#maybe I should just fucking kill myself so I don’t have to deal with it anymore I don’t fucking know

[pissfizz]

Mgh

[thehighladywrites]

ACOTAR MEN X READER, SITTING ON THEIR LAP

✩ summary: different scenarios where you find yourself sitting on them

✩ warnings: nsfw, 18+, mentions of sex, mentions of self-doubt, kissing, begging, gossiping, fluff, smut, crack, fun times and soft Eris😭💗

✩ amara’s note: the original cassian hc was so long that i had to stop myself bc i was thirsting and it turned into a regular oneshot lmaooo😭 anyways enjoy babes!!!!💗💗💗

reblogs are really appreciated! :D

RHYSAND

No matter how angry you and Rhys get or how petty the fight is, you two always end up holding hands, even while yelling at each other.

Sitting in his lap while you two argue about random, non important stuff is a standard

You guys just don’t do the whole “no touching” thing

Today, the argument was over who cooks better, both of you bickering pettily.

“Listen, I love you a lot, but the kitchen isn’t your best friend. It's crazy how you can burn an empty pot.”

“Maybe you’re crazy,” you retort, arms crossed over your chest as you step closer to him, leaning against his desk in his office.

He keeps arguing with you, going back and forth, while pushing his chair back from the desk to make room for you.

“Whatever, Rhys. I don’t even need to cook when I can summon anything. It’s stupid, and you’re being unfair,” you mutter as you put your hands on his shoulders and plop down in his lap, subconsciously warming at the way he holds your waist and places one hand on your back to keep you steady.

He suppresses a smile, scratching the back of his head as he looks up at your pouting self. “You’re absolutely right, sweetheart. I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course, you’re an amazing chef,” he concedes, his tone laced with affection.

“Awww, come with me while I make you something,” you say, flashing him an oblivious smile.

“Oh! Um, you sure we shouldn't order something or..?” he asks nervously, his voice getting higher as he kisses you.

You slip out of his lap and hurry downstairs to plan his meal, assuring him not to worry about ordering anything and to just come down for his favorite meal.

“Dear Gods,” he whispers as he gets up, a mix of worry and fear in his voice.

ERIS

Eris had been stressed out for a few weeks now. Nothing you said seemed to make a difference.

He was dealing with his father’s death, ruling a new court as the heir, and inheriting the High Lord powers. Your heart ached for him. You wanted to be there for him, giving him hugs and words of encouragement, but you were not on that level yet

Today had been the most stressful day yet, resulting in him shutting down and locking himself up in his bedroom.

“Eris, are you okay? Can I please come in?” you knock gently on the wooden door, voice hushed and gentle.

After a few moments of silence, you hear him shuffling behind the door until he opens it very slightly.

He is shirtless, only in a pair of pants. You manage to catch a glimpse of his tired, amber eyes before he turns around to lie in his bed.

The room looks clinically clean, the only disturbance being Eris’s rugged appearance.

Without saying a word, you walk over to him and give him a hug. It’s a long, warm hug that tells him everything he doesn’t allow himself to hear: you’re there for him.

It takes a few moments for him to hug you back, but when he does, he wraps his arms tightly around your waist, bringing you into his lap.

Only after an hour of silence does he speak

“I feel like i’m stuck. These powers are killing me, the board is fucking annoying, the folk believe i’m wicked and cruel and i have no idea what to do about anything.”

He looks up at you with desperate eyes, “Do you believe I’m truly wicked?”

You shake your head in honesty. “No, honey. I have not met anyone as smart, kindhearted and brave as you. Others do not know you like I do but they should,” you whisper, hands going through his tussled hair. “You’ve been hiding behind your mask for too long, Eris. Let people see the real you.”

The room goes quiet, the only sound being the beating of your hearts.

Slowly his lips meet yours in a new and experimental kiss. He stares up at you with his pupils blown but before you can apologize and get off his lap, he kisses you again and locks his arm around you

“Thank you,” he whispers between heating kisses, “Thank you, beautiful.”

CASSIAN

“Hi there sugar, what can I do for you?” Cassian asks sweetly as he flicks your nose with his finger, happy that you ran into his office and immediately plopped down on his lap

“Can you fuck me?” you ask, frustrated with the lack of dick lately.

His eyes widen slightly at your words, then he slowly cracks a handsome smile. “Gods. How inappropriate of you,” he teases, the amusement clear in his voice.

His teasing almost makes you sob. This was totally NOT the time. You almost roll your eyes before realizing he will so not give in if you give him that

“Cassian, i’m begging you. I want, no- need to be fucked. Please, i’m losing hearing in my left ear,” you beg as you get closer and sit in his lap, rubbing your hands all over his chest

He looked incredibly good, almost unfairly so. Cassian’s jaw and chin had grown scruffy in a ruggedly masculine way that made him look older and even more attractive.

A week without seeing him had only heightened your weakness for his body, making you throb.

“Losing hearing? You must be really dying for me, huh? Alright then. I’ll let you ride,” he smirks at you while unbuckling his belt.

He finally fucking let’s you fuck, hitting spots that makes you go fuzzy brained.

You make him promise to never be gone again before going for another ride, satisfied when he breathlessly promises.

LUCIEN

There is not a bigger shit-talking couple in Prythian than you two

One look between you two is enough.

Someone’s being annoying? You share an annoyed glance. Someone’s being rude? You share a baffled glance. Something’s juicy’s happening? You share a glance that says you will so talk about it when you get home.

“— and he has the audacity to two-time her? He’s lucky to find even one person willing to date him,” you gossip, lounging in Lucien’s lap, your voice dripping with disbelief.

“You’re not going to believe this, but this isn’t his first time. He did that to Tamlin’s cousin too,” Lucien adds, his tone filled with incredulity.

“No way,” you gasp in disbelief, shaking your head as the gossip sinks in.

“Yeah, apparently this guy fucks around in all courts and cheats on anyone willing to stomach. What a fucking loser, honestly,” Lucien nods in agreement, disdain evident in his voice. “The sick bastard gets off on it.”

“That reminds me, guess what I heard about Rhys in Rita’s yeaterday,” Lucien prompts, leaning in with a sly grin, clearly ready to share some gossip.

“Some males and females were talking about Rhys, saying he's replaced Feyre with a clone,” Lucien whispers, his tone laced with disdain. “And get this— they think her transformation from human to fae is fake and that there is no way she could possibly be the mother of Nyx.”

“A clone? They’ll say anything these days,” you exclaim, raising an eyebrow incredulously.

“That's exactly what I'm saying! They're probably just making shit up out of thin air,” Lucien replies, nodding in agreement.

“I wouldn't put it past them,” you say, shaking your head as you reach for a biscuit, happy to be sitting and gossiping with your love.

AZRIEL

Azriel loves when you sit on his lap.

It makes him feel safe and relaxed knowing you're close to him.

It's something he does every day when he comes home - having you in his lap. Sometimes you both sit quietly, other times you talk or fuck or cuddle, depending on how you’re feeling.

Azriel especially likes the fuck part.

He loves the part where you sit on his lap while he works. If you’re good, he’ll bend you over his desk and fuck you. If not, he still fucks you but he does it with no mercy

He makes you sit on his dick and tells you not to move and inch or you will be edged for hours, not being allowed to cum once

Fucking torture is what it is honestly

“Stop moving around so much, i can’t focus.”

“Do you blame me? You’ve buried your dick in me, of course i’m moving. Maybe do something about that.”

He raises his eyebrows at your snarky comment. If it’s something he didn’t need today it was sass.

His day was quite shitty and all he needed was his sweet mate who would kiss away his problems and take his dick perfectly

Azriel smiled slightly as he put his pen down. He would take out his frustrations on you today.

“You want to be fucked? Let’s fuck,” he says in a low tone

In the end, all his papers are scattered, all pens on the floor.

He is relaxed and all smiley while you’re on death’s door💗

[cheriden]

˙ . ˚ ₊ 「 needy streamer overload 」 ꜝꜝ

“‘Cause I don’t need a fucking mod anyway. I’ll deal with whatever comment is thrown my way because I’m not a pussy that needs to be kept in the dark.” If his solution is to fire you then date you, he may be as foolish as you feared. “You think that shit is easy?” You hiss, pushing him off you and onto his seat. “You know what people say about you, Beomgyu?” His body is trapped in between your arms, gulping down as you get close to his face. “They think you’re a fame whore who’s desperate for a click, and you should just slut yourself out for cash.”

── synopsis 。the boy from across the hall hired you to assist in his streaming and admits his feelings for you on his livestream

pairing 。streamer!beomgyu × moderator!reader

.ᐟ genre 。a bit of angst but it's sooo little and maybe i got sad thinking about the mental health of the streamer and the fan base

.ᐟ tags 。sub!idol (somewhat forced submission), switch!idol at the end, boss-worker relationship, co-workers, love confession, beomgyu is an attention seeker here (said lovingly), miscommunications and non-speaking terms, praise & degredation, name-calling, unprotected sex, creampie, a looot of dialogue, riding and missionary, an adequate amount of descriptive kissing

.ᐟ status & word count 。oneshot | 2.93k | masterlist

.ᐟ warnings/notes 。as always i did not proofread. reader is fem and uses she/her pronouns

The broadcast has barely started, yet thousands flood into the stream as Beomgyu fixes his headset. He stares at the chat box while hundreds of people send him praises and greetings, mouth curving upwards. You, on the other hand, are not having as great a time, mouse working double-time to ban and restrict hurtful profanities. 

“Hi Bamtoris! Today’s a great day, because we finally reached our sub goal!” He yells and shakes the camera, jostling onto his seat as his energy stabilizes. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not grateful for all my viewers! Just you watching is enough to keep me going. As promised, we will be starting our Q&A stream!” He cheers, swiveling around with his head against his hand. “Up until now I haven’t really answered any questions about myself; I know you guys are probably curious about a lot of things. It’s only right that we get to know each other better~” You scoff at his poor attempt at fan service, watching him do every type of cute pose at the camera. It’s not surprising when his poor fans pick up everything that he puts out, losing their minds as you barely keep up with the comments that move at lightspeed. You’re sure he loves his fans; though it’s a bit annoying when you have to be on the receiving end of cross checking every line they have to say before they get to him. Beomgyu, being who he is, tries to spot any and every comment before you try to take it down. 

The 30 minute mark rolls by smoothly, and right as you think about relaxing, you’re immediately jinxed as Beomgyu giggles, covering his mouth with his palm. “So you’re interested in my love life?” It catches you off guard, as you scramble to look for the user he’s pertaining to. Yet the damage is already done, unable to scroll back with the unceasing questions for follow up. “No, I’m not dating anyone right now.” You suppose it’s harmless in itself, riding on the hopes that you know what he’s doing. He’s allowed to see or date whoever he chooses, after all.

[right now?] 

[yo??????]

[this is my time to shine fr]

[sorry guys, it’s me.]

“Actually… I’ve had a crush on someone for a while now.” He starts, pout replacing the grin on his face as he looks down, toying with his fingers.

[wait we’re seriously doing this rn?]

[is this a bit?]

[chat…what is going on]

“I don’t even think she likes me back, to be honest. She’s really indifferent to me.”

[she broke ur heart?? My baby:((]

[im going to kill her] (deleted)

[how could she ?? ur so sweet!]

“No, no.” Beomgyu shakes his head, “It’s really professional of her to be honest. She knows how to separate work from personal business. She keeps me safe, and is always there for me, like you guys are!”

[does she know you like her lolll]

[confession stream?!]

[ain’t no way…]

[whooooooooooooooooo?!]

He grins, building suspense by drumming the table. “She’s been a great help to all of my streams. My savior, my guardian angel, my one and only mod!” 

You cough violently, reaching the far end of the table for your water bottle. What the fuck is he on? You fail to catch the rest of his confession, his words numbing your ears as you're frozen in place.

[LMFAO]

[BRUHHHHHH]

[don’t date her plz, i would actually shoot myself.] (deleted)

[fr is this a prank]

“Calling her “Mod” is a bit dehumanizing, you think?” He ponders, “I don’t think I should call her by her real name on stream, so what do we suggest, chat?”

[mod-nim? idk]

[angel! like you said earlier<3]

[bitch]

[you said we would get married. Fuck you stupid cheater choi beomgyu]  (deleted)

[anything you like!]

[u should ask her..]

“I like Angel!” He replies, clapping his hands. “I think it suits her—my Angel.” You’re barely functioning, on the edge of your seat as you try to predict what he says next. “That’s all the time I have today, bamtoris. What do you suggest we do for our next sub goal?”

[baking stream!]

[those 24 hour streams hehe]

[strip game lol] (deleted)

[house tour]

“Okay, I’ll host a poll for the most popular replies later! Stay tuned my babies~ See you–and thank you again for two thousand subs!” With that, he waves at the webcam, throwing kisses onto the camera as he clicks end livestream. You waste no time, exiting your apartment and knocking on his studio across from yours frantically.

The front door opens with a wide grin plastered on the other’s face. You sneer, shoving past him. “What the fuck was that?” He drops onto the couch, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. “I take it you did not enjoy today’s work?” Your chest heaves rapidly, feet planted near the doorway as you try to string together a coherent (and professional) sentence. “Angel, I’m allowed to have my own life outside of work. That includes my love life, which does not concern you or my viewers.” He practices the nickname, turning his head to face you. “Does not concern me? You have a fucking crush on me! Your fans would go ballistic if you actually dated someone.” He scoffs, “Are you saying people only watch me not because I’m entertaining but because of my face?” You shake your head, leveling with him on the sofa. “Beomgyu, I would never say that.” The other’s eyebrow is raised, expecting a catch. You so desperately wish to shelter him on this topic, even if it’s a half-truth. “I’m saying your viewership is over 60% female. It wouldn’t hurt for you to–” The laugh that exits him is hollow and unamused. “You want my fans to delude themselves into thinking they could get with me?” You place your hands on top of his in an attempt to de-escalate his temperament. “No! But as long as you’re not taken—” They’re swatted away, and he recoils. “It’s implied!” You gulp. “Fine. Yes, it helps them hold on to the sliver of hope they have.”

“Then I’d be profiting off of their parasocial perception of me.” A hint of guilt makes its way to his expression, one that you mirror. You hadn’t hoped to be part of such a cycle that takes advantage of the emotions of an individual. “You could have worded it more nicely. They’re your fans.” The shame on his face stiffens up into annoyance. “You were the one who put the ideas in my head!” You turn away from him. “It’s what happens to all streamers, Beoms. You build rapport, a following and that’s how they come back.”

His face is buried in his palms, clicking his tongue as he ruffles his hands through his hair. “Get out.” Your face falls, “What?” He pushes past you, opening the door. “Get out. You’re not my boss, you work under me.” He hisses, nostrils flaring as opposed to the stiff composure he tries to put up. “You check my schedule, you clean my inbox, you edit my vods. You don’t get to tell me what I can’t do.” Through clenched fists, you take in a deep breath, trying your best to keep your own calm. Though perhaps your own anger and panic is laced with a bit of hurt. Beomgyu has never gotten pissed off at you, no matter the circumstance. “Fine. If that’s how you feel our workplace terms should be, then that’s the protocol I will follow” You reply. A lump gets caught up in your throat and nearly chokes you as you turn to him. “You’re right, you’re the boss.” You murmur, tight-lipped. The door slams behind you louder than you intended, but you shake it off and trudge back to your apartment.

A few streams have passed since your verbal altercation with Beomgyu, minimal contact held on both your ends. His last text was a screenshot of the poll results he promised his viewers and you gulp down at the landslide of votes asking him to do a strip game. Would this take a toll on his mental well being? The silent confirmation that he’s being looked at for his physical appearance and not for his content? Your fingers hovered over the keyboard overlay, drafting messages to ask if he’s fine, to tell him he doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do.

But you’re neither his manager nor his PR team, and now you’re not even sure if you have the right to talk to him as a friend. You revisit the chat, texting a short “stream starts in 10” and he replies with a thumbs up emoji. 

You don’t know what game he’s playing, but you’re sure as hell not participating. Cross-armed, you slump back in your seat as he plays a first person shooter, with each death prompting him to take a piece of accessory or clothing off. He’s layered in a dramatic amount of jackets and coats, and you couldn’t help but crack a small smile at how comical he looks. But you pull yourself back to Earth, your screen indicating his next death. He clicks his tongue, taking off one of his coats. 

Beomgyu’s right. He’s smart, and he would never do anything to jeopardize what he has worked so hard to achieve. You watch him argue with the comments about cheating and how socks don’t count because nobody couldn’t see it anyway, simultaneously deleting serious comments about buying said garment. You reassure yourself that he’ll do what is in his best interest for him, even if you subconsciously note the change in his playstyle, a little more risky and miscalculated than it usually is.

However you hold out, arms glued to your sides and trying your best to bury yourself in your chair as he takes off his shirt. He’s in a top, thank goodness, and it seems to do wonders for his image as his viewers go crazy for his physique. You yourself have to admit that for someone who complains about putting in the effort to work out, his figure fairs prettily. You clutch the table in annoyance when he dies a pointless death right after respawning, opting him to be stripped bare for his chest area. How many deaths has he had in two games? Even the comments are questioning his skills, something that was previously glossed over as people assume it was from getting used to the mechanics.

“I really suck at this character.” Beomgyu pouts, shimmying what you assume are his shorts off camera. He looks over the chat while waiting to be revived, body facing away from his main screen. “Yeah, I’m only in my underwear now. Such a shame, on my last game too.” He snickers, resting his head on his palm. 

What the fuck was he doing? He’s not seriously thinking about getting naked live, is he? “You want to see? My chat is a bunch of perverts.” He says playfully, turning back to the game. “Oh shit. I lost.” The comments cheer as he closes the game, lightly swiveling in his chair. The camera is taken off the tripod and into the boy’s shaky hands. “Oh well, A promise is a promise!” He beams, and you lunge out of your seat, running over to his studio. All the doors are unlocked, and you’re not sure if it’s a blessing or a red flag, but you bust into the studio and pull the plug on all of his devices. “What is wrong with you?!” You bark, throwing the heavy coats on top of him. Your seething contrasts the smirk on his face as he pulls his shorts up. “I knew it, you care about me.” Your mouth falls agape, blinking and laughing like you’ve gone insane. “Are you genuinely stupid? You’re my boss. You would’ve ruined your life, Beomgyu.” He shrugs, slumping against his seat. “I never would’ve shown my dick, obviously.”

“You could’ve had like–whatever the nip slip equivalent is for this.” You shriek. “Calm down,” He says, acting as if you were the unreasonable one. “I had it under control, alright? If anything, you caused the commotion.” The air hangs in an uncomfortable silence, until you start laughing again. “Me?” He doesn’t find it funny. “Yes, you. People will think I have a girlfriend, and you were so against that idea before, right?” You’d like to punch that cocky grin off his lips, gaze narrowing at him. “Did you do this on purpose?” He shrugs again, pursing his lips. “Wanted to see if you would stop me.”

You shake your head, pivoting yourself out of the room. “You’re a fucking idiot.” He grabs at your wrist, eyes solemn and serious. “I care about you—can’t I want your care for me, even if it’s over something as stupid as this?” You do nothing but gape back at him, and he pulls you in closer, placing his hands on your shoulders. “Face it, you like me, even if it’s not like that.” You roll your eyes. “You’re such an egoist, Beomgyu.” He pays no mind to your insults, “What I want to know is why you only delete comments that talk shit about me, and you ignore the ones dog-piling on you.” Your brows pinch in confusion. “”Cause it’s my job to protect you, fuckface. My comments don’t matter.” He’s quick to dismiss you. “That’s not true, and it sucks when I see you put yourself down like you don’t matter. Even if you say you don’t like me, I like you. That shit affects me too.” You scoff, violently removing his grip on you. “That’s such bullshit. Those comments were for one live and don’t mean anything to me.” His face contorts into a mix of amusement and disbelief. “They don’t? Not the ones that called you a bitch and a user?” Your gaze is stuck on the floor, refusing to give him any satisfaction over the topic. “What about the ones who called you all those slurs and a nympho, they don’t even know you.” You clear your throat. “Well, it shouldn’t matter to you, because it’s none of your business.” 

His gaze softens, “You are my business.” “No—you’re my business, and I work for you. That’s all.” Your expression is sharp and blank, staring right into him. “Is that what’s keeping you from being with me?” He exclaims, gears turning in his head. “‘Cause I don’t need a fucking mod anyway. I’ll deal with whatever comment is thrown my way because I’m not a pussy that needs to be kept in the dark.” If his solution is to fire you then date you, he may be as foolish as you feared. “You think that shit is easy?” You hiss, pushing him off you and onto his seat. “You know what people say about you, Beomgyu?” His body is trapped in between your arms, gulping down as you get close to his face. “They think you’re a fame whore who’s desperate for a click, and you should just slut yourself out for cash.” You don’t miss the way his alarmed stare flickers to your lips. “I defend you from shit like that every time you open your camera, and you think it's as easy as ignoring a few trolls? Even your own fans joke about it.” 

