#my mind is infested with ideas

[chericos]

SHUT UP AND DRIVE —> teaser 1

street racing au ; collab and promo for my darling, @rieamena “full throttle” series!! An Ino Takuma street racing smau.

this is kinda rushed and will most likely(definitely) be edited before the official release

“We shouldn’t be doing this,”

You pull back, eyes wide and lips bruised. His chest is flushed against yours, and you can feel it as it rises and falls to his sporadic breathing. His eyes are shaking until they lock in on yours. There's a mischievous glint in them as his lips pull into a smirk.

“I know.”

And then his lips are back on yours. He pushes you up against the wall as he explores every crevice of your mouth with his tongue. The cool metal of his tongue piercing rendered you useless in his arms.

Your arms slip up to circle around his neck, nails digging and tugging on the ends of his hair. A low groan reverberates in the back of his throat, as he slightly pulls back to catch his breath for a second.

then two, and three.

Before he's right back on you hungrier, and greedier than ever. One of his hands wraps around your waist, pulling you in impossibly close, as the other rests on your thigh. It's hot and messy, and the only thing on your mind is 'more'.

You feel Megumi smile into the kiss and you think you can get used to this, used to him, his voice, his touch, his presence.

all of him.

He leaves a peck at the corner of your lips, a small chuckle escaping his before he pulls back and turns to walk away. But he only gets as far as 3 steps before you're latching onto him, pulling on the collar of his shirt to reel him back in.

And you know you shouldn't be doing this, but you'd be dammed if you let him get away again.

waiter waiter! More tongue piercing megumi, please !! the piercings I had in mind while making this were based on nibeul's art, please check them out!

anyway, enjoy the scraps, I’ve been busy catching up in my anatomy lab so I’m not sure when anything will be posted but hopefully by this month!

@ CHERICOS 2024 all rights reserved do not repost, edit, copy, translate, or plagiarise my works

[roboyomo]

tengoku he ikou by kikuo with carmen x adam [CLUTCHES HEAD AND SCREAMS INTERNALLY]

[kartyr]

2 things I’m really looking forward to in Warframe next year:

1. Infested Liches/nemeses

2. The unnamed (narmer?) orb mother

[nyxypoo]

hiragis climbing up the ranks

[star-sim]

"is your girlfriend single?" ☆ enha maknaes

☆ youtuber! non-idol! bf! enhypen maknae line x fem! reader ☆ summary: when your youtuber boyfriend finally shows you for the first time to his audience. ☆ genre: fluff, very dumb, jelly boys ☆ warning(s)? no! ☆ ygs seemed to like the hyung version so here's the maknae version!! reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

hyung ver.

sunoo ☆

OKAY HEAR ME OUT

this one is gonna be a lil different

paranormal investigator sunoo

he's like buzzfeed unsolved

and for one of his seasons, he goes and investigates haunted places and reviews their histories yk?

for the season finale

sunoo visits the bellaire house, which is notorious for being super haunted and ghost-infested

i like to think that sunoo is honestly skeptical abt ghosts

like he definitely has tried to talk to them, but hasn't discovered anything conclusive to definitively prove the existence of ghosts

anyways because it's the season finale

sunoo has a special guest...

you! his gf!

i think he'd be low key about your relationship, but his viewers know who you are

the video starts off normal

sunoo gives a rundown of the history of the bellaire house, like when it was built, the people that lived in it, the strange occurences in there, etc

the bickering between you and sunoo as you go over the bellaire house is very cute and sweet

it definitely makes it into those "sunoo and [name] being a comedic duo" compilations aw

anyways now its time to investigate the bellaire house head on 😈

sunoo pulls out all his cool ghost-catching gadgets

he tries everything

like the thermal camera, EMF meter, even the goddamn magnetic field detector

sunoos getting annoyed bc why are none of the ghosts talking to him :(

on the other hand

you're clinging onto him, hiding behind ur bf scared shitless

i mean like.... why would you not the bellaire house is known for having DEMONS 😭😭

sunoo huffs and turns to the camera, "welp it looks like there's no ghosts here"

one of the people in his camera crew suggest having you ask instead of him

even though youre scared you do it for ur bf

you're like "hi ghosts..... if you're here with us... please flicker the lights"

.

.

.

THE LIGHTS BEGIN TO FLICKER AAAAAAAA

AND SUNOOS HYPED OUT OF HIS MIND

"BABE BABE BABE ASK THEM THEIR NAME"

so youre like "ghosts... whats your name"

and NO JOKE

A WIND BLOWS PAST THE ROOM

AND EVERYONE IN THE ROOM SWEARS THEY HEAR SOMEONE WHISPER FAINTLY

"robert"

so that's how you and sunoo meet robert the ghost

BUT THAT'S NOT THE END

BECAUSE SUNOO HAS THE BRILLIANT IDEA OF PULLING OUT HIS OUIJA BOARD

tbh you both look dumb as hell

sitting on the crusty bellaire house floor

hunched over a ouija board

sunoo is now asking questions

but the ouija board doesn't even move

but when you ask

"robert, how are you today? yes for good, and no for bad"

THE GODDAMN PLANCHETTE MOVES TO YES AKA GOOD 😭

you and sunoo then introduce yourselves

again, when sunoo introduces himself nothing happens

but when you introduce yourself

the candle that's lit beside you goes out

someone in sunoo's camera crew jokes that they think that robert the ghost likes you

so sunoo jokingly asks "robert are you flirting with my girlfriend?"

AND THE OUIJA BOARD SAYS YES 😭😭😭

and when you kiss sunoo the doors in the house start slamming and shit like SOMEONES MAD

sunoo is lowk offended

and then he starts to beef with robert the ghost

except robert the ghost never respond to anything that sunoo says

bro leaves sunoo on heard

sunoos like "HEY ROBERT I DON'T CARE IF YOURE A DEMON YOU BETTER BACK THE FUCK UP!!"

later when ygs review the emf recorder it picks up robert the ghost whispering "i don't care 🙄"

sassy ass ghost

on the other hand

robert responds to EVERYTHING you say

atp you're not scared anymore

"hai robert i'm [name], knock over that doll over there if you want to be my friend"

and the doll knocks over 😭

"robert knock on the window if you think i'm cute :3"

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

the camera crew is just laughing their asses off

at some point

the ouija board starts moving on its own

everyones like WOAHHH IT'S ACTUALLY MOVING!!! QUICK GET A PIECE OF PAPER SO WE CAN RECORD WHAT ITS SAYING!!!

sunoo is taking such dilligent notes

it starts with i, then s, then it spells out your name, and then s, i, n, g, l, e

" ' IS [NAME] SINGLE' ???"

is what the ouija board says

yes a goddamn ghost just asked that

SUNOO IS NOT HAVING IT

while you and the camera crew are cracking up

sunoo starts telling off robert

"listen bro just because you died in the bellaire house doesn't mean that you can try to take my gf 😐"

robert the ghost is being sassy too

so sunoo literally just snaps the ouija board in half

"haha you can't talk anymore robert .😐."

yk how in buzzfeed unsolved they take turns staying in the haunted place alone with all the lights off

sunoo kicks everyone out so that he can have a "man to man" talk with robert

robert isn't a physical person but everyone swears they hear crying

.... and it sure isn't coming from sunoo 😇

i think this would go really viral

"[name] is so beautiful that even dead people want her"

"robert the ghost is so me"

"even ghosts aren't immune to beautiful women"

"robert saw a hot woman and took his chance"

this would become an inside joke within sunoo's fandom fs

sunoo isn't having it though

he definitely still tweets about it

"i remember when some loser ghost tried to take my girlfriend"

"robert fuck you i'm glad you died"

"see you hell robert"

i def think robert is scared of sunoo now

LMAO

jungwon ☆

jungwon is documentary youtuber

he likes to make short documentaries about topics that he likes

kinda like wendigoon or fern or real horror

i feel like he'd have a super high quality mic that's super crisp

i think he'd like to make iceberg videos, or videos about obscure missing people stories

anyways

jungwon has a whiteboard that he uses to explain things

esp like timelines

but in one of his videos he doesn't use the whiteboard so it's in the background

so you write a little message on it

its just a very simple

"[name] was here :3 !!"

i feel like only a few people notice it

but as more and more videos pass

and jungwon doesn't use the whiteboard

your little messages get bigger and bigger

until one day the entire board is filled up with just "[NAME] WAS HERE!!!"

sorry i think a lot of jungwon's viewerbase would be redditors, just given what his content is like

r/jungwon LMAAOAOAO

on there someone brings it up

theyre like "who is [name]"

some ppl suggest that it's probably a friend or his gf

it's pretty chill tbh, his viewerbase isn't really too concerned

until one day

jungwon does one of those investigating 411 missing persons cases

except ygs live near one of the places where someone went missing

so he's physically walking along the path where someone went missing as he tells the story

poor baby is lowk kinda scared tho so he takes you along with him

youre mostly behind the camera but you do talk

at the beginning of the video he's like

"hi guys i'm joined by my girlfriend today"

you pop into frame to say hi

anyways like i said you do talk during this video

like as jungwon tells the story you're reacting behind the camera

"it's crazy that a 4 year old traversed 30 miles up a mountain in a matter of 30 hours..."

and behind the camera you're like "omg no way that's wild 😱😱😱"

youre like genuinely invested

you're also cracking a lot of jokes w him too

its really sweet bc most of his videos jungwon is alone, but since youre in this w him, he's smiling so much ;(

and like everytime he makes a joke you can see him looking off-camera to look at your reaction

and when you laugh everyone can literally see how proud he is

this video so SUPER well received

his comment section is so sweet

"i've never seen jungwon smile so much, he's so in love with [name] :("

"the way you can tell jungwon is proud when [name] laughs at his jokes"

but i think the most common type of comment are those type stamp ones

"at 1:23 [name]'s laugh is so cute!"

"0:58 when the camera panned over to [name] my jaw dropped... she's gorgeous!"

"5:29 [NAME] IS SO FUNNY I LOVE HER"

"at 4:40 i love the way [name] completes jungwon's sentence, i've never seen two people that are just so perfect for each other"

yk how on youtube there's that feature where you can see the most replayed part?

when you pop into frame that's the most replayed part of his video 😭

his viewerbase on reddit probably posts you

like its a screenshot from the video and theyre like "it's [name]! the one on the whiteboard!"

i think his fanbase would be really nice on reddit too :(

"she's so pretty!"

"jungwon has immaculate taste"

indeed he does <3

he's so proud of you, like i think he definitely looks at the comments and screenshots them to keep reading them

like YES THAT'S MY GIRLFRIEND

HOWEVER

jungwon makes those "going through my subreddit" videos

and he comes across a post hyping you up

at first hes liek "YES YES YES MY GF IS SO BEAUTIFUL"

but then the comments on the post are like

"she's so beautiful, do ygs think she's single?"

"hi [name] 😏 (i am the ceo of amazon and read feminist literature books btw)"

obv all jokes

and jungwon's face visibly drops

he gives the camera a MAD side eye

a STINK EYE

jungwons like "all right, who said that 🤨"

AND THEN HE REPORTS AND BANS THEM 😭

he makes posts on his subreddit like "all of u are going missing next time i see shit like this"

HELP

riki ☆

sorry he's a shitposter

i think riki posts those genshin impact and fortnite playthroughs

but he also posts other gamer things

but he actually has a good fanbase

he's at like 900k subscribers even though he doesn't have a fixed upload schedule or specific genre of post

he's never showed his face like ever on his channel, but he definitely shows his personality through editing, video descriptions, and community posts

one day though

riki randomly posts a video titled "me and my girlfriend at the arcade"

and its a video of you and him on an arcade date :(

the majority of it is him behind the camera recording you as you play games

the way you can hear him chuckling behind the camera as you have cute reactions :((((

but there's also times where he's on camera

like when he's playing with the claw machine

and bc riki is a pro

he wins a you giant teddy bear!!

your cute lil cheers when he wins are like the most replayed part of the video

he takes such cute pictures of you hugging the bear aw

honestly his viewers are surprised when he posts the video

bc he used to be posting genshin impact videos why is there a vlog

but theyre not complaining

this video becomes one of his most viewed

since youre most of the video there's a lot of comments abt you

and i think his audience is close enough with riki to shit on him LMAAOAO

"[name] is so sweet i wanna hug her"

"i wish i was a teddy bear..."

