and pushing against the mattress as he travels down, inhaling your perfume as he buries his nose in the open slit of your nightgown."

"Y/N..." he sighs, his hand tightening around the sheets. "How I've missed you..."

"I missed you too," you admit in a shaky whisper, one of your hands reaching for his soft curls and clinging to them gently. "My love..."

He groans, kissing a path down the valley of your breasts. "May I make love to you, my dear?"

You nod unable to speak, the air in your lungs too light to spare it. Benedict pushes the fabric wide open revealing your form to his eyes. His pupils dilate hungrily, months of patient waiting finally coming to an end. His large hand presses carefully on your tummy, and he locks eyes with you.

"I worship you entirely," he says, "but this?" He caresses your navel. "This part of you is my goddess. And this..." his hand moves down, slipping past the apex of your legs. His smile widens when you arch against his fingers. "That is my holy grail."

"Oh, Gilbert," you shiver, your legs curling under his touch.

Your husband kisses down your stomach. "You created a whole new little person in a matter of months, your body had to adjust to some changes..." he mumbles. "You're so wonderful, Y/N. I couldn't possibly love anyone else."

He reaches his destination at your core, and without warning, buries his face between your thighs, feasting on your juices. You gasp, bucking up your hips as he licks and sucks around your sensitive bud.

His hands grip your thighs apart, making sure you don't squirm out of reach on accident. Gilbert moans as if he's been praying for this moment to come, and it makes you feel perfect.

The moment you gather enough wit to control your limbs, Gilbert relaxes his hold on you, moving his hands all over your body instead. Revisiting old paths he's left unattended for far too long. He groans are every new luscious curve, his blood growing warmer at the idea of rediscovering you again.

"Gilbert..." you beg, panting with the struggle of not raising your voice too much and waking the baby.

Gilbert teases your entrance with his tongue, looking up to watch your reaction and smiling when he sees your cheeks flush a darker shade of red. He wishes to come here and finish every day like this, with your sweetness enveloping all of his senses.

Your body starts to tingle and tighten, and you warn Gilbert in a hasty whisper, closing your eyes in ecstasy. Your husband moans the moment you fall off the edge, hearing the contained whimpers you let out as you ride out your climax.

You brush his hair back and tug gently to let him know you've had enough and he sits up, cleaning his mouth and chin with the back of his hand, a triumphant look in his eyes as he smiles down at you.

"Like a fine wine," he breathes heavily.

You giggle tiredly, still catching your breath. Gilbert climbs back to your side and you roll to your side, he cuddles against you, wrapping one arm around your waist and pulling you closer to his chest.

"I wish to love you now," you mumble.

"Later," he says resolutely. "You're tired, and it's probably for the best if we take things slow. Do not worry about me."

"I do not worry, I love you."

Gilbert's smile softens, he tilts his head and kisses your hair. "That's more than enough."

Taglist.

@ninizkd @http-itsrebecca @aleksosoto @moonhoonie @thatonementallyillsimp @cedricisnotdead @mikaelsonwhxrebae @lavenderacademia @angelhugsaresweet @slytherinambitious @outofst1le @na1ven3vy @lucyk

[mikuni14]

4 Minutes - Ep 4

This ep featured some of my favorite tropes: when two lovers share a secret that requires them to choose between their loved one and a cause, family, work, etc., when one of them decides to side with and protect their beloved, even if it means opposing and endangering their own family. And also that, besides Great choosing to side with Tyme and the kidnapped girl against his own family, Tyme himslef also doesn't waver in his conviction about what's right like Tan, even if it could cost him Great.

I just like this kind of stuff. I think it's neat 💖 The only thing I miss is the development of these scenes, more of them.

Unfortunately, this is not possible for one reason, namely that we are probably watching it all from the perspective of the dying Great, so there are no extended scenes, "fillers", there is no conversation between Great and Tyme about what actually happened, who Nan is, what is going on, what happened to Tyme's parents and what's the deal with Great's family business.

I apologize to WinTonklaKorn fans, but I can't convince myself to invest my interest and emotions in them. Especially now, because messy love triangles ALWAYS turn me off. There is also a lot of focus on the physical element of these relationships, and I find myself turning my head away when that happens (and as a fujoshi I should watch it like a National Geographic cameraman spying on two endangered species having sex like 👀), and generally drifting away. This plot could have been interesting, with elements of toxicity, crime, mourning, ambiguity, but it looks like it might want to, but it comes out more and more like a cheap romance with unnecessarily emphasized pornographic elements. Again - sorry to the fans of this thread and this couple 🙇‍♀️, but that's how I see it. Tonkla's brother was murdered, and he's constantly shown in a sexual context, in relation to other guys who are into him, instead of in the family/ sibling context of someone who lost his brother in terrible circumstances like Tan.

The only interesting scene was how Great's changed "reality" affects Tonkla's reality. The moment when he hears his dead brother's voice was very moving. I won't hide the fact that I would rather see more of this Tonkla. I would rather see him follow Tan's path from DFF in a sibling context, than entangle him in love triangles. I would like to see him as someone who doesn't lose sight of the goal and isn't distracted by the pussies around him like Phee. Unless Tonkla has some plan for Win and Korn 🤔 but I doubt it atm.

Of course I must mention the love scene between Great and Tyme, and I assure you, I did NOT turn my head here 🤩 I have no complaints, Bible and Jes are super comfortable together, they kiss beautifully and their physical contact has a nice flow, is smooth and natural (has Jes ever acted in a BL production?). You can also see in this scene the feelings that Great and Tyme have for each other. And I love how Great is vulnerable and open to Tyme in this scene (as in every other scene).

I like how Tyme starts with "innocent" kisses, giving Great time to react and even say no. I like how Great is just as eager as Tyme, which he shows with his whole body (as a huge fan of equality in relationships, I pay close attention to whether the series shows that both MLs are equally emotionally involved AND want each other). I love the moments when they smile at each other, when they laugh, when in addition to obvious desire they also have FUN, gosh, it's so 💯✨👌

Bible's tattooed thigh will forever be burned into my brain.

Oh and this?

This is it people! This is what it's all about, this is the quintessence of them and a good BL series. This showing of every aspect of a love relationship, this joy and pure fun, these smiles, these tattooed thighs, this beauty. Just.. wow. Wow!

(this is the second version of the post, the first one didn't appear at all, probably because of the full screenshots and Bible's thigh area lol hence the second attempt with cropped photos. EDIT, the previous version was flagged! 🥳 This is my first flagged post in my life, what a special day, I think I'll get drunk in honor of it)

[auty-ren]

Never the Right Time

Joel Miller - The Last Of Us

Pairings: Joel Miller x Reader (Reader is afab, no pronouns/use of y/n) 

Rating: Explicit 

Word count:  3k

Warnings: Smut ( oral sex(fem receiving). vaginal sex. rough sex. oral fixation. dirty talk/bedroom talk. unprotected sex.), Repressed feelings, Joel being a stubborn old man. Some implied drinking (no alcohol is named, just ‘drinks’).

A/n:  I absolutely fell in love with The Last Of Us series and I had so many feelings for Joel I just had to get them out! I might do a few more fics for him but this is a standalone...for now. Enjoy babes💕 (gif by @pedrohub)

Summary: “Hey,” you shrug and look down at your drink. “I was just trying to be nice.” 

You take a sip of your own drink, keeping your eyes on him through your lashes. He stares right back, almost like he wanted you to say something so he could react. You lower your cup, almost batting your eyes as you blink at him. You swear you can see a little bit of a blush creep up his neck.

“Is that what you do?”

 My Masterlist

-

“Ellie bet I couldn’t get you to dance.”

You wanted to be smug. Calm, cool, collected. But you’re sure you probably looked like an idiot; cheeky grin, trying to play it cool as you lean against the porch railing.

There was just enough lighting that you could make out his profile, soft glowing bulbs hung on strings to illuminate the party and it made him look soft. His normally sharp features looked rounded and comfortable.

 “Did she?”

He smiles and it reaches all the way to his eyes. It surprises you a little, how easily he opens up when before he’d been so different. You hadn’t had many conversations before this, at least they never got past the small talk stage before one of you got shy. Maybe it was the party or the feeling of a new beginning with the coming spring, but something was a little different, especially in the way he carried himself, his shoulders were strong and light, much different than before.

“Well, I figured you just had two left feet, Miller.” 

His eyes were almost sparkling, almost mischievous in nature. Joel was a lot of things but mischievous wasn’t the way you’d describe him, and yet it almost felt childlike. It looked like little stars were speckled in his irises, shining and reflecting in the low light of a setting sun.

“Thought maybe you’d want a teacher.”

He lets out a sound like a scoff, but you don’t miss how the corner of his mouth perks up, pulling his face into a grin. You could tell it made him just a tad nervous, your presence. His face was mostly calm but he picked at his hands, scraping the skin around his nails from nervous habit.

You follow his gaze as he looks out onto the landscape, it was just barely turning spring, everything was green and budding with new life and the air felt warm and fresh. It felt good. The winters were rough in Jackson and you’d started to lose yourself a little, but the breeze felt good. Everything felt good at this very moment. You looked back to find Joel staring at you.

He was wearing a simple shirt, worn, with a few stray threads hanging from the seams. It obviously had its fair share of owners, but it was clean and still looked good on him. 

“Can you at least take the drink?” 

You hold it out to him, waiting as he looks between you and the cup. He finally takes it from you, your fingers just barely brushing as you pass it to him. He swirls the liquid around a little before he takes a sip

“Thanks.”

Right now feels like the part where you should be walking away. The ice had been broken but you’d pretty much hit a wall. He wasn’t giving any indications of what he wanted from you. 

If there was anything he wanted from you.

“You really got nothing else better to do?”

You’d almost think he was bothered if it wasn’t for the stupid-looking smirk on his face. It was his turn to be suave, or at least try. He leaned against the railing on the porch, mirroring your position from earlier.

“Hey,” you shrug and look down at your drink. “I was just trying to be nice.” 

You take a sip of your drink, keeping your eyes on him through your lashes. He stares right back, almost like he wanted you to say something so he could react. You lower your cup, almost batting your eyes as you blink at him. You swear you can see a little bit of a blush creep up his neck.

“Is that what you do?”

He tilts his head, almost like he’s challenging you; the low timber of his voice settling nicely in your bones. You practically turn to mush from the stupid look on his face; cocky, but bearable.

“What?”

It’s infatuating, in fact. You’re barely able to focus now, everything about him overwhelms you. 

He feels safe. Not awkward or unpleasant like times you’d spoken before, it’s like whatever veil that shrouded him was slowly lifting and you peeked underneath to see the genuine parts of him. The parts he’d spent over two decades hiding away.

You naturally lean in closer, drawn into his side where your bodies kinda fit naturally together. It feels perfect.

“Charity.”

He nearly spits out the word, like it’s dirty and foul.

The proverbial record comes to a screeching halt. You tense a little, taken aback by his sudden change in tone.

But then again look who you’re talking to. 