“Though looking at you now, you’re just as dirty and trampy as they make you out to be.” You wedge your knee in between his crotch, and he falters at the contact. “If you’re a pervert who gets off shit like this? Maybe you’ll be just fine after all. Fuck, maybe you can even make a living out of it.” He slumps over your leg, resting his cheek on your thigh with heavy breaths. “Please—” He chokes out, and you tilt your head curiously. “Please what?”

“Please make it better.”

You snatch the waistband of his underwear and tug it down to his thighs, eyes screwed shut as his dick hits his stomach. Beomgyu groans at the cool air that hits his skin, replaced with the warm slick from  your cunt. He looks up at you panting over him, brows furrowed as you try to sink further on him. Without warning, he bucks his hips up into you, making you fall down onto his lap. Tugging his hair back, you glare at him. “Don’t. Move.” You hiss. The other whines in response, gripping on the arm rests and burying his face between your neck. You huff, digging your fingers into his shoulders as you sink deeper. “I can’t–you have to move, please move or else—” “Or else what?” You cut him off, “I’m the one doing you a fucking favor here. So you’ll take what I give you or I'll take it all away.”

He’s fully situated in you, but you still aren’t moving—and it’s driving the brunette insane. He starts rolling his hips slowly, and he was pretty sure you didn’t notice until a small whimper leaves you. His gaze locks in with your own—eyes watering and lips quivering as you try to remain calm. 

With one swift motion, Beomgyu hoists you up to his hips and drags the both of you onto the bed. He lets you down gently onto the mattress, planting a kiss on your forehead as he drives himself deeper into you. 

The both of you don’t say anything for a while–-the room filled with shaky breathing and whimpering, along with the squelching from where your bodies connect. His hips suddenly stutter and snap into you, causing you to moan loudly. His hands move from your thighs to take hold of your face, kissing you like his life depended on it. You yelp when he bites down, prying himself into your mouth. He starts thrusting faster, raking the sides of your torso with his tongue still lodged in your throat. Out of the blue, he pulls himself off you, watching the way your pussy sucks his cock in and out. “Angel, you’re so pretty…So pretty when you go dumb on my dick, that smart mouth of yours can’t keep up with me.” He sighs, pressing his thumb on your clit. Your legs try their best to close but he spreads them further apart, bending down so that his chest is sitting on yours. “So pretty, thinking about nothing but me. I wish you’d always think about me.” He mumbles mindlessly, “I love you.”Your cunt clenches at his words, and you’re sure he feels it by the way he arches his back into you. 

He picks up his pace again, whining and babbling incoherent phrases. He tells you he loves you over and over again, before cutting himself off. “I-I’m close, can I cum inside?” You nod feverishly and he smirks, kissing the tip of your nose. “So cute, eager for me to fill you up? I’m at your disposal, angel. I’ll give you anything and everything you want.” He rushes, kissing the sides of your face until you come around him, inducing his own orgasm as he rides both of your highs out, white strings overflowing to the base of his dick and the inners of your thighs.

“So...” He starts, drumming his fingers against your thigh. You turn to him, lips in a pursed line. “So… You’re actually in love with me.” 

Beomgyu makes a deadpan expression, dropping his shoulders. “I thought that was clear already from like, the million times I told you.” Trying to face away, you shuffle against the bed, but he holds your waist and pulls you close to him. Still, you refuse to meet his gaze. “Well, words are just—words.” Your phrases make him petulant, circling over the dip of your skin with his thumb. “Well, I do mean it.”

“I know I just— I don’t think—you’re a public figure, Beomgyu.” The sulk on his face deepens,  a successful attempt to make you pity him. “I’m still just me. Completely separate from whatever facade I choose to show the rest of the world.” He says, taking your hands in his. “I’ll be yours, as Beomgyu, not some mega-talented and skilled streamer.” You scoff at his never ending confidence, shoving him away from you. His face beams when he lightens the mood. “So?” You raise an eyebrow, “So?”

“Do you want to try,” He gestures between the two of you, “this?” He can visualize the gears turning in your head, and he has to admit to himself that he’s scared of your answer. You release your bottom lip from your teeth. “One date.” He flips over to rest on top of you, resting his face on your chest. “One date and a hotel.” 

You scoff. “One date until dinner.” Pouting, he mumbles, “I thought that was implied.” You giggle, combing your fingers through his hair. “One date with a dinner, and if it goes well we’ll see where that gets us.”

“Deal.”

thank you for reading! feedback, reblogs, and tags for support towards the algorithm appreciated♡

sorry this took so long i totally forgot about it until i got a dm asking me about it xd

─── 〔 𝒎.𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 〕

[bloodibambiidoll]

White Rabbit

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Summary: Rafe goes to Barry for help with his “pouge problem” but he gets more help than he bargained for when he meets Barry’s cousin in the most unsuspecting way. He can’t stay away from her, despite Barry’s protests, especially when she’s just as unhinged as he is. Takes place during season 2 episode 4 “Homecoming”. Wk: 6.9k.(oops)

Warnings: Gun violence(reader shoots a guy but doesn’t kill him), cocaine use(both reader and rafe), Barry is not super stoked about R and Rafe being into each other, unprotected sex, oral (m & f), choking, hair pulling, face fucking, Dom!Rafe, Sub!Reader, unhinged reader, spit kink, digration, daddy kink, a lil spanking, biting, Rafe & R are obsessed with each other, R has the nickname “bunny” & is implied to be alternative, her outfit is described but other than that no physical descriptions. Lmk if I missed any please! 18+MNDI!!

A/N: This is my first time ever writing for Rafe, so it might not be the best ever but I fell for this man so hard and I just needed to write him with an unhinged girl. Shout out to my girl @babygorewhore for not only beta reading but hyping me up/brainstorming with me through this entire fic. I might make this into a series of some sort. Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!✨🖤

Rafe slammed his truck door shut as he walked up to Barry’s porch, scoffing when he saw him sitting there with his feet propped up while he read a book.

“Hey, you got my shit?”

“Shit, you’re early.” Barry closes his book and sets it down on the table in front of him, a condescending smirk spreading across his lips.

“Do you have my shit or not, man?” Rafe groans as he plops his large body down onto the rundown cushion of one of the porch chairs.

“Yeah, I got yo shit.” Barry chuckles, pulling the baggy from his pocket and tossing it on the table. “You got my money?”

“Yeah.” Rafe pulls a wad of cash from his pocket and slaps it into his hand before grabbing the baggy so he can make himself line. He snorts it, letting out a deep breath after. “I need a piece too.”

“Hooohoooo!! You need a piece? Country Club Killer now, huh?” Barry laughs, his hand coming down to slap his knee.

“Don’t!!” Rafe slams his hand on the table. “Mess with me right now.”

“Aight, what the hell you need a piece for?”

“John B is fucking back.”

“John B is fucking dead dude.”

“Nah man, I saw him for myself in the Bahamas, and just now Top saw him in town with my sister scoring beer.”

“FUCK!!!!” Barry kicks the table, sending it flying a few feet away. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin me? I’m done playing with these kids bruh.”

Barry kicks himself up from his seat, walking over to a locker on the side of the porch. He enters the combination before he pulls out a gun and starts to load it.

“You wanna be done with those little shits once and for all? You’re gonna need a lot more than just a piece. You gotta start going at this shit like a soldier.” He spins the barrel, clicking it into place before handing the gun to Rafe.

“You do this, you know I’ll take care of you, alright? You won’t be doing this shit for nothing man I’ll -“

“YOU THINK I’M SCARED OF YOU, YOU LITTLE BITCH?” A male voice came booming from behind the house.

“IF YOU AREN’T NOW, YOU FUCKING WILL BE!” Another voice followed, but this one was unmistakably female.

“Dude, what the fuck was that? Is that chick okay? Should you like - I don’t know - deal with that or some shit?” Rafe’s blue eyes scan the other man’s face for signs of distress but it was almost like if he hadn’t mentioned it, he wouldn’t have even noticed.

“Nah bro, that’s my cousin. She’s got it, stop trippin. We doin’ this or not?”

There’s a loud crash and then he hears the girl's voice again.

“I TOLD YOU TO GET ON YOUR FUCKING KNEES, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!!!”

“Dude I’m gonna go check it out, that doesn’t sound good.” Rafe isn’t sure why he really gives a shit if this random chick who he hasn’t even seen is alright or not, maybe he’s just high and paranoid. Either way his curiosity gets the best of him and he starts walking towards the back of Barry’s place.

“She doesn’t need your help pretty boy, trust me.” Barry snorts and shakes his head as he begrudgingly follows him.

When Rafe rounds the corner the sight he sees is far from what he was expecting. The man who he heard yelling was shorter than him but more built, probably middle aged, he wore a white tank top and black board shorts and the look in his eyes told him that he was definitely one of Barry’s customers or less reliable dealers. The girl on the other hand? You were half his size, your hair in two braids with ribbons tied at the ends of them, you were wearing a tiny little baby pink tank top and black spandex shorts that barely covered her ass. You had combat boots on your feet that had little white ruffle socks sticking out of the top of them, but what was most shocking? You were holding a Glock in one of your small hands, and the collar of the man’s tank top was gathered in the other. You were standing on your tiptoes whilst also pulling the man down so he was face level with you, the Glock held to his head.

“I said, get on your fucking knees mother fucker, you got a hearing problem or some shit?” You growl at the man and it sends shivers down Rafe’s spine. You were beautiful. He watches as you shove the Glock into the man’s temple and ram your boot clad heel into his thigh causing him to fall to his knees with a grunt.

“Much better.” You smile as you tap his cheek with the gun before bringing it back to the side of his head. “Now, where the fuck is my fucking money?”

“I told you! I told you I don’t fucking have it right now I just need a little time!” The man’s voice is shaky now, his eyes traveling between you and the gun held to his head.

“Time? This isn’t a fucking loan service! Get me my money by tomorrow, or you’re fucked!” Your eyes are filled with fire and you let out a dry laugh.

“What’re you gonna do? Send Barry after me? Where is he at? He knows I always pay, just let me talk to hi-“ He’s cut off abruptly when you hit him across the cheek with the gun.

“SHUT UP!! You’re not fucking talking to Barry, you’re talking to me. If you don’t get my money you aren’t going to have to deal with him, you’re going to have to deal with me. Which I promise you don’t fucking want.” Rafe watches as you lean down into the guy's face, your eyes boring into his, a sinister smile paints your lips, and he isn’t even ashamed of the fact that he felt his cock stir in his pants at your display of dominance over this man twice your size. “Got it??”

“I don’t know how you expect me to get that amount by tomorrow I-“ The man grunts when you hit him in the face with the gun again, his face whipping to the side.

“I said, got it?” You hold the gun between his eyes, your smile never faltering.

“Yeah - yeah! I got it! I got it! Can I go now!?” The man holds his hands by his head in surrender, seemingly not wanting to argue with you further.

“I fucking mean it asshole, tomorrow, by sunset.” You glare at him momentarily before your smile returns, tapping his cheek with the gun again before turning to walk off.

“You aren’t gonna do shit bitch, you’re nothing without that little gun.”

Rafe’s blue eyes widen as he watches the man’s hand reach out and grab for your Glock. He subconsciously takes a step forward in your defense but soon realizes maybe you really don’t need help. Your body whips around, pulling the gun from the guy's reach and shooting him in the foot all in one motion. He screams out in pain, his hands grabbing onto his foot as he falls to the ground.

“Bring me my fucking money. Tomorrow. Or you’re going to be in a lot more pain than that.” You crouch down and spit in the guy's face before walking over him and into the house, letting the door slam shut behind you. Rafe stands there with his dick half hard and his jaw hanging open as he stares at the closed door you just disappeared behind.

“I told you she fuckin’ had it, and don’t even fuckin’ think about it, country club.” Barry’s voice snaps him out of his trance.

“Wha-? Think about what?”

“I see how you’re fuckin’ lookin at her dude, that’s like my sister in there. You stay your messy ass away from her, aight?”

“We should go check on her…” Rafe ignores Barry’s warning, walking towards the house despite his protests.

You let out an agitated groan as you flop down on the couch and toss your Glock on the cushion next to you. You grab a little clear baggy off the coffee table and sprinkle some of the powder onto the small mirror in front of you, using the random gift card you found in your wallet to push a portion of it into a straight line. You grab the rolled dollar bill sitting on the mirror and bring it up to your nose so fucking ready for this line after dealing with that shit head, but right when you bend over the front door slams open, causing you to jump back. Your foot hits the table and the movement makes a mess of your line. You let out a curse under your breath, your eyes rising to glare at your intruder.

You expect Barry, or maybe that fucking idiot really did want to lose a finger today. But instead of the brown eyes of your cousin, or the bloodshot hazel ones of your unreliable dealer, your eyes lock with piercing blue ones. You have to physically stop yourself from gasping at the sight of the man in front of you. He’s tall, really tall, and built, his chest and arms perfectly filling out the blue button up shirt he wore. His chestnut hair looked silky to the touch, his jaw looked perfect for biting, and his face was just all around beautiful. Especially those eyes, the look in them stern. There was something else there you couldn’t quite decipher, it almost seemed possessive.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his voice laced with concern.

“Uh - yeah? Aside from the fact that you just scared the shit out of me and made me knock my line all over the table, I’m just peachy.” You scoff, throwing him a playful smirk and roll of your eyes.

“Country Club here seems to think you’re some kinda damsel in distress or some shit.” Barry walks through the door behind him, smacking his bicep with the back of his hand and laughing loudly.

“Damsel in distress, huh? I don’t think I’d mind if a pretty boy like you came to my rescue.” You bite your bottom lip, your eyes roaming his figure.

“Hell fuckin’ nah! Quit that shit out right now, Bunny. I mean it. I told him the same shit, I don’t want this.” He gestures between you and Rafe. “To be a thing. You two are a recipe for fuckin’ disaster. This is Rafe Cameron, the dude I was tellin’ you about.”

“What the fuck did you tell her about me man?” Rafe’s voice comes out almost panicked and you find yourself wanting to comfort him immediately. You jump up from your seat and walk around the table so you can stand in front of him. He’s even taller up close, you have to tilt your head all the way to meet his eyes and you stop yourself from clenching your thighs at the height difference.

“So this is the guy that killed the sheriff, huh? Pretty boy is a cop killer? I find that kind of sexy…” You twirl a strand of your hair between your fingers, your teeth subconsciously finding your bottom lip again as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Barry, what the hell man? You told her that shit?” He addresses the other man but his eyes don’t leave yours, the look in them changed from concern to defense, and maybe a little lust? He was honestly looking at you like he wanted to choke you to death and this time you really couldn’t stop yourself from clenching your thighs where you stood.

“Hey, I’m not going to rat you out or some shit. Barry gave me the low down on everyone on the island when I moved, if I’m going to work for him I need to know the ins and outs, ya know? He trusts me, if you trust him, you can trust me. I’m cool.” You give him a smile that you hope is reassuring, you aren’t sure why but you want him to trust you.

“Alright.” His eyes search your face, almost as if he’s trying to read your thoughts, to see if you really mean it.

“Alright, we good?” You extend your hand towards him and he takes it in his much larger one, shaking it.

“We’re good.” You go to pull your hand away but he tightens his grasp, keeping it held in his. “You didn’t tell me your name though, or should I just call you, what did Barry call you? Bunny?”

“Bunny is preferred, but you can call me my real name too, if you’d like.” You let your thumb run across the back of his hand as you tell him your name, your eyes never leaving his.

“AIGHT! That’s enough of alla that.” Barry pushes past you, plopping down on the couch he grabs the bong on the coffee table and starts to load it.

“Bare, stop acting like you’re in charge of who I flirt with. I'm a grown ass woman, you're being dramatic.” You scoff, sending him a death glare.

“Seriously man, you’re acting like you’re her dad or some shit.” He chuckles when your cousin flips him off. “I’m sorry about your line by the way, I really just came to check in on you after I saw you arguing with that asshole out there. Let me make it up to you.”

Rafe brings his hand up to your shoulder, running his thumb over the blade a few times before letting it graze down your arm as he walks towards the couch. You watch as he sits down next to Barry and picks up your gift card, expertly lining the fine power back into a nice row before patting the cushion next to him. A smile breaks across your lips as you take the empty seat. He doesn’t miss the way your tits bounce when your ass hits the couch and the smell of your sweet perfume makes his cock twitch.

“For you, pretty girl.” He holds the folded dollar bill up to you with a smirk and you happily take it from him.

“Thanks, cutie.” You wink at him. When you lean down Rafe notices your hair is in your way so like it’s the most casual thing in the world he brings his large hand up to your face and sweeps the straw pieces behind your ear. He pushes the rest of it behind your shoulder and his hand stays there while you inhale through your nostril. His touch doesn’t leave you, even when you lean back against the couch, he simply adjusts it so it’s around your shoulder.

“You gonna flirt with my cousin all goddamn night or are we gonna deal with your little pouge problem?”

“Pouge problem? What’s going on?” You raise your eyebrows, your eyes traveling between Barry and Rafe.

“You remember that little fucker John B I was telling you about? His ass is alive and back on the island.” Barry shakes his head and lets out a dry laugh.

“That’s the kid the cops think killed the sheriff, right? Damn. That’s not good for you, Rafe.” You make eye contact and bite your lip nervously. “Those kids know you actually killed her, don’t they?”

“Yeah, and my fucking sister is with them. Her and John B were there, they saw the whole goddamn thing.” Rafe groans, his hands running through his hair in frustration. “I can’t have them opening their fucking mouths. I just can’t.”

“Then you know what you have to do, right? Shut them the fuck up, once and for all.” Your eyes darken and it reminded him of the way they looked outside, when you were holding a gun to your dealer's head.

“Yeah, no shit dude, that’s why I said we were going to deal with it.” Barry scoffs, rolling his eyes at you.

“Okay, I don’t know what the hell is up with you attitude Bare, but fucking ditch it.” You glare at him as you grab the couch pillow next to you and throw it at his face.

“Oh? You wanna fuckin’ go bruh?” Your cousin grins at you, gripping the pillow in his hand and swinging it over Rafe’s body, directly into your face with a cackle.

“Oh you mother fucker!” You let out a laugh, your hands go for the pillow but it’s ripped from your grasp.

“CUT IT THE FUCK OUT!!” Rafe takes the pillow in his large ringed hand and throws it across the room causing you to jump, your smile falling. “Barry, are you gonna help me or not man?”

“Hey.” Your eyes are soft again, you put your hand on his chest and rub soft circles onto his skin through his shirt with the pad of your thumb. “He’s going to help you, and I will too. We were just fucking around, everything’s alright. You’re probably under a lot of stress, huh? Poor thing.”

Rafe isn’t exactly sure how to react. No one has ever taken his anger and looked at it as more than just that, anger, yet here you are knowing him for all of ten minutes and the minute he loses his temper you see it for what it is, stress. Plus you’re kind of coddling him, and he’s never had anyone coddle him before. He almost feels speechless.

“I’m not gonna suck your dick about it like she is but I’m gonna help you man, fuckin’ relax. We doin’ this shit tonight?” Barry cracks his knuckles and kicks his feet up on the coffee table, earning an immediate glare from you. He scoffs, taking his feet off the table with a roll of his eyes. “I don’t know why you care so much if my feet are on the table dude, it’s my fuckin’ table anyways.”

“The drugs I put inside my nose are on this table, I don’t want your dirty ass shoes on it. It's common sense really.” He rolls his eyes and you flip him off, sticking your tongue out at him.

“Yeah man, tonight. I want to give this shit over with. I bet you anything they’re at John B’s. They’re stupid enough to go there.” Rafe’s hand is tapping on his already shaking leg and you can tell he’s anxious, you reach out and grab it, stopping his motions. He doesn’t look at you, but he intertwines your fingers, his hand squeezing yours. You squeeze his back and bring your other hand to his bicep so you can rub soothing circles on it. He lets out a sigh. “Once it’s dark, then they won’t see us coming.”

“Aight, let’s do this shit. Bunny, you in?” Barry raises a brow at you, his eyes lingering on the way you’re touching Rafe. “Also, I thought I said I didn’t want this to be a thing.”

“It could be dangerous, I don’t know if you should come, I wouldn't want anything to happen to you.” Rafe answers before you can, his hand squeezing yours again in what you assume is supposed to be reassurance but it actually just pisses you off.

“Okay.” Your voice is stern, your hands leave him as you stand from the couch and he immediately misses your touch. “I wanna get something straight, right fucking now. I am not some weak little girl who sits at home while all the fun shit goes down. If that’s the kinda girl you’re into, you are not going to find that with me. I’m a ride or die type of bitch. If my man is in trouble, I’m helping him. So if you want this to be a ‘thing’ as Barry is calling it, then I suggest you accept that sooner rather than later.”

“And you, have no fucking say in who I do and don’t engage with sexually or romatically. Me and Rafe clearly have chemistry and I could tell that the moment I locked eyes with him, so you’re just going to have to get the fuck over it. Are we clear? Both of you?” You look between them, your hands on your hips and that fire Rafe is already becoming addicted to in your eyes.