"SHE'S SO CUTE"

"move aside riki"

"is [name] single by any chance"

"omg who is that weird random guy (riki) that keeps coming near you [name] is he bothering you queen"

"[name] who is this random guy are you cheating on me"

riki responds to these comments too

"you can't have her" "too bad she's lying in my arms right now" "she just kissed me" "do want want my girlfriend or a black eye"

he definitely starts fights

i think his video is so viral that he gets ppl outside his audience

and some ppl get mad when riki fights back 😭😭😭

“why is he fighting people they’re clearing joking” and riki responds like “yeah why is he fighting 🤬🤬🤬😡😡😡”

and then riki gets petty

and makes a video called

"addressing everything."

its like a logan paul apology video

it's also like 30 seconds 😭

"hi all... i just wanted to come here and apologize... for having a HOT GIRLFRIEND" and then he flips off the camera and it cuts off with you saying "babe?--"

lowk goes viral for it LMAO

behold the keyboard warrior trilogy- heehoonki ☠️

in the future riki does post more of your cute vlogs

and in the descriptions he's just ranting abt how much he loves you

lowk all the vlogs are basically just him admiring you

cuties

[angel-baby479]

THIS IS SO PERFECT ✨️

this audio is what immediately came to mind upon seeing this post

ignore the fact that I was getting lazy at the end orz

(Garden Donnie [2012] is mine, Grunge Donnie [2018] belongs to @knightish-knight )

[gtgbabie0]

helloo could i request a cregan stark x reader? Where the reader has the ability to see the future or possible outcomes? I hope it isnt to bad of a idea😅 Thank you so much 🫶🏻

-Cregan Stark x Dreamer!Reader

{Your dreams are often plagued by nightmares of events that are yet to unfold, Cregan is always there to hold you}

Love this! Thank you for requesting, enjoy lovelies💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺

It was not lost on Cregan Stark that Rhaenyra’s daughter was… unique to say the least. It was known way before your engagement was planned, a quiet ceremony hidden away in the woods near Winterfell, it seems love still prevails even through war.

Although this never deterred Cregan, he was utterly head over heels for you yet confused at the same time whenever you would whisper cryptic insanities into the cold night air with wide fearful eyes full of knowledge about events that loom over the horizon like dark storm clouds.

He would spend hours brushing your white hair, speaking gentle, loving words against your shoulder when your mind seemed to have wandered too far from your grasp.

He was just as lost as you were when it came to figuring out what exactly it all meant and the Maesters were no help, especially on nights like this when you were awoken by such horrific sights that infest your mind.

“Aliments of the mind are far more trickier than those of the body, my Lord.” Maester Owryn says, still adamant about just giving you tea to help you sleep.

His words only serve to annoy an already exhausted Cregan, he can’t count how many times he has been told the same thing with a look of pity. It killed him that he could not provide you with more comfort, he cannot help but feel as if he has failed you.

“Do you see her, do you?— it’ll take more than damn tea to calm her from this.” Cregan scolds, looking down at the Maester with dark narrowed eyes. He glances back over to where you are curled up on a chair, your fingers buried within your messy locks, clutching harshly as you mutter the same words over and over again.

The Maester shuffles, fiddling with the small piece of parchment, his brows pulled together in confusion. “Might I suggest milk of the poppy?” He whispers, clearly unnerved by the glare that Cregan was scrutinising him under.

“No, bring her the tea.” The Lord settles, his tone rough with irritation. He did not want to subject you to the horrible drowsiness that the sweet milk brings, numbing your mind was not the answer.

With the Maester gone Cregan tries once more to approach you, drawing closer to you like he would with a wounded animal, he wraps his fingers around your wrists in an attempt to stop you from pulling at your hair, his touch is gentle despite the callouses on his palms.

“Not so hard my love… you’ll hurt yourself.” He whispers, eyes searching your face desperately for any signs of the woman you were before you woke up from this nightmare.

Although he finds nothing of the sort, you are all glossy-eyed and chapped lips, blankly staring at the floor like you were miles away.

A moment of silence settles around the room, the sound of your heavy breathing and the soft crackle of firewood is the only thing breaking through it. It takes a few moments and soft words of encouragement before you allow him to lower your hands down to your lap, your fingers still clutched tightly into fists.

“Dragon breath… burning flesh.” You whisper fearfully, a gasp escaping past your red-bitten lips. The same words you’ve been muttering all night, it unsettles him, calling to something deep within him.

Cregan hums, brushing your messy hair behind your ears. “I know my love.” He sighs, grazing the rough pads of his thumbs across your knuckles.

“Come back to me y/n, come on…” he whispers into the backs of your hands, closing his eyes as you continue to whisper the words madly.

The mumblings stop, your breathing coming back down into a steady rhythm as you begin to unclench your fists slowly. Relief hits Cregan like a gust of wind, his expression softening when your gaze meets with his own.

“… burning… bedevilled crown.” You try to explain to him all too quickly, stuttering over your words in a panic-stricken manner. Your hands trembling against his own rough ones.

“Slowly now, breathe for me first, my love.” He whispers, reaching over to cup your jaw to keep you grounded on the here and now, his thumb caressing your cheek.

Your senses soon come back to you making you aware of your surroundings, the softness of your nightgown and the warmth of your husband’s hand against the side of your face.

The Maester walks in with a small cup of soothing tea, placing the ceramic down on the dark oak table before taking his leave with a curt nod. The herbal aroma brings you into the present moment, keeping your mind occupied.

You watch with tired eyes as he gives you the cup, minding the way your hands still shake ever so slightly. He guides you to take small sips, smiling gently in encouragement.

“There were two, but I could not see— the smoke and flames— screams.” The words are a struggle to get out and it pains him to see you like this, the pain and fear in your eyes.

Your words are too vague to try and make any sense of them, after all, it was a war between Targaryens, and the involvement of dragons and their formidable flames was inevitable.

“I want to stop it… to prevent the pain but I do not know how.” You whisper, voice strained with unshed tears.

“That may be beyond you. I won’t have you shouldering blame for anything that transpires.” He says, his tone full of love despite the roughness of it.

You nod softly, looking down at him from where he is kneeling in front of you. The soft glow of the fireplace flickers against his features, highlighting the exhaustion that hangs below his eyes.

“You can go back to sleep…” you suggest softly, clearly feeling too shaken up to go back to bed.

At your words he immediately shakes his head, taking your hands to pepper gentle kisses along your knuckles, his beard tickling your soft skin. “Not until you’re okay…”

You know there is no point in arguing the point, he is as stubborn as a mule. Instead, you shuffle over, giving him room to sit down next to you. The warmth between you, as he pulls you onto his lap, calms the restlessness that has built up within your chest, allowing you a moment of respite.

[ectoplasmer]

recent brainrot. private investigator ryou

[farmerstarter]

maybe some general seb relationship headcanons if you dont mind? especially prior to it or crushing/early dating. how would he react to the confession? would his friends tease him? etc.

im a little picky w sdv hc blog interpretations and i love yours! theyre so sweet. if this is a lot feel free to just do as much as you'd like 💟

ʚ👾ɞ ˚ · . Crushing

tags: sebastian from sdv x gn! reader

OMG Anon! I am so sorry this is sooooo late. I just finished my 2nd year of college and it was so hectic. But now I have WAY more time to write. Writing this was so fun! if you have any fic requests then feel free to send me an ask! <3 purple divider by @saradika-graphics <3

𐙚⭑ Sebastian couldn’t deny that he, like everyone else in the valley, was curious about the new farmer moving into the overgrown expanse of land to the west of town. He was a bit down on the idea of not having his usual smoking place anymore, but the intrigue easily overpowered it. He was one of the last people to meet you. Sam and Abigail couldn’t stop talking about you. Which was reasonable, nothing ever happens in the valley. The more Sebastian knew about you, the more confused he got. Why move out in the middle of nowhere? Why leave the city for a pile of dirt and a mosquito-infested house? It was weird. For him, at least.

𐙚⭑ You two finally met at night. Sebastian was smoking by the waterfall, and you ambled your way out of the cave with a bag full of copper and coal. The mountains were wisped with fog, cold with dew. Sebastian was sure he was the only living soul out in the open. Much to his surprise, and at the expense of his dignity, he let out the loudest scream he could muster when you decided it was a good idea to sneak up on him to say hello while you were covered in soot and mud. While he was calming himself down and you were washing your face in the lake, you promised not to tell Sam or Abigail about the encounter. Sebastian was very grateful for that. The two of you spent the next hour talking.

𐙚⭑ The next time you met him was when you were discussing building plans with Robin in her house. Robin was just explaining that you needed more wood for your planned chicken coop, and Sebastian just so happened to come out to return his pile of plates to the kitchen. Robin waved him over to introduce him to you. His eyes met yours, and you immediately introduced yourself properly. You gave him a discreet wink when Robin’s back was turned. You deduced that Robin wouldn’t have been too happy to know her son was out at the late hours of the night, smoking his third cigarette in one sitting. Seeing this as an opportunity for her son to get some sunlight, Robin asked Sebastian to accompany you while you got more wood. He didn’t have anything to do; he had finished his module for the week, and he was curious about what his friends were telling him about you. So, he agreed to do it.

𐙚⭑ The two of you decided that Cindersnap Forest would be a good place to chop down some trees. You led the way while Sebastian followed suit, dragging along a wheelbarrow that Robin gave you to make the trip back to the mountains easier. Sebastian spent the day sitting on the makeshift bridge over the river and watching you cut down too many trees for him to count. There were times when you offered to teach him how to wield an axe. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of you, so he just shook his head and decided to arrange the logs of wood in the wheelbarrow instead. It was 2 pm when you finally had enough wood for the coop, but neither of you wanted to go back just yet, mostly because it was too hot to walk back, and Sebastian didn’t want to burn off his skin.

𐙚⭑ You and Sebastian went to look at whatever the traveling cart was selling. You couldn’t help but laugh at the way the dark-haired man’s eyes widened when he found out the merchant was selling an egg for 500 gold.

𐙚⭑ It would be so cute if you and Sebastian stumbled into the secret woods and that became your little hideaway to hang out when life got demanding for both of you.

𐙚⭑ You definitely fell for him first, but Sebastian fell in love harder. It all started when you invited him, Sam, and Abigail over to eat the many fish dishes you cooked when you finally had a kitchen in your abode. You specifically made sashimi for him since you remembered he mentioned it was his favorite. He was touched. You took the effort to even remember what he said, and that made his heart stutter. (“It tastes just like the ones Linus makes.”) ((Side note: it would be so cute if Sebastian and Linus became friends because Linus would make sashimi for both of them to eat at night by his tent, but I digress.))

𐙚⭑ Your friendship with Sebastian continued to bloom when you found a frog egg in the cave. You immediately ran to Sebastian to show it off. The two of you became parents to a very hungry frog named Blimp.

𐙚⭑ You and Sebastian rode his motorcycle at night when the two of you had nothing to do. He didn’t have an extra helmet yet, so he insisted you wear his helmet instead of him. He wanted you safe.

𐙚⭑ I am a firm believer that Sebastian is the type of person to become loud and talkative when he’s around people he is truly comfortable with. So, the moment you two became friends, Sebastian would invite you to hang out with him and Sam in his room to play Solarian Chronicles. He becomes more animated the longer you play, laughing at Sam’s crappy rolls and your insistence that every small enemy is the true boss in disguise. To both Robin and Demetrius’ surprise, Sebastian spends more time outside compared to the past. The two of you either hang out in the Secret Woods or play the arcade games in the saloon. PICNICS! IN THE SECRET WOODS!!

𐙚⭑ You confessed first, and Sebastian became red in the face in an instant. He couldn’t stop smiling, though. Sam doesn’t let him hear the end of it.

𐙚⭑ On clear nights, you and Sebastian climb up to the roof of his house to stargaze. He loves pointing out constellations to you, showing off what Maru taught him. If he asked nicely enough, his half-sister would let the two of you borrow her telescope.

[storiumemporium]

Astarion As a Father

Fem!Tav/Reader

I FINALLY GOT A NEW KEYBOARD WITH FULLY FUNCTIONING KEYS LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I elected to write about something that's been giving me brainworms for ages, because I'd been talking about it with someone on here awhile ago and it just infested me. Astarion finding out you're pregnant and how he handles fatherhood. (Or, in this case, doesn't at first.) This isn't my best work but I blame it on the fact that I didn't intend for it to be THIS FUCKING LONG okay 😭

But without further ado, daddy Astarion:

Finding out:

When it comes to children, I think Astarion hasn't put much thought into it beyond 'me!? ABSOLUTELY NOT—'

He has no illusions about his state of mind and his faculties, you see. Astarion knows that he's fucked up, he knows that he's a problem, and he's only entirely too confident that any child unfortunately put under his care would likely end up just as damaged as he is, were they to miraculously make it to adulthood. He's just not equipped for it.

And, frankly, Astarion isn't even aware he can have children... That's just, not something he ever thought to question. He's undead, is he not? That should take care of the...fertility question.

Shouldn't it?

Truth be told, Cazador never told him of the possibilities because it was never meant to be a possibility. Astarion was too malnourished, his victims too short lived for anything to ever have come of it. He was supposed to die a sacrifice, not live to carry his own bloodline (hah) onward.

Were you to ever ask him about it, even jokingly over dinner one eve, he'd be very firm in the fact that it's a terrible idea and he'd be entirely unequipped. He would even go so far as to say he's the worst choice out of all of your past companions.

"Me? No. Absolutely not. I'm sure whatever little devil you managed to cook up would be the most charming child Baldur's Gate has ever seen... But even that magical explosive that fancied himself a God would be better suited to fatherhood, darling. I am built for luxury and adventure, nothing else." All bookended by typical Astarion preening.

So when the day comes and you inform him of the little life growing in your womb?

Nope. Not happening, not even a chance of happening.

The denial is strong with this one.

And when I say denial, I mean that Astarion well and truly blots out what you've said from his mind, as if it simply didn't happen at all. You never had the conversation, you never dropped the revelation, there is no child, he is not becoming a father.

It's not a lack of want— though he doesn't realize that yet— it's true, blinding terror. Before it was just a joke, just something for him to brush off with commentary about how terribly he'd do as a parent, better the uncle than anything else. But now it's a reality and to accept what you've said is to accept that he might well and truly destroy a child. But not just any, yours.