“Liking you is charity?”

It comes out before you can really think it through. The look on his face is enough to make your stomach turn. It wasn’t anger or discomfort, something that you had expected from him, it almost felt like disappointment etched across his face. 

“That’s how most people put it.”

Quit while you’re ahead.

Your fingers barely touch his, even though he’s pulled away he doesn’t flinch away from this touch. His knuckles feel rough in comparison to yours, your pinkie just barely trailing along his skin, like you just wanted to become familiar.

“Maybe I’m not most people, Miller.”

His hand moves just a bit, not away from you, he’s inching closer. You feel your breath catch in your throat as his pinkie catches yours, just barely hooking yours to intertwine with him.

“Did you ever think about that?”

Your chest almost puffs out a little, and you’re proud of the way he looks at you. He’s almost curious like he’s studying you, lying in wait while every little movement goes under his scrutiny. Normally feelings like this would be enough to send you running, but you almost wanted this from him. Just the barest hint of attention made your heart seize up in anticipation.

It felt like a movie. Those old romantic black and white movies they’d play on movie nights, the ones where the girl and the guy dance around each other until the tension just breaks. It was probably silly to dream bout being the leading lady, and having a man like him chase after you. But it felt nice to dream.

Right now the dream felt so real.

He reaches up and almost touches your face, just barely brushing a piece of your hair out of your eyes. You had been staring so hard you hadn’t noticed it had fallen.

Was this it? The moment when you get your kiss?

Did you imagine he was leaning closer? That he was looking at you like you were the only girl on the face of the planet.

“Joel?”

You wanted a kiss. You wanted this to be a picture-perfect moment for the two of you, something out of a cheesy old romance novel with a tacky picture on the front. He, the strong hero sweeping you off your feet.

He looks at you like he’s pleading, like he’s afraid of something but he just needs your permission first. You take his hand into yours and give it a gentle squeeze. He turns it over so yours is held delicately in his grip, his thumb rubbing little circles into your skin.

You close your eyes, anticipating him to move closer, to take you in his arms and hold you like you were his lifeline.

The touch never comes. The kiss never comes. Nothing happens as it does in your head.

He just walks away.

-

“Joel?”

He says nothing, and the silence alone feels heavy enough to ground. It’s different from the other times, this is thick and heavy, and you can practically reach out and grab the tension brewing between you. 

It’s practically freezing this late at night, the cold nipping at your cheeks as you watch him. More like waiting for him. To do what? You’re not exactly sure, but he looks like there’s something he needs. Something he wants to say. He opens his mouth and nothing comes out, he just closes it and grinds his jaw, like he’s kicking himself for not doing it right.

You didn’t know what he wanted, but he didn’t seem the type to just waltz onto people’s porches in the middle of the night.

You only move out of the way as he crosses the threshold, bumping into you as the signal to move inside. He removes the door from your hands and slams it shut, blocking the exit. The sound echoes through the house and all that’s left are the little puffs of your breath as his eyes scan your face. He’s dark and intense, almost challenging you to say something that would stop him.

His touch is rough, calloused hands that grab and pull you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you grounded to him. You let yourself get swept up in his arms, in his gaze that felt like fire washing over you. His eyes were like smoldering coals, black with remaining hints of warmth just flickering in the light.

He kisses you and it feels just like you had dreamed, warm and glowing with just a little bit of roughness around the edges. He devours any sound you make, he’s eager and almost aggressive in his movements.

His hands are ripping and pulling at your body, moving you to the nearest surface in your living room so he can get more of you. You both stumble and barely make it to the couch without hitting the floor. He pushes you down and the old furniture creaks loudly, almost echoing through the house as he climbs on it with you.

Even in the dark, he notices. He stops dead in his tracks at the grip you hold on the cushions and the hint of uncertainty that flashes across your face.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.”

The words rumble deep inside his chest, bubbling up in his throat with a soft, gentle tone. It’s almost loving how he caresses your face.

Loving.

He wanted to reassure you. He slows to a near stop, looking at you as he reaches for the hem of your shirt, just barely pushing it up. He checks in with you, flickering glances to confirm you still wanted him, that you wanted his touch. You can’t help how you squirm when his fingers press into your cunt, even through your underwear just that little pressure was enough to have you melting.

He just watches you through it all. You don’t even notice at first that he’s staring; you make eye contact and feel the heat spread all the way down your neck out of embarrassment.

“It’s okay.” He whispers, just barely audible even in the quiet of your empty home.

“Relax. I’ve got you.”

You lift your hips to help him remove your underwear. His touch leaves you only for a fraction of a second before he’s back on you. Warm, calloused hands spread your thighs wider with delicate precision. The gentleness was so unlike him, but the passion was still there, the eagerness set behind a low brow as he memorized your every detail.

He mumbles against your thigh, burying his nose against your skin and inhaling. He leaves a little trail of kisses, his facial hair leaving tiny little scratches while his mouth moves softly down to your pussy. He stops at the juncture of your thigh and looks up at you, almost pouting as his arms snake under your thighs and pulls you closer. 

His mouth just hovers over your cunt, and your clit throbs as he gently blows on your slit. You whimper, unable to keep eye contact any longer as you close your eyes, just barely arching your hips closer to him.

His mouth feels like fire when he finally touches you, spit dripping from his tongue onto your cunt that burned and had you squirming with need. You run your fingers through the length of his hair, playing with the curls between your fingertips as you moan his name.

He fumbles a little, his movement doesn’t have the expert precision he was probably used to. Still, he made you sing. Every sigh, every whimper, every curse that fell from your lips was just fueling his need. He squeezes your hips to keep you still, just a little warning for you as his eyes pin you down with a look.

Your body is scorching, almost overwhelmed as you feel the coil in your belly turn impossibly tighter. You shake from the effort of trying to hold on, to keep this moment suspended for eternity just so you can keep him like this.

Somewhere between the haze, he climbed on top of you, just barely letting his weight press into you. It was a comforting pressure, welcomed as you slip and let your legs wrap around his hips. He’s still fully clothed, the rough material of his jeans rubbing against you, sending you into overdrive. You play with the buttons of his shirt, slowly opening them more and more until he gets the message, pulling away enough to slip the shirt off his shoulders.

He goes to take off his belt and for a moment he looks nervous, scared even. You can tell by how he avoids your eye when a moment before he looked like he’d eat you alive, and now he’s so timid.

He’s surprised by your touch, and how careful you are when you gently place your hand over his, urging him to let you take over. He relents, there’s almost a hint of relief on his face, with just a hint of something else.

Craving?

Did he crave your touch?

You wonder if he had imagined this moment before, imagined the little noises you’d make, the feel of you beneath him, and how warm you’d be when he fucked your cunt. You’re ashamed to admit it but, he’s been the topic of more than a few daydreams. It felt a little embarrassing, to the point you almost didn’t talk to him earlier at the party but all of those doubts melted away when he finally slipped his cock inside you.

A pathetic noise came out of your mouth. You were more than ready for him but everything felt so heightened. You clung to his shoulders as he rocked his hips, his face buried in the crook of your neck. 

He was definitely holding his breath, you could feel his back muscles tensing almost to the point of pain. You rub little circles into his skin, trying to be comforting so he’ll relax, just barely dragging your nails down his skin.

He sits up a little, looking you over before his eye settles on your face. His hand comes up and just tips your chin, his thumb rubbing against your jaw.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you. 

You didn’t think this sort of thing happened outside of a movie, or those old cheesy romance books some of the girls sneak around the library. But the world does sort of get foggy, blurred around the edges so you can only see him.

You wonder if he’s feeling the same.

If he feels this sort of ache that sometimes you can’t describe.

You sort of get an answer from him because he kisses you.

He kisses you and it feels like your whole world is set aflame, blazing and roaring in your ears as he steals the literal breath from your lungs.

You brace yourself as he grabs your lower half, one hand gripping your thigh while the other pins your hips down. He doesn’t stop kissing you and if it weren’t for his weight pressing into you, you swear you would’ve floated away by now. He gets a little harsh, almost desperate and you don’t mind. Every time his cock brushes against your cervix you whimper pathetically into his mouth.

But it only seems to spur him on.

“Shit.” He grits through his teeth, his grip on your body nearly painful as he slams his hips against yours.

He pants, almost whimpering in your ear as he cums.

You don’t say anything, just gently nuzzling his shoulder as he comes down from his high.

He’s gentle again, almost remorseful in his movement now. He pulls away and you feel the mess between your legs, he mumbles something under his breath but you can’t make it out. You feel too tired to try and make the effort of conversation anyway, so you just let him clean you, reaching out and putting your hand on his.

You just wanted the comfort.

You didn’t even want to begin to think about what you’d say when the afterglow wore off. Your bodies would probably become stiff and uncomfortable, emotions heightened and awkward just like before. Would he even want to speak to you again? Was this just…release?

You scold yourself for already overthinking.

It didn’t matter what would come in the next few hours, because for now, you had this.

This little, tiny shining moment when you get to hold him. Playing with his hair while he hums, practically asleep on your chest. Maybe it wasn’t much but, you’d take it. Just a hint of intimacy, real intimacy - not just sex but the kind of thing that you feel deep in your bones. The warm, sticky, addictive kind of intimacy that you had craved for too long.

Nothing was for certain, and you remind yourself not to think too much about it. But from your angle, as you strained to look down as he rested on your chest…It looked like he was smiling.

-

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[cupofteainme]

I've been so happy with queer representation in Young Royals. I also have notes. Here are some musings about season three.

We didn't get to see many ripple effects of Wille coming out in the show, but trust me, the world changed the moment he held that speech at the end of season two.

Nils and Stedrica

Nils found the courage to come out to his best friends. We don't know how much he was directly affected by Wilhelm. The common struggle with restrictions and the the graduation seemed to tighten the bond between August, Vincent and Nils. Honesty was a strong thread of the season. Wille's confession inspired students to come forward about iniations, later even August yelled at people to stop arguing and to just be sad about Hillerska closing—to be honest about their feelings.

We can make a mental leap and say that Nils was affected by these events and found his courage to be more honest. He also complimented Wille on his bravery and asked the prince if he regretted coming out and Wille answered with a firm no.

I liked how Nils said that he 'sleeps with guys'. You could see how hard it was for him to tell him friends. In season two Nils uses the word 'gay' about himself to Wille. I like how YR shows how people can use different definitions of themselves in different situations or choose to be unlabeled. I got a feeling that this was a huge first step on Nils' journey to accept that part of himself.

Stella and Fredrika are minor characters so they didn't get much screentime regarding their romance. Them ending up together was motivated by something the show explored in season two with Simon, Marcus and Wilhelm—jealousy. While I enjoyed Rosh being frustrated with her gaydar, Stedrica's arc left me wanting. In season two, Stella told Sara that she hesitates to make a move on Fredrica in fear of losing her beast friend if they break up later and things get awkward.

In season three we weren't shown what made Stella feel like she and Fredrica have a good enough chance to succeed in their relationship to put their friendship on the line. It's a shame. I would have loved to see some character development.