“Whatever, your lil ass has always been fuckin’ impossible to control. If this blows up in your face I’m gonna say I told you so, cuz.” Barry snorts.

“Yeah baby, I got it.” Rafe cuts in, sending a shockwave through your body with the pet name. “I saw you out there with that guy, you might be tougher than Barry.”

This makes you smile, your eyes turning soft as you approach him on the couch. This time you don’t take the seat next to him, you sit across his lap, facing your cousin with a triumphant smile. Rafe's arm circles around your waist and you nestle in closer to him.

“Alright then. Glad we are all on the same page now. So what’s the plan?”

“FUCK!!!!” Rafe was pissed, he threw himself into the driver's seat of his truck, slamming his hands down on the wheel. “FUCKING BULLSHIT!! THEY HAD TO OF JUST BEEN FUCKING BEEN THERE! POUGE FOR LIFE SARAH?! HUH?! I SEE HOW IT FUCKING IS!!”

“Rafe…” You approach the open driver's door, gently resting your hand on top of one of his that was white knuckling the steering wheel. Completely unafraid, despite the fact that he’s still holding the gun Barry gave him in his other hand. “Let’s just calm down for a second, okay? We’re gonna work it out, they aren’t going to fuck with you.”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS? I’M FUCKED! YOU DON’T FUCKING GET IT! YOU DON’T KNOW MY FUCKING DAD! YOU DON’T KNOW MY FAMILY, IF IT COMES BETWEEN ME AND MY GODDAMN SISTER HE’S GONNA FUCKING CHOOSE HER!!!” His hands leave the wheel, weaving through his hair and tugging, the gun pressed up against the side of his face.

“Hey.” You put your hands over his, turning his face towards yours. “I might not know about all that shit, maybe not yet at least, but I know that when I say I’m going to do something I get it done. You aren’t alone in this, I’m going to help you, okay?”

Your voice is sweet, the look in your eyes is gentle and reassuring, and your hands? They’re so soft, and cool against his face, the feeling of them soothes him in a way he’s never felt before. He lets out a sigh, relaxing under your touch.

“We are going to deal with this, but for right now we need to get the fuck out of here. Those gunshots could’ve caught someone’s attention.” You run your thumbs over the top of his hands before grabbing onto the gun, pulling it from his grasp with a smile. You tuck it into your boot and lean up onto your tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Yeah, alright.” He nods, his hands smoothing through his hair.

You walk around the front of the truck so you can hop into the passenger seat, Barry already sat in the back anxiously bouncing his leg.

“Okay, let’s take Barry back to the house and then I think you and I should go somewhere together.” You buckle your seatbelt and turn to face him.

“Yeah? Where?” He shoves the keys in the ignition and puts the truck in drive, pulling away from the Châtea and into the night.

“Just trust me, I know a spot.” You kick your feet up on the dash, reaching into your purse for a cigarette and your lighter.

“Every instinct in my body is telling me to tell you to bring your ass home with me, but you’re not gonna listen to me for shit so I’m not gonna waste my breath. Gimme one of those fuckin’ cigarettes though.” Barry leans forward, snatching the entire pack and your lighter from your hands.

“Yeah, you’re better off not arguing with me Bare. Fucking give those back though, dick.” He rolls his eyes, lighting the cigarette he took from your pack before throwing it back to you.

“Yeah whatever, just fuckin’ take me home man.”

“Okay, take a left here and on your right you’re gonna see a little road that goes through these trees.” You point out the window, directing Rafe as he drives.

“Where the hell are you taking me, huh? You taking me out somewhere quiet to sacrifice me?” He chuckles, looking over at you with a smirk.

“Mmm, I bet you’d like that, huh? Preppy rich boys like you always like the fucked up alternative girls from the sticks.” You return his smirk with one of your own.

“Ha! I guess you’re right, I wouldn’t mind if you spilled a little bit of my blood, as long as I could spill yours too…” he reaches the end of the road, driving into a clearing in the trees, a patch of lone beach in front of you.

“Yeah? That’s hot. Stop here.” He obliges, putting the truck into park and taking off his seatbelt. You do the same, turning towards him with your legs tucked underneath you.

“What’re we really doing out here, vampire girl?” His eyes meet yours momentarily before the trail down your body, taking extra time to admire your tits in your top.

“Mmm, well, I know you’re really stressed and I just thought… maybe you could take some of your frustrations out on me?” You lock eyes with him, your tongue running over your bottom lip before you take it between your teeth.

“Yeah? You brought me out here so I would fuck the shit out of you?” He licks his lips, his large hand reaches out to rest on your thigh, squeezing the meat of it between his fingers.

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t want to take me home after that shit you said about your family and Barry would probably either kill us both or have a stroke if you fucked me how I want you to fuck me at my place.” You said it oh so matter of fact, that smirk ever present on your lips.

“And how do you want me to fuck you? Huh, bunny?” His hand runs along the length of your thigh, stopping at the hem of your shorts. He grabs onto it, the tips of his thumb and his pinky just dipping under the fabric.

“I want you to fuck me like you hate me, take your frustrations out on me, Rafe. Use me.” Your voice comes out desperate and it makes him groan.

“I’ve barely even touched you yet and you’re already practically begging for me… you wanna be my little slut, that it?” His thumb runs down the seam of your shorts, stopping at your wet core. “You’re fucking dripping. I can feel it through your panties.”

“It’s all for you, want you, want to be your little slut so bad.”

“Fuck.” The hand not on your thigh reaches for your throat, squeezing it and cutting off your air supply in the most delicious way. “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

He uses his grip on your throat to pull your face to his, smashing his lips against your own in a bruising kiss. You moan against his mouth and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips. You bring your hands up to tangle your fingers through his hair at the same time that his hand on your thigh pushes your shorts and panties to the side, burying two fingers in your wet cunt with little resistance. He begins pumping them in and out of you while his grip on your throat never falters. He pulls away from the kiss, his blue eyes almost black with lust as they bore into your own. His thumb finds your clit and your back arches, a loud moan ripping through you.

“Open your fucking mouth.” You oblige, sticking your tongue out and looking up at him through your lashes. He leans over you and lets a string of spit drop onto your waiting tongue. You moan as you happily swallow it. “Good girl. Want you to cum for me.”

His fingers hook just right inside you, rubbing against your g-spot and his thumb circles your clit perfectly. You feel your high approaching fast, you push your tank top down, letting your braless tits fall free. You grab them in your hands, tweaking your nipples, it causes your eyes to roll back and you feel that coil in your stomach about to snap. Rafe’s hand leaves your throat and grips onto your jaw in one swift motion.

“Fucking look at me when I make you cum.” He squeezes your cheeks between his thumb and pointer finger, causing your lips to pout. “I own this pussy now, that means I own your orgasms too, look at me while I take what’s mine.”

You open your eyes, and the minute they meet his your high crashes over you like a tidal wave. A broken moan leaves your throat and your walls clench around his large fingers as they continue to fuck you through your high. He pulls them from your pussy, holding them up to his face to examine them. They’re creamy white and glistening in the moonlight. You grab his wrist and take them into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them. He growls in response, shoving them further down your throat. You gag and he licks his lips, the sound going straight to his cock.

“Fuck, wanna feel you gagging around my dick. Get out of the truck and get on your knees, now.” He pulls his fingers from between your lips and takes them into his own mouth. The taste of your spit mixed with the remainder of your arousal sending his eyes to the back of his head. You follow his direction, hastily throwing the truck door open and getting out. You start to walk around the back and he stops you halfway, grabbing you by the hair so he can pull your head back, forcing you to look up at him. “I’m going to fuck this pretty little mouth while you kneel in the sand like the dirty slut you are. Bet you’d like that, huh?”

You nod as best as you can with the grip he has on your head, that sickeningly sweet smirk from when he first saw you earlier that day spread across your lips.

“Yeah, daddy, I want you to use my mouth like a fucking cock sleeve.” His eyes widen and a groan rips through him at the sound of that name leaving your lips.

“Fuck. Take this off.” He grabs the hem of your tank top and you lift your arms so he can pull it over your head. He takes your tits in his hands and squeezes them, the coolness of them sending a shiver down your spine and straight to your core, your nipples hardening under his touch. “Fucking perfect tits. Knees. Now.”

You drop to your knees and eagerly reach for the button on his shorts undoing it and his zipper in one swift motion. His cock is straining against his black boxers and your mouth waters at the sight. You pull his shorts and boxers down and it springs free, thick and hard and leaking just for you. You knew he would be big, but goddamn his cock is huge.

“Mmm daddy, you’re so big, fuck.” You spit on your hand and bring it to his shaft, lightly stroking him. That bead of precum on his head is practically begging you to taste it so you lean forward and lick his slit with the tip of your tongue. You circle his tip before taking it in your mouth and sucking eagerly.

“Yeah, that’s right baby, suck daddy’s cock.” His hands grab onto your braids like makeshift handlebars and he uses his grip to push himself all the way down your throat, causing you to gag around him. He holds your head there for a few seconds before pulling you off with a pop. Your mouth subconsciously chases his taste. “Oh you’re such an eager little whore huh? You like that? You like gagging on my cock?”

You nod and his grip on your hair tightens, pulling your head back so you’re looking up into his eyes.

“Fuckin’ answer me when I’m talking to you.”

“Yes - yes daddy, I fucking love it.”

“That’s what I thought.” He smirks down at you, shoving his cock back into your mouth and immediately thrusting into your throat. You gag and your eyes water, your mascara already starting to run down your cheeks. “God. Fucking look at you, I can see my cock in your throat baby.”

So much drool is dripping out of the sides of your mouth that it’s started to run down your chest and onto your tits. You swipe your fingers through it, wetting them before bringing them to his balls, caressing them in your lubed up hand.

“Oh fuck! Yeah, shiiiiit, play with my fucking balls, that’s so fucking good.” You look up at him and his head is thrown back, his neck on display, you can see all the veins in his biceps and the moans leaving him are feral. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the sight. Your hand travels between your legs and into your little spandex shorts, expertly finding your already slick clit and rubbing quick circles over it. Your moans increase in volume and it causes him to glance down at you, taking notice of your hand in your shorts.

“Hey, what the fuck did I say huh?” He pulls you off of him, bending at the waist so his face is hovering over yours. “I said that’s my fucking pussy, that means I’m the only one who gets to make you cum. Get up.”

He lets go of your hair, grabbing you underneath your arms and pulling you to your feet. He turns towards the truck and rips the bed open, grabbing onto your hips and roughly turning you. He pushes down on your back, and you take the hint, bending at the waist so your top half is against the truck bed. The plastic floor is cool and rough against your nipples and your lower half hangs off the truck, your feet not touching the ground. A harsh smack lands on your ass, causing you to help and jolt forward.

“You’re not so tough now, huh, vampire girl? Your pathetic dealers know you’re just a little slut who likes to get thrown around? Or is that just for me?” He grabs onto your shorts and panties, ripping them down to your ankles where they pool at the top of your boots. “Look at you, you’re so fucking wet.”

He drops to his knees, his tongue licking a stripe from your clit to your asshole and back again. He sucks your sensitive bud into his mouth and his hand comes down on your ass again. You feel like you’re going to cum embarrassingly soon. His fingers run through your slick lips before they’re sliding inside you, immediately hooking into your sweet spot. You cum suddenly and hard, your whole body shaking underneath him.

“Please fuck me now daddy, please, I want your cock so bad” you voice is whiney and you shake your ass from side to side, arching your back so it’s further on display for him.

“Quit begging, I’m gonna give you what you want, don’t be a greedy brat.” He stands, two harsh smacks landing on your ass. He takes his cock in his hand and runs the head through your slit, coating it in your wetness. He pushes into you in one swift motion, and immediately starts fucking you at a brutal pace.

“Yes! Fuck! You’re so big, feels so full.” Your voice is a breathy moan, his cock feels like it’s in your lungs and the door to the truck bed is digging into your hips but god it feels so good. His hands are grabbing your hips so roughly that you think his nails might be drawing blood, and god you hope they are. You want him to mark you as his, anywhere and everywhere.

“Fuuuuck, you’re so fucking tight, gripping my cock so good. This pussy was fucking made for me. Say it.” He leans over you, practically crushing you, but his cock hits even deeper than before and his mouth latches onto your neck and it’s like he read your mind because he starts to roughly suck and bite into your skin. Definitely leaving marks behind. “Say it. Say this pussy was made for me.”

“This pussy was fucking made for you, daddy.” You arch your back, pushing your ass back against him the best you can with your limited movement, wanting to feel every ridge and vein of him as deep inside you as possible.

“Yeah it fucking was.” He leans back, his hand gripping onto your hair again so he can pull your back against his chest. The sting of the truck against your hips at an all time high. He releases your hair so he can grip onto your throat instead, his other hand coming down to rub your clit. The feelings of pain mixed with pleasure sending you closer and closer to another orgasm. “You gonna cum already? I can feel you tightening around my cock baby girl.”

“Yeah - yeah I’m - fuck - I’m gonna cum for you daddy, you just feel sofuckinggood.” You’re a drooling whimpering mess and the coil is seconds away from snapping when he stops his movements and pulls out of you, taking your orgasm with him. “Hey what-“

Before you can protest he grips onto your hips, flipping you over onto your back. He grabs your throat and pulls you into a sitting position, grabbing onto your thigh with his other hand so he can pull you to the edge of the truck.

“I told you, I want you to look at me when you cum. You owe me for that last one.” He slams his cock into you, continuing to fuck you like his life depends on it. His thumb finds your clit again and his mouth latches onto your neck, biting down so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if you had a bruise in the shape of his teeth marks. You’d get it tattooed if he wanted. You already knew at that moment this man had ruined all other men for you. He had you.

“Fuck - fuck daddy, I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum I’m gonna cum”

“Fucking cum for me, I’ll fill this little pussy up, paint your walls with my cum. Milk my cock, slut.”

His words send you over the edge, cumming harder than you have all night. Your walls convulse around him and your nails rake down his back, leaving red marks in their wake. But that’s not what does him in, it’s the fact that you never break eye contact with him for a second. Obeying him like the good girl you are.

“Fuck! Good fucking girl, best fucking pussy I’ve ever had. Never gonna leave you alone now. Never quitting this pussy.” He cums with a growl, shoving his cock deep inside you. He fucks you through his high, his thrusts never letting up, his face shoved into your neck. When he finally starts to come down he lets his softening cock slip out of you, his lips finding yours and kissing you with fever.

“Never quittting this pussy, huh, pretty boy? That’s a bold statement to make about a girl you just met.” You smirk at him, taking his face in his hands and caressing his cheeks with your thumbs.

“Don’t fucking care, I meant every word. You’re fucking mine now.” He turns his head to the side, placing a kiss on the inside of your palm.

“Does that mean you’re mine too? I don’t do one sided bullshit.”

“Yeah baby, that means I’m yours too. Come on, get your clothes on, let’s get the fuck out of here.” He places a gentle kiss on your lips, grabbing your clothes off the sandy ground and shaking them out before handing them to you.

“You gonna take me home now? Barry is just gonna love all the hickies I know you left on my neck.” You smirk at him, pulling your shirt over your head.

“Nah, I’m bringing you home with me. Gonna fuck you all night long.” He cups your jaw in his hand, his thumb running over your bottom lip.

“What about your family?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Fuck em, you’re my girl now, they’re going to have to get used to it. Get your ass in the truck, I wanna fuck you in my shower.”

You giggle, running around to jump in the truck. You didn’t even see his family that night. But they definitely heard Rafe making good on his promise to fuck you all night long and you couldn’t even find it in yourself to feel bad. Not that night, and not the next morning when he introduced you to his dad and step mom while they had disgusted looks on their faces. You just smiled, happily shaking their hands like you weren’t calling their son daddy until the sun came up.

Tagging moots who might be interested: @chrrymunson @emsgoodthinkin @imyourdaninow 🖤

[ynbabe]

bffs with the rookies- incorrect quotes 1!

Just a lil sum sum to show more abt the relationships in the AU

Y/N: A stake to the heart won't kill a vampire if their tits are big enough. Oscar: Yeah, you just catch it. Logan: Nah nah nah, deflects it. Stake? Just bounces right off. Done. Back to doing hot girl shit. Arthur: Then I just use a spear instead. Y/N: You are trying so hard to kill a vampire with big bazongas, and for what? Why would you do that to the ecosystem?

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Oscar: It’s Christmas! Are you all in a Christmas mood?! Logan: Merry crisis. Arthur: Jingle bells, jingle bells, single all the way. Y/N: Hoe hoe hoe. Oscar: Guys, please.

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Oscar: Who would you kill out of the four of us, Logan? Logan: Arthur, easily. Arthur, laughing: What the fuck, man. Logan: Well, Y/N would be too easy. She’d probably be into it. Y/N, now standing in the doorway: What the fuck, man!?

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Logan: How do I ask someone out? Y/N: Roses are red, violets are blue, guess what, my bed has room for two. Logan: No! Arthur: Twinkle twinkle little star, we can do it in a car. Logan: Stop! Oscar: Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily I can make you scream. Logan: I feel like the last one is verging dangerously into serial killer territory.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/N: Fight me! Arthur: Ha, look at your size! What are you gonna do, kick my ankle? *Later* Logan: Why is Arthur crying? Oscar: Y/N kicked him really hard on the ankle.

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Y/N, to Oscar: When was the last time you let someone hug you? Oscar: *thinking* Oscar: 2012. Arthur: 2012…? Oscar: Yeah. I almost died and it really freaked Logan out so I let him hug me.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Lando: You know what? Lando: When I joined this friend group I thought you guys would be dealing with my bullshit. *Y/N, Arthur and Oscar continue screaming about mold water* Lando:Not the other way around. Logan: I dunno, sounds like you need to drink the mold water.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Lando: Mice are having sex in my walls. Arthur: Tattletale! Logan: You're just being ungrateful. Y/N: It's their home too, you know. Oscar: So what? Don't slutshame them. Lando: The mice are fucking AND now I'm getting heckled.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Oscar: Team A will consist of myself, Arthur, Lando, and Logan. Oscar: Team B will consist of Y/N, cause she scares me.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

How Lando and Y/n became friends:

Logan: Why aren't there friend pick up lines? Pick up lines to make friends like- Logan, to Arthur: Hey, that's a cute outfit. You know where it would look better? On nobody else, because you're a beautiful individual. Y/N, to Lando: Be my friend or I'll set your entire family on fire. Oscar: There are two types of people.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Charles: I’m not mad, I just need to know why you two had a fake ID. Arthur: *Incoherent mumbling* Charles: Huh? Y/n: …You need to be 18 to hold the puppies at PetCo.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Charles (brainstorming ideas for pranking Max): How much could a serial killer mask possibly cost? Y/n: Well it’s hard to find a high-quality one made out of leather or silicone, but if you did find a good one like that it’d be a couple thousands of dollars. I can try to hook you up with one but I don’t know if I’d be very successful. Charles: Huh, that’s pretty interesting actually- Wait, how the hell do you know that? Y/n: …I am very passionate about Halloween, Charles.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: I'm gonna eat the chicken breasts! Arthur, snickering: Yeah, eat what you lack. Y/n, deadpanning at Arthur Then maybe I should order brains on delivery for you.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Arthur, reading a recipe: Beat three eggs? Charles: It means like in hand-to-hand combat. Arthur: Ohhhh- Y/n: Both of you get out of this kitchen.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Logan: Have I ever told you that I love you with my whole heart? Y/n For the love of all that is holy, I am not taking you to McDonalds. It’s 2am! Logan: Mean.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/n: Dumbest scar stories, go! Oscar: I burned my tongue once drinking tea. Charles: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and burned it. Logan: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade. Arthur: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it on my hand and I got a really bad burn. Max: Max: I have emotional scars.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

When Max and Charles got spam called by Y/n and the group after their party:

Max: I CAN'T DO IT! Charles, laughing: I CAN'T EITHER! Max: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE Lando: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US. Max: Max: I appreciate it, Max: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH- Charles: Max- Max: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE! Lando: Max we gotta- Max: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT. Max: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?' Max, motioning to Y/n, Oscar, Arthur and Logan: NOT FUCKING THIS

[fillinforlater]

Phone Part 10: Return of the Angel +3

Male Reader x Kim Minju, Yeh Shuhua, Jung Eunbi (Eunha), Hwang Eunbi (SinB)

Length: 1550 words

Tags: strap-ons, lesbian sex, spitroasting, double penetration, overstimulation, loveless sex, voyeurism, watching, fingering thigh riding

TW: messy crazy bs

(A/N: this series randomly returns because I just needed to get this idea out of my system for good. This might be the conclusion to it, but probably not... well, maybe you send me some ideas to where this could lead up to.)

"I'll get going."

Bomi kisses your cheek, that sore cheek, sore like every patch of your skin, every bone in your body and every damn muscle, some of them you didn't even know could hurt before today. Hell, you don't even have the strength to give Bomi a proper goodbye, a weak wave is all you can muster up.