The traumas Astarion possesses heap onto his shoulders and slough off plentiful enough to make new oceans of it. Now, not only is he just beginning to regain his own autonomy, he's supposedly being given responsibility over a brand new life?

(It would only make sense for Astarion in retrospect, that the life you willingly sacrificed to nourish and nurture him would in turn allow him to grow a new life within you. The fool had just been too blind to consider it: The way, fresh off your blood, he could pull back from the delicate column of your throat and you would find his cheeks and ears and chest flushed with the loveliest shade of pink, eyes wide and soft and alive. The way his entire body would warm, going from corpse frigid to something just beneath normal. The way his once-still heart would slowly beat again.

He'd even asked you once- curled together on a familiar silken bed, foreheads touching and your hands clasped together between your chests- if you knew what it felt like to be so, so hungry that all you could even think about was about badly you wanted to eat? How food sounded so good that the desire became crossed and instead felt even more painful and nauseating? How it consumed your ability to make rational decisions, denied you the capacity to control your emotions?

He'd told you then, voice tender and timid and weak, that he'd felt like that every single day for two whole centuries, until the night you'd willingly laid down on that cot and put your life in his hands.

It was so simple really, of course you granted him the strength to create life. It was you.)

And of course it comes to a head before there is any chance at recovery. Your body begins to show the changes, you begin to swell, and Astarion only grows more avoidant and flighty. Because now he can't simply wipe the idea from his mind and continue on as if the child doesn't exist, the proof is there every single time he looks at you. He makes it very clear to you that he will not be returning to your side without a confrontation, a very potentially ugly one at that.

And ugly it is, explosive. Astarion hasn't truly had the time to recover from his life under Cazador, and all of those protective traits he grew remain sharp as ever, returning to the surface as if they'd never truly gone away to begin with. He sneers and hisses, tries his best to dig in and hurt you enough to stop poking his tender wounds. Enough to push you away so he can lick his wounds back open. He'll go so far as to accuse you of infidelity, though he regrets the words the moment they leave his lips, it's easier for him to imagine that you simply grew tired of him, that you were weary and longed for the daylight. That you wanted someone who could hold you beneath the sun, unlike him.

How you respond to this is entirely up to you, but just shy of throwing something truly despicable back into his face, such as Cazador, Astarion will apologize... eventually. If you remain stalwart and patient, if you have it in you to recognize that he doesn't mean his words, that he's barbing you with intent, Astarion will break down in that very same argument, his angry and accusatory rant will dissolve into an admission of deep insecurity and deeper terror.

But if you respond with anger? Justifiable, and Astarion knows that even in the moment as it's happening, but emotions rule him far more than he'd ever care to admit, and he will dig in and relish the reaction he's managed to draw from you. He will bristle and bite back until suspicion and bitterness fully claims his heart, and he aborts the conversation to hide in the shadows.

Astarion will wait until nightfall, until his freedom calls for him. The one thing that always manages to clear his head, even when you prove to be the cause of his muddying. It's a reminder, every time he steps into the cool and dark of Baldur's Gate, that Cazador is dead and he is a free man. That he can go where he chooses and when he chooses to, and not only that no one can stop him, but that you wouldn't even want to stop him.

And that truth is always what brings Astarion home.

Under the distant lonely stars and that cold moon, he has to remember that time and again you have let him. You have accepted him, you have not fought him on anything shy of a horrible mistake he wanted to make in a moment of weakness and hysteria. You have accepted all his deepest and ugliest wounds and kissed them like they were freckles to pour affection on. You fought Cazador for him, you defended him from your own friends. You even- at times- tested your own morals for him.

You wouldn't betray him, and Astarion knows he can't betray you.

Astarion would return to you late, curling into bed at your side, his eyes would not meet you, and his apology would come in the form of a simple confession. "I am... afraid. I am afraid."

Astarion wouldn't blame you if you don't forgive him immediately for his transgressions, he was cruel and you were vulnerable. But even then you'll find that your love doesn't abandon you again. He accepts- however frightened- that what you've said is true and is coming, and he must accept it. Mind you, it won't be perfect and it won't be romantic. Astarion doesn't know the intricacies of handling a pregnant woman, he's hardly tactful beyond his well honed and flirtatious lines. He genuinely loves you, but he's going to come pre-equipped as father material.

You need something? He'll get it with minimal complaint (but never none, you'd sooner get him to dye his hair black than cease complaining for the sake of it), he won't begrudge you your mood swings though he might be inclined to poke fun at you ever so often. And he will panic when you burst into tears for seemingly no reason, and no- time doesn't make him adjust, he will panic just as much the thousandth time as the first.

However, if it's any consolation. The moment your child enters the world, Astarion is a changed man.

When You Go Into Labor:

Astarion did the honors of informing all of your friends about your pregnancy, once he came to terms with it. And believe me when I say it is extravagant. The stationery and grandiose script that Astarion wields when informing everyone that you were expecting better fits a wedding invitation than it does... well. Very elegantly explaining that Astarion had accidentally knocked you up.

You can tell from the splotchy stains addressed to you from Wyll and Karlach that one of them had been crying when penning the message, Astarion has coin on Wyll, and you on Karlach. Lae'zel never responds to begin with and you know for a fact the Githyanki's response will likely come in the form of her simply showing up one of these days, unprompted. Jaheira personally and rather frequently visits as well, she becomes a sort of bastion as nerves take you over, confident and calm as she is. Halsin's "letter" arrives late, rather because alongside his letter is several little carved animals for the child's room, and mentions of a quilt he intends to bring along when next he visits. Shadowheart's letter, while congratulatory, contains an air of interrogation strung all about it, all aimed with pinpoint precision at the man responsible for your pregnancy and dripping with sarcasm.

Gale's letter is seven pages long, comes with a violet hued wax stamp, and multiple different inks in the most lavish hand he can manage. You daresay he's competing with Astarion. However, surprisingly, Gale's seems to be the most... helpful of them all? It wasn't your intent, you simply wanted your dear friend to join you in celebration, and yet Gale goes on to inform you that upon reading the letter he'd become a madman in pursuit of knowledge on pregnancy and giving birth. He admits that this wasn't a particularly fruitful endeavor, as he's rather confident that you're not a gnoll, troll, cambion, succubus, or any other variety of strange creature with strange metrics of procreation. Still, Gale directs the latter portion of his letter to Astarion quite pointedly, informing him of bookshops around Baldur's Gate where he might have more success.

Astarion scoffs, but you don't miss the way his fingers twitch and flex.

After the hilarity of this is resolved and you just begin to believe that peace might return to your soft little home in the city, the first of your companions begin to arrive.

This continues on for the next week or so, without you ever knowing that this had been planned- and without knowing that Astarion had been the one to plan it. It's a furthering of his apology, of his guilt over the way he'd treated you. Again, Astarion has no illusions of the kind of man he is, and the fact he's not nurturing in the sort of ways that you need- but he's not completely stupid and he knows you're scared. So... bring the cavalry, darling.

Eventually your entire home has become a crash pad for all of your dearest friends, your family, and you only grow suspicious of Astarion's hand in this chaos because he's surprisingly amicable to having his peace so thoroughly disturbed by 'everyone and their mother'. Truly, he manages to bite his tongue some of the time about them trampling his fine rugs and scratching the plates. He even seems... wistful about it. As nostalgic as you openly are at seeing all of these beloved people under one roof again.

Nights are filled with raucous laughter, clattering utensils, a table so thoroughly overcrowded that people are playfully shouldering each other out of the way for a chance to get at their own food. And Astarion stays faithful at your side, his hand perpetually clasped gently around yours, thumb rubbing over your knuckles. Days are never spent alone, no matter what it is you need to do, someone (if not everyone) is following you along. And though Astarion feels his heart ache that he can't join you, he'll be glad to know you're safe.

Besides, your companions are likely all taking turns tormenting, testing, and relentlessly teasing him about what is to come. He has his own hands full. He's starting to regret being such a generous lover.

And then your water breaks in the dead of night.

Remember how I said Astarion was far from perfect? This would be one of those moments that it really shines.

Not that he's particularly terrible, no. He's not actively cruel toward you, and certainly not dismissive, it's somewhat the opposite. Halsin and Jaheira end up the ones helping you, the only two with some iota of understanding on what was happening and what to do with and for you. The others, less experienced in "mundane" medical situations will take up the second most important role.

Prevent Astarion from catastrophizing any more than he already has been.

Karlach has been the sole force capable of keeping Astarion away from the wine, typically bear hugging him away from your cellar while Wyll tries his best to talk your lover down from a total nervous breakdown. Of which he nearly has, several times. It's not even the sight of you, specifically. He's okay with being at your side and holding your hand, in trying his best to provide comforting words that aren't laced with sarcasm for once. But the sounds you make, that's what breaks him. Astarion isn't good at hearing you scream from the pain, he isn't good at the choked sobs or your heavy breaths. The way you sound like you're struggling against death. It makes him want to crawl out of his own skin, fight assailants that aren't there.

And for a few hours there, in the midst of your labors and your exhausted, pained little cries, Astarion isn't sure how he can love the child causing you this much suffering. It's not as if Astarion was an altruistic man on his best days, as if he were particularly reasonable when it came to you. You've both come to a mutual understanding that were something to happen to you, no morals would be involved in the things Astarion would do to rectify it.

And now, here you are, suffering. Astarion isn't supposed to do a thing about it? He's supposed to be- what, overjoyed by it? It infuriates him, he's truly prepared to have a grudge match with an infant.

Until, as the sun is starting to creep up on a brand new day, it's no longer your screams that meet the air, but another's entirely. Tiny but powerful, high pitched little squeals of fury and distress. And your laughter, disbelieving, soft, adoring already.

Astarion has a daughter.

I go with the HC that Astarion had eyes like honey once, and that his daughter takes after that, along with the delicate points of his ears mirrored in her own. She's small, so small, but healthy and already feisty, wiggling as best as her tiny body can whilst still too heavy for her to lift and move.

You're the first to hold her of course, and Astarion will be at his knees beside the two of you. The expression he wears is something you've seen maybe two or three other times in the entire time you've known him- moments when you know he expected everything to fall apart, moments where he couldn't believe that the world was so good.

It's then that you can breathe for the first time, and know that both of your darlings will be just fine.

Once he does hold her, he's not inclined to let her go. Even once you ask to have her back, he'll simply move you into his lap, so that he can hold you both. It's better that way anyhow, having both of his girls in his arms. And Astarion will repeat again and again how stunned he is, he just can't believe it. Cannot fathom any of it. I think he's the type to say that he's speechless and then spend the next five minutes doing nothing but talking. It's nervous rambling, but still, speechless is not the term I would use to describe him here.

Astarion With Your Baby:

Once your little darling is actually in your lives, you get to see how hilariously unorthodox Astarion is with children. Especially his own. Astarion doesn't baby-talk like you or the rest of your companions, he speaks in the same exact tones as he would a grown woman. In fact, for the first few days you're adjusting to a child in your life, you sometimes mistake Astarion as speaking with an unexpected guest, only to round the corner and find him lightheartedly chastising his own daughter for her poor nappy conduct as he wrinkles his nose and changes her diaper.

He's disgusted by that, by the way. Absolutely hates it, complains loudly about having to do it. But if you so much as try to stand to help he'll force you back down onto your chair or the couch, something something not useless something something already up, darling. It's as if Astarion is simply allergic to admitting that while it makes him nauseous, he wants to care for his daughter. He wants you to rest.

And yes, Astarion is the type of father that thinks all other children are hideous little fecal beasts and his daughter is the only gorgeous little angel in the entire world. Perfect, can do no wrong. He tells her as such too, in the same deadpan voice he always uses, wiggling and stretching her legs.

"You know, darling. You should count your blessings, you're the only child I've ever seen that doesn't look like some sort of hideous, deformed bean. I can't be surprised though, with as gorgeous as your parents are." And though he rolls his eyes, he's unable to contain the grin that shows his teeth when she coos and squeaks at the sound of his voice.

And yes. Astarion dresses up with his child.

The older she gets the more he does it, little matching outfits and ribbons. Nothing that she would choke on, were she to get her mitts on it. (You had to be the one to tell him no, at first. He did throw a little fit about it, just a small one).

But it's not all lighthearted, good or bad.

There are times where Astarion won't touch your daughter, won't be alone with her in the same room. He fears it, he'll eventually tell you. His... affliction came with it's dangers, always. But he's always trusted that you could defend yourself, and you're big enough that he can't just kill you between one blink and the next. The same can't be said of your darling girl. She's so small and so fragile that, were he to lose even the slightest grip of himself around her, it could cost her her life. No doubt it would traumatize her for life, regardless.

You watch it, too. The way it pinches his brows and makes him wipe his palms against his pants as if he were sweating. Nervous habits creeping up his throat and causing him to pace about like a caged animal. It's during these times that you have to bring your daughter to him. Gently place her in his arms and remind him that he's loved her from the moment he saw her. And where once he held trepidation and queasiness at the prospect of fatherhood, you can see him care so much about this little bundle that he looks sick from it. A vulnerability he can't mask.

And of course, there are times he nearly weeps for other reasons.

Like when she takes her first steps, and immediately tries to run for him.