The audience is introduced to the sexual side of Stedrica straight after the white party when emotions ran high, Rosh was there to hit more on Stella and the teens were drinking and partying their hearts out. At the time of Stedrica's hook-up Wilmon were broken up, demonstrating exactly what Stella was afraid of—losing the other person completely. We can say that Wilmon didn't set up an encouraging example for them.

Even though Frederica's face looks blissful with Stella, I'm left wondering, am I supposed to read their kissing as a passing fancy that they can play down as part of their friendship again. ("every girl makes out with her best friend while drunk")

I was hoping for some connection to the main story with their arc. It could have been something with honesty, one remark from Stella to Madison for example: "I can't keep lying to my best friend."

Choosing the foundation

Queer matters were lifted to the table and discussed in the scene where Wille needs to pick his charity. Good for Simon for encouraging Wille to use his platform. I especially loved hearing that Wille knows how his love for Simon is changing the world. Not bad for a sixteen year old who's been out of the closet for five seconds.

Let me say this clearly: Queer people don't have to represent a group they identify with, not even Crown Prince Wilhelm. A young person's identity is rarely so strong yet, that they have the strength to carry the public's negative reactions. We saw how much online hate hurt Simon. He and Wille both have the right to protect their identities and relationship. Simon deserved better help with his social media.

Wille told Simon in season one that he doesn't want to say anything (referring to the sex video). At the end of season two, Wille took it back in his speech, but his attitude didn't change. It was a part Wille wanted to keep as private as he could. Over time, Wille could talk about both his mental health and his queerness more openly and in a way that would affect change. He has time to do so when he grows up.

I thought that the pressure for Wille to use his queer identity for good press would have come from the monarchy. It was mentioned once when Farima talked about new royalists and then dropped altogether.

I don't know why YR wanted to differ from the real Swedish monarchy in this instant and rule out LGBTQIA topics as political, when in real life the Crown Princess has taken a stand for them. (Plot reasons, duh, but it's irritating. I was under the impression that for example the amount of LGBTQIA rights and the discrimination LGBTQIA people face are on the same level in real life Sweden and in the YR universe. When one detail doesn't match, it makes the whole foundation wobbly).

That said, LGBTQIA rights don't exist in a vacuum. Sport and health foundation is a brilliant and super topical place to advance non-discrimination and inclusion in sport. Wille could advance LGBTQIA rights without drawing attention to himself when he's underage, perhaps still figuring out his identity and in his first relationship with a boy.

I can't stress enough how impactful it would be to have a queer Crown Prince (or King!) patronage a sport foundation. We can see that the pictures in the launch event of the foundation are taken with diversity in mind. Even if this is a PR strategy on the Court's part, people far removed from the court are going to work in those charities every day. And what do people think about when they see Wille's name and title associated with the foundation? The answer is not a straight boy playing football.

I hoped that YR would have shown in more concrete way that Wille understood the positive impact his queerness brings to people. We got a moment like that with Simon on the First of May when he was asked to take a picture. He got to feel like a role model. Wille could have had a similar encounter at his birthday or even at Hillerska. I feel like the show very carefully avoided to give Wille any good experiences related to the monarchy.

Is there homophobia at Hillerska?

There is a disconnect in how much hate we see Simon get, how Wille is not allowed to support queer rights versus how casual and obvious being queer is to Hillerska students. We saw girls at Hillerska openly kissing next to August in season two. Nobody batted an eye. The students of Hillerska knew it was Wille in the video and there was gossip but no negative reactions.

Young Royals seemingly treats queerness as a neutral or positive thing—even the biggest bully Vincent is not a homophobe and supports Nils when he comes out. Simon's parents are cool with their son being gay. Wille gets personally no backlash after his speech (or at least we don't see him be affected by it as Simon is).

Season three paints a very gloomy picture in contrast. 1. Simon gets mostly negative comments online. These comments hit to where it hurts, into the intersection of Simon's identities (latino lover) and his aspirations with music (chacing clout). 2. Queen Kristina falls sick straight after her son comes out. 3. Erik took part in homophobic hazings that were a tradition at Hillerska.

We don't get to see instances of this homophobia in the school or in the interactions between students except in s2e4 in 'Wille to the table' scene when the Forest Ridge boys celebrate Wille kissing Felice (and conforming to the heteronormativity). It tells us that being straight is the preferred option.

Young Royals claims that homophobia is in the walls, it lives in traditions and institutions. I partly agree. Homophobia needs also people to survive and everyone at Hillerska was shocked and appalled by the hazings. That made it kinda feel like YR put homophobia on-call for plot reasons.

Where is my big scandal about homophobic monarchy?

The journalist in Sweden might have had a keen interest about the disappearance of their Queen from active duties especially when it coincided with Wilhelm's historical coming out speech. Any accusation about the Queen's homophobia would have been devastating for the Monarchy in a country where support for same sex marriages is over ninety percent. (Go Sweden!)

Media would also have a field day about the hazings and their connection to Erik. It's very recent history. The media would wonder if Erik was a victim and/or the perpetrator. No way there would be radio silence. The burning question would be if the freshly out-of-the-closet Crown Prince suffered from homophobic hazing as well.

In season one, Wilhelm had to give a statement about a video he denied being in. In season three Wille has just come out and it turns out that his school has messed up homophobic traditions, the Queen is unable to perform her duties and it's confirmed that somebody filmed the Crown Prince with another boy and uploaded the video. There is nothing 👀

Queer up!

Wille's character is not only queer for loving Simon but queer in the broader (queer theory) meaning of questioning the prevailing conditions by bringing in new ideas, like in season one: 'What if I just want to be with him and not say anything?'

Wille never had the tools to question his position morally or academicly. At the same time he always knew what he wanted at the emotional level. Simon helped Wille with these questions. They had talks about the monarchy and Wille said he was learning from Simon.

Simon was the catalyst for Wille to find his voice and to figure out what he wants his life to look like. More than that, Simon's character allowed the viewers to look into the life of the rich and powerful through queer theory's lens: questioning, revealing, challenging status quo.

Whatever direction their ways ago after the ending, Wille's and Simon's love will continue to make a difference.

[saturnscode]

PART 1

Pete's skin is soft.

And Vegas has tasted every bit of it.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, he wasn’t supposed to be lying on the bed with Pete's arms wrapped around his waist and the sunlight coming through the window kissing his bare back. Vegas wasn’t supposed to be brushing his hair from his eyes feeling like he’s running out of air because he has finally come to the conclusion he's been avoiding for weeks.

But last night, as he fucked Pete, slowly and tenderly until their muscles were sore and their heads were spinning, he knew it was too late for him. He was already in love.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Pete was just a tool to get close to Porsche and piss his cousin off and ruin the deal of the hotel's new branches. He just wanted to mess with their heads like he’s been doing his entire life, Pete was a mere link, a fun fuck. Because that’s what Vegas does to gain trust, that’s how he has snatched all Kinn’s boyfriends before. With sex.

But it all went to hell when Vegas kissed those lips in the dirty alley behind Porsche's bar. His mind went numb when he heard Pete's little noises every time he touched him.

Vegas was so fucked he felt suffocating.

He closed his eyes when he felt Pete's eyes wandering on his chest and he felt out a breath when his lips touched his jawline.

"What's on your mind?" Pete asked in a whisper as he was trying to maintain the quiet atmosphere of his Uni dorm.

You. He wants to reply, but it’s more than that.

"Nothing," he smiles, "work stuff, sorry."

Pete smiles, excited. He gets on top of Vegas biting his lower lip, placing his hand on top of his chest, and resting his chin on top of them.

"Porsche is getting back tomorrow from his vacation," he says and his eyes shine so bright it breaks his heart, "we can have dinner with him and his boyfriend at night, what do you think?"

Vegas has been pushing it, trying everything in his power to avoid Porsche and Kinn the moment he started enjoying Pete's company a little too much. He didn’t want it to end, he's been hanging by a thread and he doesn’t know how long it will last when the end seems so near.

"I don’t know, pet." He replies, playing with his hair. "I'm pretty busy lately."

"Oh, c'mon, Grey," he whines and Vegas closes his eyes.

He hates that name. At first, he spitted out when he introduced himself that night in the bar and he's been cursed with it since then. It's the name Pete knows, it's the name he calls and moans, it's the name of the man he loves and Vegas hates.

"It's been eight months already," he pouts, "he’s starting to think I'm faking this whole 'boyfriend' thing since you don’t have any social media and you won’t let me take a picture with you." He pouts and Vegas wants to bite his lips off.

Instead, he stares. He brushes dust from his cheeks and enjoys the little smile Pete gives him. He’s too good and too naïve. It was easy to make him fall in love, but it was easier for Vegas to lose himself in him. He became an escape from his father’s expectations and his self-hatred, he made him forget about who he is with gentle touches and dumb jokes.

He would keep his secrets and treasure them deep in his heart, and then he would try to make Vegas laugh because he couldn’t bear seeing him cry. He cried on his lap as he played with his hair and he felt safe. And he knows he doesn’t deserve him, he knows he started a game he is bound to lose and now, there are no more cards to play.

"Do we have to prove it to him?" He replies like he’s been doing for the past few months.

He would do this thing where is questions Pete’s love, making him feel bad so he would drop the subject alone for a couple of weeks before trying again.

"No, but he is my best friend," he frowns and Vegas wants to kiss it away. "I want the most important people in my life to meet each other."

Vegas smirks, trying to change the mood.

"Oh, are we in the same place in your life?" He says as his hand wanders over Pete's skin, gentle touches from his back to the soft skin of his ass.

Pete holds his breathe, "no, I just-"

He cannot finish the sentence because Vegas' lips attack his, the same moment his fingers wander into the crack of his ass and grab, tightly.

Vegas turns them over, Pete's wrapped around his body, whimpering and crying as he scratches Vegas’ back the moment he thrusts into him.

"Grey," he groans and Vegas hits him deeper, faster.

He hates that name, but he loves the man under him.

*

"He'll be here," Pete says, stealing glances at the door behind him.

They've been waiting for his boyfriend to arrive for 40 minutes. Even when his best friend doesn’t say it, Pete can see it in his eyes. He doesn’t think Grey is coming, but he promised, and Pete trusts him. He has never failed him, yet.

Porsche is sitting with his boyfriend in front of him. They're holding hands over the table in this fancy restaurant and Pete feels a little - very much - alone.

It's incredible how much Porsche's life has changed. He went from having three different jobs only to support his little brother and trying to keep his house, to changing his major to help Kinn in the future because that’s how certain they are about being together for the rest of their lives.

At first, Pete was reluctant. At Kinn, at his friend's life choices and the entire relationship, but after nights of crying and Kinn doing everything in his hands to prove himself to Porsche, Pete started to believe Yok's bar was magical.

That’s where Porsche met Kinn, and where Pete met Grey.