She'll not be mad at you. For what might have been either 15 or 150 minutes, you have taken turns on her and Shuhua's pussy—licking, fingering, fucking them until those tight caverns each got a big load in them. In the meantime, Minju has been their plaything. Especially Shuhua has this cruelty towards her "friend", edging her with fingers, reddening her thighs with extremely hard slaps and always promising that she'll get your cock—just to claim you with her pussy again.

You turn around when Bomi closes the door. Shuhua and Minju wrestle on the couch, the latter clearly outmatched when Shuhua puts her in a headlock with her thunder thighs. Minju tries to escape with licks on Shuhua's clit but can't find it—the nightmare of so many guys.

"Cut it out, you two," you groan, fingers on your temple. 

"N-no," Minju whines. "Minju still needs cock, wants cum in her tummy!"

"I can't." Point at your limp dick, absolutely spent. "And I have a headache. At this point, I’ll start to hate sex. Fucking hell, I'll make myself tea."

"Oh, I have an idea," Shuhua smirks and reaches for her phone while you leave for the kitchen. Whatever it is, you don’t want to deal with it. You need something relaxing, something herbal, to heal all the soreness in your body. It’s incredible to think that there is something like too much sex. You’re really close to giving up on it, even though two nymphomaniacs have turned your house into sex hub.

“No, no, stay down. You’ll get cock soon,” you hear Shuhua belittle Minju, who just whines in her usual tone. She seems to not be a bit tired after all this.

“Well, it won’t be mine,” you shout back, watching the hot water fill your cup and turn the leaves into something magical.

“Yeah, I know, you’re basically useless at this point.” Ouch, that stings. “That’s why I called back up.”

“You what?!”

“They should be here any minute now.”

Shuhua is spot on. Before your tea is finished steeping, your door bursts open. But instead of a hung man, two rather petite women enter your house. Both have a bored look on their face and immediately get to undressing. Overcoats seem to be the shit right now, and no matter who comes through your front door, they always drop it on the floor. 

“Uhm, hello?” you carefully greet them before remembering that this is your home, your kingdom! You can’t let strangers just walk in like they own the place. “This is kinda rude, you know?”

“Don’t care,” says the taller one with long, raven hair, dressed only in jeans. “We have business to do. Also, it’s rude to just stand there, naked, while two ladies walk in.” You blush and hide your crotch with the tea cup.

“We aren’t ladies, stop kidding yourself,” the other snarks back, while climbing out of her skirt. “I bet he is a good fuck, you shouldn’t kill your chances already.”

“Eh, I’ll think about it, but first—” Both girls suddenly pull out two strap-ons from God-knows-where and put them on with the casualness one would wear a fricking hat. The taller one hasn’t even removed her jeans, wearing the harness over it, while the other is fully naked and flaunts her butt at you.

“Yeah, I know, we got shit to do.” The short haired girl slaps her butt and you almost drop the cup when she walks past you with a wink. “Shuhua, where is this needy bitch? Or are you the needy bitch?”

“Oh, it’s so nice to see you, Eunbi and Eunbi,” Shuhua greets them and points at Minju, still trapped in between her fat thighs. “Look who I found.”

“She is insatiable. Incredible that he can still stand,” the shorter Eunbi says.

“Hm, maybe he is a good fuck. Anyways, we’ll try our best to keep her down,” the taller Eunbi says. The three conspirators try to agree on a strategy on how to fuck the angelic girl. You’ve become invisible in your own house, your entry to the living room goes largely unnoticed. Except for Minju who pouts at you when the two Eunbis lift her up and put her in a doggy position. The shorter one is below her, the other is ready to press the plastic cock into Minju’s puckered hole.

"Should we do it at the—nevermind, you're already in." The small Eunbi groans in annoyance, the other looks unapologetic and starts to rut slowly against Minju's butt. The long shaft forcing open Minju’s hole, paired with the denim on her sore, pink buttocks, must feel incredible and incredibly painful at the same time. Who knows which of the two makes Minju wail and moan more.

"Come on, Eunha, shove it in her sex," Shuhua urges on the Eunbi below as she excitedly stares at the unholy sight of fake cocks on ready holes. Her eyes mimic the camera lens for a porn shoot, while you're the director, watching the scene play out. Either way, it's good content.

"Minju's pussy, Minju's ass, so full!" Minju is loud, louder than before. Shuhua is having none of it.

"Shut up. SinB, make her stay quiet. And don't let her cum."

Two hands move to cover Minju's mouth, two cocks move in and out at a rapid pace, two sets of eyes watch on in awe. Satisfied with what crazy madness she has come up with, Shuhua sits down next to you and lazily jerks your cock with two fingers. Oh, that victorious smile, glassy, lewd eyes, you'd love to wipe it off her face.

"You like what you see? Now you don't have to do anything anymore."

"What was that about me being useless?" Grab her by the throat and spit in her face. She looks pissed, you love it. "I came in you, even when Minju was willing to do anything to get my load and now you're still cruel to her? Seems mildly unfair."

"And what are you gonna do about it? Fuck her, if you can."

Shuhua is bratty, but just as much as she is bratty, she is also light. You easily place her nude frame on your thigh, her still dripping, creaming heat right on your skin. She hisses and you tighten your grip on her throat.

"I'm going to make you cum—you know I can, it's super easy—but only if you tell those two friends of yours to make Minju cum until she passes out.”

“Fuck, bastard,” Shuhua hisses. With your thumb on her clit, this is easily the quietest and tamest she has been for hours. Her body twitches, an honest reaction to how much she is addicted to the mind-blowing orgasms you can get out of her. Such a small finger, yet she is squirming, contemplating, faltering.

“Those two are so cruel,” you tell Shuhua, nose deep in her greasy hair. “They fuck her so hard, just to pull out at the last moment. Why do you want to torture Minju so bad?”

“Be-because she needs to get to the-the point.”

“What point?”

“The point where sex is no fun. She can go forever. She will never stop, your—fuck—plan to make her p-pass out, useless.”

This explains a lot. The Angel is insatiable, her lust seems infinite, but Shuhua’s plan—won’t it make things worse? At some point, SinB and Eunha will have to stop and Minju will be more desperate than ever. She will wobble through the house, tackle you the second she sees you and will force your cock in her pussy no matter what. A true tragedy.

“Well, I don’t care,” you say and tug at one of Shuhua’s nipples, she bites her fingers. “You’ve been too greedy, time for her to—”

“Fuck, fine.

“SinB, don’t hold back. Eunha, suck her tits, overstimulate this bitch!”

“What?” the two ask in unison and disbelief.

“Do-don’t ask questions, please, just do it!”

The way the two purple plastic cocks move in and out of Minju with the sole goal of too much pleasure has you satisfied and in a new heat, your cock hardening slowly but surely. With an ever increasing rhythm, you move your thigh up and down and Shuhua starts to ride, her loudness increasing again. She is as close as Minju and it only takes SinB pulling those messed up oak strands, you to rub Shuhua’s clit, for them both to explode. 

You focus not on Shuhua shuddering, shaking on you, but at Minju’s expression. Her eyes jump wide, then tears shoot out and flow down, just to be blocked by SinB’s hands on her mouth. She’d be so loud, words messier than her hair would fill the room. After this peak, both collapse. Shuhua meets the floor, Minju falls on top of Eunha, who still thrusts, even spanks the Angel’s ass. 

You’re hard again. Where is this going to end?

[vaguely-concerned]

Eight Little Talons Reread Thoughts

Which, I’ll level with you folks, is mostly just me gushing about Teia and Viago and how much they should kiss because of who I am as a person, but maybe also some actual observations sprinkled in. This is still my favourite story in Tevinter Nights, I think, there’s so much Character Stuff in it. Let’s go!

Viago hated carriages—no amount of plush seating could make up for the inevitable ache of being knocked around like weighted dice. But decorum insisted, and he would not be outclassed by his fellow Talons.

Vs.

“You didn’t take a carriage.” 

“My luggage did. But I couldn’t resist the opportunity for a country jaunt.” She nodded toward the thoroughbred Taslin strider grazing on the top of the hill. “Andoral so rarely gets a chance to let loose in Rialto.” 

“You named your horse after an archdemon?” 

“Don’t worry, Vi. I won’t let him nip you.

You know… Andarateia might gain some illusion of normalcy by standing next to the most paranoid wound-up-tight repressed man around to provide contrast, but I think it’s crucial we keep in mind that she is also nuts. Naming your horse after an archdemon IS an insane thing to do in the world of Thedas huh. I suppose she genuinely seems to think of Caterina Dellamorte as a warm maternal figure and is in love with a tetchy snake of a guy too, it does all start to add up when you look at it like that.

— Beneath the smooth samite, he felt like a sinewy ball of tension. Teia suspected contact of any kind made Viago uncomfortable. It would explain why he swathed himself in indigo from chin to toe and refused to remove his gloves during dinner.

He offers his arm to her and doesn’t pull away when they meet Caterina — only when Dante shows up. Interesting (and possibly part of why Caterina seems to consider the two of them a cleverly stabilizing package deal when they get along lol). I love the mix of playful seduction and genuine fond, intimate knowledge and interest Teia has for him all the way through too — speculating about his childhood, trying to divine his thoughts and intentions, testing to see how he reacts to different things. And it’s so sweet that she seems to regard him with this affectionate amusement and fascination (which he seems to be afraid means that she’s mocking him but is, I think, just another level of appreciation she has for him. Correctly. Because he’s one of the funniest people in Thedas both in concept and in practice. Accountant brained-ass noodle arm Vetinari homage poison specialist. Teia’s neurotic purse dog of a man. Sole royal bastard who willingly chose to have a boring Antivan day job (killing people) and makes spreadsheets about it.) 

— “Not exactly welcoming, are they?” Teia whispered, her breath warm against his ear. 

Viago’s grip tightened on the head of his walking stick.

I swear to god courtney woods is so fucking good at writing romantic and sexual tension. One sentence!!! She drops in a one-sentence detail and it says everything!!!! She has such a knack for consistently adding these details without getting overindulgent or spelling it out too much that I really admire, I tend a bit more towards indulging too much as a writer that way myself so her sense of where to show restraint has me in awe 

— “Don’t ‘Nonna’ me, Andarateia Cantori,” Caterina snapped, although the heat in her voice had lowered to a simmer. “Not even my actual grandchildren call me that.” 

“Well, considering who your grandchildren are,” Teia responded, “I’m not surprised.” 

“How is Master Lucanis?” Viago asked.

Hell yeah Lucanis mention! Can’t wait to see how their dynamics will turn out in-game, we could be in for some truly spectacular and absurd workplace comedy nonsense if we’re lucky

— As always, Viago had with him his leather case of poisons and antidotes for toxins typically hidden in ingredients such as olives, truffles, pasta, lamb, cheese, cream, and alcohol. But he had not expected eggplant.

This is one of the funniest things I’ve ever read, I love Viago so much he’s such a perfect weirdo. Reader, he had not expected eggplant. 

— Taking a deep breath, Viago focused on tying his cravat—an ordinarily simple task except now Teia was running her hands across every surface in his room, and his fingers kept slipping on the final knot. “It would help if you removed the gloves,” Teia remarked. “Surely your own cravats haven’t been tampered with.”

Viago being just… seethingly horrifically despairingly horny every time Teia shows up is so amazing, and Teia clearly paying A Lot of attention to his hands and his reactions at all times… again, courtney woods s tier sexual tension provider. 

— “No,” she said, crossing her arms. “Not until we boil some water.” 

Viago raised a brow. “Eight people were poisoned in this room.” 

“Then run your little tests to make sure it’s safe, but I refuse to look at another dead body until I’ve had my coffee.”

I must take care to repeat: teia is also fucking nuts (affectionate). It’s SO FUNNY that her slightly lighter and softer moral take on being a Crow means she does feel bad about the servants ending up in the crossfire, but she will also demand that viago make her coffee with their horrifically bloated corpses still strewn about the room fhdsjka. 

— Teia had often imagined what it would be like to kiss Viago. She told herself it was only natural. He was handsome, in his own way, and wound up so tight that she likened him to a giant knot. He was a challenge to untie—to twist and pull and loosen until the tension gave way and he unraveled, laying bare all his secrets. But knots were a delicate business. Tug the wrong way and you could end up with a noose.

I know I KNOW they have sex so weird and intimate and no one even takes their clothes off during it I know it in my heart

— “Do you not think you’re attractive?” Viago turned on her, his ears pink. “Ten people are dead.” 

She didn’t back down. “And whoever’s responsible will pay, but that has no bearing on this conversation.” 

“It could be me.” 

Covering her mouth with both hands, Teia doubled over, laughter spilling from her lips. “It’s not you.” 

He looked as if she’d slapped him. “I’m more than capable of killing everyone here.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re offended!” 

“It is offensive,” Viago protested. “Professionally.”

Teia please tell me you love me not only for my body and fashion sense and numerous and fascinating neuroses but also my extensive knowledge of poisons and capacity to cause death

— Again, Viago felt like a lute string. With every challenge, Teia twisted the pegs, tuning him, until she found what she wanted. Which is what, exactly? he asked himself, not daring to listen to the number of answers that bubbled to the surface of his mind.

You know Viago I think we should let her try some scales here at least. See what happens. (There’s no explicit sex in this story but everything that’s going on is nevertheless so kinky fdsjak. I think Teia could convince Viago to show a flash of his naked wrist and have a reaction like a sheltered young Victorian gentleman seeing an exposed ankle and a playful wink for the first time)

— As if she could feel the sudden rush of shame within him, Teia brought her hands up to rest on Viago’s hips, holding him in place. His thumb stilled as he realized her breath was short. Her pupils dilated. Before he could stop himself, Viago nuzzled his forehead against hers, his nose brushing her cheek. Teia’s hands snaked up his chest to run through his hair. She tugged him forward. He braced himself on one arm, while the other curled around the small of her back. 

This whole scene is unspeakably good of course but it’s always the detail of ‘his nose brushing her cheek’ that does me in the most. The longing!!! The yearning, the intimacy, the awkward perfect clumsy physical reality of it!!!! If he kissed her here the magical potion thing on her lips would have been immaterial, the results would have been the same without it!!!!!! The tug of war between longing and fear!

— oblique Zevran mention! <3 as the ultimate failson of house arainai, granted, but as I believe he might argue here: ‘ah, but you have heard of me, no? :>’. Babe I support you so much go out there and raise hell/kill whoever you want to I got your flower

— Big shoutout to the author for managing to pull off an entirely workable ‘And Then There Were None’ plot in the background here, even though the real meat and potatoes going on is the character and relationship development (and what meat and potatoes they are too)! It’s not an easy thing to do even in an abbreviated, more of a homage sort of form and balancing it with everything else going on is a feat

— Caterina 100% knows Teia is in Viago’s room when he’s supposed to be isolated and just doesn’t care lmao. (They act like such teenagers in that scene where she knocks on the door and they haven’t even kissed yet I’m dying). Caterina seems like a terrible person but it’s impossible to not feel for her a little, trying to keep Talons in line seems a lot like herding (very horny very carrying sharp objects) cats 

— Standing outside her ex-lover’s room, Teia tried to quell the violent drumming within her. Normally, she didn’t need to come down from a physical encounter. Seduction—like any form of manipulation—was about control. She could enjoy herself, but Teia always made sure to hold the upper hand. Viago had shattered that control without so much as a kiss.

I feel like this is a sneaky common trait that actually is part of what makes them so compatible (and the playful negotiation of which must feature prominently in their sex life eventually lmao): they are both HUGE control freaks. (Indeed it might be hard to be a successful Talon without this trait.) Teia and Viago both strive for control of themselves and their surroundings so deeply, she’s just much more extroverted, psychologically minded and soft power focused going about it (not unlike Caterina, whose power is built more on fear than charm but works along the same lines), while he’s more coldly intellectual and uh materialist? I want to call it? about it. Which makes perfect sense considering their backstories! Teia came from nothing in a monetary sense but has found she excels at moving people, hearts and minds style — and she’s very good at it, she is everyone’s favorite — so that’s the source of power for her, and Viago is not very charismatic or interested in people naturally but grew up seeing how status, wealth and power have their own clinical gravity that can be used, and also that people can never be trusted to watch out for you in that system.  

If Thedas has a Machiavelli-equivalent to ask whether it’s better for a ruler to be feared or loved they would both instantly give their answer with their whole chest and then squint at each other like ‘babe how do you live like this’ lol

(Also this line of thought has me wondering what the hell Caterina’s partner/spouse(s) would have been like — she must have at least two children to account for Illario and Lucanis, I wonder if she was ever married and what that looked like.)

— I really like the oppressiveness and claustrophobia you get from the descriptions Teia uses in Dante’s room — it feels so icky and sticky with history and sad and confining, and the way she keeps pushing herself through it anyway is weirdly melancholy to me. 

— I also like how their flaws/traits that drive them apart at the crisis point have follow-up consequences outside of their relationship before they reconcile. Teia’s penchant for manipulation and pushing on people indirectly causes the death of someone she once cared about (I mean, fuck that guy, not crying any tears for Dante or his broken bottle, but like in the overarching principle of the thing lol). When she goes too far with it or gets careless, she renders other people vulnerable and helpless in ways she doesn’t anticipate. (Rightfully or not this seems to be part of what scares Viago so much about it, he has this fear of being dissected for whatever she finds interesting and then abandoned when she’s tired of it, the whole underlying being a footnote in her life when she could clearly be something uh a lot more in his anxiety.) Meanwhile Viago’s insistence on self-reliance and reluctance to engage in human contact leaves him easily isolated and nearly results in his death. (And even when Teia saves him he has a hard time giving her full credit in favour of his many neurotic coping mechanisms lmao disaster man.) But when the two of them work it out to understand each other better and come together as a partnership, they’re such a force to be reckoned with that it brute forces the resolution and return to stability near the end. (Well. A significantly reduced version of stability to be fair but y’know better late than never.)

— Also: delicious detail that she is actually the closest you might get to a self-made woman/Talon, and he is definitely at least not in a position to fully dodge the nepo baby allegations — he wants so bitterly to be entirely independent and self-sufficient and not reliant on anyone, and yet it’s his connections inherent to his birth that have helped him get here, while she wants so desperately to have people to rely on because she comes from nothing and has known what it is to be that alone and unprotected. He knows protection and gifts — and love — can easily be taken away and used to control you/render you helpless in your vulnerability from how his father treated his mother, and she knows you have to try to hold on to something in other people or it’s just you and the dirt and you die. Which is what they’re really talking about in that scene where they argue, and it’s why they’re both right and wrong at the same time and it’s so tasty. It’s really Teia asking ‘Will you ever trust anyone? (will you ever trust me, or will you put up this wall every time no matter what I say or do?)’ and Viago going ‘Will you never take precautions to protect yourself against this hurt? (will I have to be the bearer of bad news about how the world really is every time?)’ and neither of them realize that’s what they’re taling about and it’s why it all explodes so badly. (I mean. Factually both came to the wrong conclusion about who the murderer was for fairly good reasons, so there’s also that haha.) 

— I wonder if we’ll see Bolivar or the heirs to the houses left Talon-less in the game itself. I’m guessing they probably won’t have big roles, at least, but you know just as background flavour, especially since Crow!Rook is already within the de Riva uh household as it were. I think Viago is still sensibly mid-table at Fifth Talon in Veilguard and Teia remains Eight? So at least they’re not messing around with that rank order during the occupation 

— In semi-not teia and viago news (I am a character first writer and reader I canot change this), it’s neat to see it outlined just how much the Talons really are just merchant princes with some more added knives and cultural weight behind them. They are at the end of the day running businesses, no matter the mystique ™ you wrap it in. (Which I think Viago would be the first to tell you and Teia might try to argue against at least a little haha. Being a Talon is what you make of it you live your truth girl kill awful men you’ll never run out of contracts!!)

— Can’t believe the Crows have self-congratulatory ‘top 10 murders in history!’ classes as part of the training. Do you think Zev sat through those. Probably, if Teia did, right. Now there were some entertaining hours around the campfire during the Blight I’m sure

— Viago understanding but not accepting Teia’s offer to help him with an alibi and at first angling it as being out of hesitancy to accept help/rely on someone, and then later unveiling the added element that he knows Teia respects and loves Caterina and doesn’t want her to have to lie to her for him… Viago is nothing so simple as secretly nice deep down but he IS horrifically in love with and desperate to be kind to specifically Teia and it gets to me okay  

— I’d forgotten that DA’s passionate love affair with toxic yuri and some recreational bury your gays extended to Guili and Lera in this fdskjah. Would it really be Thedas without it I suppose (considering the genre of the short story it’s fine with me in this case, though, everyone’s dropping like flies in this even the straight people that’s just equality) 

— Viago was not a typical Antivan. He liked facts—checklists, numbers, precise measurements. Heart palpitations, clammy hands, tight pants—Viago did not like these things. In fact, he would go so far as to say he hated them. Mild curiosity was his favorite mood. What Teia had elicited in him was akin to an internal natural disaster.