And Astarion knows he should let her tumble, that it's good to let her fall and get back up again, but the moment her unsteady feet cause her to careen she's safe in his arms. Little kisses peppered against her giggly face. And he'll tuck away against her to try and get his bearings back, but she'll pat his cheeks and tug his ears- and you'll have to distract her with a toy while he hiccups and sniffles down his need to cry. He wasn't ready for her to grow so fast, gone is the tiny bundle that could fit perfectly in one arm, now she's walking. How long before she's dating? Gods, should he be preparing for betrothal requests!?

"I want to be mortal." He whispers to you, one night. She's tucked between your bodies, sound asleep and wiggling from time to time. This is one of the rare moments you and your love can speak to each other uninterrupted, in the tranquility of the dark hugging around you.

It's strange that he brings this up now, you'd spoken about it several times since the Elder Brain had been taken down... But in the past few years since your daughter had been born, all of that had fallen to the wayside. "What brings this to mind, Starling?"

Your hand comes to cup his throat, as you watch and feel him work as if he were swallowing a stone. "I don't want to outlive this."

It's hard to blink the tears from your eyes, understanding the implications.

Were he actually two hundred years old, Astarion wouldn't survive well past the existence of his sweet little family.

He'd been more melancholy the past few weeks, after realizing that your daughter was beginning to function on her own. She was walking, grabbing things, talking in rudimentary sentences. She was even beginning to call him pa.

He'd cried, at that.

"I'll forget," his voice draws you out from that brief reverie. The distress is palpable, but runs low like the tide before a storm. "I'll forget all of this. I don't want to know what I'll become, then."

And when you run your hands up into his hair, to scratch lovingly along his scalp, he doesn't hide the shiver or the way his face presses against your palm, cold and smooth on your skin.

"We'll find a way, Astarion. I haven't given up yet... We just- she's too young."

It's both a strain and a relief, to know that. To be reminded that your daughter is still so small, that he won't be losing her- or you- any time soon. There's still time.

Astarion With Your Teen:

Arguably this is the best time between your daughter and him. It's simultaneously a surprise and yet- not at all? He's more like her confidante and best friend than strictly a father. He isn't one for harsh curfews and strict ways of dress- rather, he's the one she comes to when she's made some sort of mistake. Or when she's angry about something.

In general, Astarion withholds judgement of her, for better or worse. The unintended consequence is that you might become more of her enemy than Astarion, because he's less inclined to punish for questionable behaviors.

It's not that he's afraid of angering her or dealing with push back- rather that Astarion's frame of reference for what constitutes a mistake is ah... rather broken. Even in the beginnings of your relationship with Astarion, the mistakes that would anger him constituted dropping an entire building on his head or... risking being turned into a Mindflayer to help some old lady find her cat.

Not feeling up cute boys in alleyways.

As a result you'll likely need to have a few conversations with him about not being so lenient on her, because she needs to have structure in how to behave. Stealing things is in fact, not okay! And Astarion will listen, but he's always going to be a bit more of a friend than anything else.

A total gossip with her, too. You'll catch them huddled around the dinner table at night, both with a glass of wine (this was an argument that Astarion ended up winning, she's allowed one glass a week, but that's all!) in hand shittalking a storm together. Astarion has become the Baldur's Gate equivalent of a PTA mom, he shows up as stylishly as he can and beefs with the parents of whichever children have upset his daughter the most. And then when they get home they just toss it back and forth together.

But I want to stress, just because he doesn't punish her doesn't mean he isn't protective of her. Astarion is more protective than you are.

Once she begins dating you'll find yourself home alone semi-frequently, because Astarion will play the supportive, loving father part when she leaves- and immediately follow her out into the dark. He's had centuries to know what dangers lurk around every corner, and foggy memories of simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time before his nightmare began. He won't allow that to happen with his girl.

And it's funny, because Astarion will talk mad shit to himself while he does it. Logically he knows that she's with some teenage boy or girl, but it doesn't stop the petty, emotional side of him from rolling his eyes and sneering at the cheap one-liners and the dumb tactics that this would-be charmer utilizes. Really, taking her into dark alleys to get her to tuck into you? Going to a totally secret spot that Astarion has known about for at least a hundred and sixty years? Get real, kid.

And you have to try valiantly not to laugh when he comes home, huffing and puffing about it. Because you will hear every single petty thought he had the entire time, and you will know that he looks like a petulant child. It's very cute.

All in all, I think Astarion is a reckless, chaotic, petty father. And one that loves his child so, so much. To the point of ruin, to the point where suddenly staying in one place doesn't seem so bad, just so she can have friends. Helping people isn't the worst, just so she can know there are heroes in the world. Suddenly he's learning to bandage scrapes and kiss bruises, and having tears and snot on his clothes mean nothing compared to the grief of the one shedding them. He loves her in ways he didn't anticipate he ever could. Enough to know all of her ticks and secrets, to know when she's lying through her teeth and when she's being devastatingly obvious.

Learning to cook even when he can't eat, listening to her spin a story with a straight face and then- as she's stepping out the door- telling her to be careful with that boy and listening to her groan loudly as the door slams shut, a mischievous smile on his face.

Holding you and dancing you around, cradling you close with all the tenderness he has in the whole of his body and soul. Kissing you, calling you the mother of his child, thanking you for giving him something he didn't even know he'd wanted. A family.

Small and odd, but his.

[death---dealer]

In A Hurry. ( Noa x Reader Oneshot. )

Fuck I love angst don't even TOUCH ME with your eyes I'm in my feels.

Title: In a Hurry. Fandom: ( Kingdom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Pairing: Noa x (Human) Reader. Rating: T ( Mentions of blood, injury and potential death, tiny bit of language. ) Words: ( I have no idea how i swear this was supposed to be like 2K words AHHH ) Summary: Noa bargained. Maybe you were gone by choice but the idea lingered - Had you been injured?

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・●・○・

He knew the moment his green eyes looked at the sky, noticing the dip of the sun as it skirted its way along the horizon, that he had made a mistake. You were supposed to be back. He thought to himself, resting a spear head on the ground in front of him. He had been messing with it, scraping a piece of wood into a sharp point to dig into a hole that he suspected might be infested with bugs of the pesky nature after someone in passing had brought it up. He had been so oblivious to the passage of time, a foolish choice to make when you had left a few hours to go forge for some berries. It was hard to keep track of time though, especially when Noa had a front row seat to watch Soona and Anaya bicker. Today’s special was about Anaya- as it most usually was. Noa smiled at the familiarity before it quickly faded into oblivion at the existential thought. You were supposed to be back. 

You never went too far; never too far into the woods, knowing of the possibility of danger especially as an Echo, never ventured away from the Clan, from your home, your nest, your things… From… from Noa. He felt something surge inside of his chest that yelled at him to move his body. You were supposed to be back. Noa often went with you along with Soona and Anaya - An unbreakable bond began forming around the four of you. But, in those instances when Noa was unable to go, he would urge Soona, Anaya or even his Mother on occasion to go. At this point, his body was in movement, spine aching ever so slightly at the straight posture he was using to prepare his horse who greeted him with a joyous neigh., Noa wasn’t even sure how you convinced him to let you go alone, letting his mind drift to the conversation only three or so hours ago, when the sun was beginning a rather leisurely and slow decent as the afternoon had passed. It was definitely alluring what you asked of him, which was why he granted you to go alone, without accompaniment. You told him it was only for a short amount of time, letting your hand lightly grasp at his bicep in some Echo communication that physical touch would get your way. It often worked but Noa held on until you explained you wanted to get some berries for dinner, that you promised not to go too far, and that you would bring your spear with you to fend off any potential attacks. They seldom happened so close to the village, but they were not unheard of by any means. You wanted to go to get some space to yourself, you told him, Noa having to remind himself that it was indeed a regular Echo thing. To enjoy their own personal space. He never understood it, always having Anaya or Soona with him when you weren’t with him in most cases, and when he wasn’t with them, he was deep in thought, obsessing at his own ideas, his own improvements. At those moments, his thoughts became his friends and he was never really lonely.

Noa contemplated it, but essentially let you go to the mild fury of both his friends, like he wasn’t already uncomfortable enough letting you go without any of them.... Anaya, worried just as much that something could happen to you, even going as far as to tell Noa to just follow you at a distance; Noa had to shove aside the fact that he had the same train of thought earlier but following you could result in less trust in the relationship, Anaya was slightly receptive to that but stood his ground in telling Noa he should just follow. Soona, who obviously thought the same thing, but in her everlasting rationale to keep Noa somewhat grounded, nodded in understanding when Noa told her the reason you wanted to go alone. It wasn’t a slight at them, just one of those pesky Echo things. Personal space, they repeated to themselves over and over. 

His forehead pressed against your own as a departure, your hands full. One with a weaved basket, albeit a little janky as you had made it yourself and had yet to master the art, and one with your spear. He felt a sense of calm at that. You were not far; if you screamed, he most likely would be able to hear it and you had a weapon. You were not going far, he told himself over and over again and trailed around the village in search of something to bide his time until you returned.

In the distance it took him to travel from his spot to the horse paddock, both Anaya and Soona had joined. Noa left so abruptly, saying nothing to them and the haste of his movements spurred his friends to follow. He knew they were talking to each other, the flurry of signing and the some words hit Noa as Anaya had finally asked, “Where?” “Echo is… not back?” Soona asked.

It appeared the consensus was that you had returned and no one noticed. Noa would. Noa would always notice. Growling under his breath, he turned to both of them and said, “Stay here in case… She comes back,” He glanced over his shoulder, “Noa… will go. Look in the woods. Can’t be far.” He was just saying that to keep them calm. “Stay,” He told them again, “Could come back while away.”

Stupid Noa, the Ape scorned himself as his long arms grasped at the saddle of his horse and within seconds, in a graceful sweep, he was perched on top, Eagle Sun coming to affectionately rest on his shoulder. When Noa mounted his horse there was more than enough incentive for Eagle Sun to join along. He’d ride for a few moments before opting to fly. The bird chirped, twisting their tiny head to the side a few times. Noa raised his hand at that, pressing a finger to their beak. Eagle Sun then took off with purpose. Find you, and if he found you first, show Noa the way. You were not back. You were supposed to be back. Before dusk, before dinner. 

Maybe you got lost, Noa thought as he tightened his grip on the reins, kicking at the side of his steed and urging them to go. Faster than he had been for a while, thighs tightening their grip on the sides as he blasted away from the village in the general direction he had bid you goodbye to early in the day. He was snapping inside of his head; unkind notions at how stupid he was to let you go alone, he should have known better, should have never… Never let you convince him. But, what was he supposed to do? Another part of him shouted. Keep you there? Never let you out of his sight?! From experience, Noa knew that to be a bad thing. The tighter you hold onto things, sometimes the faster they slip away. He was so fearful of you thinking, assuming that he was smothering you by not giving you personal Echo space that he now drove himself to the brink of insanity for letting you do something alone. The dissolution he had in himself; the tugging of his emotions as his gaze flickered around the racing landscape on the back of his stallion. He felt like he was going to be physically sick at the notion that you were… Gone. But if anything, he hoped it was by choice. He could at least begin to cope with the idea that you chose to leave, maybe figuring out that your future with him, with the Eagle Clan was going to go nowhere. Noa could learn, albeit out of bitterness, how to live with that. On the other hand lingered the absolutely disgusting notion that you were gone because you were spotted, chased and hunted down by another Clan. That they had the audacity to make their way onto Eagle Clan land and rip you from him.

 His teeth fell together in his mouth, the primal impact sending a clattering noise through Noa’s ears. He knew how the others were, what they did to Echo’s. Chased them to the brink of exhaustion, tied them to the back of their horses and dragged them through the terrain until they were dead. He, Soona and Anaya had come upon remains, skeletons of the Echo’s that had that misfortune. Noa squeezed his eyes shut at that visual now running circles in his mind and tried to quiet down the battling nature of his turmoil. Instinctually, he pulled the reins of his horse back to slow down, now urging them to be quiet with a hand placed on their neck. He was breathing heavily, chest heaving with ripe anguish and he swore his lungs were filled with nothing but water because it felt like he was drowning, swimming through the air. He was frantic to jump from the horse, feet hitting the ground hard enough to send a vibration through his entire body, followed by his hands. He moved faster on all fours, if he heard you, if he just knew where you were he could run. Noa began scanning the area. Between trees, around foliage, behind tree trunks, around the usual areas Noa had been with you. He recognized the area all too well, a surge of saddened negligence hitting him like a wave of the ocean.