Pete smiles to himself. He didn’t think they had any future. It was just a one-night stand for him, but then he started bumping into Grey everywhere he went like it was destiny.

He made him feel like no one has before. The way he looks at him, the way he talks to him, and the way he touches him. It's like he was handmade only for Pete to enjoy, to please, to love.

"Ugh," Kinn says, looking annoyed. "This can't be real."

Porsche raises an eyebrow and follows with his eyes to the place Kinn is staring now.

"Oh, great," Porsche mumbles, squirming in his seat.

"What happened?" Pete crouches down on the table, whispering to Porsche.

"Nothing, just Kinn's cousin walking in."

Pete has heard of him. The 'pain-in-the-ass' cousin named Vegas. The guy who is always trying to mess with everything Kinn has or does.

Pete starts to turn his back because even when he has heard plenty of stories about him, he has never seen his face and he would be lying if he says he's not curious.

"No, don’t turn!" Porsche whispers, "let's not look at him so he goes to another table."

Pete nods, standing still in his chair until he sees the displeased look on both Kinn’s and Porsche’s faces.

"Great," Kinn says under his breath.

But their expressions change, suddenly dropping at the same time he feels a hand squeezing his shoulder.

He recognizes the touch, damn, he even recognizes the scent behind him, so he wraps his hand around his wrists and turns to look at him. He's dressed in all black, just like the night they met.

"You're here," Pete smiles.

"I promised I'd be here." He says, his eyes never leaving Kinn's.

Pete frowns because, suddenly, something feels off.

"What is this, Vegas?" Kinn asks, laying back on the chair.

"Vegas?" Pete asks, confused, his eyes going from Kinn to Grey, not understanding the situation. "No, P'Kinn, this is Grey, my boyfriend."

He smiles and turns to Porsche. That’s when his heart drops. Porsche is shaking his head, looking at him with pain in his eyes. Pete turns to Grey once again.

"Grey?" He asks, trying to make him look at him, but he doesn’t move, his jaw tightens up and his fingers start to play with his rings.

That’s when he sees it, a ring that looks a lot like Kinn but in silver. Pete can't breathe.

"Grey?" He asks, softly, with his heart on his throat and his fingers wrapped around his arm. "Why are they calling you Vegas?"

"Porsche," Kinn says and he nods, standing up immediately, grabbing Pete's arm.

"Pete, let's go home." He pleads, but Pete is not having it.

"Grey, what is this?" He shakes his arm but he won't flinch. So he licks his lips, letting a trembling sigh out, "Vegas?"

He turns, slowly, tilting his head to the side, looking at Pete.

He freezes, beside him is the same man that kissed every inch of his body just this morning but his eyes are empty, dark, and soulless. Pete feels like he cannot breathe anymore.

So he releases his arm and lets Porsche drag him out of the restaurant. His eyes never leave the man on the table until the elevator’s doors close on them. He blinks a couple of times and now, he is inside a car, his head in Porsche's chest as he whispers 'sorry' and 'we'll fix everything, don’t worry', but he doesn’t worry, even with the tears running down his face, he can’t feel anything.

[anincompletelist]

2023 year in review :D

THANK YOU @kiwiana-writes for always including me <3 I adore you and it was so much fun to see all that you've accomplished this year!

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. There are no rules!

233, 369 words published to ao3 (+ like another 80k depending on when bridesmaids is posted hehe)

2 published fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue (book), One Direction (soldouthaz)

most recent work: this guy, the prequel to this dude <3

longest published fic: (for rwrb) praying our bridges don't make waves (82k)

longest published oneshot: Sure As the Stars in the Sky (20k)

bridesmaids is currently at 75k

hitman au is currently at 15k

speak easy / poet henry is currently at 20k

diabetic alex au is currently at 7k

part two of this fic (dom!alex) is currently at 5k

+ about another 60k of random drabbles and unfinished snippets

but if you could see us from a distance, you'd know I've always been so close to you (E, 10k, 743 kudos)

Objectively, standing half-soaked from rainwater with a stitch in his side and an uncomfortable, raging hard-on outside his worst enemy’s door is not Henry’s finest moment. It’s not even on the list. [or, henry is afflicted with a curse-gone-wrong that stipulates that only his sworn enemy, alex claremont-diaz, can touch him.]

praying our bridges don't make waves (E, 82k, 642 kudos)

When June gets sick, Alex knows he'll do whatever it takes to make sure she gets the care that she needs. Even if that means convincing his nemesis/sexuality-crisis-inducing/clandestine hook-up partner/somewhat of an actual friend to pretend to be his soulmate in order to pull it off. It's both more and less complicated than it sounds.

I'll bet it all on me and you, I'll bet it all you're bulletproof (M, 11k, 527 kudos)

“Let’s do this,” he says. “Let’s,” Alex agrees, pushing down on the handle until the door swings open. “After you, boyfriend.” This is most definitely not his finest idea. Henry usually practices much better self preservation skills. Much better common senseskills. He steps over the threshold of Alex’s room and it feels like sealing his fate. They’re doing this for Alex to win over their bosses in a lighthearted game with a harmless lie, but Henry can’t fight off the bitter knowledge that, regardless of how tonight goes, Alex will be fine, but Henry has so much to lose.

total kudos: 4,495

total comment threads: 449

total bookmarks: 1,922

total subscriptions: 292

total word count: 223, 369.

total hits: 53, 676

firstprince first kisses (6 works, 57k, incomplete/ongoing)

the place lightning hits ground (1 work, 12k, incomplete)

everybody needs someone (2 works, 24k, completed)

current wips that have word counts:

bridesmaids au

hitman alex

poet henry

diabetic alex au

truman show au

boxer alex au

soft dom henry for this series

part 2 of soft dom alex for this series too

current wips that are on the to-do list:

happiest season au

rival wineries au

alex is medusa, henry is midas

museum guide henry / substitute teacher alex

+ sooooo many little unrelated one shot and drabble ideas and more for this series

I just posted this fic earlier today:

take my hand if you can take me as i am (E, 14k)

It would hurt less, Alex guesses, if he wasn’t head over heels for the guy he’s supposed to be fucking through an ancient one-sided sex curse with that was partially — a lot, actually — his own fault. But. It’s not like there’s a fucking handbook. Alex has looked.

and bridesmaids is in the final stretch and will most likely begin posting early january, if not the end of this month!

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oh boy okay first off PLEASE DO NOT FEEL OBLIGATED TO DO THIS but also I would LOVE to give all of ya'll a chance to brag on yourselves if you're up for it!

so consider this an OPEN TAG but also @affectionatelyrs @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @inexplicablymine @daisymae-12 @read-and-write- @happiness-of-the-pursuit @raysletters @heybuddy-drabbles @rockyroadkylers @sparklepocalypse @zwiazdziarka @littlemisskittentoes @getmehighonmagic @magicandarchery and anyone else who would like to do this! pls tag me so I can come scream at you (affectionately!)

I'm so ridiculously grateful for you guys and for this space to create and connect in, and I can't wait to take all of this lovely energy into next year as well. I'm so excited for everything we all have coming! :D

I hope you guys are all doing well!

-sarah / anincompletelist

xx

[paganwitchisis]

Chapter 5 of "The Price of Freedom"

Chapter 5: Family Gathering

Rated E for EXPLICIT!!

Word count: 4,894

Warnings for full story: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! Abuse, torture, smut, oral sex, rape, healing, beatings, dismemberment, breeding kink, act 3 spoilers, canon divergence, blood, violence, graphic depictions (It is Cazador after all)

Last chapter - Chapter 4

This is chapter 5

Next chapter- here

RATED 18 PLUS

AO3 link - Here

“Huh?”

“Love. Do you actually love me?” Tav clarified.

“Yes.” Astarion answered without hesitation. 

“I’m sorry the first time was during sex, my dear. That was unintentional. I would have preferred it to be more meaningful, but it slipped out.”

Tav hugged him happily all the same saying “I love you too.” regardless of how he wished to initially say those three words. It seemed she was just happy that he came to that conclusion, the same she had in regards to him.

“We should get cleaned up and dressed. Thankfully, we only got half undressed. I think we were a bit eager.” Tav said, laughing. “I don’t want Shadowheart to find us like this.”

Smiling, Astarion helped Tav get dressed and cleaned before he did the same to himself. He used his sleep shirt to clean between her thighs the spend that leaked and stuck to her flesh. Astarion then moved the table back as quietly as he could and picked his mate up. This startled the woman who yelped and giggled. The pair kissed each other before making their way back into the room. Astarion tucked Tav back in after giving her some food and water from their packs, and Astarion, in an effort to hide their activities, got dressed into his armor and hid his filthy shirt in his bag of holding.

Astarion made sure to prep Tav’s clothes and armor to the side while she slept as he sat next to her so she could hold on to him as he worked on their bags of holding to prepare for their departure. She slept with her arm thrown over his lap, her head there too. Astarion smiled at this and threaded his fingers through her hair and messaged her scalp. Tav was receptive of this and lifted her head into his ministrations. It had been about two hours after Tav had fallen back to sleep.

“Like that?” Astarion muttered to himself, or so he thought.

“Mmm. almost as good as the sex we just had.” Tav said via the tadpole as she looped her arms around his thin waist. She nuzzled into his lower stomach and tightened her hold on him as she kept her eyes closed.

“You little minx, you should be sleeping. I’m not sure if your comment means I need to sate you more, or…” Astarion started to reply via the tadpole when Tav cut him off.

“Everything you do feels good.”

Astarion smiled, but their conversation was cut short as their friends began to stir. As they rose and prepared for the day, Astarion kissed his mate before he knew he wouldn’t be able to freely.

“Oi! Lovebirds!” Karlach yelled out as she approached. “I’m happy to see Tav feels better.”

Tav giggled and put her hand to the new scar on her throat. “Better, but not out of the woods.”

Astarion grabbed a potion out of his pack and held it out to his mate who looked at it with disgust. “No offense, honey, but I am tired of potions. If Shadowheart feels like healing me, I’d appreciate it, but I’d like to avoid potions if I can help it.”

“You two done snogging that you remember we exist?” Shadowheart asked, but in a joking manner as she approached already in her gear. Shadowheart kneeled down next to Astarion, Tav still rested in his lap partly, as Shadowheart placed her hands on her throat. After a moment, warmth enveloped Tav and strength returned to her. Astarion smiled seeing Tav being healed in front of him. Shadowheart finished and pulled away.

“There, now you should be fully healed, but just in case, you may want to take a day to rest.” Shadowheart said before withdrawing and rolling her bedroll up.

“We can go after Cazador tomorrow, love. We can’t go after him injured, he is just too powerful. I’m more afraid of losing you both than returning to him.” Astarion admitted once Karlach left to prep for their return to Baldur’s Gate. Astarion helped Tav get ready, but not because she needed it at this point, but because he wanted to touch her, to feel her, to just be close to her. He wanted to feel intimate with her again. Of course, he wouldn’t admit it, and Tav wouldn’t say that out loud even if she cued in on what was going on.