I simply love him so so much. Mild curiosity was his favorite mood. He failed to account for the eggplant. He’s so annoyed at being poisoned and dying horribly and it literally never occurs to him that anyone would help him until he wakes up in Teia’s lap. He organizes all his poisons by puns. He uses his potentially last breath to argue with Teia about his precise state of dress or undress. Have we finally found him, the perfect man? 

(Also between Reyes and Viago Courtney Woods does such a good line in guys who’d really rather be emotionless machines of practical violence and monetary gain but find themselves down so horrifically catastrophically bad that it cracks them open to reveal a soul they aren’t all that happy to discover they have lol) 

— When Viago woke, it felt like someone had drained the blood from his body and replaced it with sludge. But it wasn’t all bad—someone who smelled like coffee and cinnamon was playing with his hair. . . . Her fingers resumed stroking his hair. It felt better than the water. It felt better than anything.

Unspeakable. Don’t look at me. 

— Viago reaching out and touching Teia’s cheek with his bare hands without a thought and all his tenderness and reverence for her laid bare in turn is something that can actually be so personal and it only took very nearly dying to get there (also… he’s presumably still half-naked through all of this while cradled in her lap. Amazing.). Can’t believe bare hands to cheek feels like third base with these two. And his fucking THOUGHTS through all of this… Don’t cry, he doesn’t deserve your tears, no one does (I don’t, I don’t want to be something that causes you pain) AOUGH

— Vaguely related: the implication in how that part is built is that he’s reaching out specifically to gently dry away her tears, right. Double AOUGHHHHHH not only does he manage to not be selfish or unfair in asking her not to cry he does that instead… there’s hope for you yet messere de riva  

— Teia with the red-hot poker standing guard over Viago while he ‘looks like a king in judgement’ and does the Poirot in the library exposition is everything and so hot what the fuck. She a snacc she attacc but most importantly… she protecc, she’s so fucking cool lol. they’re both really smart, but she’s clearly the brawn as well as the social skills (hey manipulation is such an ugly word!) and he’s the logistics and realpolitik on two long thin nerdy legs, absolute power couple. She’s the gaslight he’s the girlboss together may they gatekeep this invading army out of antiva  

— You guys… this might come as a surprise I have tried to keep it on the down low but. I really do love the world of Thedas so very much. I love the people and the places and the history and the stupidness and the brilliance so much. We must save the world because everyone I love lives here. Let this be a secret between just you and me we can’t let people know we sit/have emotions etc.  

— A servant approached to take the cage in Viago’s hand. 

“Careful,” Viago warned. “He bites.” 

“I can’t believe you’re keeping that snake,” Teia said, shaking her head. “It almost killed you.” 

“Which is more than any man can say. He deserves my respect. And a good home—with all the mice he can eat.” 

“But did you have to name it Emil?” Teia asked, making a face. 

“An homage. You’re always telling me to recognize my fellow Talons.”

Andarateia ‘names her horse after an archdemon’ Cantori x Viago ‘keeps the deadly adder that nearly killed him as a pet and names it after the last guy who failed to murder him’ de Riva. Freak well and truly matched. Soulmates, no notes, I’ll do borderline anything for these two to make it, goodnight. 

[cuubism]

Made in an Instant (5/5)

Dream's eldritch pregnancy, conclusion

Hob has never been so angry in his eternal fucking life. He’s going to find whoever decided to kidnap his pregnant husband and brutally murder them. Back in his day, people lost hands for stealing. Maybe he’ll bring back drawing-and-quartering. Now that was a good punishment.

With Matthew and Lucienne’s help from the Dreaming, he’s managed to track the kidnappers down to an abandoned prison just outside London. It’s really too on the nose. Dream will be peeved about the lack of creativity. Hob gets teary at the thought. Fuck he’s worried about him.

He doesn’t encounter anyone as he breaks into the place, which is worrisome. Shouldn’t there be someone? Guards? Kidnappers? He’s got his ancient broadsword strapped to his back—it felt more poetic than a gun—and he’s itching to just swing it through someone. Getting hacked in half will teach them to mess with Dream.

He passes dozens of empty, decrepit cells, walking faster as he still doesn’t find anyone— then stops. Turns to the cell at his right. That’s Dream’s magic. He feels it. And as he steps closer, he finds runes traced along the floor, along the walls and bars, a cage of magical lettering.

The only problem: the cell door is already open. And Dream is nowhere to be seen.

Shit. Is Hob too late? Did they take Dream somewhere else? Did they hurt him again? He spins in place, already starting to panic, he’s going to have to—

“Hob.”

Hob whirls around. Dream is standing at the other end of the hall. His coat is rumpled, but he looks generally unharmed. Most importantly, he’s not in a prison cell.

Hob rushes over to him, embraces him. Dream hums with pleasure at the touch. “Thank God. Oh, love, thank goodness you’re okay.” He holds Dream at arm’s length, looking him over. “Are you okay? What happened? Did they let you go?”

“I freed myself,” says Dream. He holds out his wrists, which have what look like burn marks on them from some sort of manacles. “I am. Mostly. Unharmed.”

Hob takes his hands, looks over his wrists carefully. “If they bound your powers like that, then how did you get out?”

“My powers were bound.” Dream smiles craftily. “But hers were not. I wished for us to get out. And she unlocked the cell.” He really seems quite proud of it. “We worked together.” Then he grimaces, pressing a hand to his lower belly. “Unfortunately, she has now taken this wish on as her own, and, I believe, decided she wants to get out. Now.”

“Now?” Hob flits around him, trying not to panic. Again. “Isn’t it too soon?”

“Wishes are often made in an instant,” says Dream.

Hob takes him by the arm and starts bundling him towards the exit. “Alright, let’s go home, then. Christ. Did you kill the kidnappers?”

“I do not kill humans,” says Dream.

“Did you eternally punish the kidnappers?”

“Yes.” He seems frighteningly unperturbed considering he’s just been kidnapped and is now apparently going into magical labor. Maybe he’s just compartmentalizing. Dealing with it all by not thinking about it. Hob will just have to do all the freaking out for the both of them.

He gets Dream into the car. Buckles him in. Starts driving at a speed that would definitely get him a ticket if he wasn’t married to someone who could just make police officers become suddenly and mysteriously distracted.

“How are you feeling?” he asks as he drives.

Dream considers. “Hmm. Restless. I’m curious what will happen.”

“You don’t know what will happen!?”

“This is untrodden ground, Hob,” says Dream. He does not sound as concerned about it as Hob thinks he should be. But then, the pregnancy itself has never seemed to concern him as much as it has Hob. It’s the grander scale of the thing that weighs on Dream’s mind. “No Endless has carried a child before.”

That’s just absolutely fantastic.

“We will find out,” says Dream, settling deeper into his seat.

Yeah, we sure fucking will, Hob thinks.

Matthew catches up with them partway through the drive home. Dream must have sent him a message in whatever dream-way he has, though Hob doubts he intended for Matthew to actually come find them. Hob feels briefly bad about not trying to contact Matthew himself, to let him know Dream was okay, but he was a bit distracted by the whole magical labor situation.

“Who the fuck kidnaps a pregnant lady?” Matthew exclaims as he soars in through the open car window, landing awkwardly on the dashboard. Dream slants a look at him, and Matthew amends, “Uh, I mean, a pregnant dude.”

Hob’s pretty sure that wasn’t the part of the statement Dream objected to and that calling Ye Olde Lord of Dreams dude might actually be worse.

“Does that make it worse or better?” Matthew wonders.

���Their fates were sealed the moment they threatened my child,” Dream intones, ominous as a storm front. “Now their minds belong to the Dreaming, where they will be fed upon by nightmares bearing the faces of their most deeply held fears. For eternity.”

“Definitely don’t kidnap pregnant ladies,” Matthew mutters. He ruffles his feathers in a shiver. “You good now, boss?”

Dream just inclines his head.

“You good, Hobster?”

“Well, my husband is going into some kind of unprecedented magical labor,” Hob says, voice tight. “And I didn’t even get to chop anyone’s head off, so I’m a bit worked up.”

Matthew squawks in alarm. “Labor?!”

“Do not be dramatic,” says Dream.

“Sure, sure,” says Hob. “It’s a regular Tuesday.”

“I am fine,” Dream says, more firmly—this time to Matthew. “Please inform Lucienne all is well. I will send for you at a later time.”

“You freaking sure?”

This time Dream gives him a stern look, and Matthew ducks his head. “Right, right. Well, see you later, then, I guess? Um. Good luck?”

He cringes to himself, but then wheels away out the window again. Dream rubs his forehead tiredly. 

“Don’t want the whole peanut gallery in the delivery room?” Hob asks, and Dream cracks a small smile.

“Would you truly have killed them?”

“I was kind of looking forward to it actually. Bit peeved you dealt with them first.”

Dream chuckles, tension easing. Hob’s still going way above the speed limit, and should really keep his attention on the road, but still he holds out his hand on the center console. And Dream takes it.

--

At home, Dream continues to be restless. Hob bandages his wrists, not that he thinks it will really do much. Dream changes into some of Hob’s comfortable loungewear. And then just starts pacing. Walking restless circles between the kitchen and living room, back and forth, back and forth. Hob’s never seen him like this. Normally Dream is very still, in control. He doesn’t fidget.

“Shouldn’t you lie down or something?” Hob asks. The way Dream is treating this is really not helping him fret any less.

Dream keeps pacing around the kitchen. “Hmm. No. I am going for a walk,” he says, and heads for the front hall.

“A walk?” Hob follows him at a rush, nearly tripping over his own feet. “Dream—”

Dream is already putting on his shoes. “Wear a coat at least,” Hob says, draping one of his own over Dream’s shoulders.

Dream gives him an arch look. “Are you not coming along?”

“Of course I’m coming!” With a frustrated sigh, Hob puts his own shoes on too.

He follows Dream out to the street, empty at this hour of the night, and across to the park, where Dream trudges off into one of the woodland trails like he’s on a mission. Hob follows, scrambling to catch up.

The forest path is absolutely dark at this hour, lit only by scant patches of moonlight. But Dream has always seemed comfortable in the nighttime, so he doesn’t seem perturbed. Meanwhile, the empty surroundings are not settling Hob’s anxiety.

“Dream, are you sure we should be wandering about in the park?” he asks.

Dream raises an eyebrow at him. “It is not as though we will need to go to a hospital.”

“It’s just— it’s the middle of the night.” And you were just kidnapped, he thinks but doesn’t add. Hob doesn’t know what delivering an Endless baby is supposed to be like, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to do it in the fucking woods. “We can go to the Dreaming if you like?”

Dream shakes his head. “She wishes to be born in the Waking. I believe so she can properly meet you.”

“…Oh.” Hob’s heart squeezes. And he resigns himself to doing whatever Wish wants, even if it means delivering in Richmond Park. She’s going to be a spoiled terror, he already knows it. Much like Dream, if he’s being honest.

“Fine,” he says, and takes Dream’s arm. Pulls him close. “Why are we in the park, then?”

“Wish is restless,” Dream says. “And. I am restless. I can feel all her budding dreams, her feelings, they are wrapped up in me far more tightly than any other dreamer’s and the process of disentangling them is agitating us both. And out here it is…” He looks up at the empty sky. “Quiet.”

Again, Hob is painfully reminded that Dream verbalizes so little of what he actually feels. And he’s reminded, too, just how strange, how beyond comprehension, this pregnancy really is. Human pregnancies are already strange and miraculous, but this is… soul-bending. He can’t imagine how it must feel, for Dream to be so close to their daughter for so long and then have to figure out how to let her go.

“Okay,” he says, wrapping an arm around Dream’s waist and letting him lean on him. “Take your time, then. Both of you.”

“I was not ready,” Dream admits, “for this to happen now. I thought there would be more time.”

“I know, darling. Me too.” Hob kisses Dream’s temple, rests their heads together as they walk. “You’ll still have her though, yeah? Even after she’s born. She’s not going anywhere. It will just be a change.”

Hopefully Dream will stick to his agreement to take some maternity leave after the birth. He is really going to need it.

“And you will get to meet her,” Dream says. “I look forward to that.”

Hob does, too. God. So soon.

For a while they are quiet, just listening to the low breeze, the night birds, and the waving branches, taking in the moonlight and the isolating darkness of the park at night. It’s peaceful. A bit eerie, too. But this atmosphere is Dream’s element. He is a creature stepped right out of it. And it seems to calm him.

Finally, Hob asks, “Does it hurt?” Surely if it did he wouldn’t be strolling around out here, but then, Dream is very catlike in that he does not like to let on when he is hurting. Hob knows it well.

“No, except in the way exhaustion might be said to ‘hurt,’” Dream says. “But it’s no matter. You needn’t worry about me.”

“Dream,” Hob says quietly, “I thought we’d gotten past the point where you realize that I’m always going to worry about you.”

Dream stops walking, pulling Hob to a stop beside him. He turns to Hob, brow furrowed, and Hob takes him by the arms. “You deserve someone to worry about you,” he says. “Someone to care whether you’re feeling well. I want to do that. I want to fuss over you.”

Dream keeps staring at him, expression pinched, but then softens and says, lowly, “I like when you do.”

He’s said so before, but it can be hard, sometimes, to get things internalized with Dream. To get him to feel he can have it. Count on it.

“It’s settled, then,” Hob says, and Dream huffs. “I’ll take care of you.”

“As you wish,” says Dream, but leans in close to Hob as they start to walk along again.

Hob wonders what it all feels like. He had never watched Eleanor go into labor, it wasn’t really the done thing at the time, but he grasps the idea of what it’s meant to look like. But Dream doesn’t show much on the outside, other than his evident restlessness. Everything about his pregnancy, if something so nontraditional can be called that, is so cerebral, it leaves Hob apprehensive for how the ‘birth’ is meant to go.

It’s all a lot. It’s a lot.

“Hey,” Hob says abruptly. “I’m proud of you.”

“For… being… pregnant?”

“Yeah, for being pregnant— but more for trying again. I— even so many years later, I think about Robyn, and the things I didn’t do or should have done, and it’s daunting to put myself in that position again. Even if I want it. So, I’m glad that you’re willing to try again, because I know it’s the same for you—maybe even more so.”

“We promised to make it good,” Dream says quietly. Something Hob said to him once, when Dream had first dramatically announced that he was inexplicably expecting a child.

“And we will,” Hob promises. The more he thinks about it the more freaked out he gets, honestly, but he’s going to be self-assured for Dream. At least externally. “We will, darling.”

“You never had other children,” Dream says, more confirmation of a fact than a question.

Hob grimaces. “Couldn’t bear to. I think, if I didn’t have you, I wouldn’t want to now, either. I can’t have another family pass me by while I go on. Hurts too much.” He owes Death free drinks at the Inn till the end of the world, this time around.

“Yes,” Dream agrees, solemnly. “Better, this time. I hope.”

It will be. Hob’s determined.

He kisses Dream’s cheek, keeps him close in the circle of his arms. And they walk on into the night.

--

It’s some time later when Dream stops, seemingly at random, and says, “Okay. We can go home now.”

Hob says, incredulously, “Dream, we’re on the complete other side of the park.”

“Easily remedied,” says Dream, pulling out his sand. Before Hob can say, wait maybe you shouldn’t do that right now, the world is spinning violently around them, and their bedroom rushes up to meet them.

Dream lands primly on the bed. Hob hits the floor, only just managing to get a hand up in time to not break his nose. He rolls over onto his back, looking up at Dream. “Not to be like that, but I think pregnancy is making you crazy.”

“I have been balancing her powers with mine for months now, splitting my focus to prevent it from creating chaos in the Dreaming.” Now he sounds truly weary. “As she has grown it has become more challenging and occupied more of my attention. Her power is impulsive. Whimsical. It is like trying to contain sparks.” He smiles tiredly. “I suppose it has made me scattered, yes.”

Hob finally pushes himself up from the floor, goes to perch beside Dream. He kisses Dream’s temple. “I like your crazy.” He lays his hand on Dream’s stomach. “And hers. Even if it means I have to buy extra fire extinguishers for the sparks.”

Dream smiles, tilting his head against Hob’s.

“Now you just stay there,” Hob tells him, helping Dream get out of his coat, pulling his shoes off, and nudging until he gets settled in the center of the bed, “and let me get you whatever you need.”

“Only you,” says Dream.

Hob fetches him some water anyway.

When he gets back, he slides into bed beside Dream. “It is not long now,” Dream tells him, solemnly.

Heart lurching, Hob braces a hand on Dream’s shoulder, and… waits.

He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for.

“What are we waiting for, exactly?”

“Patience,” says Dream.

Does he have to be like that?

Well, at least he’s not writhing in pain. Hob will take the confusion of… whatever this is… over having to watch him in pain.

Dream holds out his hand. Hob takes it, twining their fingers, heart pounding with anxiety. He recognizes the moment when Dream lets most of his focus slip into the Dreaming, into himself, that endless ocean of him. His eyes fall shut, his rigid spine relaxes ever so slightly, his jaw loses its tension, and he becomes distant. Hob keeps squeezing his hand, grounding him.

Dream lets out a huge breath, squeezing tight on Hob’s hand, and reality sort of… slips.

It breaks down the middle and skids sideways, and for a moment everything is all mashed together, like a door that’s never meant to be unlocked is being jammed open so something can get through, and Hob can’t tell where his hand ends and Dream’s begins, if he’s still awake or what year it is or if they’ve been flung into the Dreaming sea, there’s a deafening whine in his ears rising in pitch, his skin prickles all over with static. And then Dream reaches into himself, into the everything-that-is-him, and where his hands go his form goes sort of inside out like he’s actually reaching out of himself instead of in. It’s incredibly nauseating to watch but Hob can’t look away, never mind that he’s not sure which direction is even up anymore.

When Dream withdraws his hands, he’s holding a baby.

For a long moment, Hob can only stare at the two of them, speechless, his tiny daughter and his insane husband who’s pulled an infant out of fucking— out of where? Hob still hasn’t gotten an answer on whether he has a uterus!

The lack of physical progression is breaking Hob’s brain, it feels like Dream’s pulled Wish right out of the fucking ether, and Hob really might pass out but he can’t pass out because Dream’s the one who’s manifested-or-whatever a whole baby so if anyone gets to pass out it’s him.

“Dream…” he whispers, incredulous.

Dream smiles tiredly. He looks absolutely exhausted now, like it’s all crashed down on him all at once. He looks down at the baby, meeting her eyes as something passes between them, then leans down to kiss her forehead. Then he shows her to Hob, holding her carefully. “Your daughter, Hob Gadling.”

Wish looks up at him with wide eyes. She isn’t crying, which normally would alarm him, but nothing about this is normal, and she didn’t come out of a womb—apparently—so she isn’t covered in blood or amniotic fluid or anything, she’s just there. She actually exists. It wasn’t all some insane fever dream.

And she looks so much like Dream, with her tuft of fluffy black baby hair and bright blue eyes. Hob touches her cheek lightly in wonder, and gets a little static shock for his trouble. When he yanks his hand back, Dream chuckles, and Hob swears Wish is laughing at him, too. He just knows it. Co-conspirators, they are. “Sparks, you said.”

“Yes. One of her many abilities.” He gestures for Hob to take the baby. “She will not shock you again.”

“Eh, I’ve dealt with worse than a little electrocution.” Hob carefully takes Wish and cradles her in his arms. “Alright, Sparkle, let’s not burn down the flat just yet, yeah?”

He barely gets the sentence out before Dream bursts into tears.

Hob only manages not to jump in shock through years of ancient holding-babies instincts. As it is, panic spikes, because Dream doesn’t cry. Not really. He often looks like he’s going to cry, but rarely lets the tears fall.

Now he’s sobbing. Hysterically sobbing, chest shaking, clutching at Hob’s shirt. Hob would be worried about his ability to breathe if Dream actually needed to breathe in the first place.

“Okay, alright, sweetheart, it’s alright.” Hob maneuvers Wish into one arm so he can cradle Dream with the other. Dream presses his face into Hob’s shoulder and wails. “Shhh, honey, oh, love, it’s okay.”

Endorphins crash? Hob thinks desperately, because he’s never seen Dream sob like that. Or at all. But he imagines it must be jarring to gradually grow a whole being inside you and then be abruptly thrown off the cliff of separation.

“Here, love. Breathe. Come on, now.” He takes Dream’s hand and guides him over so that Wish can grasp onto his finger with her little baby hand. “Do you want her back?”

Dream shakes his head, but stops hyperventilating, pushing himself further into Hob’s side. “No. You should hold her. It is just that. I cannot feel her as I once did.” He takes a shuddering breath, but steels himself. Hob wishes he wouldn’t. If there’s any time Dream shouldn’t have to shore up his emotions, it’s now. “I knew this would happen. But I have grown selfishly accustomed to her presence close to mine.”

“It’s not selfish,” Hob tells him, heart breaking. “It’s not. It’s okay. You love her. And she needed you. She still does.”

Dream lets out the heaviest of breaths, and slumps against him, utterly spent. He slips one bandaged arm behind Hob’s back, the other still stretched towards their daughter. God. Their daughter. Who Dream pulled out of what feels like thin air. It only gets stranger and more amazing the longer he thinks about it.