This was where you and he first really talked, taking in the Summer weather spewing through the trees above asn Anaya and Soona began a conversation about which berries to pick. Anaya wanted the red ones off to the right to which Soona promptly turned him down. They were poisonous. Where the two of you went to seek solace from the prying eyes of the Clan, always curious what Noa’s decision was going to be regarding you being there. This was where you first held each other, a tight embrace… Hug, he recalled the word fondly falling from your lips… The way your body pressed against his, the way he was so unsure of it before giving in, long arms wrapping around you in a similar fashion and pulling you in close, close… The laugh you gave him when he squeezed too tightly, not aware of his strength being incomprehensible to you. What if… Those things…were all the last time? He was always fast to crumble, fast to fall down and this was no exception as his emotions began to collapse just like the Echo ruins that surrounded the Eagle Clan. The last time Noa saw you, smiling graciously at him as you trail to the woods, the sum beaming down on you and drenching you in that quintessential summer time shine. The last time Noa touched you, his hand cupping the side of your face, foreheads grasping at each other out of clear desperation to be near. The last time he heard your voice, so delicate in nature as you assured him that nothing was going to happen to you, that you were going to be okay… You were not a liar, Noa knew this, but the bile rose in his throat at your words. So tender, so reassuring to him in the moment that they felt so out of place now. You were not back, you were gone. They were all gone. And you had promised him otherwise. It was obvious from scent alone that you had been in the area, Noa took gross solace in that as it hit his nose. He figured this was where you would come, being most familiar with the area, with previous knowledge of blackberry and blueberry bushes around. Slated green and gold eyes caught something on a few leaves to his right, his glancing almost too quick to pick it up on the first sweep. He had mistaken it for a berry at first, but that was very much not the case. It was red, for sure, but not the kind he wanted it to be. He watched it drop from one leaf, onto another before taking refuge in the puddle of vibrancy against the brown of the Earth. 

Blood. It was blood, and Noa scooted towards it, gravity taking hold on his actions rather than the usual conscious thought. He almost fell over, tangling his hands and feet in the dirt as he stopped dead in his tracks. It was more blood than he cared to admit and it smelled… Smelled like you, fragrant as usual, and all too familiar to Noa. it lingered uncomfortably though and it began to smell of iron. Fresh. It had to be, there was no way it would hold onto that without being spilled recently; at least in the last thirty or so minutes. The fur on his neck and shoulders were prickled, Noa found himself on the defense thinking about what your movements had to have been. What had to have happened. Were you found? Bludgeoned and then taken away? Did you fall and hurt yourself? You were prone to that Noa thought with a bitter laugh at how clumsy you were at times. Were you still in the area--- 

Your basket! He raced a few feet to the left, grasping it in his hands. There were contents inside, not many, but enough to put Noa in a whirl of relief for a second or two. You were here recently, he reminded himself again, setting the basket down on the ground after its brisk analysis. His mouth slacked open animalistically, eyes narrow with the metaphorical hunt. His hands and feet dug into the ground. He was focused, primed and ready. What was that? Noa’s head whipped to the left again. A sound. Not an animal he knew; not even that of Eagle Sun who must have been still searching for you; a true testament to how quickly Noa was to get to the area. He managed to beat his bird. There it was again! That sound caused him to raise his body and shuffle towards it. It was hard to deduce, but it was enough to give Noa a sense of what direction to take. Slightly to the east, right passed the blueberry bush that you had dubbed your favorite months ago due to the pure amount of berries you got in one picking. Noa looked at it almost tenderly, thinking about that as the leaves brushed against the side of his body as he clutched passed it. His eyes hardened, his mouth opened in defense, baring his canines to whatever was making the reverb that Noa was picking up on. It was either dangerous or not given the blood spotted. Given the basket that was abandoned. It could be another Ape, aggressive. The thought alone caused the fur all along Noa’s spine to spring to attention.  It was getting louder, more guttural that sound… Oh.

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.

The first thing Noa went for was your face. His hands were large, grasping at your head on each side, pulling it up from the rather awkward position it was hanging in as you had only managed to get yourself slightly propped up against a tree, at least that’s what Noa was able to put together. His first initial thought was that you were dead. You had to be, you couldn’t be, he was shouting at himself to pull it together but he couldn’t. The feeling of tears hit the back of his eyes at the very state you were in. 

There was blood on your face, he had smeared it artistically on his own hands before drawing his grasp downwards onto your chest. He left a barren red hand print there, accessing the skin of your sternum, hard with bone under his touch. Breathing, good, he took quick note of that, feeling the slower than usual pace of your heartbeat against the tips of his fingers. He tried to ignore the arrow that was jutting from your right shoulder with his movements, but it was brought to his attention when he minorly grazed it with his forearm after a feeble attempt to get you to sit up, sit closer to him. He wanted you near him, he needed you near him. As close as he could get so he could leverage himself up with you in his arms and get you back to his horse, back to the Clan… Arm under your knees, arm around the upper part of your body, careful around the arrow he had noticed, but enough for the Ape to help. He could pick you up with ease but stopped once he shifted to do just that. You groaned, eyes squeezing, instinctually, your hand raised and grasped at his forearm that was encased around your upper half.  Spurred by the hot sensation of pain rocketing through your entire being from just one simple move, Noa’s heart surged at the pure agony that came out of you. Okay, so… He couldn’t get you up. He couldn’t move you without causing more pain. “(Name)?” It felt strange to say still. Your name. It became such second nature in his mind but to say it…

Perpetual fear hit Noa but he tried his hardest to stay grounded, to put the pieces together. So. You were breathing, that was a plus. There was an arrow in your shoulder, not a plus. He was afraid to move you, another negative.  Not conscious to ask you any questions, your eyes were rolled back, only slightly open, another negative.. He figured you had no idea what was going on based on his call of your name and the lack of response, his eyes dropped down your body again, now laying in his arms lifeless, unwilling to give him a smile that he so needed now. Unable to say something sarcastic in that tone he loved to hear, unable to hold him in response…. Injury, he yelled inside of his head. Bad injury, he lingered, piercing his gaze into the arrow that had made its very home in your right shoulder. 

He gasped quietly at that, unfurling his hands against you before he dug his fingers right into you, protective in their stance. Noa finally noted the severity, no time to beat himself up over the immature idea to let you go alone for berries. He needed to do something about it. It was not a clean wound. The arrow went through, the arrow did not come out the other side of your shoulder, at least from what he could tell. He panicked, no idea what to do. Injuries were not his forte. They never were. He left them to the Village Elders who knew more about this, he left it to his Mother who soothed all his injuries growing up, even to this day he would occasionally ask for her assistance. “(Name.)” Noa’s voice was sharp, waving right around the edges in faltering resolve. He just needed you awake. Needed you to say something to him. Acknowledge him in any way or he felt he was going to lose it--- Lose you. “(Name).” Within a blink, Eagle Sun came to rest on Noa’s left shoulder. The bird was curious by nature, looking down at your body with beady eyes. Noa did the only thing he could process in that moment and that was to sign his bird to go get Anaya, Soona and his mother. He--- He couldn’t do this, couldn’t fathom being the one there to pull the arrow out of your shoulder. He’d make it worse, he’d hurt you, he’d make you hate him, he’d… He’d kill you… Noa didn't know what he would do then. He’d fall into ruin, destitute, unable to cope, unable to breathe with you… Without his mate, without his life and love and joy. 

He was--- God, he was weak. Never a leader like his Father, never a caring Ape like his Mother. He was… Weak… Green eyes bore a hole all along your expression, hopeful that maybe you were able to give him something in your teetering balance of unconsciousness as he moved the hand from under your knees out and upwards to cup the side of your face tenderly. He ignored the blood that he was putting against your skin and focused.  He needed to know what happened--- Needed to know who did this to you so he could tear their face from their body. Noa was beyond scared, now sensing the feeling of your blood against the fur of his upper body and his thigh where he was keeping you pressed against him. He was so scared, taking a few moments to tilt his head back in a bargain. He’d do anything you asked of him, anything at all, if you pulled a rabbit out of the hat. If your injury was not as severe as it appeared to be. Noa had a hard time really telling - Maybe it wasn’t as bad, maybe it was worse. He had no visible way to tell anymore. Eagle Sun’s squawk came to hit him, finally for once, Noa found it to be a good sound, often finding it rather annoying when the bird would bother him when he was deep in his own introspective. Good, good…. Anaya, Soona, Dar… They could help him. He needed them to help him. You’re so weak, Noa. He knew that. He knew that so well and watched helplessly as Soona and Dar took you away from him, resting you flat on your back and examining. They made a choice in silence. The arrow had to come out. It took Anaya to push him back as it happened, to keep Noa from absolutely crashing into his mother and Soona, to beg them to stop and that you were in more pain than he could bear. The screams that emitted from you were enough to give Noa nightmares for the rest of his life. 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・●・○・

Minutes… Turned into hours… Which in turn gave Noa a full day of complete and utter shattered silence as he watched over you, your soft breathing that would rise and fall consistently, your twitching and muttering in what he hoped were good dreams. Or maybe, you weren’t dreaming at all and it was just a void… Noa tried to not focus on that, focus on how lonely and desolate it sounded. Dar, his Mother, had told him you’d survive. It was good when Noa found you, you had lost a lot of blood at that point, but good none-the-less. While her words were always reassuring to Noa, he took no solace in them this time around.

He couldn’t- not when the reasoning behind you laying so gently in the nest you shared with Noa was due to his absolute absurdity and poor judgment. You moaned in reaction to his fingers as they lightly placed themselves on the side of your face- Only fleetingly, Noa had to talk himself down from it. You were able to sense him, but you had yet to stir awake for him. That, he suspected, was due to a bump on the head, mentioned to him by his Mother. How… how small and fragile Echo’s bodies were… How even the smallest of injuries, a bump to the head, could cause unfiltered waves of unconsciousness. Noa felt sick again suddenly, replaying what must have happened to you in the woods. The sensation of isolation smothering all of his senses. Had you sustained a mild head injury from a fall? Were you struck by some outside force? He had no idea of knowing, but the obvious scramble was evident at the scene. You straggled, you crawled your way to the tree trunk after the arrow struck you, seeping your blood all along the floor of the woods and propped yourself up as best you could before the cold wash of oblivion must have taken you downwards. He could almost vividly see your hand marks on the tree trunk. You must have attempted to stagger to your feet but couldn’t--- Noa swallowed hard at that. You were just trying to survive, trying to get home. He’d find himself brushing his fingers along your body, anywhere he could, every few minutes just so you were aware that he was there. Much like before, his hand reached out and instead of your face, he lightly rested it against your uninjured shoulder, bare to his eyes as you had been stripped of your upper body clothing, well… More or less, your sweater and under-shirt were ripped off by Soona to get a better view at what had happened to you when Eagle Sun brought them to the event. 

Noa’s eyes couldn’t bring themselves to even look at your injury, rooted paste placed on top, along with a thin cloth to keep it unexposed to the air. Based on his internal clock, Soona would be there in an hour or so to replace the cloth with another... He was there the entire time, not having any time set aside to eat, to be with Soona and Anaya who he knew were waiting outside, unwavering in their friendship to him, unsettled in Noa’s choice of mate. To them, you were one of the Eagle Clan, and for Noa, they accepted you with open arms. Your blood still clung to the very tips of his fur. He hadn’t taken any time to even groom, how could he? How could he leave you? His mate. 

That loving notion that always wrapped Noa in warmth didn't stop the young Chimp from flying off the rails at himself. The stupid, so vastly immature mistake at letting you go alone. Had he been with you, this entire situation could have been avoided. You’d be awake right now, looking at Noa with those eyes--- Those eyes that he loved, that he found himself getting lost in from time to time, even in his own mind did he get lost. You’d be conscious, maybe even with your hand in his fur, the way he liked, the way that got him to pause and to come down from even the highest of highs. His hand had trailed from the rest on your shoulder upwards to your hair where he gave it a tender stroke. There was dried blood between the strands, he noticed and could hear your voice in his head. 

I must look like shit.  When can I go to the creek to wash myself? He smiled at the imitation he had of you in his imagination, it being rather remarkable. He’d spent so much time observing you that your tendencies, Echo or not, were well ingrained into his memory. How you would react to things, how he knew in this moment you’d be concerned about looking bad in front of him; a concept that Noa didn't care much about. To him, in any circumstance, you were beautiful. Even now… He thought quietly to himself and brought his hand back upwards to your hairline before brushing very gently backwards. In wishful passing, with each stroke of your hair Noa just hoped and hoped it would be the one that would spur you to wake. He hoped.

[thegnomelord]

if you write a thing about the creaming the zussy i will kiss ur boots

The boots better be shining when you're done.

How To Cure Zombies 101

CW:NSFW MDNI, crackfic obv PiV sex, TLOU Clicker trans Ghost, Top Male Reader, established relationship, happy ending, dub-con because Simon consented before he got bit but reader is apprehensive, zombie sex (does it count as necro?) how does this work? idk porn logic. Don't ask me how this happened, i hope this doesn't become what my blog becomes known for.

When the Cordyceps spread across the planet and turned millions of people into shambling mushroom infested undead, the world ended.

When Simon got bitten. . . your world ended.

You still remember it like it had been yesterday; He came back bloody, an empty look in his eyes as he showed you the bite on his arm. Your hands shook as he wrapped them around the grip of the gun and aimed it at his head. You both ended up on the floor with you crying into his chest, unable to pull the trigger.

You remember the resigned look in his eyes when he had agreed to let you do whatever you needed to him to cure him, but both of you knew there was no way, what made you immune to the fungus was as mysterious to the rest of the world as it was for you. His lips had been burning hot when he laid a soft kiss on your forehead, the last sense of warmth you've felt since the docs took him to where they kept the infected for study, your heart leaving with him.

And now?

Now the scientists that have been prodding you like a lab rat since Simon got bitten nearly a year ago say they have a way to bring his mind back, to get Simon back.

And the way to do it?

"So let me get this straight?" You begin, your voice tense, your body even tenser. "You want me to fuck the corpse of my lover? And that will cure him?"