It took longer than they thought to get out of the dwelling, considering some of them literally fell into the place to begin with while Karlach had poor directional skills. This left the group to rely on Shadowheart to navigate them out of the fortress. Eventually, by mid afternoon, they found their way out of the forest of Rivington and into Wyrm’s Crossing. From there, it was a fairly short commute to the Elfsong Tavern, where their concerned friends congregated around them. Tav began to explain what had happened and why when she noticed Astarion was missing. She reached out with the tadpole to find he wasn’t far, maybe a floor away, when he spoke to her.

“I’ll be up soon, my love. I am securing us some…privacy, and maybe a bath.”  Astarion said via the tadpole.

By the time Tav was through telling the tale of her new scar and what had happened, Astarion was wrapping his arm around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder as if staking his claim on her. Tav didn’t mind, as no one knew but them four about her being pregnant. So far, herself and Astarion had yet to discuss when would be the best time to clue the rest of their companions in on her pregnancy. Obviously, they would have to let them know for the simple reason that it would ensure Tav’s safety, but due to the nature of the pregnancy, they had to make sure only they knew of it and no one else. Astarion would burn all of Baldur’s Gate down to protect Tav and their child, should their secret get out.

No one questioned why Astarion was acting out or acting more protective than usual. No one asked why Astarion had gathered their stuff and picked Tav up and out the door, and certainty no one asked why Shadowheart rolled her eyes and muttered “Not again.”

Astarion had picked up Tav and moved her to the room next door. He paid five hundred gold for indefinite use since it hosted a murder. Of course, what does it matter to their group that the room had someone die in it? According to the inn keeper, no one wanted to rent it because of that, and because of that situation, he couldn’t generate revenue. This would give him gold, make people feel like there was interest in the Elfsong regardless of the murder, and the party would partake of their services.

Astarion put her down and locked the door after they entered the room.

“Welcome to our new room my love. Now we have some privacy, our own bed and even...” Astarion pointed to the corner “Our own bath.”

Tav smiled and seemed to light up at this. The tub was wooden, like the others in the establishment, but it was large. Very large. Astarion gave a sly smile.

“We got absolutely filthy earlier, darling, what do you say to getting a bath together?”

“Please!” Tav asked and kissed Astarion tenderly who smiled into the kiss.

Astarion set the water and dropped in a few drops of lavender oil. When he turned around to disrobe and tell Tav the water was ready, he was met with an image of his mate bare before him.

“Gods, you’re a vision.” Astarion muttered as his eyes raked in his lover’s nakedness. He easily shucked off his light armor and undershirt. His trousers were the next to go, but as he went to remove them, tender hands stopped him.

“Let me, lover.” Tav huskily said against Astarion’s neck as she drew close and tucked her head into the crook.

“Mate. I’m more than your lover, dear.” Astarion corrected her and felt Tav chuckle against him before she kissed his undead skin.

“Mate. Let me take off your clothes.” She corrected herself.

Astarion put the strings into her fingers and dropped his hands to the side. “Do your worst, my love.”

Tav undid his trousers, and in a quick move, dropped his pants and underwear to his ankles. This brought her eye level to his soft and flaccid cock. Astarion was so focused on stepping out of his trousers that he did not see Tav’s devious mind cooking up a plan. After he kicked his pants away, Tav began kissing his inner thighs and Astarion placed a hand on Tav’s head out of instinct. He rarely, if ever, had anyone service him. In fact, he didn’t remember anyone but Tav ever caring about his pleasure, so when she wished to make him feel good, it initially scared him. She didn’t just seek to give him pleasure, she would worship his body and remind him of his worth, and he thrived in it. He loved when she did this, but with his past, he could not bring himself to ask for it. Astarion let a moan out, when Tav finally, after kissing between his thighs, met the crux between and kissed his sack.

“Hells, Tav.” Astarion was now half hard and lightly rocking his hips towards her face, slowly getting harder as he guided her face closer to his main desire. Tav ran her hands up his thighs and grasped his cock which earned a gasp from the man who curled forward in pleasure.

“You’re a wonderful, beautiful man. You deserve this. You deserve pleasure and love.” Tav spoke before twirling her tongue over the head of his now hard cock, tasting the natural lubrication that spilled to the surface from the slit in his manhood. Astarion let out a moan before Tav pulled back.

“Sit on the bed.”

Astarion didn’t have to be told twice and backed up to the bed. He sat down and watched as his goddess of a mate crawled to him and immediately took his cock into her hot wet mouth. Astarion gripped the edge of the bed and thrust his hips inside his mate’s mouth but was careful and considerate of her recent injury. He refused to go too deep even though she tried to take him deeper.

Tav snaked her hand around, and thanks to Astarion sitting on the edge, it gave Tav access to his backside muscle. Tav pulled back and grabbed something from her pack. She returned to the very aroused man who had his legs spread and was laying back on the bed. Astarion had his arm over his eyes and fully trusting his partner. Tav opened the bottle of slick substance she had retrieved and coated two fingers in the stuff before kneeling between Astarion’s legs. She took her other hand to guide his hard cock back into her mouth while she used the hand with the coated fingers to probe his back entrance. Astarion initially jumped when he felt her fingers at his sphincter but relaxed into it when he felt her massage the muscle. Astarion moaned when Tav slipped one finger past the first ring of muscles and further more past the second ring. Tav gently stimulated his rear, searching for his prostate until she got an idea. She curled her fingers like Astarion did inside her, and immediately Astarion moaned and jumped forward into her mouth more. Tav smiled and began to slide her finger in and out while hooking her finger inside him to hit the erogenous zone. After a moment, feeling bold, Tav slide a second finger inside after adding more lubrication. Astarion was bucking now and rutting into her fingers and her mouth. Tav looked up at him and stared into his eyes as she wrapped her tongue around his tip to catch his natural fluid. She sucked and hummed whiled going down on him which seemed almost too much for the vampire. Astarion was almost ripping the fabric in reply to her actions. Tav then dragged the flat of her tongue up the bottom of of his cock, following the thick vein that ran from base to tip.

“Hells! The things you do to me. This is… Gods! I’m gonna come!” Astarion exclaimed. Tav sealed her mouth over his cock and sped up her actions in reaction to his words. She bobbed her head faster and stimulated his prostate more that Astarion came hard. Astarion held Tav’s gaze as she brought him to climax until it was too much and he threw his head back. Astarion became loud and very vocal, which was something he rarely did. Of course Astarion would moan during sex, but he would never get like this. Astarion almost screamed out in pleasure and was thankful for the private room. His stomach clenched and Astarion pulled forward, his hands holding onto his mate’s head tenderly as she swallowed his come. Gods, was there so much spend that Astarion was amazed how much was still releasing from him. No matter how much he released, Tav swallowed it like a thirsty woman finally getting a drink of water. She loved seeing Astarion’s blissful face as he climaxed, his half open to closed eyes, his open mouth and short pants of breath. She loved seeing him in ecstasy like he deserved.

After what felt like eternity, Astarion finally felt himself grow overly sensitive and Tav pulled herself off of the vampire and pulled her fingers tenderly away from his prostate and out of the man. Astarion could only catch his breath while Tav cleaned up a bit and checked the temperature of the water afterwards. Thankfully the water was still hot, and she wasn’t surprised when, still bent over to check the water, she felt Astarion pressed against her from behind.

“How do you feel, honey?” Tav asked as she stood up, turned around and hugged the man’s waist.

“Gods, I love you. Both of you.” Astarion added as he turned Tav around and placed his hands over her belly. “Let’s get a bath, darling. I want to wash your hair.”

“Are you saying I stink?” Tav acted like she was wounded by his comment.

Astarion chuckled “No, my sweet, but I do think you could use more conditioner. You could do with more hair care. You have beautiful locks, after all.” Astarion nuzzled her hair as he pushed his body flush to hers.

“You remember we haven't had a bath accessible to us for months until now, right?” Tav reminded him with a laugh. “But you’re right, I don’t take care of my hair. Let’s get in while it is still hot.”  

Tav took Astarion’s hand and they stepped into the bath. Astarion would never admit it, but he loved baths because it would warm his skin and make him feel alive if even for a brief moment. Tav almost moaned when sitting down into the hot water as it soothed the sore muscles and felt heavenly on her body. Tav sunk her body into the water until only her eyes and nose remained outside and she came back up to clean her body. Astarion found it comical but repeated what Tav did himself so he could get some grime off of him and wet his body.

Tav grabbed a rosemary scented soap and lathered it into a rag placed by the side of the tub. She then went to her mate and asked, “May I?” while holding the rag up to show what she wanted to do.

Astarion nodded and Tav went forward with cleaning her mate methodically. Astarion would moan occasionally out of the sensual nature and intimacy between the two. They may have had sex and oral recently but somehow, this seemed more intimate and closer than that. Sure, sex was the joining of bodies and souls, but what she was doing was a level of trust and care that was beyond lovers and beyond simply caring for one another. This was love. Astarion, after his body was cleaned, took the rag from Tav and repeated the process on Tav as a reciprocation. During their bath, the couple would kiss each other chastely or sensually. They would not linger on private areas, partly because of Astarion being sensitive from his earlier orgasm and because Astarion was following Tav’s direction and she, unknowing to Astarion, wanted to wait until that night for more sexual activity between the two. It wasn’t that she shied away from it. She loved being intimate. She just wanted to get some things done before nightfall, and could not do so if she was tangled in the sheets.

“We gotta tell them about the baby, you know.” Tav said to Astarion as she put a generous amount of shampoo on her palm and lathered it between her hands to apply to his white locks of hair.

“I’d rather not, but you’re right. Ugh…they’re going to ask so many questions on how I got you pregnant…” Astarion sighed exasperatedly and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t think it is any of their business.” Tav giggled. “By the way, come here.” Tav asked while Astarion did as she asked and Tav lathered his hair while pulling his head down to the nape of her neck. He was positioned right over her pulse point on her neck where he usually bit and Tav looked over at him but held him firmly.

“You haven’t fed in a while. I’m fine now, dear, so please eat. I’ll clean your hair as you do.” Tav said as Astarion moaned from her hands massaging his scalp. Astarion would have protested, but he was so very hungry. He kissed and licked the flesh before, as gently as he could, sank his teeth into her flesh. As expected, Tav moaned from Astarion feeding while Astarion moaned from Tav working his scalp. Astarion pulled back sooner than expected, licking the wounds to seal them and lick up the last rivulets of blood.

“I don’t want you completely bloodless, my dear. We can find something more filling after our bath, although nothing will taste as delicious as you.”

The couple had washed each other’s hair before Tav found out that Astarion was ticklish, something even he himself was unaware of. After drying off and donning their armor, the couple decided they would gather two more companions as Tav wanted to go shopping.

“I want to tell them, honey. Is that okay?”

“Ugh…if you must. I’d rather keep that information to ourselves. This gift is precious, but our child will need protection…”

“Plus, our friends will be their aunts and uncles, Astarion.”