He looks down at her, cradled so tiny in the crook of his arm. Was Robyn that small? He can’t fully remember. But Robyn screamed and cried so much his presence filled up the room either way. Wish is quiet, just looking up at him with her wrinkly newborn face. She’s like a wisp of thought, a silent scattering of light, like Dream on some days when he fades into the shadows, just a bit. Dream had described her internal world as whimsical and vibrant and so this transition into waking must be quite overwhelming indeed. Just like it so often is for Dream.

“She’s beautiful, Dream,” he says quietly, getting choked up. Dream hums in agreement. “She’s perfect. The both of you are.” He kisses the top of Dream’s head. “I’m proud of you.”

Dream grumbles, but Hob knows how he needs to hear that sometimes.

“You should rest,” Hob continues. “You’ve been through a lot.” More than a lot. Hob still hasn’t fully gotten the panic of Dream’s disappearance out of his system. And he would not be surprised if it was affecting Dream more than he let on, too.

“I do not…” Dream starts, but trails off.

“You’ve kept an eye on her for months, darling. I’ve got her now.” He bids Dream to lay his head down on his chest, pets his hair, and Dream makes a low, pleased groan. “We’ll be okay, love. Promise.” And maybe by the time Dream wakes up again Hob will have been able to wrap his head around the existence of Wish. Probably not, but he can hope.

Dream sighs again, tiredly, but subsides, and soon enough seems to slip into proper sleep, Wish’s tiny hand still latched on to one finger.

Dream wrapped under one arm, Wish cradled in the other, Hob lets out a long breath and privately takes a moment to be relieved that everything went okay. No matter how many times Dream had tried to assure him, he had never been fully able to shake the fear that lingered from Eleanor’s death. But thankfully, weirdness of it all aside, everything seems to have worked out.

Hob looks down at Wish, who’s still just gazing up at him peacefully. Pretty soon he’s going to have to get up to get her sorted with diapers and a swaddle and whatever else a sort-of-human baby needs. She’ll need to eat as well, and he’s not sure how Dream wants to handle that. But he doesn’t want to disturb Dream’s peace so for now he just stays, holding her against his chest.

“Think it’s just us for a while, love,” he tells her. “It’s alright. It’s all been a lot for you, I bet. But you saved your da, d’you know that?” It’s pretty remarkable, when he thinks about it, that her powers had manifested enough that Dream was able to use them to escape. “You’re going to be a right terror, I can just tell already. Wishing all sorts of mischievous things. Going to have to get some proper child locks or you’ll wish yourself right out onto the street, won’t you?”

She makes a soft cry, and Hob knows it’s normal for her to cry, good even, but still it hurts his heart. Fuck, he really is going to have to move either her or Dream in order to arrange some milk. But if he takes Wish with him to the kitchen to prepare some formula, Dream will be distressed if he wakes alone. If he leaves her in a bassinet, he’s going to be stressed to leave her unattended. Maybe he’s not as prepared for this as he thought. Maybe there is no true being prepared. Especially when it had all been so different, the last time he’d had a child.

“Yo!”

Hob almost jumps again as Matthew appears and flutters down to land on the foot of the bed. If he’s not careful he’s going to have a heart attack. “Jesus Christ. Some warning?”

Matthew cringes. “Sorry. I just came to make sure he’s okay. The Dreaming went sort of inside out and it freaked everybody out.”

Hob strokes a hand through Dream’s hair. He doesn’t stir. “I think he’ll be out for a while. Did the Dreaming sort itself out?”

“Yeah, it settled down.” Matthew hops closer, peering down at Dream and Wish, tilting his head. “Damn. He really did it. I mean, I knew a few people who had babies, when I was alive— but jeez, I’m not really sure I believed it.”

“Tell me about it.” Matthew keeps peering at Wish, so Hob adds, “You can say hi to her. I promise she’s real.”

“‘Real’ doesn’t really mean much when it comes to dreams, dude,” Matthew says. But he leans down by Wish. She studies him, eyes wide and blue. “Holy shit she looks just like him.”

“I know, right?” Hob’s not sure if it’ll stick. It’s easy to say the baby looks like Dream now based on her blue eyes and tuft of black hair, but babies’ features can change a lot as they grow.

“Wow. This is… a lot.” 

“How do you think I feel?”

“I can’t imagine,” says Matthew. “I’m glad everything worked out, though.” He hops down to the bed and plucks at Dream’s hair affectionately with his beak. Dream still doesn’t stir.

“He’ll probably come to check in on the Dreaming in short order, knowing him,” Hob says. He’s not exactly happy at the thought of it. They might have been able to avoid Dream getting pulled temporarily back into work if he hadn’t gotten kidnapped by a group of incompetent occultists, but Hob knows he’s going to want to at least set foot in the palace briefly after all that. “Do me a favor and kick him out as fast as you can?”

“Kick him out. Yeah, that’ll end well for me,” Matthew says, then shrugs in a flutter of wings. “I’ll do my best. And I should probably go let Luce know everything went fine. Is, uh, there anything I can do to help before I go?”

Hob’s about to say no, then reconsiders. “D’you think you can make baby formula without hands?”

--

While Matthew is in the kitchen attempting to do that according to Hob’s instructions, Wish finally decides that she’s proper hungry, actually, and lets out a loud shriek that nearly pierces Hob’s eardrums.

Dream sits bolt upright like he’s been struck by lightning and spins towards him.

“You’re alright, love,” Hob says, even as Wish shrieks again and he grimaces at the volume. God, she’s like a fire alarm. Add soundproofing to the list of modifications Hob’s going to have to make to their flat. He hands Wish back to Dream as Dream reaches for her. “She’s just hungry. I deputized Matthew to make some formula.”

“There is no need,” Dream says, and holds the baby close.

“Matthew, nix the formula!” Hob calls out to the kitchen. “Dream’s going to handle it.”

Matthew calls back, “I don’t want to think that about my boss!”

“You’re the one who’s sexualizing a perfectly natural process!”

Matthew squawks in outrage, and Hob laughs as he hears the fluttering of wings that heralds him fleeing back to the Dreaming.

“I think you delight in tormenting him,” Dream says.

“He started it.”

Dream doesn’t berate him for it. He only smiles down at their daughter, running a light fingertip through her fluffy hair. And Hob remembers a conversation they’d once had, about what it would be like when Wish was born.

“Were you excited to be born, Hob?” Dream had asked.

“How the fuck should I know?” Hob had said. “I was three seconds old.”

“Hm,” Dream had mused. “I was never truly ‘born’ in this sense, but I believe if I were I would have been very displeased about it.”

It had made Hob laugh in the moment, and then made him feel sad when he thought on it later.

It was said that raising a child let you relive your own childhood. Hob had found it to be true with Robyn, despite how Robyn had grown up in an era so different from his own, so much more comfortable, never going hungry, or wanting for the things that Hob had wanted for as a boy. When he’d seen Robyn play, seen him learn, he’d remembered things he’d forgotten, moments of life lost to time. Wish’s childhood will be different in ways he can’t even imagine. Supernatural baby, supernatural parent, modern world of modern dangers and wonders. But still so much of it comes back to the simple things, growing and learning and playing.

He doesn’t think Dream really had a childhood. Never had the chance to grow and learn and play. He doesn’t know all the detail of how it was with Orpheus, but he knows Dream looks back on that time primarily with guilt. And it can’t have been easy to try to raise a child when you were never one yourself.

Hob had promised Dream that he would make it better this time. That he would make it good. He wants to show Dream what childhood can be like. What a happy family can be like. Had Dream and Calliope had that, if only for a time? He hopes so. He really hopes so.

Either way, Hob is determined to show him. And when he looks at Dream smiling down at their daughter… he thinks he might even succeed.

[supernova-stardust]

i should be working on about a million other things, but instead i started writing a new jegulus fic lmao

modern au, sirius and regulus have a good relationship, coffee shop au, regulus learns why life is worth living (spoiler: it’s james. and a cat.)

untitled, 2769 words, unfinished but this snippet leaves off at a good point

***vague mentions of sui attempt, nothing specific or descriptive***

fic after the break 🖤

Regulus thought he knew loneliness before, but nothing prepared him for the emptiness that he was left with upon returning home after his hospitalization. One of the stipulations of his discharge was that he couldn’t stay home alone for the first couple of weeks and so his older brother, Sirius, trails through the door behind him with a gym bag full of clothes and other things he deemed necessary. He closes the door to Regulus’ apartment behind him then drops the bag on the floor next to him as he kicks off his combat boots. Regulus stares at the mismatched socks on his feet, one green and one blue, and wonders if there will ever be a time when he learns to care so little about details like that. Where Sirius learned to care less about what other people think about him and the way he presents himself, Regulus internalized perfection in every facet of his life.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Regulus says as he turns away and walks further into his apartment that feels less like home than it ever did. He can’t say that he found comfort in the hospital, far from it, but something about his stay made everything here feel less and less like his.

“Reggie,” Sirius’ voice is thick with concern as he hangs his leather jacket on the hook in the entryway. “Can’t we just chill for a bit first? Maybe watch a movie or something?”

“I’m not gonna kill myself in the shower, Sirius,” he shoots over his shoulder and keeps walking towards the bathroom. “But I might if I don’t wash the film from the hospital off my skin.”

Sirius storms up behind him and grabs his shoulder, whipping him around to look him in the eyes. “Don’t fucking joke like that. Not yet. I really thought I lost you, you know.” His eyes well with tears and his face pales and before Regulus can comprehend what’s happening, he’s being pulled into a tight embrace. He’s pretty sure he’s been hugged more times in the past few weeks than he ever has in his entire life.

Regulus finds himself rubbing Sirius’ back, internally cringing at the idea of soothing his brother when he was the one who was pushed so far by the demands of his everyday life that he opted to end it. “I promise to stop making jokes about killing myself for one week if you let me go take a shower, deal?”

“Leave the door open?” Sirius asks as he pulls away and wipes away the tears that have spilled down his cheeks.

“If it’ll make you feel better, sure.”

“It will.”

“Fine,” Regulus agrees as he walks down the hall to the bathroom. He shucks off his clothes and tosses them into the hamper. The hoodie and sweats were clean just a couple of hours ago, but he smells so strongly of hospital and sanitizer that he’s deemed them dirty already. He’ll probably need to wash them multiple times before he’s able to get the smell fully out of them and even then, he’s not sure that he wants to see those particular clothes ever again.

He scrubs at his skin, washing himself at least a half a dozen times before his skin turns pink and he decides that he smells enough like his typical cedar and sea salt soap to be considered clean. His hair is next. The hospital provided 3-in-1 product caused his usual soft waves to matte and lay flat on his head, so he takes his time scrubbing with his shampoo a few times before slathering more conditioner than he would typically ever use and gently detangles with his fingers. When his hair is detangled and his fingers are pruned, he finally turns off the water and wraps a towel around his waist.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he nearly trips. Sirius is sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, one leg bent and the other outstretched across the narrow hallway. He bangs his head on the wall when he looks up at Regulus with a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I was worried.”

“Are you gonna be like this the whole time?”

“At least for a few weeks,” he closes his eyes and leans his head on the wall behind him. “I’m a bit clingy now, Moony has encouraged my bad behavior and I’m afraid you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

“You’re literally 28, you’re not old.”

Sirius barks a laugh and tucks his feet under himself so he can stand up. “You’re my favorite brother.”

“I’m your only brother,” Regulus deadpans as he walks past Sirius to his bedroom so he can put on a fresh change of clothes.

When Sirius had started dating Remus, or Moony as he tends to call him, Regulus knew their parents wouldn’t be happy, but he hadn’t thought it would change the trajectory of all of their lives. Sirius had decided to show their parents, rather than tell them, about his new boyfriend by bringing him home for Sunday dinner. Growing up Catholic, Sundays were a day reserved for devotion to God and family. Sirius was in college, Regulus a senior in high school still living at home, and had told their parents that he had been seeing someone special for a few months. Their parents invited Sirius and “the lovely lady” for dinner and instead it was Remus who walked through the door with his fingers interlaced with Sirius’. That was the most tense and silent meal that had ever occurred at the Black household.

When Sirius had returned home for the summer, their parents gave him an ultimatum: conversion therapy or be disowned. Sirius had packed his bags that night.

Regulus hadn’t heard from Sirius for a few months after that. He got accepted into his first choice college and tried to distract himself with schoolwork. He avoided getting close with any of his classmates and did his best to make himself scarce when his dorm mate, Evan, was around. He’d go into a local cafe with his noise canceling headphones and bury himself in studying while drinking more coffee than was probably healthy. On one of those days, Sirius had plopped himself in the seat across from him and glowered. His hair was longer, half of it pulled away from his face in a messy bun, and he had a few tattoos visible on his neck, collarbone, and knuckles.

“Why haven’t you been answering my texts or calls?” Sirius had asked when Regulus wrenched his headphones away from his ears.

“The fuck? You’re the one not answering me.” Regulus had slammed his laptop shut and returned the glare that Sirius was giving him.

Turned out, their parents had blocked the brothers from being able to communicate. When Regulus had confronted them about it, they claimed it was for Regulus’ own good. They didn’t want their ‘only son to be influenced by sinners.’ At that, Regulus had laughed and said that he’d known he was gay since he was a child. He hasn’t spoken to his parents since.

“What movie do you want to watch?” Sirius yells from outside his bedroom, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Do you really have to ask?” Regulus tugs his shirt on as he shouts back.

He hears Sirius groan before yelling “don’t you ever get sick of watching 10 Things I Hate About You?”

“No, actually.” Regulus deadpans, walking into the living room to see Sirius sitting on the couch fiddling with the remote. “There’s something soothing about watching Patrick fuck up so royally and still win the girl at the end.”

“You need more therapy.”

“Obviously. Now put the movie on, I’ll make popcorn.”

***

In the morning, Regulus goes through his morning routine and feels his nerves settle for the first time in weeks. The thing no one talks about when you’re hospitalized is how disrupted your everyday life is. Of course there’s the whole ‘in the hospital’ bit, but it’s the little routines that calm Regulus’ nerves that, because of his particular brand of mental illness, they always try to interrupt. Exposure therapy or something, they say. He thinks it’s bullshit.

And so he finds comfort in waking up at exactly seven, stretching for fifteen minutes, brushing his teeth, showering, being meticulous about his skincare and styling his hair. These are all little things that he usually takes for granted in his daily life that suddenly became impossible to uphold when other people were checking in on him and watching his every move. He dresses in an oversized burgundy knit sweater and black trousers and grabs his bag. Pulling out his headphones, he slips them around his neck, then double checks that his laptop is safely inside and heads towards the living area towards the front door. Sirius is laying on the couch with blankets wrapped tightly around his body and surprisingly, is awake and staring at his phone.

“Didn’t think you’d be awake yet,” he says to Sirius as he grabs his favorite black oxfords and slides them on.

Sirius grunts sleepily in response. “Didn’t get much sleep, if I’m honest. Your couch sucks.”

“You don’t have to stay,” Regulus says blandly. “I know they said I couldn’t be alone, but I’m fine—”

“Reggie, I’m staying.”

“You really don’t need to.”

“Me staying is the only reason you were allowed to leave, you know that. You were at that meeting.”

“Fine,” Regulus relents. “I’m going out, I’ll be gone for a few hours. Do you want coffee when I come back?”

“Are you going to Galactic Grounds?”

“I go there every day, Sirius. They’re the only place that makes good coffee around here.” Plus the guy that works there is cute as hell, but Regulus refuses to say that part out loud to his older brother. “Do you want coffee or not?”

“Yeah, I’d love coffee. Text me when you get there?”

“Sirius—”

“And when you’re headed home? I promise I’ll chill out in a few days, just humor me. Please?”

“Fine, bye.”

“Love you, Reggie.”

“Love you, Sirius.”

***

As he makes his way into the cafe, Regulus pulls his headphones down to hang around his neck. The shop is generally pretty quiet, but the whirring of machines and general chatter are enough to make him flinch anyway. He stands in line, waiting as patiently as possible and mindlessly scrolling on his phone. When he looks up and glances behind the counter, he sees the cute guy who always makes his coffee just right. James.

James looks up from the machine where he’s steaming milk and fumbles the little metal pitcher. The smile on his face lights up the entire shop. “Reg, hey!” James seemingly abandons the steaming milk to stare at him until the customer at the front of the line clears their throat. James’ cheeks turn red. He apologizes to the customer and then directs himself back at Regulus. “Can you stay so we can catch up?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. I’ll be here for a while. I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on.” He really didn’t. The novel he’s been working on isn’t exactly going anywhere and his and Sirius’ Uncle Alphard made sure that all of their needs were met, so ‘work’ wasn’t exactly a necessity. It was just something to keep himself busy and to take his mind off things. ‘Things’ being mostly coping with mental illness and childhood trauma, if he’s honest.

Regulus goes to pull out his wallet to pay for the coffee when James stops him. “Nah,” he says. “On the house. It’s just a black coffee, Reg.”

Regulus cringes a bit at feeling like he owes back a favor, but tries to shake the feeling. This was something they worked on in group therapy; sometimes people just want to do nice things for you. Let them. And so he picks up the coffee and brings it over to his usual table in the corner. He settles into the comfortable booth and pulls out his laptop, staring at the screen asking for his password while he processes the fact that James wanted to catch up with him. Catch up? They’ve never even had a conversation beyond simple pleasantries.

He moves to readjust his headphones over his ears when he notices James throwing his apron on the rack near the bar and striding over to where he’s seated.

“Hey,” James says as he noisily pulls a chair out so he can sit. When he sits, he scooches himself in, the chair dragging and screeching the whole time. Regulus does his best not to make an expression at the sounds, but clearly his face betrays him because James quickly apologizes.

“Hi,” Regulus tentatively replies. He has no idea what he’s doing, normally he avoids conversations like this. The rehearsed small talk and polite niceties are fine for transactional interactions, but sitting here with James staring at him, he feels exposed. “So,” he tries. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” James grins. “How about you? You usually come in daily and I haven’t seen you for weeks. Did you do anything fun? I missed seeing you.”

Regulus flinches at that. Of course sweet, wholesome James would immediately want to know what fun and exciting things he got up to while he was away. It would never even cross his mind that Regulus had disappeared because he tried to off himself, then when Sirius found him, he’d been hospitalized for weeks. “No,” Regulus says in as level of a tone as he can manage. “I didn’t do anything fun, but I did do lots of crafts.”

“Oh, uh— Okay. That’s cool. I didn’t know you were crafty.”

“I’m not.”

James stares at him in confusion before he laughs, bright and carefree. “Fuck, you’re funny Reg. I don’t even think you mean to be.”

“Look, I do have a lot of work to do—”

“Sorry, yeah. My break is almost over too, but I just wanted to… I know this isn’t professional or anything, and honestly I’ve been avoiding it because I know this is a weird dynamic where I make you the perfect coffee every day and you don’t wanna lose that in case it goes poorly, but I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while and just— You not being around for a bit made me worried I wouldn’t get a chance to ask you again, so while I still have the guts, will you let me take you out sometime?”

“You want to go out on a date… with me?” Regulus has never heard anything more ridiculous in his life. This sunshine golden retriever of a man wanted to take him out on a date?

“I mean— Sorry if I read you wrong, if you’re not interested in guys, or uh… me, that’s cool. I’ll keep making your perfect coffee and no harm done. I just figured I’d shoot my shot, y’know?”

“I am— Interested. In guys.” Regulus pauses for a moment, feeling awkward and unsure of himself. He hasn’t had anyone ask him out on a proper date before. Typically, he just goes about things the old fashioned way: dating apps and swiping until he finds a reasonable match. It never goes well, but it never goes poorly enough that it’s stopped him from the cycle either. When he looks at James, really takes him in and realizes that he hasn’t explained that he wants to go on the date, he quickly adds, “I’m interested in you too. I’ve always thought you were cute.”

James beams then hands him his phone. “Can you enter your number? I’ll text you and we can make more concrete plans?”

At first, Regulus is shocked by the casualness at which James just… hands him his phone. Then he realizes that James probably never had parents who pried or jealous ex boyfriends who demanded to read every text exchange. He enters his phone number in a new text and texts himself the star emoji so that he has James’ number too and hands back his phone.

James glances at his phone and then asks, “Why the star emoji?”

“For my name.”

James stares at him in confusion, but as he opens his mouth to ask he hears his co-worker calling out for him to come back from his break. “Fuck, I’m late. Sorry—”

“Go, James.”

“Yeah, I’ll text you later okay?”

“Okay.” Regulus smiles softly as he watches James stand up from the chair across from him and rush back to his place behind the bar.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Erm so I. Accidentally started ranting. Oopsies

I think it's silly to draw Killers soul in a constant target shape in erm found family kinda trope. Yk. When everyone gets along and is happy and they also jokingly bully Killer and excessive amount. And Killers in stage 2 through all of it. How honest is Killer truly being?