That. You're not sure how the eggheads arrived to this conclusion, frankly all of their scientific jargons had flown over your head. All you understood was that the man you had fallen since the first time you met him could be brought back.

You sincerely hope you won't make some type of super fungus through this.

Words can't describe what you feel as you look at Simon's (is it even Simon?) bound body writhing on the gyno chair, naked and bare to you. You doubt you even know what you feel, hope and fear simultaneously curling in your stomach— You hadn't had the courage to look at him ever since the scientists took him away; The harsh laboratory lights make it easy to see the mycelium filling his veins beneath the ashy pale skin, mushroom caps growing beneath his pecs and across all other scars he has. Red and yellow mushrooms have eaten away his nose and spread out to follow the contours of his face, growing in a way that makes the mushroom caps blend together into a skull shape.

Your heart aches when you see his eyes haven't been eaten away yet, the once deep brown turned milky white and staring lifelessly past you, thrashing about in the bindings, rotten teeth gnawing on the ball gag in his mouth, small hisses and malformed muffled clicks echoing through the room.

You try to look down and you stop at his stomach, forcing yourself to breathe in and out slowly because your heart is beating so fast it feels like you'll have a panic attack. You have no idea if this will work and doing this to Simon only to find out it's as useless as all your previous attempts to cure him. . . you're sure it would break you. Closing your eyes and counting to ten you will yourself to focus, your eyes opening slowly and following the trail of little mushroom caps down to his groin.

It's not what you expected., but it's. . . a lot; Mushroom caps have replaced the lips of his cunt, similar to the hard growths on his head but these look thinner and longer, almost like flower petals framing his cunt, bright red at the corners and getting progressively lighter as it nears his hole. A sort of morbid curiosity compels you to reach out brushing your fingertips against the caps. They're surprisingly softer than you had expected, smooth and slick with some kind of slime. You can't help but notice how a longer stalked mushroom grows from what had been his clit.

You jerk your hand back when a second brush of your fingers makes his body to jerk back and attempt to fight against the restraints, more angry clicks vibrating his throat.

But you also notice a kind of… sweet scent in the air and it's coming from him. Cautiously you brush against the caps again, slowly dipping your fingers under to touch the gills underneath. You keep your hand where it is when he thrashes again, but you're certain that smell is stronger now, and you catch the glimpse of clear viscous slick slowly leak from his hole.

Carefully you push a finger into his hole in an attempt to stretch him out. Logically you know that he probably doesn't feel it, but it feels wrong to just stick your cock in him; He's cold. You know he's dead but you had held out some hope that he would be warmer, that there would be some signs of life despite how stupid that sounds.

He's dry right now, but more of that clear fluid seeps around your fingers and lubes the way as you experimentally push your finger all the way up to the last knuckle, and you felt his muscles flutter around you, clenching down as if trying to draw you in deeper. His head continued to thrash around, no change in the feral behavior, but you still try to be gentle, pushing one then two fingers in and slowly scissoring him open.

You pull your fingers out when his hole has relaxed enough to let you easily slide your fingers in and out, and he's produced enough slick to completely drench your hand. You try to look at him as you press your cock against his fluttering hole, but the sight of his milky eyes almost makes you soft on the spot so you screw your eyes closed and slowly slide in.

Despite how cold and wet his cunt is, you haven't felt anyone's touch, even your own, since he got infected, and a part of you feels disgusted at how a bit of pleasure traces up your spine. He continues to hiss and click as you bottom out, his hips bucking wildly you have to press them down. You set a slower pace than you're used to, keeping your thrusts even and consistent, afraid to tear anything but your fear is seemingly misplaced. He's so much wetter than he'd ever get before he got infected, slick wetly squelching as you bottom out over and over again, clicks and snarls accompanying every move you make.

You're ashamed to say you don't last long. Fuck, is he tight you've been ignoring your body for so long that when you accidentally brush against the stalk growing from his clit and his cunt suddenly tightens up like a vice you cum on the spot, your hips doing little minute twitches as you empty so much of your cum in his cunt that your balls hurt. You pull out just as slowly, both of your mixed fluids leaking out and almost getting caught by the soft mushrooms framing his hole.

You muster up the courage to look him in the eyes, and your heart breaks when his lifeless eyes blindly stare back at you.

You feel like a fool when the first time doesn't work, he's still just a body pupated by a fungus. And you feel like an even bigger fool when you agree to do this a second time.

But the third time. . .

You don't know if it's just wishful thinking but he seems more. . . alert. His head always follows you when you approach him but now his milky eyes almost seem to be looking at your face instead of staring straight through you. He's strangely still on the chair, teeth gnawing on the ball gag but he doesn't try to get out of the restraints.

He doesn't screech when you gently caress the soft outer mushroom caps framing his cunt, instead his chest vibrates with more deep clicks. Nor does he start to wildly writhe on the chair when you slowly sink a finger into his cunt, finding it's already wet with slick. If anything he almost seems to chase(more like stumble) after the sensation, his hips doing small little movements to push your finger deeper into him.

Emboldened by childish hope you do something you hadn't before and reach with your other hand to slowly trace the long stalk of the clitshroom (not a term you coined), before rubbing the base of the cap like you would your own cock.

You nearly jump out of your skin when the gentle pressure of your fingers makes him buck into your hands and let out an ear-piercing screech that the gag has trouble muffling. You pull your hands away and that worsens the problem, the shrieking turning into literal chest rumbling snarls as Simon starts to struggle against the bindings.

Panic rushing down your system you put your hands were they were, gently stroking the 2 inch long mushroom growing from his clit. His hips buck up to chase after your hand, the snarls reverting back into shrieks, but as you stroke him longer they gradually die down to low pitched clicks and whistles. You're stumped; the clicks sound a lot like a cat's puff, his hole fluttering and clenching around your fingers as you slowly push them inside.

He's warmer now, not quite how he was before, but not cold as a corpse either. You know that you've gone completely mad by the fact he starts to gyrate his hips— grinding down just as you get knuckles deep so your fingers can brush against the sensitive spots inside him — makes your mind think that it's a bit of your Simon coming back.

You shake your head and pull your hands away, taking hold of his trembling thighs. You're greeted with another deep snarl but he quiets down immediately when you start to slowly push into him. He feels even tighter now, and you watch how his head falls back on the headrest, a long series of low clicks and whistles squirming past the gag.

His hips move to meet your slow thrusts, tight warm walls squeezing down every time you attempt to pull out just like he used to do. And that thought has your body increasing the pace automatically, your balls slapping against his ass, every sharp thrust hitting something spongy inside him and drawing out a sharp click, the rough pace leaving you panting.

Mindlessly you look up, too caught up in the moment remembering how Simon loved eye contact to remember the situation you're in.

He's looking straight at you.

You halt mid thrust, the low hiss he lets out falling on deaf ears as you tilt your head to the side. You're not insane, his eyes follow you. They're still milky, but they don't look through you. He's looking at you.

Another rough clicking sound leaves him and he thrusts his hips down against yours with enough strength to bruise, almost impatient. Despite how stupid it is you reach out and quickly unbuckle the gag with trembling fingers. "Si?" You say, unable to hide the hope in your voice. "Are you there?" You lean over him, looking hopefully into his eyes. "Do you remember me?"

His jaw moves like he's munching on a survivor, but all that leaves his mouth are more clicks and rough grunts.

Fuck. You are a fool.

A sob tears through your chest before you can stop it, ducking your head down to lay it on his chest. You're unable to keep the fresh tears from falling on him, watering the damned mushrooms that had taken him from you. You can't stop the sobs from coming, your back bowed and shoulders shaking as you cry just as much as the day you first lost him.

His chest vibrates with another long series of clicks and whistles, just pouring salt on the gaping would in your chest.

Your name rights through the room.

It's scratchy, rough, almost incomprehensible to your ears, but it's your name.

You look up so quickly you almost snap his neck. "Simon?" You whisper, staying in him even as you feel yourself soften. "Are you in there?" You slowly reach out to hold his face, careful not to cut your hands on the sharp mushroom caps along his cheeks.

He looks at you back, jaw moving still, but he doesn't try to bite the flesh of your palms despite your hands being right there. "Ckckck-" He clicks, pupils going from pinpricks to blown out, "Ckckrkck- Mo- ckck-ve." He manages, a thrust of his hips accompanying the order.

Your heart leaps to your throat and you can do nothing but follow it, sliding one hand down to dig your nails into his thigh, looming over him as you pull out until only the head is inside and them slam into him that there's an audible clap of skin on skin as you bottom out. A half shriek half click half "Yes!" escapes him as he throws his head back, slack jawed.

A whole range of noises escapes him as you hammer into him with all you've got, one hand remaining always on his face. You can feel him getting hotter the longer you pound into him, body shaking as each thrust nails his sensitive spot. He gets progressively tighter and tighter as you fuck into him, and you let go of his thigh to carefully strike along the long shaft of the clitshroom.

He shrieks at the top of his lungs and his cunt clenches down on you like a vice, fluttering around you and gripping your cock like it doesn't want you to pull out. It pulls you into an orgasm,

"Simon?" You whisper, staying in him even as you feel yourself soften. He's too silent compared to how vocal he had been a few moments ago. "Are you in there?"

His head rolls a bit, peering at you through through his lashes, tongue moving heavily in his mouth and lips twitching up into a soft of barely-there grin. "Cckck- l- ckckc- love- ckrk-you -ckkckrkckck-"

Taglist: @dead-end-stuff

[murdrdocs]

logan x stripper!reader demons are infesting my mind rn… maybe he was corralled into the club by Wade and … idek where this was going but i really need to hashtag fuck that old man!

anon i had sm thoughts abt this last night. none of them are organized. this is gonna be a massive brain dump but stick w me here.

logan was in fact corralled into the club by wade under false pretenses. he was told that "the son of a bitch hangs out here" and logan didn't know exactly who they were looking for, but he'll do anything if it means he doesn't have to see blind al going through withdrawals again. so he tags along, only asking need to know questions. but as soon as they're in there and wade describes the guy logan quickly realizes that their perp is the fucking hamburglar.

"my future wife works here, maybe yours does too." wade drops the act, hands on logan's shoulders for all of a second before logan shakes him off.

"c'mon, don't be shy. go sink your metallic claws into some pretty girl …” wade takes a moment before adding, “or guy!” and then wade stuffs logan's hand full of cash and saunters off somewhere else before logan can even say anything else.

logan knows he could just go home, blind al isn't so bad if she can listen to people speeding through answers on jeopardy!, but then he turns around and sees you—strutting up to the pole on one of the stages, wearing nothing except a skimpy yellow and blue two piece set. he's just drawn to the familiar colors, that's all. that's the reason why he makes his way over and takes a seat, albeit near the back.

this isn't logan's scene at all. he's not the pay-for-company type. he should leave before it's too late, before he's noticed.

he was going to leave, but then logan watches you approach the tip rail, your eyes watching some guy below you. logan stares as you dance for the guy, and just as the guy slips a few bills into the waistband of your tiny shorts, your eyes lift and you see him—logan, sitting in the back of the section, probably poorly lit, but you must like what you see because you linger.

the patron thinks you're lingering for him. logan can practically smell the excitement leaking out of his pores, but above it all he can smell you. a scent so particular and enticing that he wants to smell it as often as he can. he wants to smell it right on him. and he eventually gets what he wants when your set finishes and logan can smell that same scent, stronger than before, making it's way towards him.

god, he really should leave before he's in too deep, but his morality kicks in. he couldn't just sit here and free load, watching you work your ass off without slipping you at least a little something. so he takes a few of the bills wade gave him, pretty much half, and just places it in your hand when you stop in front of him.

you grin over at him and tilt your head, taking in the way he stuffs the rest of the cash into his pocket as he stands.

"leaving already?"

and maybe you're good at your job, or logan is more of a pushover than he thought he was, because he somehow ends up in a vip room with you, watching you dance for him.

he's not afraid to admit you're pretty. he understands why people would pay for this. but he also understands that this is your job. that he's literally paying for you to ask him to help you take your top off. he's paying for human contact, so he's reluctant to relax.

until you coax him into it, your voice as gentle as your hands cupping his face. everything you say sounds so earnest, like you're speaking from the heart and not a script you pull out depending on the customer.

once logan relaxes, he's fucking gone. yeah, that's the most relaxed he has felt in a while, and yeah he wants to see more of you, but he won't go back. mostly because he's broke and he has absolutely no idea where wade got that money from.

luckily wade loves to play matchmaker, setting up two of his friends (logan should've known that this would all come full circle) on a semi-blind date.

logan would've been more upset about it if he didn't get to fuck you (for free!) over and over again that same night.

[ellecdc]

Rosier Twin Microfic

CW: untrue anatomy and physiology of earth worms, cruelty to earth worms, the general oddities that are the Rosier twins

Evan was exploring the grounds of the manor in search of his sister under the direction of their mother.

He found he didn’t mind all that much; the green of the trees and grass, the blue of the sky, and the pinks and reds of the flowers in the garden were all a welcome reprieve from the sad, dull grey and beige that ‘decorated’ the inside of their familial home.

That is, he hadn’t minded until he found himself sinking up to nearly his knees in loose soil as Pandora materialized from behind some shrubs.

“Evan! What have you done?” She chastised, not looking at her brother but rather where the bottom half of his legs had disappeared.

“What have I done?” Evan shot back incredulously. “What the hells is this?”