Astarion seemed to just looked a bit pained at this information when Tav addressed him again.

“You realize they are your friends too, right?”

“It’s just…not a concept I am familiar with, my dear. I mean, I am still getting used to us, let alone having… Friends… Too. It is surreal to have so many people who care about me.” Astarion replied as he grabbed his pack.

“You’re just that lovable, dear.”  Tav went to grab her pack when Astarion grabbed it for her.

“Darling…” Astarion was going to protest when Tav cut him off.

“...Come on, let’s get going…” Tav held his hand as they were completely ready and unlocked the door.

Astarion shook his head in defeat, chuckled nervously and followed behind his love into the companion room.

Once inside the companion room, Astarion looped his arm around Tav’s waist and waited as their companions realized they had returned.

“About time you two returned! Done fucking yet?” Karlach asked while joking. Astarion blushed as he remembered the incredible blowjob he got not long ago.  

“You’re just jealous you have no one to make love to.” Tav joked back.

“Damn right! If I had a man as hot as him, I’d ride him to the Feywild!” Karlach said with a wink and laughed boisterously “Don’t worry, Fangs, I know you’re taken!”

Astarion just shook and dropped his head so that his forehead would rest on his mate’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Karlach, because he is mine.”  Tav said possessively.

Astarion smiled hearing his mate claim him and looped both hands around her waist, pulling his body and hips flush with her own so he was behind her.

“What’s the plan today?” Gale asked as he came by and in front of Tav.

“We actually have an announcement to make, so if everyone would gather, we would appreciate it.”  Tav said as Astarion’s arms tightened around her hips.

“Astarion, come here.” Astarion came out from behind Tav after she asked and came over to her side where she held his.

It didn’t take long for their party to gather and sit around the fireplace and rugs. Astarion felt his chest getting tighter. He never thought he would feel this way about such a thing, but then again, he never thought he could create life when he was the one who was taking it. Tav took Astarion’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Astarion noticed that Yenna and the cat were not in the room for some reason, but this was a good thing as he preferred it only be between those who could be trusted.

“We… myself and Astarion have some news that cannot be spread outside this room. Apparently, if it is spread, it can be lethal to me.” Tav took a breath to steady herself but what she didn’t expect was Astarion taking over.

“Tav is with child. My child. It’s early, and very rare for a mortal to carry an undead’s child, so if anyone should find out, it could be disastrous. People like Cazador could come after her for their own purposes. This can NOT leave this room or your lips.”  

Almost immediately were there questions.

“How is this possible?” Jaheira asked at the same time as two others that Tav could understand.

“Is it a girl or a boy?” Minsc questioned out loud?

“Is it really yours? Did you do some sort of deal?” Lae’zel pondered loudly to the couple.

Astarion sighed, tightened his hold on his mate and whistled. This seemed to have done the trick as the group quieted down. Astarion figured that although Tav was right and it was none of their business, he had a few things to clear up.

“Lae’zel, yes, the child is mine. It was confirmed to be a Dhampir. Additionally, do you really expect Tav to cheat on me? No, no devils or demons involved, so no contract.  This child was conceived the natural way…” Astarion pinched the bridge of his nose when Minsc asked an additional question, cutting the vampire off from explaining.

“What way is natural? Boo says he will tell me later, but Minsc is confused.”

“How are you still breathing?” Astarion asked while Tav burst out laughing.

“With my mouth! Minsc can show you!” Minsc proudly replied.

“No, no! That isn’t needed. Look, Jaheira will explain what I meant,” Astarion said while Jaheira glared at the vampire. “Anyways, apparently if I have enough blood in me, it increases the chance of a fertile woman to have children with one of my kind. Apparently, this is all conjecture, as the odds are impossibly high. Well, my darling, once again, shows how special she is.” Astarion lovingly glanced towards his mate. “Apparently a woman having an undead’s child is so rare, that would make her rare as she could do so again. This puts her in danger if anyone would know about this.” Astarion turned his head to give a deadpan look at Minsc one last time “And about if they are a girl or a boy? I just want the child healthy.”

Astarion waited and ignored the further intrusive questions as Tav made her rounds, but before gathering a party, Tav returned to Astarion which puzzled him.

“Didn’t you want to go shopping?”

“Change in plans. It’s starting to get late and I’m exhausted after everything. It is so weird, it kind of just crept up on me.”

“You’re with child, and frankly, darling, you had a hell of a day. Nothing is strange, my love.” Astarion looped his arms gently around her waist. “Let’s turn in, it is getting late anyways.”

Tav nodded and let Astarion lead them back to their private room. They ordered room service which afforded Astarion and Tav rare steaks. Tav wasn't keen on the blood, but after some coaxing from her mate, she ended up trying the meat, only to find it satisfied her cravings and made her feel better. Astarion felt he could use more blood, but felt he would hunt in the morning. They changed into night attire and got into bed, cuddling and snuggling with one another closely.  

That was until the floor boards creaked and Astarion woke Tav up, knowing there were intruders inside their room.  The couple jumped out of bed, startling the attackers who Astarion wasn’t surprised to see were his vampiric siblings.

“What the Hells?!”

“Brother! You finally returned! Come with us, the master is going to ascend and take us with him!” Aurelia attempted to persuade Astarion who merely laughed in their faces. Astarion looked around and knew he was outnumbered as Aurelia, Leon, Yousen, and Violet surrounded the bed. Tav was on the other side of the bed, greatsword in hand while Astarion had his daggers. The couple always slept with them close at hand but hoped they would never need them.

“Cazador,” Astarion let his old master’s name drop like venom from a blade. “will not turn you all. You know what he did to us, does it make sense he would give you a reward?”

“He is going to kill you all to ascend!” Tav shouted out to the group earning Astarion’s brief glare. He didn’t want the siblings to know of this as he intended to still use the ascension for himself, but he couldn’t be angry at Tav. Not after everything that happened, the past few days, and the revelations that came with it.

“Kill us?” Leon repeated. “You’re a liar!”

“Am I? We got our information from a more...reliable source.” Astarion replied, his daggers still drawn.

“Why do you think you waited until Astarion returned to ascend? He needs you all to be sacrificed!” Tav kept trying to convince the siblings with logic.

“Look! It doesn’t matter! If we don’t return with yer both, we’re as good as dead…er…” Yousen shifted to move against the mates.

“But Yousen, what if they are telling the truth?” Violet asked cautiously, facing the gnomish man.

“What do you propose…?”

Yousen’s words were cut off as the four pairs of red eyes watching Astarion and Tav grew more red and their bodies ridged. With a swing, Aurelia swung her blade towards Astarion who was much quicker. He dodged easily while yelling out to Tav. “They’re compelled!”

Tav was fighting Leon and Violet while Astarion fought Aurelia and Yousen. Astarion dodged the attacks easily enough and began to go on the offensive. He used Magic Missile to attack the gnome and chanted “Ignis!” before throwing a fireball at Aurelia. Meanwhile, as they fought, Astarion was keeping an eye on his mate. She held her own well enough against Leon, but Violet was much more agile for his mate. His mate was a fighter and used her strength more than her speed, yet Violet was more dexterous.

Astarion saw her take Leon out with her pommel strike and Astarion used his dual wielding skills against Yousen, knocking him out as well. This left them against two left.

That was, until Violet almost got a slice in on Tav’s midsection. Astarion reacted without thinking and pushed his mate aside. He was cut on the arm instead while she fell to the ground, her greatsword clattering a distance away.

“Please, don’t do this!” Astarion begged as he knew their situation had changed. “Don’t hurt her and I’ll come with you quietly.”

“Oh, no. The master wants you both. You know we can’t stop ourselves. Either you both come quietly or master will have me slice her belly in two”

Astarion snarled but Tav spoke up via the tadpole. “I’m disarmed and your arm is injured. We can’t fight them both. If our friends come to find us, they’ll see the blood from your wound. They’ll come for us.”

“This is a horrible idea.” Astarion communicated back via the tadpole.

“Would you rather our child killed? I hate the option too, but what else can we do? We can escape.”

Astarion growled and dropped his daggers in an obvious area he knew would signal to their friends their situation.

“Fine.”

Then in an instant, one of the two women used a teleportation scroll, transporting them back to Cazador’s mansion, or the horror of Astarion’s life. Astarion reached out for Tav’s hand but stopped when he realized he was now face to face with Cazador Szarr.

Note: The next chapter is DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!! it is VERY, VERY DARK. Be warned

[alwaysbethewest]

The Last of Us fic: What I Need's Been Buried

Okay, so I'm posting it. I guess I've been feeling some new fandom jitters with this fic. I don't know the game (and don't want any spoilers, please!!) but I loved the first episode of the show and frankly felt a little overwhelmed after watching it. I couldn't imagine writing fic for it because the show itself was so rich and intense I just had to sit with it and absorb it for a couple days.

And then, I thought, but hmm, what's the deal with Joel and Tess? I wonder how they met? And I felt compelled to write this—just one vision of how it could have gone.

Title: What I Need's Been Buried Pairing: Joel Miller/Tess Servopoulos Rating: Mature Word Count: 1.2k Content/warnings: Non-detailed sex, food, alternating POVs, kinda sad vibes as you might expect because of the show, kinda sappy vibes as you might expect because it's me. General spoilers for TLOU episode 1. Unbetaed but many thanks to Fleetwood, Clare, Kirsty, and Iris, who read draft versions of this and gave me their support 😘

He meets her in a FEDRA refugee caravan, one week south of the QZ. Fraternization is discouraged—too dangerous out here, outside the safety of walls and militarized police and diagnostic scanners—and there is an air of wariness throughout the group, with Boston’s salvation so close at hand, a tenuous thread of hope that could be snapped by a single set of infected teeth. But she meets his eyes across the campfire and gives him a quick, wry smile and sits beside him as the guitar gets passed around in turn—this impromptu open mic circle an echo of a humanity that will never be the same—and she raises her eyebrows when he takes it for himself and strums a familiar chord.

It’s the closest thing to pleasure he’s felt in years—since Before. His body relaxes a little at the tone of the strings under his hands and the crackling warmth of the fire, his brother’s faithful presence on one side of him and this new woman on the other, setting a spark of something nervous alight in him. An odd desire to impress her. When the song ends and he passes the instrument down, she holds out her hand to shake, and it is small and uncalloused in his, accessorized with silver rings that flash in the firelight.

“I’m Tess,” she says. “I like your voice.”

He likes hers. It’s deep for a woman, clear and assured. She has to bite it back, quiet in her throat with his hand firm over her mouth, when he’s fucking her in the dark of the perimeter just outside the camp—hoping they don’t get caught and, just for this moment, not giving a shit if they do. It’s a funny thrill—the clutch of this woman he hasn’t even kissed, up against a tree at the end of the world, in the unknown on the cusp of a new one. They could have met in a bar, before, and her legs would have been shaved and he’d be wearing cologne and it wouldn’t have felt as good as it does in this moment—losing himself inside her after he has lost nearly everything else he ever had.