And also (going off track) why does he get bullied an excessive amount, because I see no love coming from that,, to like jokingly shit on someone, yeah, sure I understand, people do that, it can be funny, but it's just.... so much..... like. Killer can't even breathe without being shit on. Maybe saying he's getting shit on is not the best way to word it but,,,,,,, anyways Killer gets bullied so much I don't even. I can't even see it as funny anymore. He gets bullied, and no affection given, and it's even more deprivating seeing how the others who surround him, the group he's supposedly a part of, is all love and affection and they obviously share affection and all 'at

And then there's Killer. Only there to mess things up and harass everyone. He talks too much, and when getting ignored he starts talking about sensitive topics for something to come out of the other. Just something to say he's real, something to show he's somehow still a part of whatever this is. He's not treated as an outside, but he sure as hell ain't being treated as someone that matters. It shouldn't bother him though. The treatment isn't new, he's used to this, he's fine. He shouldn't be petty about not getting a lil affection

Killers literally so hated that the version of horror that's so desperate to keep everyone healthy and to not let anyone starve, literally leaves Killer to starve for a day. Sighs idk I'm just not dealing with Killer constantly getting bullied all the time,,,, it's funny every now and then but Jesus it's so excessive I can't even— anyways I have no solution for this because the best situation is to leave the ones hurting you but. Sighsssssssss

I'm just. Stopping myself here, imma go eat

No, i completely understand you, anon. I used to also be a target of excessive bullying (both in school and in my family unit), so that shit doesn’t appeal to me. It’s not funny or cute, especially when it’s done to a character whose use that type of treatment and far worse, and keeps seeing examples of what the dynamic should and could be, but for some reason he’s not allowed to experience that??

I also hate it when in Bad Sans Family dynamics they treat Killer like he’s an idiot or an annoying child, always messing things up and everyone just fucking hates him for some reason despite claiming not to??

In my mind, if Killer is excessively in Stage 2 during these types of dynamics, then his ass is just playing along. They treat him like shit despite claiming to care or be family or be friends, no different than what Chara did, there’s no way he’d allow himself to be in Stage 1 around them. He can’t trust them not to fuck him up anymore than he already is.

And Stage 1 is excessively a lot more emotionally fragile and sensitive than he is in Stage 2. Killer doesn’t need bullying and degrading comments when he’s in such a vulnerable, fragile state. That’s not a sign of love or affection for Stage 1.

A lot of people don’t seem to understand that Killer is a victim of awful, prolonged abuse and torture—he’s not just a violent stupid serial killer, he is a victim of forced perpetration. He is not going to react to these things like Horror or Murder would.

In fact, even with a Bad Sans Family, his circumstances still mirror the one he had with Chara—killing people, hurting people, doing it with people who claim to be friends or family, even all those violent bloody fights people portray Killer and Murder having is no different than what likely happened with Chara.

Stage 1 is not going to be stabbing people to show affection or licking blood off knives or doing anything that he does in Stage 2. Because that is a version of Killer that is more Sans-like, you know, a Sans that never wanted any of this. A version of Sans who is constantly filled with overwhelming fear, guilt, shame, pain, longing for his home and his brother. Who is still out there, looking for him.

It reminds me of a quote a came across, but can’t quite remember. Something about how a girl wakes up in her bed in a house, screaming and crying about how she wants to go home—but the speaker and the family is confused, because she already is home.

[youling-the-ghost]

sfth incorrect quotes pt.5 because who needs a normal hobby anyway (the generator I used)

Luke: That's a nice arguement, Sam. Why don't you back it up with a source? Sam: My source is that I made it the fuck up! Luke: How high are you? Tom: Mm, I don’t know how to say it in feet. Sam: No, he's asking what drugs are you on. Tom: Oh, antidepressants, why? AJ: Where the devil is Tom? Luke: Well, it is raining outside… Maybe he melted? Sam: Shall I look outside for a tiny, ill-fitting hat?

Sam: If bees can be fish and boys can be girls, then why can't my dad love me? Tom: I thought I was going to have to yell at you, but now I think I should hug you.

Luke walking into the kitchen and seeing all their limes peeled: Tom, I love you but, what the h-e-double FUCK. Tom, sipping coffee happily: I love you too :) Sam, after sneaking into AJ’s bedroom: Hey, wake up! AJ, half awake: Huh!? Sam: I just murdered your entire family! AJ: …But I live alone. Sam: Huh? Then who are these people in your house??? AJ: There’s people in my house? Sam: Well not anymore! Dumb bitch! You could’ve died! You’re welcome! AJ: They… well, I wouldn't call it inheritance per se. What do you call it when you kill someone and get their stuff? Tom: Um, murder??? Sam: Adventuring! Luke: Tuesday. Luke: You can de-escalate literally any situation by asking ‘are we about to kiss?’ Luke: Doesn't work with getting out of speeding tickets, though. Luke: How do tall people people possibly sleep at night when the blanket can't possibly cover you? Tom: Luke, it's four o'clock in the morning. Luke: So, you can't sleep, huh? Is it because of the blanket? Tom: Sam gets offended by everything. Sam: What did you say about me?!? Tom: Tom: Case in point. Luke: wow you and Tom are home early from the movies. What happened? AJ: We got kicked out because Tom wouldn't stop yelling diving scores as people jumped off the titanic. Tom: That last guy had a solid 8, I'm telling you! Sam: The best part of an oreo is the cookie part, not the frosting. Deal with it. Tom: Darkness without light is an abyss. Light without darkness is blinding. You cannot have a coin with one side. Luke: YO SOCRATES! IT'S A FUCKING COOKIE! Sam: What are your three best qualities? Luke: I’m hot, I have soft hair, and sometimes I cry because I love my friends. Sam: A pessimist sees a dark tunnel. AJ: An optimist sees light at the end of the tunnel. Luke: A realist sees a freight train. Tom: The train driver sees three idiots standing on the tracks. Tom: Luke! Have you no dignity? Luke: Of course not! How long have we known eachother? Tom: AJ? What are you doing here? AJ, wearing a hawaiian shirt, sunglasses and holding a gatorade: My best. Luke: A stake to the heart won't kill a vampire if their tits are big enough. AJ: Yeah, you just catch it. Tom: Nah nah nah, deflects it. Stake? Just bounces right off. Done. Back to doing hot girl shit. Sam: Then I just use a spear instead. Luke: You are trying so hard to kill a vampire with big bazongas, and for what? Why would you do that to the ecosystem? Tom, cowering in fear: What do you want from me?! Sam, standing in front of Tom: *bites into the whole KitKat bar like a heathen* Tom, crying: Please...stop...

Tom: Be right back, gonna hit the toilet for a quick power sob. AJ: I did it! I memorized everything in the book! I'm gonna ace this test! Sam: Ok, AJ, I'll give you one more question before you go. What ended in 1918? AJ: 1917. Sam: ...You're ready. Luke: Welcome to my very first vlog, in which I try different hair products! Luke: *sprays hairspray in his mouth* Luke: Well, right off the bat I can tell you this one is not very good. Tom: Sam just said "I have an appetite for destruction" and then he reached down and untied my shoe. Luke: I'm going the fight the next person who insults Sam. Sam: I hate myself. Luke: Alright, square up. *AJ is considering cancelling plans, and Tom and Sam are advising him on what to do* Tom: Just don't go. Sam: Say you’re ill! Tom: Pretend to break your leg. Sam: Really break your leg! AJ: Remember that time you dared me to lick a swingset? Luke: No, I said "AJ, don't lick that swingset" and you said "Don't tell me what to do" and licked the swingset. AJ: You fuckers don’t know about my knife stick. It’s a knife taped to a stick and it’s the ultimate weapon. Tom: Spear. AJ: BLOCKED. Sam: Quacking in my boobs over this Sam: QUAKING* Sam: BOOTS* FUCKER.

+ Bonus message from the programmer of the generator:

Congratulations! You've stumbled upon a secret message from me (the programmer of this generator): Remember to drink water. And also take your meds if you have those and are supposed to take them. Also, have a nice day if that's a possibility. I hope y'all are doing great, and remember: Happy pride month! Always respect eachother's pronouns! (sadly it's no longer pride month but that that doesn't mean that we shouldn't continue to respect each other's pronouns)

[goodnightmemes]

YELLOWJACKETS SEASON TWO SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ The only thing you should ever say to the police is, "I want my lawyer." That's why I put it on the cookie. ❜

❛ Before you go, you should take some Hawaii 5-0 punch. It's just regular Hawaiian punch, but I gave it a snazzier name. ❜

❛ I might have to break up with him. Unless I get lucky and he just disappears. ❜

❛ I don't want to talk about the future, anyways. I'm all about living in the moment. ❜

❛ You're, like, holding on to me or whatever. That's, like, haunting 101. ❜

❛ I had to cut back the rations again. There's not much left. ❜

❛ The thought of you with someone else always scared me. But it also turned me on. ❜

❛ I'll make a solid kidnapper out of you yet. ❜

❛ There's no such thing as false hope. There's just hope. ❜

❛ I'm not scared of you. I'm never gonna be scared of you. ❜

❛ This is how you're choosing to say "I love you," for the first time? ❜

❛ You weren't the only smart one. You just liked to think you were. ❜

❛ What if my only way of dealing is to numb myself into oblivion? ❜

❛ They're too focused on their own shit to even notice that I'm gone. ❜

❛ Well...you're not a picture of normalcy yourself. ❜

❛ I can feel your heart beating. ❜

❛ Everyone has their role. ❜

❛ Stop reliving this! You're in the vise grip of your trauma. ❜

❛ Every time that you try to save someone, a lot of bad shit happens. ❜

❛ Serial killers love puzzles. It's a documented fact. ❜

❛ For fuck's sake, shut up! Don't you see how much damage you are doing? ❜

❛ I don't even know where you end and I begin. ❜

❛ Believe me, if I could relax about anything ever, I promise you, I would. ❜

❛ As I'm sure you can imagine, emotions can run high in a place like this. ❜

❛ You never know when you might need to leave the country sans passport. ❜

❛ It made me feel like...I didn't know what was going to happen. And I liked that. ❜

❛ You can't blame yourself. We all did it together. ❜

❛ Dude, I don't even remember what socks I put on today. ❜

❛ I guess I'd kind of do anything to see him again, you know? ❜

❛ Moving in with you means everything in my life changes. ❜

❛ I think shit is gonna get a lot worse out here. ❜

❛ Thing is...it's one thing to point a gun at a person. It's another thing to use it. ❜

❛ There's a look people get when they realize they're going to die. It's that one. ❜

❛ My hand wasn't shaking because I was afraid. It was shaking because of how badly I wanted to do this. ❜

❛ I'm gonna live how I want to. How I know I'm meant to. And I'm gonna be the person that I know I am. ❜

❛ They're all lucky to have you. It's pretty rare to have a friend who's relentlessly got your back. ❜

❛ In small towns, everyone knows who and where the weirdos are. ❜

❛ I don't normally hitchhike and...look like this. ❜

❛ I know that you're depressed. I know that you can't see it, but I can always tell. ❜

❛ Yes, I am still depressed because it's kind of a forever thing, but I'm doing real work. ❜

❛ And I swear to God, if you lie to me again…I am so fucking over secrets. Like, I can't. ❜

❛ Oh, my fucking God. So, you… you killed a person? ❜

❛ Maybe one day I can talk to you about it, but for now, can that just be enough? ❜

❛ I don't understand why you won't see what's right in front of you. ❜

❛ I'm sorry I disappointed you. I love you even when you try to control me. But I'm okay now! ❜

❛ I think we need to get you out of here. ❜

❛ But I just got here. I don't - I don't want to leave you. ❜

❛ As parents, it's part of our job. We have to protect her, we have to shield her from making the same shitty mistakes we made. To throw our fucking bodies in front of her if that's what we have to do. ❜

❛ No, you can't deny this anymore. There is something deep inside of you that is connected to all of this. ❜

❛ So, you gonna tell me why you're here, or are we just gonna pretend this isn't super weird? ❜

❛ I'm doing a fucking thing here. I don't need you getting in my way. ❜

❛ If I happen to mention sacrificing anything on an altar, well, just ignore that part, okay? Thanks. ❜

❛ Do you get how lucky we are? Some people never find someone they trust enough to share their deepest secrets. ❜

❛ You think I'm capable of murder? ❜

❛ You're charming and impulsive, which are traits of most serial killers. Only, you pull it off. ❜

❛ Look, all I'm trying to say is, I like you regardless of your extracurricular activities. ❜

❛ That's medication for me to mind my own business. You should take two. ❜

❛ Maybe you don't have to be dying to have regrets. ❜

❛ I'm mixing my pop culture metaphors 'cause I'm fucking upset! ❜

❛ I can't ask you for your help 'cause I don't want to hurt any more of the people I love. ❜

❛ You should know better than anyone we can't define a person based on their past. ❜

❛ I don't need your fucking prayers, I need you to have my back. ❜

❛ We weren't alone out there. ❜

❛ You should get the hell away from me. I'm poison. I ruin people. ❜

❛ We did so much fucked up shit out there. And, yeah, maybe it was to survive. Maybe. But I don't think we deserved to. ❜

❛ Women have been having babies for millions of years. You're gonna be fine. ❜

❛ The wilderness recognizes your sacrifice. And so do I. ❜

❛ The power of that place. The god of that place. We did terrible things in Its name. ❜

❛ It's all your fault. There's just something wrong with you. You always do this. ❜

❛ Aren't you probably the last person who should be giving me legal advice right now? ❜

❛ I know I have no right to ask you this, but truly, what is going on with you? ❜

❛ I just want to know you haven't given up on love. ❜

❛ Maybe I have given up on love. But don't flatter yourself. It's not because of you. ❜

❛ You know I don't deserve your friendship, right? I just hurt people. ❜

❛ Suffering is inevitable. And only by meeting it with compassion can we truly begin to grow. ❜

❛ I never even wanted to be a mom. ❜

❛ I did not start out a bad person. But in case you haven't noticed, life doesn't tend to turn out the way you think it will. ❜

❛ Oh, no. What happened? Fuck, are we going to jail? ❜

❛ It's you and me against the whole world. ❜

❛ You lost a lot of blood and you were unconscious. We thought we lost you. ❜

❛ I kept surviving all this shit that should've killed me, and I just...I figured it meant something. You know, like maybe it meant that I had some kind of purpose in all of this, but, uh...Yeah. I'm not fucking seeing it. ❜

❛ I need to know why the fuck I'm still here. ❜

❛ Shouldn't you be in therapy? ❜

❛ I'm not like you, okay? I don't think of killing as a joke. ❜

❛ I really am very grateful that your hobby seems to be figuring out how to be the perfect serial killer. ❜

❛ I've always kept my daughter at arm's length. I think just out of fear that she would...die, I guess. Or maybe that she was never even real to begin with. ❜

❛ I can't have another death on my hands. ❜

❛ I can't wait for you. I don't have that kind of time. ❜

❛ Tell me, is there anything of value in this life that doesn't come with risk? ❜

❛ Does a hunt that has no violence feed anyone? ❜

❛ What, do you want to casually reminisce about our time in fucking oblivion? ❜

❛ Well, if I'm repressing things I don't know about, I am very okay with never figuring it out. ❜

❛ I know there's a lot of pain. You need to let it out. ❜

❛ I don't understand. You measured the grave to the standard six feet? ❜

❛ You're lying to me. And I want to know why. ❜

❛ Maybe [name] dying wouldn't be the worst thing. ❜

❛ When they get a whiff of how much of a liar your mom is, they'll realize that the ❜ psychopath apple doesn't fall far from the fucked-up, man-eating tree. ❜

❛ So, this is what you've all been doing with your lives? Chasing blackmailers and murdering lovers? ❜

❛ I think we can agree that it's in everyone's best interest that [name] is gone. ❜

❛ If I die, don't waste my body. Promise me. ❜

❛ I thought you loved all of me, like I love all of you. ❜

❛ We put ourselves in danger for you. You've been using us! ❜

❛ I've been trying to fix...No. I have been telling myself that I've been trying to fix things and make the problems go away, but the truth is, I've just been doing stuff that makes it worse. ❜

❛ We're all pretty messed up. It's time we finally fucking talk about it. ❜

❛ This isn't something that therapies can fix. ❜

❛ I think that you might be taking this whole, like, cult leader persona thing... a tad far. ❜

❛ I never meant... I didn't want this. ❜

❛ You started this. It's done. And it's going to save all of our lives. ❜

❛ I appreciate you trying to teach me...forgiveness. It's a nice idea. ❜

❛ I let him die in my place. It was supposed to be me. ❜

❛ You're a good person. You really don't belong in this place. ❜

❛ I'm not ashamed. I'm glad I'm alive. And I don't think that any of us who are still here should feel ashamed of that. Ever. ❜

❛ That was a beautiful false confession. I could see it came out of real love. ❜

❛ You want to help me move this body? ❜

❛ It's up to you. You can submit. Or you can run. ❜

❛ You know there's no "it," right? It was just us. ❜

❛ I never wanted to be in charge. ❜

❛ No. I'm not supposed to be here. ❜

❛ This is exactly where we belong. We've been here for years. ❜

❛ It's not evil. Just hungry. Like us. ❜

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 20: One Day At A Time

“Do you think someone will die?” I ask blindly, peering out from behind the curtains at the eerily quiet streets.

“Who’s to say,” Polly answers as she sips her tea.

It’s been half an hour. How does it feel like an entire day? Ada, being the tired new mother she is now, drifted off to sleep not too long ago so it’s just Polly and I. Every minute that goes by I keep expecting someone to burst in carrying an injured Blinder. Or worse, a corpse. I don’t know why, but I’ve got a gut instinct telling me something’s wrong. Is it because of the fight or my conflicting emotions toward Thomas?

I check the clock again. Forty five minutes. “Polly, is it-?”

“Ada, wake up.”

The Peaky Blinder leader himself bursts into the room, frantically searching to see if we’re all safe.

Polly looks up from her book. “Thomas? Back already?”

Thomas helps Ada up and ushers her out. “You and the baby get into the Bull Ring where there’s lots of people. Go with them, Verena.”

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“We’ve been fucking betrayed,” he growls. “Someone let slip and now Kimber’s men are on their way here. We’re outnumbered.” Thomas walks to the desk and slams his fist. “Fuck!”

I would point out to tone down his language in front of Karl but I keep my mouth shut.

“Who else knew about today?” Polly asks as her eyes search frantically for unknown answers. “Who else did you tell?” 

Thomas’ gaze goes unaltered as he stares at the desk in front of him. We all know what he’s thinking. Polly is the one to address it.

“There’s only one thing can blind a man as smart as you, Tommy. Love. It was that barmaid. I will deal with Grace. If you set eyes on her again you might kill her.”

As much as I want to point out I was right, this is not the time for an ‘I told you so’ moment. The Blinders, the Shelbys, are in danger.

I step forward. “Can I come as well? I’ve met Grace. I should give her a piece of my mind after what she did.”

Polly puts a hand on my shoulder. “You need to stay with Thomas. He trusts you to guard Ada and now I’m trusting you to guard him.”

She grabs her purse and shuts the door before Thomas can argue. The only other time I’ve seen his eyes like this is when the Lees mocked his mother. Cold, cruel, and inhumane. 

“You were right,” he mutters, still staring at the desk. “She was a spy.”

A part of me feels ashamed for wanting to gloat. Thomas really does love Grace and it’s selfish of me to want to keep him for myself. He trusted her. It must sting him deeply to feel this way.

I walk over slowly and pour him a small drink, which he takes and downs in one swallow.

“Did Thomas Shelby, the infamous leader of the Peaky Blinders, just admit he was wrong?” He merely huffs at my attempt at a joke. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”

Now his eyes transition to a calculating stare, scanning me for any sign of mockery.

“I don’t need your pity.”

“I really am sorry. Is there no way for me to negotiate? I could talk to Campbell and get reinforcements-”

“It’s the coppers that helped betray us, Steenstra. No good use of talking now.”

It feels like being trapped between a rock and a hard place. “Can I at least wait in the Garrison?”

“No,” Thomas answers sharply. “That’s a death wish and I can’t have you killed. I’ve already had to deal with enough stress today.” He looks out the window again. “I’m headed out. Stay with Finn and Ada.”

I know his unspoken message. If it all goes wrong today then she and Finn might be the only Shelbys left.

“I will pray for you, Mr. Shelby,” I say softly and follow him to the door.

His jaw remains tight but something in his eyes softens. “Goodbye, Miss Steenstra.”

I shake my head, trying to be optimistic. “Not goodbye. I’ll see you for dinner. I’ll make biscuits.”

This gets him to crack a smile. “Funny. You said biscuits and not cookies.”

I reflect his grin. “Maybe your Brummie talk is starting to rub off on me.”

Thomas tips his hat and opens the door. “See you later, Verena.”

“Good luck. But you won’t need it.”

The door closes. More waiting. Is that all the women do here? Wait for their loved ones to safely return from battle? Yesterday I wanted to leave more than anything but now I won’t sleep soundly again until all the Shelbys are out of danger.