Pandora simply let out a displeased huff as she dropped her gardening spade and moved to help pull her brother out of the earth.

“You’re standing on my worms.” She admonished as he finally stepped onto solid ground, sure enough brushing loose soil and earth worms from his professionally tailored trousers and dragon-hide boots.

“What in Salazar’s name are you doing with a colony of earth worms?” He all but sneered at his sister who barely spared him a glance, though her face read ‘I can’t believe you asked such a ridiculous question’.

“The worms are good for the soil.” Pandora responded simply. “After the trouble the Honking Daffodils had with the gnome infestation, I figured they could use all the help they could get.”

Evan turned to survey the space; the worms did seem to be attempting to make their way towards the vegetation, though he really thought they’d be more effective coming from both sides of the plant.

“You ought to put some to the right of the plants, too, Panda.”

“I could only find fifty on the grounds, I don’t want to separate them from their family members.”

Evan fought the urge to roll his eyes as he bent down and dug a worm from the loose soil. “You know that you can cut them in half, right? Then you’d have twice as many and can establish colonies on either side.”

The expression on Pandora’s face told Evan she was warring with the side of her that hated the idea of chopping up living beings and the side of her that valued experimentation.

With one look in her brothers direction, Evan knew the decision she’d come to in her mind.

“I…don’t think I can cut the worms, Ev.”

So, that’s how both Evan and Pandora found themselves being scolded by their mother for being late for dinner (and rather filthy) as Evan spent the rest of the late afternoon cutting up earth worms for his twin sister.

[separatist-apologist]

What Died Didn't Stay Dead

Summary: Gwyneth Berdara has been promised to a brutal prince who imagines himself a god. Setting sail across pirate infested waters, she and Nesta Archeron hatch a plan to escape her arranged marriage before they arrive.

A gift for @alohaangels, whose kind words softened some of my grief.

Read on AO3

TW for depictions of sexual assault- reminiscing on the event, but it is graphic so please take care of yourself.

--

It was a mistake.

Surely some sort of joke. 

Gwyn’s eyes scanned the piece of paper before her, looking for some tell-tale clue that would mark the missive as some kind of cruel joke. Some nobleman’s idea of amusing himself with a ruined man’s daughter. 

Lady Berdara,

I have made my intentions plain to your guardian, and with her blessing, I intend to make them plain to you as well. I have been unable to stop thinking of you since the ball, hosted now several months previously. Your beauty follows me, an ever present guest I would not be rid of, distracting as your visage is. 

Allow me to speak freely—I would like to be wed with haste if possible. I have enclosed two tickets to Alsfeld for you and a lady of your choosing. Send word, make the passage, and I will meet you at the Port of Alsfeld.

Say yes. I will accept no other answer.

Yours, faithfully,

Prince Edward II

Gwyn looked up at Merrill with disbelief, immediately frustrated to find her guardian looking back with a look of supreme smugness. 

“I told you,” she said, rising from her chair to walk toward the window. Gwyn had been living under care since her family had been slaughtered, casualties of the ongoing and bloody war being fought by Edward the Senior. She’d been minor nobility, then, though part of the landed gentry all the same.

“This is a joke,” Gwyn replied, pushing away the rising tide of memories. She wished she had perished, then, and often cursed the unknown, faceless man who had spared her a bloody death right at the last second. 

“It’s not,” Merrill replied, smoothing out the folds of her heavy cobalt gown. “He was taken with you at the ball, and he’s taken with you now.”

“I have no dowry,” Gwyn reminded Merrill, who must have already thought of that. “I work for my keep.”

“Money was set aside for you. I have been safe guarding it,” Merrill told her. Gwyn didn’t know what to say to that—she’d been told for years that her father had squandered everything, that the only way to continue living under Merrill’s grace was to work. 

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. You have an education, don’t you? Room? Board? Fine clothes and regular meals?”

“I…am grateful,” Gwyn forced herself to say, hardly grateful at all. She was angry—always so, so angry. The feeling was nothing new, just as swallowing it wasn’t, either. She knew all the right words, steps to a dance she’d long memorized. “I am so grateful for you.”

Gwyn wasn’t, though. Merrill had never been kind—a poor substitute for her already flighty mother. At least then she’d had Catrin.

Now she had no one and nothing but memories tainted in blood, smoke, and so much fear. And, apparently, a marriage she could not wiggle free from. Gwyn wracked her mind for anything that might save her—Edward was a prince twice her age who’d ordered her into several dances. His breath had smelled rank, his fingers tight and clammy, and he’d leaned in too close for her liking as he droned on and on about his many war victories.

Did he even know his family’s war was the reason she had to rely on the charity of others?

Gwyn doubted he cared. 

“What about his last wife?”

“The Catholic?” Merrill scoffed. It was a rumor, of course—meant to discredit a woman so he could have a divorce without upsetting the general populace that loved her so. “Locked in a convent, last I heard. She gave only daughters and  he needs sons.”

“I’m supposed to do that?” Gwyn gaped, blood turning to ice. She had to swallow against the torrent of memories rising through her, threatening to spill over the ornate cream rug in the form of her breakfast. She’d promised she wouldn’t—that a man would never again touch her like that, certainly not if she invited him to, and even that was questionable.

It seemed she had no choice. 

“You’ll be his wife,” Merrill said dismissively, clearly tired of the conversation. It was the longest they’d had in waking memory, which meant at any moment Merrill was going to give Gwyn a verbal order to do as she was told, and a silent order to shut her mouth and be grateful.

Gwyn had no gratitude left in her. Certainly not for a man who intended to use her and then discard her if he tired of her. 

“He has a wife—”

“He doesn’t,” Merrill snapped, tossing a lock of blonde hair over her shoulder. Was she bitter it wasn’t her? Gwyn would trade her. “Nesta Archeron has agreed to accompany you to Alsfeld and I expect you to go upstairs, pack appropriately, and smile at your good fortune. Not many men would consider marrying you given your past.”

“My past.” Gwyn dropped all pretense, her words hollow, voice flat. 

“Yes, Gwyneth, your past. You should be overjoyed that a man wants you at all, let alone one so esteemed as the prince.”

“You told him?” Gwyn felt betrayal clawing at her neck. “That wasn’t yours to share!”

“The dowry he demanded was impossible to meet,” Merrill sniffed, eyes icy and unforgiving. “He was entitled to less knowing you were ruined.”

Ruined.

Gwyn rose from the chair she’d been sitting in, skirts ruffling loudly in her ringing ears. How Gwyn hated when Merrill said that to her—as if she were little more than a lamp that had broken and not a whole person that had been stolen from.

She couldn’t speak—she knew she’d cry, her anger making a mockery of her. Inclining her head, Gwyn merely made her way through the parlor, past the servants she’d once been close with. They wouldn’t meet her gaze, though she swore their mouths twisted with pity. She was the last to know, as usual, and it showed. 

Making her way to her small bedroom, Gwyn flung herself onto the padded window seat to peer out at the sea. How long before she was on one of the ships in the harbor with only the wretched Nesta Archeron for company? She’d only met the woman once and Nesta had been so wildly unpleasant that Gwyn had immediately dismissed her without another word.

Now they’d be trapped aboard a ship together. Gwyn sighed, turning toward her dresser. She had a large carpet bag and a trunk—she’d put personal things in the bag and the rest in the trunk, assuming someone was going to rifle through the items in the trunk. Better to not give anything away.

Truthfully, Gwyn had very little. Merrill had never deigned to give her anything of value, always with the admonishment that she ought to be grateful. Gwyn’s gratitude died with Catrin, leaving behind only her rage. How a prince had found her fascinating enough to marry was beyond Gwyn—the night they’d danced, she’d been wearing one of Merrill’s gowns, promptly returned while it was still warm. 

What would he do when he realized she was practically a servant? Maybe it didn’t matter—perhaps he’d outfit her in finery and remind the populace that, technically, her father had died a decorated war hero. Nevermind he’d been cowering in his final moments, on his knees begging not for the lives of the daughters being dragged away by laughing soldiers, but his own.

Gwyn’s anger grew hotter. She threw her items in the trunk, not caring if they were wrinkled. She let it consume her, balling up gown after gown so she could throw them with force into the trunk until she felt a little calmer. Less fury. She reminded herself to breathe, the same exercises she’d once done with Catrin.

It had been Catrin who’d once been filled with anger and Gwyn who had peace. She’d find her sister, raging about some injustice, and remind her to breathe until they were both smiling again. Catrin’s rage had sent her running from the house to try and save the children next door—and she’d been the first of the two of them to die. Wherever she’d hidden them, however they’d escaped…Catrin refused to say.

Gwyn, trembling and scared, a mere three minutes younger though sometimes it felt like three years, had obeyed when Catrin ordered, don’t say a word!

“We can break you,” the soldier had laughed, reaching for his belt. Catrin had turned her head, arms held over her head by another soldier. She’d screamed and fought, writhing like a wild, desperate animal while Gwyn silently sobbed, watching—knowing she would be next.

Tell us, the soldier had ordered, turning to Gwyn.

Don’t, Catrin had ordered again, fiercer than before. They’d placed a blade to Catrin’s neck and demanded again. Gwyn had looked at her sister, but Catrin only widened her eyes.

“Be brave,” Catrin had whispered.

The last words ever spoken between them. They’d laughed as they cut her throat, and laughed louder as Gwyn screamed, dragged to the same bed her sister bled out on. Gwyn hadn’t been brave at all—she’d begged them to kill her, too.

And they would have, had that man not come kicking in with that lethal looking sword. Walking to her dresser, she found the cloak he’d draped over her folded up at the bottom. Throwing it away would have been the better thing to do, but in the aftermath of what had happened, she’d simply tossed it in the back of her wardrobe. Afterwards, she’d had it washed, unable to stand the smell of whatever cologne that man wore mingled with blood and sweat. She could have thrown it away then, too.

She picked it up, admiring the well-made fabric and the heavy, silver and cobalt clasp that would have kept it pinned around her neck. Gwyn hadn’t dared to wear it, but it felt…wrong…to be rid of it, now. It was a relic of the worst moment of her life. She hated that stranger, his face concealed by a mask, though what little she might have seen had been blurred by blood and tears. He’d carried her out after brutally, and mercilessly, slaughtering every man who’d come into her house. 

He’d tried to take her somewhere, but she’d started screaming again and so he’d left her huddled in a heap beneath a tree with a silver dagger laid at her bare feet. He hadn’t said a word, merely vanished back into the ether. Perhaps he’d been a long forgotten god come to seek vengeance. Or perhaps he’d simply been a mercenary unable to witness his brethern pillaging and raping. 

She’d never know. 

Still, sometimes she caught herself thinking about him, wondering where he was and why he’d intervened in the first place. Gwyn had the dagger, though she didn’t know how to use it, and tucked that into her bag along with a necklace that had belonged to Catrin she didn’t dare wear. She hadn’t been brave.

She didn’t deserve to.

Gwyn skipped dinner that night, which caused Merrill to rant through the halls about how spoiled and ungrateful she was. Gwyn blocked it out with a book, curled back in the window seat as she waited for the inevitable. She couldn’t sleep, chasing the sunrise with drooping eyelids. Merrill wasn’t far behind, bursting in with more energy than Gwyn was certain she’d ever had in her life. 

Gwyn had never liked the small city she’d been isolated in. It was just big enough to give the illusion of privacy but small enough that everyone knew everything. Busybodies to the very last, which meant that as Gwyn was paraded through the busy early morning, all eyes fell on her, even if just for a moment. They’d flit in her direction before fans extended and women began chattering behind them, their peals of laughter echoing over the sounds of horse drawn carriages and booming voices announcing the prices of fish and produce. 

Gwyn wanted to be the kind of person who’d stare back, eyes shooting daggers as she did. She wasn’t, though, even as her anger and humiliation seemed to reach a writhing fever pitch in her chest. She imagined all the things she’d say, should she have the opportunity—the way she’d cut them into ribbons until they felt as small as she did—but she kept her eyes trained on the muddy cobblestone streets before her. Causing a scene would only result in more problems for Gwyn, who always seemed to be blamed, regardless if something was actually her fault. Merrill simply did not like her, and resented being vaguely related to her father and therefore, responsible for her care. 

Gwyn might have liked the docks and the quieter bustle filled with mostly men who didn’t seem to care a single jot about her, were it not for the icy stare of Nesta Archeron. She was alone, standing on the curb with her arms crossed over her chest. 

Great.

Gwyn did look at Nesta, hoping her expression conveyed a do-not-try-it-with-me,but who knew how Nesta took it. Nesta was a Duke's daughter and came from wealth so obscene, Gwyn didn’t dare think about it. What horrible lord was waiting for her in Alsfeld—and who was worse, Gwyn mused privately.

It was fun to watch Merrill dip into a respectful bow while Nesta stared down her nose, unimpressed and maybe even bored by the whole display. “Lady Archeron,” Merrill demurred, looking as if she’d prefer to be anywhere else. “You’re looking well.”

“You don’t,” Nesta replied in that brutal way of hers. Gwyn had to bite back a laugh, reminding herself that once Merrill left, Nesta would turn that mannerless behavior on her. 