She clutches his shoulder hard when she comes, face twisting silently in rapture, and he watches her, memorizing it: muscles tight and slack, tension ratcheted to its peak and then released, her quiet panting breaths as she returns to herself. At the last moment he thinks to pull out of her, coming messily over his fingers and onto the leaves at their feet, and she looks grateful for it and finally, softly, gives him a kiss.

They are one week still from safety and yet he’s had a glimpse of it here, held tightly in her arms.

She loses track of him once they reach Boston. FEDRA separates their cohort, poking and prodding each of them and splitting them up between different blocks of the QZ and various miserable jobs, and weeks pass before they meet again.

He’s a few seconds too slow behind her, hand landing on top of hers as they both reach for the last ration of dry, unidentifiable meatloaf at the open food pantry. She glances up at this bulk of a man, recognizing him immediately, and she can see that he does too—it makes him hesitate, just for a breath, long enough for her fingers to tighten around the food and clutch it to her side.

There’s fire in his eyes and a hard set to his jaw; he’s angry and not feeling chivalrous. But the food is hers by right and they both know it. Reluctantly, he takes a step back and turns away.

She watches his sullen shoulders. The people behind him in line have taken their cue and turned away, too, grumbling in frustration at the lack of supplies. It makes her feel sick, and greedy, and powerless.

“Joel,” she calls out. He stops, waits a beat, turns around. Looks at her guardedly. She jerks her head, nodding him to come closer, and he does. “We can share it,” she offers quietly.

His face softens in surprise. He wouldn’t have done the same for her, she realizes—but maybe he will next time now, and keeping him as an ally can only be a good thing in this shitty new world they find themselves in.

He twists his mouth, a little sour, like he knows he should say thank you but doesn’t want to speak the words. Like he hates accepting her charity but going hungry is still worse. After a long moment of silence, he nods.

“Thanks,” he mutters.

When Tess was a little girl, her father had adopted a dog named Shelby, a big, loyal creature with a loud bark and not much bite. It didn’t matter that he was a sweetheart—his appearance was intimidating and Tess might as well have been marching down the street with her own personal guard dog, the way that people granted them a wide berth as they passed. There’s something reminiscent of that old feeling now, with Joel glowering just behind her shoulder as they walk through the town.

She can’t say she minds it.

She’d been leading the way back to her block, but Joel clears his throat, bringing them to a stop.

“Ah,” he says, “My apartment is in here, if… you want to come up.”

It might have been a pick-up line, in another life.

Inside, he slides a kitchen knife towards her, inviting her to divide the loaf, and she slices it evenly in half. He takes the knife, halves his share again, and sets one piece aside.

“For my brother,” he explains, catching her curious look. She glances around the apartment, as if another six foot tall man might appear out of thin air. “He’s working an afternoon shift,” Joel tells her. Her stomach sinks a little, at how small his portion looks now.

They eat quietly, side by side, leaning against the old kitchen counter.

“I gotta get my hands on some Tabasco,” he says around a bland bite. She snorts.

“I’ll keep an eye out.”

He gives her a tiny smile at that, finally, just one corner of his mouth tipped up, but it’s enough to transform his face and make her pulse quicken.

He’d been nice to her, in the forest that night, during their camp rendezvous. He’d given her a real smile when she shook his hand, lit up by firelight and looking younger and more alive than he does in this dingy room. He’d pressed close to her, intimate, had watched her face as he’d pushed inside of her, had looked hungry for the quiet, desperate sounds of pleasure she’d made before he muffled her mouth with his hand.

She hopes she can get him nice like that again sometime.

“I owe you one,” he says, seeing her out. He’s all broad shoulders taking up the whole doorway, this big grown man eclipsed by his own broken heart. She reaches up and cups his face in her hand, watching as he takes in a deep breath, like her touch has relaxed his lungs, if only by a little bit. She pushes onto the balls of her feet, leaning up—he tips his face forward instinctively to meet her—and she kisses him, softly, on the lips.

“Don’t worry about it,” she tells him, and she means it.

(comments more than welcome and appreciated but again please no spoilers past Episode 1 of the show 🤫 Thank you!)

(Mini tag list: @fleetwoodmactshirt, @mourningbirds1, @knittingqueen13, @agirllovespancakes, @loversandantiheroes, @littlemisspascal, @pedrostories, @thirstworldproblemss)

[theskyexists]

The golden enclaves

Ok so i like how this starts with: Orion has been unutterably stupid

Please tell me that we will find out why

This was devastating.

But also WHY IS ORION SUCH A PIECE OF SHIT HE PROMISED TO GO WITH HER AND INSTEAD HE MADE HER LOSE HIM FOR NO REASON TO A FUCKING MAWMOUTH LIKE HER DAD WAS FUCKING LOST BUT NOT KILLED BECAUSE THE VICTIMS DONT DIE THEYRE DIGESTED FOREVER IN ETERNAL PAIN Jezus Naomi god it really is horrific what is up with this

Also, and I say this with absolute extreme disdain, El seriously only just now realised that she has perfect combat synergy with Orion and she COULD have destroyed Patience and freed her father from the eternal torment of being digested? Like......seriously? Did Liesel not even realise this, who is the only one with any brains? (I realise that Liesel at least had different priorities)

Also I am going to explain Orion's craziness and personality change in book 2 as such: he didn't have any mals to eat and so he went mad. He decided, like the piece of shit that he is, that he'd prefer to do months of battle against mals because at least he wouldn't be hungry.

The funny thing is that book 2 ESTABLISHED that El has ZERO absolutely ZERO idea of what goes on in Orion's head. Like. She doesn't get him AT ALL. So her prevaricating on how he's so misunderstood and pushed to be what everybody sees in him - he ALREADY TOLD YOU HE JUST LOVES EATING MALS HE DOESNT CARE ABOUT ANYONE OR ANYTHING HE JUST LOVES EATING MALS EL STOP BEING AN IDIOT AND PROJECTING YOUR OWN SHIT ON THIS POOR BOY

She's literally comparing herself to him again. Look he was a hero and I was an evil witch. Everybody thought that and wanted that from us. EL HE DIDNT FUCKING CARE OK????? Worse, (and it makes sense in this moment), she somehow threads her mum's direct look at his soul into this narrative as some kind of reinforcement of it. He didn't care El. He didn't care. He's just a hungry boy.....

In fact, I cannot remember her classmates ever hating El. Because....they didn't even know she was fated to be an evil witch archetype? They just avoided her bc she wasn't an asset to their survival they thought which was so absurdly idiotic since EL IS A GODDAMN MAL EXTERMINATOR and she never told anyone because of her stupid fucking hangups she could have been a fucking prep and made everybody's lives so much better so much earlier

'because he thought it was his job to make a way out for everybody but him'

This is why I didn't like the second book so much. El is so obviously delusional about this guy.

I cannot STAND IT!!!! HE LITERALLY TOLD YOU HE HAS NO HERO COMPLEX EL!!!! YOU WERE HAVING YOUR LOVELY FIRST TRY AT SEX WITH THIS COOL GUY AND HE SAID: NAH EL. I JUST LIKE TO EAT!!! MALS!!!!!

And the weird thing is she GOT it. When she was getting his mana as he was zipping around pulverising them she was like: OH he loves this. I guess I was wrong. So why are we back here??? Or do I remember that wrong??

I've forgotten how the magic system works. Shit. Malia? Oh yeah.... There was some sort of prophecy. She was gonna bring the enclaves down and kill lots of people or soemthing. so why the fuck did they leave the payment open???

Oh yeaaaahhh the enclaves got hit

"She really did an excellent job of making it seem perfectly ludicrous for me to be living quietly in my own home instead of keeping close tabs on the latest news from international wizarding circles."

LOL

Can seriously nothing kill a mawmouth but El? How is that even POSSIBLE. How did enclaves ever work then? The moment a mawmouth gets in its over

How the fuck is Liesel THIS good at manipulating El. Oh my god.

Her saying: hey bitch, stop feeling sorry for yourself, your boyfriend being dead, no thank you by the way for saving all of ours lives, I don't care about your other problems, or that you might want a break from the horrors with your mum, also come help me out with the worst most insanely horrible creature in the world AGAIN because I know only you can do it. Bitch. Your house sucks

That worked....

She's going to London to fight another fucking Mawmouth - something her mother doesn't even KNOW SHES DONE YET - and leaves her behind without even a hug of goodbye. AFTER FOR YEARS OF TERROR. I honestly....I'm speechless. I started to suspect El was insanely dumb in book 2 but damn, she really is perhaps the dumbest protag I have ever known barring Korra

I love Liesel. Liesel saw El, FOR WHAT SHE WAS, and she CALLED HER OUT,, and said: you are such a stupid fucking idiot. In book 2. Thank god she's around. She's the only good thing out of book 2 really in my opinion. She says to El: you are insanely powerful. You could change the whole world. Now DO IT! Stop sniveling in the fucking dirt!

Ok there we go. There's my El. 'i eyed him in enormous irritation' her fucking disdain for the preps is my endless delight. Even to her enormous personal disadvantage.

Oh I see. It's like Naomi novik read my harry potter post about the wizards being the Fae.

I remember reinterpreting els prophecy into its super obvious good meaning but can't remember what it was.

How the fuck can Enclaves be based in Malia if that's not allowed (murder? But that's illegal.)

Oh what??? There's still working wizards out there working on keeping the enclave running??? Oh damn. Ok so the class hierarchy becomes explicitly about adult production.

Liesel made her angry again. Made El who she is again.

Why isn't everybody fucking fleeing dude??? Why are there still even people there? Grt the fuck out! The enclave is compromised! Get out with your damn lives you preps!

Oh my god. Go after it! It's fucking going after someone else!!! Oh my god go after it guys!!! IT WAS RUNNING AWAY FROM EL???? CAN MAWMOUTHS KNOW SUCH THINGS?

I have to say. Naomi made a deeply op protag and is now taking a more powerful hammer to the self-delusion that El mysteriously developed about her own power.

Liesel, impervious to El's natural intimidation vibes.

Oof i love all the delicate injustices and horrors in Liesel's life. Ok no. I no longer do. It's too painful

'“So it’s better to have power, and it’s stupid not to take it when you have the chance.'

Yeah. In fact. If I was Liesel I'd be beyond furious at El. Somebody so gifted, SO powerful, and she's just pissing it all away.

Jezus christ. Jezus christ! Liesel! A sensible person of intelligence????

Oh right. The prophecy. Killing thousands doom destruction. WHO IS GETTING KILLED EL COME ON THINK!!! THINK FOR ONCE IN YOUR GODSDAMNED LIFE!!!!! or tell Liesel about the stupid prophecy and she'll do it for you -_-

It was a nice thought though, letting the commuters into the garden but damn, yeah they're gonna obviously only be enthralled.

A TERTIARY ORDER ENTITY.

LIESEL WAS TRYING TO SNAG EL THE ELDRITCH WHATEVER THE FUCK SHE IS FOR HER HIGHLY EFFECTIVE POWER THROUPLE?