Ada’s just as restless because she can’t sit still either. She’s walking around gathering Karl and his blanket, placing them in a stroller and- And heading for the front door?

“And where are you off to?” I ask in a threatening tone.

The Shelby sister ignores my warning and holds her head high, now wearing a black veil. “I’m going to stop this nonsense the way a woman does. By talking.”

The shadow of a smile creeps onto my face. “Let me grab my coat.”

It takes hardly no time at all to find where the fight is. Everyone in Birmingham must have gotten the message because the usually busy streets are completely empty. I stay in front of Ada and Karl as we march towards the battle.

There they are. Caught at a standstill with their guns pointed. Kimber looks just as much of a prick as the last time I saw him.

“What’s the plan?” I whisper as we peer around the corner.

Ada doesn’t answer. Instead she begins pushing the baby buggy farther down the street. Thomas is going to kill me! I’m supposed to protect her!

“Wait up!” I hiss and jog to catch up, shielding her.

“Move!” Ada orders as she plows through the Blinders, all the way to the center of the space between the two gangs.

Kimber blinks, trying to understand what’s going on. “What are you doing?”

“I believe you boys call this No Man’s Land.”

“Ada!” Thomas finally realizes her plan.

She doesn’t budge. “Shut up and listen.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“I said shut up!”

Thomas points to me. “Steenstra! You were supposed to be watching her!”

“I am. Here I am, watching her stop you all from killing each other.” I look between the two leaders. “There has to be a diplomatic solution.”

Kimber scoffs at my accent. “This ain’t a tea party, duchess. Who’s the American broad?”

Thomas keeps trying to keep us away. “Ada, Verena, please-”

“Thomas.” He stops and looks at me. I give him a steady and determined stare, nodding to Kimber. “Only one need die.”

The man himself isn’t impressed. “You’ve got no clue what you’re talking about!”

My head snaps to glare at Kimber. “I’ve heard enough. You’re an evil person who should walk away before things get ugly. For the good of your men and their families, walk away. This is Peaky Blinders territory.”

His face twists into a snicker as he brandishes his gun. “If that face wasn’t so tempting I’d cut it off. Back away, whore!”

Ada steps up now. “I’ve got brothers and a husband here but you’ve all got somebody waiting for you.” She gestures to her veil. “I am wearing black in preparation but who will wear black for you? Think about them. Fight if you want to but that baby ain’t moving anywhere. And neither am I.”

I walk up next to her. “Nor am I.”

Seconds tick by. Not a sound. The only noise is the distant clanking of factory workers and trotting horses.

“She’s right, you know,” Kimber speaks up. “Why should all you men die? It should just be them who’s caused it!”

It happens so fast. A shot rings out and I see red burst from Thomas’ chest. One man jumps in front before another bullet can reach him and crumbles to the ground. On instinct I swerve in front of Ada and the stroller. Thomas raises his gun and fires a perfect shot to Kimber’s skull. He falls over the same as a dead tree. It’s done.

“Enough!” Thomas barks, addressing both gangs. “Kimber and me fought this battle one-on-one. It’s over. Go home to your families.”

Both sides look at one another trying to decide how to walk away peacefully. Eventually they disperse and disappear down the streets. The problem remaining is the bullet in Thomas’ chest.

My heart drops at the sight of red blooming from his shirt. Immediately I rip off part of my lower skirts and push it against the wound. 

“Ada, take Karl home. Thomas, you need a doctor-”

“No doctor!” He argues, nearly crushing my hand with the force of his own. “Just get this bloody thing out!”

We push him back and into the Garrison. Thank God there are no customers to deal with. We’re going to need all the liquor we can get.

“I can help.” The minister from earlier, Jerimiah, steps forward. “I’ve done this back in France.”

That’s good enough for me. What’s important is getting the bullet out as soon as possible. Jerimiah goes straight to work, pulling off Thomas’ shift and sterilizing some tools. Arthur and John pin Thomas against the table and he begins the surgery. It’s not pretty.

“Ugh! Ugghhh!” Thomas tries hard to stay tough but this is no minor cut.

“Fight it, Tommy!” Arthur pushes him.

I take his hand, still losing most circulation from his grasp. “It’s almost out. We’re all here with you, Thomas.”

He lurches forward again and we shove him back down. Almost-!

“There! I still have the knack,” Jerimiah celebrates as he triumphantly holds up the bullet.

Arthur pulls out a bottle and hands it to his brother. “Have a drink. Deep breath!”

Thomas downs the whiskey and winces. “Ah!”

I pat his shoulder (trying so hard to ignore the fact his chest is still bare). “That’s it. It’s done. Kimber’s gone. You did so well, Thomas.”

His blue eyes shift up towards mine, holding pain and triumph. “Ada? That was her idea, eh?”

“Yes. We both weren’t going to wait around for you to return bloodied and bruised. Us women like to talk but at least we don’t blow each other’s brains out. She and Karl are safe. Finn is reading in the kitchen. Relax.”

And he does. Thomas takes another drink and leans into the chair with his eyes closed. By now the other Blinders are getting rowdy.

“I think a celebration is in order!” Arthur declares.

“How ‘bout a family meeting in the next hour?” John suggests. “I’ll go get Pol and Ada.”

That’s not on my mind. What I care about is that the storm has passed and the Shelbys are safe… for now.

Sure enough, the entire Shelby clan is seated in the Garrison in the next twenty minutes. Finn and I sit away in the back, since our status isn’t ranked high. Thomas stands at the front and we all lift a glass. I’m the only one drinking water.

“Today was good enough to us,” he announces. “The Lees took all the pitches at the Worcester race while Kimber was here.”

Thomas chats a while with Arthur, then spots Finn and I. He joins us at the bar and for some strange reason Finn randomly decides to wander off, leaving us alone.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I say gently, remembering the gunshots. “Danny was a loyal friend.”

Thomas gets straight to the point. “I’m here to ask if you’ll come back to work. For good.”

So he does trust me now. Enough to protect his own family. But is it worth all this? All the accusations, the fighting, the stress?

“I don’t see a reason why.” I take a sip of water. “I’m set to go back home in a week and no one seems to care. Plus you never said sorry.”

Thomas’ brow creases. “Yes I did!”

I arch an eyebrow. “You said that you were wrong, not sorry. There’s a difference.”

He smirks. “You bloody Americans and your stubborn attitude.”

I smirk back. “You Brits and your proper manners.”

“You should be thankful our ‘manners’ restrict me from hitting a woman,” he replies smoothly and leans in closer. “Though I’m never one to always follow the rules. I'm sorry, Verena.”

Lord. He’s drawing me in again. Steady, Steenstra. You need to decide. Birmingham, or home.

“Ah, what the Hell. Brooklyn’s not going anywhere. What’s a few more months?”

My words spark Thomas’ eyes to brighten even if he doesn’t express verbal delight. He’s glad I’m staying.

“Perfect, now Finn won’t kill me. Enough business.” He offers a fresh glass. “Care for a drink?”

I eye it skeptically but my Irish side wants me to try it. “After the past week I think a small shot is appropriate.”

Thomas clinks our glasses together and stands up to face the room of people. “We are now the third largest legal race track operation in the country! And all my family’s here to celebrate. To Shelby Brother’s Limited! Cheers!”

We all raise our glasses and more alcohol is passed around. Despite the welcoming atmosphere I still can’t help but feel out of place.

“Before you reject,” Finn interrupts my thoughts. “Yes, you are family to us. You are staying, right?”

I turn in my seat to face the youngest Shelby with a smile. “Yes, Finn. I am staying.”

His face lights up. “Good! What’s the next lesson?”

I let out a deep laugh and hold up a hand. “One day at a time, Finn.”

Behind me I hear Polly and Thomas’ conversation. Not to pry, just overhearing.

“There will be others,” Polly inputs.

Grace. She must mean Grace. 

“To the others. All of them.”

Quick peek, quick peek- I turn to look over my shoulder and there it is. Instead of Polly looking at Thomas, who’s watching his glass, she’s looking at me. Polly, what on Earth-?

“Finn, come here for a moment.”

Polly pulls Finn away and I swear she’s trying to get Thomas and me closer. He’s still sipping his drink and seems lost in thought. Hm. He’s appreciated me listening to his worries so far. 

“You’re still thinking about Grace?” I ask softly.

He nods gruffly, unblinking eyes facing the wall. “There was never a chance. I can’t love an enemy. There’s too much deception.” He turns to face me. “She’s headed to New York now. Your territory.” 

So now it will be her lost at the train station. Not me.

[thoughtswordsandnonsense]

Helping hand

Writing to deal with post-Iron Flame depression. This is a loose Idea I had while not feeling good. (I don’t have EDS, but I do have chronic pain + vertigo so bear with me if this isn’t 100% accurate.)

Concept: Tairn snitches to Xaden that Violet is bedridden from pain + dizziness when they thought she had recovered from almost dying. Takes place after the ending of Fourth Wing. 

Violet Pov: 

Opening my eyes was a mistake. After days of trying to take it easy (mostly due to Brennan’s hovering) you’d think I’d be fine, but no. A slight slip down some stairs yesterday and the events of the past week are finally catching up with me and my traitorous body.  

“Silver one, do you need assistance?” Tairn's voice rattles my brain as my eyes try to focus on the room I’ve been sleeping in. Attempting to sit up, pain lances down my arms and back as the room spins like I’m practicing barrel rolls on Tairn. “I’ll be fine.” I mentally shoot back, trying to throw my feet over the edge of the bed, but swaying back, steadying my breath I try to focus on getting on my feet, though it feels like the smallest breeze will have me falling. 

“You need not lie to me, I feel what you feel.” He all but grumbles back, his grumpy attitude only further annoying me. Standing I grimace, the contents in my stomach rolling as I sway. Biting my lip I make my way to the wardrobe on the other side of the room and grip the door of it tightly, trying to steady myself. “You should stay put,” Tairn demands and I roll my eyes. “I have things to do today, why don’t you go eat some sheep or something.” Taking some steady breaths and opening the wooden door shouldn’t take all my energy. I wasn’t this laid up when Barlow tried to kill me, so why my body decided a simple fall and almost dying yet again is too much to handle, is beyond me. Though it’s never predictable when I do get laid up, there’s no real pattern as to what injury or sickness will leave me bedridden and which one won’t.  

A small creak has me turning to the door, the one person I’ve been avoiding standing there with his beautiful eyes all concerned. Wearing black flight leathers and a tight lip, he gives me the look that says he knows something’s up. 

“Tairn told Sgaeyl you needed me.” I glare. “He’s just in a mood and being overbearing, I’m fine.” He leans against the door, leather-clad arms crossed over his chest. “Oh, really Violence? Then stop white-knuckling the wardrobe and come over here.” His cocky tone only irritates me further. “I’m sure whoever is walking the halls doesn’t want to see me in only my nightgown. Now leave.” 

Xaden shakes his head and pushes off the door, coming further into the room as he shuts the door. Now cockily leaning against the wall. “Come over here and then if you can manage that I’ll let you go back to ignoring me.” He huffs and I glare. “Fuck you.” I spit at him, though my wavering tone doesn’t make me look any better. “Maybe another time when you don’t look white as a sheet and I’ve earned your trust back.” He sighs, his tone not leaving room for questions. “I’m fine,” I say as I let go of the door, taking small steps as the room angrily spins around me, head pounding as I try to concentrate.

“Let the wing leader help you.” Tairn all but growls in my head as I stumble, throwing my hands out to try and catch myself, but warm hands grab onto my arms, standing me upright. “Violence, let me help you. Please.” His voice sounds soft, lulling me into a sense of calmness even if I’m still angry with him. Pulling me against his chest his arms circle my waist as I lean into him, his leather jacket cold against my exposed skin, goosebumps rising though it's more than the cold causing them. “Let me help you Violence, do you need Brennan? Are you hurt?” His soft words are laced with a slight edge of panic. “It’s just the my joints come out of place, bruise easily thing. Sometimes it’s this. It’ll pass, Brennan can’t do anything for me, I just have to wait it out.” One of his hands wanders up and down my back, softly tracing my spine as his other lies circled around my waist. My legs ache as we stand there, eyes fluttering shut as I inhale his scent to distract me from the nausea the dizziness is causing. 

Before I can say anything Xaden moves, one arm is under my legs and the other is sweeping under my arms. Quickly, I wrap them around his neck even though it hurts to do so but I still manage to swat at the back of his head. “I’ll be fine. You don’t need to do this, I can take care of myself.” I say as we move, softly he lays on the bed with me in his lap. Pulling back I do my best to stare him down, trying to get him to leave. He’s seen me weak enough as is, I don’t need him to see me like this. Tucking hair that’s fallen in front of my face gives a small smile, soft and tender as his now warm hand lays against my cheek. “Just because you’re used to taking care of it alone, doesn’t mean you have to do it alone, just let me take care of you.” He pleads, my head swims as I drop it back to his chest, adjusting myself to lie on top of him. Xaden’s hands move and then puts a blanket on top of us, tucking it closely. One arm going to rest on my waist as the other begins to wander through my hair. “How can I help?” He whispers softly as I let myself relax into him. My head still swimming but his gentle hold helping ground me in the ever-spinning room. “Just, stay for a bit please,” I mumble out and feel him squeeze my waist softly. “I’ll stay for as long as you need me Violet.” 

[leonardalphachurch]

How do you see the timeline of rvb? Here's how I see it. 3 years of freelancer flashbacks, then after a year season 1, then after 3 months seasons 2 3 4 5, then after 18 months season 6, then after a month seasons 7 8, then after a month seasons 9 10, then after 6 months season 11, then after a month season 12, then after a month season 13, then after 10 months season 15, then after a year seasons 16 17. So between start of freelancer and end of 17 there's been 8 years. Thoughts?

i have a problem in that i want there to be a more substantial period of time between the moi crash and out of mind but i don’t want there to be that much time between the moi crash and season 1. but, like you said, season 4 (and therefore oom) happens a couple of months after season 1. the idea of york only bumming around for about a year just feels so wrong to me… like if i had it my way he’d have been chilling with delta for like 5? at least 3. because like. i feel like blood gulch should be a thing where so much happens in such a short period of time that it’s so so impactful to the characters (especially tucker who i’m ngl i kinda base the timeline around what works best for his character arc to me) but like… gah. i think a big part of the problem is that the pfl flashback arc just has a completely incomprehensible timeline. how much time takes place between scenes? man i’m getting myself worked up about 9 and 10 again lol. like if they didn’t retcon it, if alpha was just being stored at sidewinder for a while we could make that a longer period of time… like i guess he still could be but. hey like. why didn’t the meta just go. take alpha at the end of 10. like. he was right there. what was the… what was stopping him. could you. it get alpha out unless he wanted it? is that why tex left him? i don’t know man. i hate that they were in a spaceship. 9 and 10 feel so like. dreamlike? ephemeral? nothing feels grounded. i guess it does work as them being memories. they feel like memories. disconnected sequences of important events.

what were we talking about. oh right the timeline. yeah yours works. we give 2-3 months between 6 and 7 since season 6 is 1 year after the war and the season 7 trailer says it’s 1.25 years after the war. and season 6 is probably like a couple weeks to a month? did you know valhalla and high ground (the place church was) have to be like. incredibly close to each other. because wash gets south’s recovery beacon and is able to get to her from valhalla to high ground before the meta is able to kill her. that’s so fucked up. tex literally crashed like 30 minutes from where church was. ugh. anyway we give around 3 months between 8 and 9/10. one month just feels too short for them to run from the law, find new bases, have blues establish some kind of routine wrt wash, and then have carolina show up and then do a whole adventure to find and break into the unsc storage facility to save epsilon. but i don’t know if it’s a full 6 months to season 11… maybe like 4? there’s some amount of legal bureaucratic nonsense they have to deal with, and they are on chorus for an amount of time before we meet them in season 11… 6 months just feels a bit too long for tucker and wash’s dynamic if that makes sense? like they’re clearly closer than they were in 10 but there’s still a wall there and even if wash is being kind of a bitch i still feel like. that amount of time of just chilling together would change tuckers time a little bit from the “all i have is you” thing… like if we say there’s ~three months worth of legal bs to deal with and then ~a month of crashing on chorus and establishing themselves at the crash site like. that to me feels like the amount of time that would establish wash and tuckers relationship to where it is. though i guess you also do have much less time after season 8 so they presumably have zero relationship development to you during that time. which i don’t think doesn’t make sense we don’t exactly see them interacting during 10. oh i definitely put a few months between 12 and 13 though. like they seem really established there, and the space pirates are like. genuinely kind of losing at this point. which is why locus and felix go recruit the prisoner ship. the others i’m less sure on but i do think there’s a larger timeskip than a month there. maybe even between 11 and 12 too but i won’t die on that hill. and then obviously the 15-17 timeskips are actually told to us lol

wow i fucking. rambled huh. tl;dr decent timeline. i actively disagree with the amount of time between 6-7 and 12-13 but everything else is small discrepancies i won’t die to defend. well i won’t die to defend any of this. it doesn’t matter that much.

[ryomaandgundhamkin]

GIVE @cannibaleclipseau HEADCANON ASKS ASK THE CHARACTERS ANYTHING IT CAN BE UNHINGED IDC JUST LIKE DHCHCHXHXJXH👹👹‼️‼️ ARGHGHDJDHXHD JUST SEND ME ANYTHING TO THERE… BRO I GET FREAKKNG 1 NOTIFICAGION ON THERE EVERY DAY. 😨 YES IT IS A ASKBLOG YES IT IS A RPBLOG YES IT IS VERY MUCH INACTIVE … you running out of ask ideas?? YOU CAN ASK BM, MOON, SUN OR ECLIPSE ANYTHING (maybe not the others but uh)… JUST. AGDUUDUDUFJCJDH 💔 please I fucking love attention guys. IM SORRY IM LIKE THIS BUT… please? one fucking ask is all I’m asking gays 😼… Like I GET ITS WIP BUT LIKE YOU CAN FIND OUT LORE IF YOU ASK… IDFC about my 100 other WIPS I have, I have way too much free time to just be getting off to fucking cai/j. 💀 call me fucking selfish I deserve it but dude it’s a fucking deserted island in my au blog. Am I not meeting up to your expectations? JUST TELL ME WHAT THE HELL IM DOING WRONG‼️ please you can be honest i swear. Like… i love you guys don’t get me wrong but im sorry im like this. im fucking needy and my satisfaction lasts fucking 1 millisecond 🤩!! JUST. Tell me what you want from me. And you shall receive. FUCK SCHOOL at this point. Im throwing away my social and emotional life for this stupid fucking art career. and for what..? am I really even that good. 💀 … listen I’m sorry for being such a bitch right now but i know I’m a fucking terrible person and I just want you to forgive me on that, I fucking require attention to live or ill never be satisfied. You can vote for the deletion of the blog if you want, it’s not even a big deal… 😨 all im asking is one ask and I’ll be satisfied I swear, thanks. I’m so sorry I’m like this and that you have to deal with me being such a… pain. might as well just delete it huh. I mean it was already painful to constantly be on Deviantart, what’s different? I’m destroying my life doing… everything. I WILL NOT FUCKING GET OVER HOW MUCH I AM DEDICATED TO THIS THING I KNOW WILL RUIN MY LIFE EVEN MORE, no matter how many times you convince me🤩… and I’m tired. I’m just really tired. I usually don’t write anything like this online and post it because I don’t want anyone here dealing with my emo self-hatred crap. So I’m really sorry, about everything I’ve done. All I’m asking is an ask and I won’t kill myself‼️/hj. but this whole thing mentally gets really bad for me, and I can get really suicidal but I just pretend I’m fine. I’m really sorry for asking so much of everyone, and I just want everyone to know that I am so so so grateful for all of the support I’ve gotten from my followers, moots and everyone. Be honest and tell me my au is shit. Yes I agree okay. I’m sorry I’m so terrible, I know I’m a terrible person. I don’t want to seem like I’m overreacting with this. Please don’t think of me differently because of this, I’m sorry I’m typing all of this out for everyone to read. I’m sorry you have to deal with me rambling about something so simple that I could’ve just… simply asked about. Like I know I probably sound so selfish and attention-seeking because… that’s just who I am, I’m sorry. But I don’t really care at this point, I’m just… like this 😇. And I hate that I’m reflecting this on everyone who looks up to me. So please… Im sorry. I’m really sorry. I’m actually so sorry about all of this, and me making such a big fucking deal out of a SIMPLE PROBLEM. If you think I should do anything differently, please tell me. I’d be glad to listen to any feedback you have. But for now… I hope I can get along with everyone on both blogs. And I understand that my other blog won’t MAGICALLY blow up the next morning I make it. So I’m sorry for being so annoying, so self-centered and so… selfish. I’ve never really… cared about any of you guys. But I don’t want to come off as rude, that I’m using you even if I am. Im sorry im like this way, im sorry im such a terrible and selfish person. I’m sorry i just… get so emotional when i do this shit. Please don’t take this that seriously. And please don’t judge me for being so immature. I am so very grateful to everyone, but I’m sorry I’m like this. Bye.