“Well,” Merrill said as the salty air tangled a strand of her hair. “Take care of yourself, Gwyneth. If you have need of me, please write.” Gwyn nodded, certain Merrill would never respond to any letter. This wasn’t goodbye—it was a washing of the hands. Merrill had done her duty and now she was free of it. 

“Remember duty,” Merrill added, perhaps guessing the slant of Gwyn’s angry thoughts. Nesta arched a brow but said nothing, lip curling over perfectly straight teeth as she watched Merrill flounce off.

“Her hat was ugly,” Nesta declared the moment Merrill was out of earshot. The own hat, perched neatly atop Nesta coiffed golden brown hair, was very fashionable with its light pink feather and the way it tilted ever so delicately. It paired well with the deep plum of her gown that seemed out of place right before the docks. Gwyn certainly felt underdressed in green, her gown from two seasons earlier and just a tad too big. She felt inadequate in new and frustrating ways.

“So is yours,” Gwyn snapped, stepping around Nesta as two burly armed, barrel chested sailors took her trunk toward a wooden ramp that led to the ship she supposed they would sail on.

Nesta blinked. “I told Elain it was ridiculous,” she grumbled, though she didn’t remove it. Nesta merely marched in step with Gwyn, following the men now charged with their care. Gwyn had expected a sharp tongued insult, not agreement.

“Why did you let her talk you into it?”

Nesta shrugged delicate shoulders, spine impossibly straight as she walked. She looked like the one who ought to be marrying a prince—not Gwyn. Gwyn looked like her maid at best, which annoyed her further. There was something she was missing to this whole arrangement, something that would come back to harm her before she pieced it all together. 

“She can be very bossy when she sets her mind to something,” Nesta said, as if Gwyn knew anything about the Archeron sisters. They were sheltered and spoiled, appearing in the city only when something grand was happening. They otherwise kept to their estate, though there were rumors about how wild the youngest of the three were.

She sounded like more interesting company than the scowling Nesta. One thing, Gwyn supposed, was how unafraid Nesta was to give orders.

“Take us to our cabin,” Nesta demanded the moment their feet were on the softly swaying deck. Two sailors exchanged a glance but otherwise said nothing at all—they merely gestured for the pair to follow them.

“We’re not to be disturbed,” Nesta began, her words seemingly well-practiced. “You may bring our meals to us directly, but otherwise no man is to enter our chamber.”

“Who would stop us?” one of the sailors asked, clearly bitter about being bossed around by a woman.

Gwyn’s own temper got the better of her. “I will.”

Whatever they saw on her face kept them from saying much more. Gwyn waited until they were taken into a large stateroom they were clearly meant to share. Nesta turned, and the sailor, guessing her irritation, threw up his palms in defense. “You can share, or you can sleep in the bunks with everyone else. Your choice, princess.”

“Don’t call me that,” she hissed before slamming the door in his face. “Must you be so…” Gwyn trailed off, unsure what she even meant to say. Nesta understood, though.

“Because otherwise they think they can take liberties. That we’re helpless and soft and sweet—that we won’t say anything if they touch us. Now they know we’ll scream, and when we arrive at port, we’ll tell someone. They’ll think twice.”

“And with Merrill?” Gwyn demanded, arms crossed over her chest.

“Her presence offends me,” Nesta said with a shrug, as if it were a given. Gwyn couldn’t help but laugh, one hand on her stomach to keep herself from doubling over.

“Mine, too.”

“She thinks herself a great humanitarian, but she’s not. She made a lot of money taking you in, for all the good it did. Look at your dress,” Nesta said, reaching for Gwyn’s sleeve. Gwyn slapped her hand away, embarrassed and self-conscious.

“What are you talking about?”

Nesta stared for a moment, hand cradled to her chest. Those icy blue eyes seemed to be a little sad for only a moment before the emotion vanished, replaced with her usual steely gaze. “Lord Rhysand paid her a hefty stipend for your education. His father and your father were friends, I suppose.”

“No one…no one told me that,” Gwyn managed as anger and betrayal clawed up her throat. “I was working.”

So a Duke paid for Gwyn’s education, and her father had left an inheritance, all pocketed by Merrill. Gwyn turned for the door, ready to march off the ship and throttle Merrill but Nesta grabbed her wrist.

“There is no point. She’s not capable of shame.”

“So she gets away with it?” Gwyn demanded with outrage. “Does no one face consequences except me?”

“She doesn’t have to get away with it,” Nesta said slyly. “I overheard father talking, and he seems to think your marriage will elevate Merrill in a way few ladies ever achieve.”

“Of course it does,” Gwyn grumbled, sitting despondently on the floral patterned bed. “She probably orchestrated it herself.”

“I’m sure. That doesn’t mean you have to marry him,” Nesta continued, holding Gwyn’s stare. 

“He’s a prince—”

“So?” Nesta demanded. “When we arrive, simply say no and stay with me and my aunt. With the new laws that require a ladies consent, you can simply decline.”

“He’s not just some spoiled lordling,” Gwyn whispered, though the idea was spreading through her like wildfire. 

“He’s only a man,” Nesta replied, sitting beside her. “He’s not a god.”

But Gwyn knew what men could do when they didn’t get what they wanted—when they felt thwarted, especially by a lesser woman. It would become a matter of principle to punish her. To control her. He had a navy at his disposal, an army willing to kill on command, and more gold than anyone in the realm. If he wanted to find her, he would. 

And when he did, he’d punish her for daring to defy him.

Still.

The idea had roots.

—-

Azriel heard the sound of boots echoing off swaying wood before he saw Cassian in the doorway. His friend flashed a grin, arms crossed over his chest.

“Ship sailed this afternoon.”

Azriel shifted in his chair, boots reclined on his desk while he toyed with his favorite dagger absently. Turning his gaze from Cassian, he couldn’t help but smile. 

“Armed?”

“Barely,” Cassian replied, his amusement plain. “It’s a merchant ship.”

“Whose?” Azriel didn’t want to make too many enemies of the merchant class, some of whom paid money for safe passage and protection from other privateers. 

“Archeron,” Cassian said. Azriel frowned, though it changed nothing. Rhys wasn’t one of them—not really. He could make his demands, could provide them with funding, could play pirate lord when it suited him, but he wasn’t out there day to day.

He didn’t know how hard Azriel had worked to organize this ambush. How he’d intercepted that letter. The spying he’d done, the dominoes set into motion. It was now or it was never. The walls of the palace were impenetrable, even to him. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Azriel decided. It didn’t. He’d rather beg forgiveness than ask permission—Rhys would do the same, were he in Azriel’s position. “Sink the ship.”

“Aye, Captain,” Cassian said, his grin returning.

Azriel’s gaze turned toward the window overlooking the sea. With a soft exhale, he smiled, too. 

Soon.

[stillnotyourmusebitch]

AAAGH I loved your sinner!Adam fic about him and Reader watching TV together 🥺

I heard you take sinner!Adam requests so is it okay to have a sort-of part 2? Maybe watching movies became a regular thing between them and one time they end up kissing during one? If you find it repetitive and don't want to it's totally okay, I understand! I hope you have a nice day and keep up with the good work 🥹

Oh I loved writing this. The fic below is a sequel to this ficlet

I do hope that you liked it. I'm always worried I've made him too ooc but Sinner!Adam is fanon based atm and if he is wanting redemption he would change his ways.

So Urm yeah enjoy. . . .

What we watching?? Sinner!Adam x GN!reader

Fluffy af

That night watching trashy romcoms with Adam could have just been a one off thing and you would’ve been fine with it. But when he approached you in the communal kitchens the next morning with a proposition to make ‘Thursday film night’ a regular thing between the two of you. You had asked him why. He said that hanging out with you yesterday was one of the most fun things he had done in a long time. You smiled fondly at him before agreeing.

-

As Thursday night rolled around again. You were looking forward to sharing some more of your favourite films with Adam. He’d said he would be there by 6ish. You glance at the time on your phone. It was only 6.05pm. He’s probably just running late after the one on one session with Charlie.

An easy way to keep your mind busy was dragging out all your blankets and making a sort of nest type thing on the floor by the couch. You used to do this with your family when you were alive. It just made the movie marathons all that more special. After seeing how far Adam had come since arriving at the hotel. You had really wanted to show him how much he meant to you.

‘Wait, as a friend.’ You stopped mid cushion grab. You liked him as only a friend right? Right?

Your door burst open and slammed shut very quickly Adam was only 45 minutes late, you looked up seeing him breathing hard, carting an armload of snacks, drinks and a few bowls of things.

“There you . . .” he shushes you looking frantically at the closed door. “What did you do?” You whisper as you crawl onto the couch.

A far off loud shouting could be heard in the silence. He waited a minute more before letting out a breath.

“It wasn’t my fault honest.” He looked extremely guilty. You quirked a brow wanting an explanation. “I was trying to make my super awesome dip for our movie night but I maaaaaay have made a really big mess but I didn’t mean to, I just tripped over that cleaner chick who was chasing more of them roaches. This hotel must have an infestation or she is breeding them just to kill. Oh wait, I’m getting off point, the thing is I might have made too much of the dip than I intended and I kinda launched half of it onto another patron. But it wasn’t my fault. This time at least.” He frantically spoke as he juggled the drinks and snacks about in his arms before depositing them carefully on the coffee table. Standing back up he turned and looked down at what you were making. “What’s that?” He points to the accumulated amount of cushions, blankets and other soft furnishings piled on the floor.

“Well, the thing is.” You hopped off the couch into the nest trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal. How were you supposed to explain the reason behind it without him laughing at you? “You know what it’s stupid let me just . . .” You felt shame rush to your cheeks as you tried to dismantle the obviously stupid idea.

“Hey, I didn’t say it was a bad thing. Looks comfy as fuck. Budge up would ya.” You hopped out as he set himself down in the dead center of the nest, keeping his legs open slightly to give you a place to sit. Last week he really liked having you snuggled up close to him, why did you think this week would be any different.

You chose the first movie and plopped yourself down in the space he left for you, his arms wrapping around your middle pulling you flush against his chest.

“So what we watching?”

-----

“I have a question do all of these movie have the same premise?” Adam asked after about 15 minutes into the third film.

“Whatdya mean?” You say through a mouthful of chips.

“Like . . hang on pause the film a sec.” He fumbles for the remote to stop the movie. You shuffle a bit to see him better. “Like don’t get me wrong they’re good films, a bit cliché but surely the lead woman knows that the ‘Oh I’m a famous something or other I have no time for a man’” his fake high pitched womanly voice had you laughing. “Hey shush let me finish my thought.”

“But you make such a good woman.” You poke at his chest playfully.

“Ah ha ha ha.” He grabs your hand in his. “But seriously shush. My point is are there any original ideas in these films?”

“You saying I got trash taste in cinema?” You try pulling your hand away from his grasp. Adam doesn’t let go but pulls you closer to him.

“What I’m saying is watching all these oblivious people who clearly have strong feelings for the other person, got me thinking.” He looks down at your hand in his. “Ya know what never mind let’s keep watching the movie.” He lets go of your hand and grabs for the remote, setting the film going again.

The whiplash from that conversation was enough to make your head spin. You stayed a second more simply looking into the face of a man who had something he wanted to say but couldn’t bring himself to do so. As you turned back in his arms to watch the movie, you could hear a small sigh of relief.

You tried to go back to watching the movie but you couldn’t. Adam only held you loosely now, choosing to focus more on grabbing snacks and sipping his soda. Your mind went into overdrive.

‘What did you do wrong?’

‘Was he mad at you?’

‘Did he . . . wait did he like you?’

You almost choked on a piece of popcorn at the realisation. Adam liked you.

Daring to flick your eyes to look at him. He was focused on the film but the soft look of longing he bore was almost too much.

“Adam?” Your voice was gentle so as not to spook him.

“Mmmyeah?” He was still watching the screen.

You grabbed the remote and paused the TV again.

“Hey, it was getting to a good part.” He looked down at you annoyed. “What. Is there something on my face?” He touches his face trying to feel for any irregularity. “Hey, say something you’re freaking me. mmmf” You pulled him down by his shirt and kissed him. He froze against your lips.

‘Shit was I wrong?’

You move to pull away. But his hands cup your face pulling you back into a tender kiss that makes you melt into his touch. The kiss lasted no longer than 5 seconds but you didn’t care you felt like your entire body was floating.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He spoke softly as he broke the kiss. “Can I kiss you again?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes.” Your words were barely a whisper but it was all he needed to pull you back against him, he kissed you in such a tender way that made your heart flutter in your chest. You didn’t realise he was capable of such gentility but you craved more of it. Your hands carded into his hair, being careful of his horns, as one of his hands went to cradle the back of your head, effectively tilting your head to allow him to deepen the kiss. His other hand moved to your lower back, fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt. The kiss had an undertone of heat laced in the movements of your joined lips.

You broke the kiss panting slightly, you noted his pupils were dilated slightly as you were sure yours mirrored back.

You had to slow this down now before you regretted anything.

“Adam.” Your voice low in warning. “As much as I enjoy kissing you. Can we take whatever this is a little slower?”

You expected him to whine or pout about being told no. but he just smiles goofily at you. Swiping a thumb over your lower lip.

“Sure thing.” He kisses your forehead before helping you settle back against him the way your were before. He picked up the remote “Ready to continue?”

You weaved your fingers with his other hand and nodded “Ready.”

--------

I hope this is what you wanted.

My ask box is still open if anyone else got requests