And I mean. Alfie is literally bound to El too. Wait. Is Orion actually not coming back...? Are we never getting answers? El's gonna fall for Alfie and Liesel? No....

Love how Liesel and Alfie protectively jump up and go: OUR entity. Lol

Oh ok so the compulsions off. She doesn't think he'd help her after she saved his dad, his home, oh yeah saved the whole school that he felt responsible for, and didn't even insist on keeping him as a slave.

I must admit, I did not at all expect El to be hanging out with Alfie and Liesel after all that. I thought, more like her team, but yeah they're not exactly in England. Isn't there travelling magic. Also I expect that Claire or whatever had a family member eaten by the mawmouth.

I was thinking that: won't commute from an enclave be really dangerous? So. Yes. But like. Why then even work for them. Oh ok so you could just go live in a villages with a few other wizards in a circle

Sometimes novik is not consistent about the vulnerability of adult wizards. But this description seems more apt.

Liesel coming in to say 'stop it!' to eldritch monster entity El like she isn't going over the deep end suddenly and very badly. And succeeding. And then getting Yancy to say what El wants to know. Wow they're a good team. I propose Orion/El/Liesel/Alfie super extreme power ..... Thing? Uh. Bridge structure?

El seriously is like: hm. Why is Liesel helping me now? Already turned her down....

El. You saved the whole school. You made that possible. You killed three MAWMOUTHS. You treat Liesel like a person you respect. You are a fucking entity who could do incredible things with a whole lot of help on the bits you suck so terribly at. Liesel owes you, thinks you're a good person, and is probably genuinely into you, also you need HELP. In so many damn ways. Being sensible, getting around in the world, being smart, getting it together.

Liesel has the most practical magic in the world. Wait. Holy fuck. Is Liesel like...Hermione???? Like powerful power top Hermione???

Wow. Damn. Amazing sex scene here. It makes me laugh in delight almost. Wow Liesel is an insanely stabilising influence. Literally kissing the trauma out of her head for a bit. (Edit: uh is there a fanfic version of this out there...?)

There was something so absolutely wrong with Orion and everybody kept trying to tell El and she never saw it because he became a person FOR HER. And she keeps trying to blame his family but his family probably endlessly tried to connect with him but he was just hunting mals. His father responding like this- just absolutely devastated over Orion finally having acted like a human being with somebody is enormous proof. Uh yeah and the rest of the chapter confirms this explicitly.

It really is harry potter but cooler and grittier and more horrifying and more interesting. Our dark'ness dementia ravenway.... The bit about how really witches when caught up in the witch hunt really can't get themselves out because the 'mundanes' negate it by the disbelief.... A direct reference to Rowling's note about witches making the fire tickle and going in for multiple rounds. Also the whimsical magic. But it doesn't have that magic to the magic. It's uneasy.

Man. So that's why novik repeated el's misconceptions of Orion in her time of grief. To finally disembowel them conclusively later in this book.

Yeah. The big question is. Why did Orion become a human being for El?

I love how aadhya and Chloe and Liesel are all instantly INSTANTLY like oh fuck El sees evil she's evil. They are still an extremely well oiled team

Ok but like, El could just grab new York's mana pool right. But yeah she'd become like ophelia

Lol right. By destroying so many mals ( i really didn't think the estimation had been 92 percent but ok) the enclaves lose their power. That's how El has already smashed them....

Oh wow. I forgot about that malia is stealing life force.... And mals come from Malia....

Which means.....that Ophelia is a huge maleficar and Orion is a big old mal. But she certainly is smart enough to say: we should look into reproducing what you did

Damn.ophelia is smart. She's really doing some magic economics

I really didn't know enclaves were built on malia. I think that's a retcon actually. Not just that El didn't know though also that naturally. It's to make this numbers game fit - to say - there's another numbers game beneath the numbers game - to make the mana and malia interactions fit. And well done novik for that

Because the golden enclave really does become the better solution.

I'm not sure how El going in to kill patience is going to help her recover the scholomance though. I mean. Turns out El could have just cleaned the whole place up all along but yknow. I already knew that.

Why did they ever even send Orion away. They could have just unleashed him endlessly on the enclave's mals. Probably infinitely safer and more pleasant for the enclaves children.

Is El really going forward with this? His mum is a maleficer oh poor poor hero boy Orion.... He was never loved. HE LOVED THE SCHOLOMANCE FOR THE MALS EL NOT BECAUSE HIS MOM HIS AN ETHICAL EVIL MAGIC HACKER

Oh no...please tell me that isn't Chloe's only role. She came late to the team but she was fourth!

Aadhya??? WHAT is Liesel's deal? Uhhhh she ran the whole thing? She made everything possible? Do you think she did that because she's a steely selfish bitch? No.

It was a moment of both weakness and total insanity in the literal senses of the word. So maybe you can thank Liesel for sexing El back into a somewhat functional state Aad

'Liesel made an impatient dismissive gesture. “Yes! You have a hook in her yourself. And why will we yank on these hooks? To make her protect us, save our lives? She will do that for strangers, for nothing. What else? You are her ally. Have you asked her to do anything for you? To make someone give you an enclave place, or an artificer contract? Why not?Because you are also a great martyr, who does not want these things?” She snorted as Aadhya scowled at her. “No! You don’t ask because you know she would say no. I tried asking myself. But she will do nothing selfish for herself, much less anyone else. And she is not wrong,” she added, in a grudging tone of having been unwillingly persuaded. “She is too powerful. Once she started, there would be nowhere to stop. So there is only one use of our hooks: to help her stop. You had better be glad that I have one, and hold tight to yours, too.”'

I fucking love Liesel. What the fuck

Lololololol

Oh my god. El angry at Liesel AGAIN for....offering exactly what she needs and wants and doing so perfectly. Lolololololloll

Oh my god is this the garden in sintra with all its fun fake-magic masonry caves and structures???

IT IS!!! I LOVE THAT GARDEN!!! If you're just out to chill and stroll and tramp around lovely fake natural structures that still look cool!

Sad the characters are experiencing such frustration in such a lovely place.

Adult Disneyland....you're killing me novik. It really was a nice place. I mean I was there when there weren't many other people. It was just nice gardens with caves.

Novik describes the portalling system for the scholomance. Yes. It still doesn't make any sense.

Ok but like the gardens are closed at night. Mals can get in no problem.

What im getting from this is that i had incredible timing and normally that garden is packed with horrible tourists

So....how is it that El has a direct link to New York's mana pool THROUGH the pool right into the scholomance?? Because all the wards are down? Ok but uhhhhh it's out in the void??? That's the whole point

UHHHH actually El I don't think you felt Patience scrying for Orion you just felt Orion

How the fuck is Liesel like, exactly the sharp cold sense that El actually WANTS every time?

Ohh ok so Ophelia somehow did make Orion as he is. Somehow.

Well OBVIOUSLY the Malia source is fucking horrible if it can bring an enclave into being. Like come on. Probably produces a mawmouth or something. And you gotta feed it 50 people or whateve

Damn. They're gonna turn Liu into a mawmouth. Its a sacrifice. Uh Novik. You better not go there.

Wow they were gonna make Liu a mawmouth and make her eat her closest full grown wizard family? I think so. Lets see. Go El!

I KNEW IT!!!!!!! WHAT IS THE WORST AND MOST POWERFUL MAL? WHAT IS THE GREATEST PIECE OF MAGIC AND MALIA? AN ENCLAVE

fucking hell. They're squeezing Liu into a mawmouth. Fuck.

No..her hand...

When I am very moved by a scene, i read it out, the first time. This was the scene.

Oof. Orion just ate some wizards. Surely he has less deadly weapons???? He really is a mal

Uh

Oh he actually really is a maw mouth mal? He's a fucking maw mouth? Her dads now inside fortitude inside patience inside Orion, still getting endlessly tortured. Uh...

'for all I knew' NO. DEFINITELY YOUR DAD

Well idk he's had pretty good control so far. Just unfortunate those damn Beijing council guys tried to kill El

Aadhya and Liesel going into negotiations as proxies for El who'd absolutely fuck them up lol

What a coincidence! You wanted to go to India. Now youve been invited to India! She gets angry

OH. MY. GOD. El actually learned a lesson. Asking for help. And of the right person. Liesel.

Wait a minute. She's been destroying the enclaves. By destroying the maw mouths. The maw mouths REMAIN the foundation. So those 'random' attacks. They were her destroying the enclave foundations while still on scholomance. They're lined up.

So if she kills this maw mouth - but still, why wouldn't her new foundation hold up. Oh she realises it completely too. Shit. I forgot that Salta and Bangkok simply died. She did that

Well honestly, Orion isn't such a bad solution, except the mawmouths in him don't die and also apparently he can't help himself eat people now....

LIESEL KNEW???????? WHAT THE FUCK?!!!!! SHES EVEN SMARTER THAN ME??????

Then surely there must be a foundation in the scholomance. And perhaps Orion is now carrying the mawmouth that pins it.

What the fuck do you mean this ain't a trolley problem. Just start in on propping up all the damn foundations with some real ones El. Then go on a lil maw mouth hunt

Ok but she doesn't even call her mother. Right. She can't. Forgot. She doesn't even DREAM AT HER MOTHER. Or some other magical communication. Not even about the family welcoming her after all or the true meaning of the prophecy

Actually since when is El capable of just catching others spells. And get mana from them?? Like some sort of scholomance? Oh yeah she s just so horrridly op

She's....catching bullets out of the air. And...turning people into stone temporarily with them. Fucking absolute lol

I get the sense that novik got lost in the Sintra garden... Like multiple times. Which is very hilarious because my god. It is very easy.

So weird to have fond and vague memories of this precise settting

Ok so i was right. And Naomi novik is a little bit of a genius for this. Real Orion, the realest Orion, was the Orion of book 1. The genuine hero. When there were fewer and fewer mals to eat in book 2, he became more and more maw mouth, started behaving strangely.

Oof. Better run El. He's about to start..... Eating.

What a fucking BASTARD. COULD HAVE AT LEAST HELD ON ONTO EL WAS NOT AT LEAST S HUNDRED STEPS AWAY

Damn El people are getting EATEN OVER THERE HELLO STOP FUCKING STALLING

The thing is all this time I've been thinking CANT YOU KILL THE BITS AND NOT THE BOY. KILL THE MAW MOUTH BITS BUT NOT THE BOY? THE BOY ISNT SOME ORGAN THAT CANT BE AUTONOMOUS. YOU COULD SURELY EXTRACT HIM WHOLE BECAUSE HE IS. YOU HAVE TO KILL THEM ALL INDIVIDUALLY REALLY ANYWAY

Oh my god. No

She did something much more

Damn. I remember wishing el would become child guardian in the scholomance but it's true that Orion would also do very well

But he's not getting mana out ...wait. he can still extract mana out of mals he snaps into the void? Uh ok.

That book made a lot of sense. And was very very very good.